I am a vagabond
and a worshipper
of freedom:
the creed of coercion
I do not need;
every step of mine
has become
pathless like the breeze,
the boundaries girdle
I do not need.

Leave from my path,
you ignorant savants!
The only cure
for the vagabond
is the sight
of the road ahead –
other than the road,
no medicine does he ever need.

I roam about,
over the domains of beauty
in the alleys of love
all over the world,
and many a maiden’s lips
have I kissed;
many a naked masterpieces
have I seen;
but they say,
I have become a nomad,
and I should be
ashamed of myself,
as a flickering taper
beneath the moon’s gleam.

Let them say
what they have to say.
Let them think
What they have to think.
Let them do
What they have to do.
But I will never stop.
I will march;
I will march on and on,
Their advice, I do not need,
their hypocrisy, I do not need.

If there be
no direction in my path,
let there be none:
I have squeezed
my destiny, in the
midst of my palms:
and I do not wonder
what was the place,
where I was last night,
nor do I wonder
about the places,
I shall reach.

I shall march, on and on.
I shall march, on and on,
until my soul comes to my lips.
My heart is a wanderer in love,
may it ever remain so.
May it even remain so,
so that no one can say hereafter,
that I’ve become a stranger in the love’s land.

Copyright 2006 Bhuwan Thapaliya