Written by Indira Poudel

At the foot of the mountains,

Captivating in the colourful shades of nature,

A restlessgirl who grew up.

Struggling in a new settlement across seven seas, losing itself,

What a wonderful environment,manners and people

Her compulsion not to speak even though she wanted to,

Heartbreaking aches and pains,

Can neither loosen nor bind,

With the freezing blowing air the lawn of Hotel,

Looking at the distant horizon with the waves of the sea,

Remembering her past, holding mop sticks

Mending empty bottles of whiskey and brandy,

Bearing the sharpest words,

Rushing here and there to finish her work

Helplessness in abiding obligation and rules

Pushing the trolley with misty-eyed and adjusting the beds,

She is calculating her life in a tired posture.

Shedoes not know where to go,how much to do?

Her answers stuck in silence.

Do not ask her how much you earn

Dollars can never pay its price.

She also had to bear 42-degree heat,

Sometimes a hotel, sometimes a farm

 The body is worn out,

She wants to slow down at the crossroads,

Wants to rejoice in its own sidewalks and waterfalls,

She does not need the monotonous foreign wealth,

The poverty of his own country is enough for her.