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उन्दैनिफ्रायनो आङो बिखौ मोजां मोनो होननायखौ
बियोबा फोथाइदोंना फोथायाखै आंथ' मिथिलिया
बिनि अन्थाव बाथाव आंनो बुंनाय रावफोरखौ
खोनासङोब्लाथ', बियो आंखौ मोजां मोना बुंनो हाया।

मोजां मोननाया मा? नों आंखौ मानो मोजां मोनो?
बिब्दि होनना बियो आंनाव सोंलु  सोङोब्ला
माबोरै बेखेवगोन माबोरै फोरमाइगोन जायो गोसोआ,
बुंनोलाय हायो आंबो सावथुनफोराव नुनाय खोनानायबादिनो,
आंनि अननाया फैलाव अखोरां आरो मोजां मोननाया गोथौ लैथोबादि।

नाथाय, आङोदि बैफोरजों रुजुनानै
आंनि अननाय-मोजांमोननायखौ मुं सुनो लुबैयाखै
आं रुजुनो लुबैयो खालि, आंनि बिखा आरो थैजोंसो!

जेराव गुसेब बिखाब्लाबो दङोल' गोग्गो हां
गैया गुवार अखोरांनिबादि बारहुंखा, हाद्रि-बाला आरो जोमै दाखा,
जेराव थौलेब्लाबो दङोल' गोजा थै, सोलेरनि दैदेनगिरि रैखागिरि
गैया गोथौ लैथोनिबादि मिथिसयै गिख्रंथाव आरो गिख्रंथाव गुथाल।
बियोबा बुजिगोनना बुजिया आंथ' मिथिलिया,
थेवब्लाबो आंदि बेखौल' बुंनो सानो "आंनि मोजां मोननाया नैथि गैयि सैथो!"

बिनि रायज्लायनाय, आंजों लोगो हमज्लायनाय
सोरनिबा सोंनायाव बिनो गावखौ Just friend होनना बुंनो होनाय
बियो जोबोद मोजां मोनो, जानो हागौ!
नाथाय, आंथ' मिथिलिया!

बिनि खुसियावनो आंनिबो खुसि
बेनोथ' मोजां मोननायनि ओंथिया,
अब्लालाय माथो जानो बियो जुदि गुबुन सोरजोंबा खुसियै दङो
बियोथ' खुसिना, अब्लालाय मोजांसो!

गावनि रैरुब आखायजों
गुबुन सोरनिबा आखाय हमनानै लाथोंना बियो
थेवब्लाबो मोन्दांथिखौ आंनोथ' मोनखायो,
गुबुन सोरजोंबा बियो मोजां मोननायनि खोथा रायज्लायाथों मानो
अननायाथ' आंनावनो आबुं जाखायो,
बियो खाथियाव था एबा दा था
आङोथ' मेगन मेसिबब्लाबो नुखायो,
गुबुन सोरनिबा थाखाय बियो Status लिरब्लाबो
नाथाय सोदोबफ्राबोदि आंनावनो नाखायो।
नाथाय, बियोब्ला बिब्दि सान्दोंना सानाखै...आंथ' मिथिलिया!
                   © B Zealous
Alexis 2d
Out of all 150 poems of mine
none are about depression
although I dedicate my poetry to my flaws.

and maybe I could write one,
but I have no depression poems
only poems about wanting to die.

so maybe I am not depressed,
but yes,
I do not
want to exist anymore.
that at least,
I am sure of.
im definitely deleting this later ahaha
Akshay 3d
These words are for me,
For I'm the one who's hurting,
I'm just healing myself.
I often wonder why we can't understand other's poems sometimes, but deep down it is the one who writes it knows the value of it.
Alexis 3d
all these poems I write
start with I,
I swear I’m not self centered
but they say write what you know.
So in a desperate attempt
to learn this soul of mine
All I write about
is me.
And you,
Yes, I write about you.
I write about the beauty of you.
Of how I would love to leave fingerprints on your heart and caress your soul .
I mean if you would allow me
To love you
walking around the pâtiserrie line
hoping i might find your smile
i miss you a lil bit more
Birds make a joyful noise
Every day their cheerful chirp
Serenades the slumbering world
This morning I joined my brother bluebird
and sister cardinal in joyful carol
What a sweet racket we made
I think we woke up the Divine Mother
Her surreal blue eyes fluttered open
Smiling buoyantly
She blew us a golden kiss
I garland your heart my Swami
with fresh plucked blossoms
garnered from the fields of my soul
a daffodil smile tickling my face
Like teenagers without a care in the world
We stroll along the edge of forever
Thick clouds of sweet incense
rise from brass temple bowls
the tiles are cool under my bare feet
rubies fall from the sky, pink rays
across Your altar
O Hari
the moments are drenched in Your
there is no space between us now
Your breath has married mine
Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 10/5/2019

Sitting on the perch the rooster boasted:
soon the king of swimmers I'll be
and laurel wreath I will get:
Cos the champion of champions I am in this respect!
The hens, excited, clucked in admiration,
small yellow chicks silently listened in awe,
oinking happily were the piglets,
and the ducks? Like crazy they laughed!

Wieslaw Musialowski 10/15/2001
Friends, I am asking for your understanding, because all my translations must be proofread and corrected. Poems are hard to translate (even in free verse translations). The original is rhymed. Regards.
The system has us all feeling like we're in a prison. There’s protocol in the vision. During your resurrection there’s still a hand out wanting a collection. Don’t bury me! I want to burn for eternity! I want the world to feel my energy! The steps I took. U.S.A. Land of the crooks, none of our experiences can be taught in a book. His-story, her glory, his tears, her fears. The traumas linger, it made us who we are. Prayed so many times, G.O.D. would think I’m a certified clinger. No dial tones, no ringer. Please pick up! They got me down here screaming in my head “What The F**k!”

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