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Sonam Bhutia


Siliguri, West Bengal, India

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A bard's Sonam Bhutia.


Sonam Bhutia

Calm and composed,
I sat around_
next to my thoughts.
With unusual colours
Of eluding words.
Prudently sketching_
On a void canvas.
Desperately seeking
To provide an outlet,
To those suffocating emotions,
From the aviary_
Of my fragile bosom,
Into the vast
Welkins of art,
On the wings of a brush.

A Kiss_a bliss


Sonam Bhutia

Clip clop, clip clop...
Drizzle kisses the parched earth.
By the garlands of glee,
A dreamy eye welcomes thee.
Somnolent crops rejuvenate,
And rejoice in thy mellifluous tune.
Sweep afar then,
Doleful moments...
Which has smeared...
Every sweating forehead,
With paste of famine,
Drought and poverty_
And left everything,
A complete dust bowl_
Clip clop, clip clop...
Drizzle kisses the parched earth.

Glimmer of hope


Sonam Bhutia

From every dusk to dawn,

I have been traveling,

Through the deep woods_

And every scorching summer,

Through every freezing winter,

I stumbled against untold afflictions En-route.

Nevertheless, I found no sign of success.

But elsewhere I behold a glimmer of hope,

That there shall be tomorrow again,

That the sun will shine as usual,

That the flowers shall bloom as in every spring,

And the new morning will once again bring a fine day.