Many a Maiden’s Lips Have I Kissed

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