It’s midwinter and soon time for Losar / time also to cast aside our failures and regrets / and propitiate the deities for the New Year.
खिच्नोस् खिच्नोस् / कसरी बसम्? यसरी? / कि यसरी?
Broken stonework, sharp edges. I feel them / cutting my cheeks and chest. Maybe / someone took my legs?
“Y’know, Marilyn Monroe was a Russian spy?” “Nope. But a postman wrote Ham on Rye.”
Let’s sit beneath this sky
strung with nine hundred thousand lights
and drink bowls of this old chyāng