Junge gallpos around the streets of kathmandu

With his belayati gun

He shoots Dharma Bhakta

Mahendra laments against his statue,

only if i wasn’t this ‘ashakta’

the cold streets have frozen the place

and made a museums out of palaces

the cars with red lights disappear into

red light areas

they emerge with power that has been drinking

the mist hangs at a constantly

above Singhadurbar

the dweller are half drunk in some bar

Pashupatinath sleeps his long sleep

while Pashupati Shumsher beckons

this nation was mine to keep

somewhere in the crowd of Bangkok

the prince sleeps with a maiden

only if he was a different man

this would’ve been a different nation

Junge would’ve never dared to come back to Kathmandu

Mahendra would have loved his role as a statue

if museums held dictators for exhibits

the liberators would be in palaces

only if dogs were chained

would have Nepal as Nepal remained


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