Say, profiteers—
When you filled the coffers from the wells of oil,
Did Nepal poison the smoke in the sky?
When your chimneys open the neck of the earth,
Did our hillbillies burn coal?
But your rap of luxury
First descended into the veins of our glaciers.
A pile of snow, rock and mud
Swallowed in one fell swoop—
Schools, fields, bridges and settlements of generations.
And sitting in an air-conditioned room, you say—
"It is a law of nature, it is only a rumour."
Come, take a look inside the ruins.
There is no 'theory' of yours buried here—
A mother's weary arms,
It is a naive girl looking for a butterfly in the mud.
With your great seminars
There are cowardly words like 'risk' and 'endurance'—
Those who teach the weak to die in silence.
But one word remains with our crumbling walls: injustice.
This is not a 'natural disaster'.
It is the dull poison born of your greed.
But our dreams are being buried in ashes.
Nature has not taken revenge,
She is trembling with the fever of your blind exploitation.
The next time you deny this truth,
Mountains are no longer just geography,
Has become the highest witness of your historic crime.
