Home > Blog > My Shangri-La by Dasharath Phuyel

My Shangri-La

United States; the name I hear

Though staring at the starry sky

Thinking of our new home with fear

The land where my dreams can fly.

How can my memory be removed

Of leaving my dwelling dome

And the dear garden which I love

The beauty of my native home?

From my dear residence I roam

To a land where I now live

Maneuvered from my native home

Trusting our creator, Lord Shiv.

It was like a loss of Paradise

Or Eden’s garden left after it has bloom

Where sorrow throws us no advice

Smell of my native home like perfume.

I shall not forget

My sad departure far away

As far as the sunset

And leave behind no light for the day.

 

As soon as I dry my tear

And leave forever to roam,

Far from a residence so dear

The place of beauty; my native home.

2 Comments, RSS

  • Kewal Timsina

    says on:
    March 21, 2015 at 10:54 pm

    Nice one dash

  • Carole Pearsall

    says on:
    March 22, 2015 at 3:23 pm

    Beautiful poem but sad. I hope Dasharath will soon discover the beauty and enjoy the possibilities that America offers him while never forgetting the beauty of his original home.

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