The problem,
Nay, the damage,
Sir, is,
You muddle
In the dirt,
Nay, in the dunghill,
A hundred times,
Nay, nay, a thousand times,
To declare yourself
The diamond"Metaphors I Live By"
कोही सौताका रिसले
पोइको काखमा हग्छन्,
कोही भने पोइका रिसले
सौतासँग साँठगाँठ गर्छन्:
यसबाट लघुकथा बन्छ ।
In those days,
When a handful of wild grass
Made all their medicines,
When a bunch of blabbering witch-hunters,
And a rare lot of betel-spitting quacks,
Formed the only regiment of healers;
My parents must have cried a thousand days,
And died a thousand nights,
Before I could set my feet straight.