<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=368820" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sestina: Here in Katmandu</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">We have climbed the mountain. <br>There's nothing more to do. <br>It is terrible to come down <br>To the valley <br>Where, amidst many flowers, <br>One thinks of snow, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">As formerly, amidst snow, <br>Climbing the mountain, <br>One thought of flowers, <br>Tremulous, ruddy with dew, <br>In the valley. <br>One caught their scent coming down. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is difficult to adjust, once down, <br>To the absense of snow. <br>Clear days, from the valley, <br>One looks up at the mountain. <br>What else is there to do? <br>Prayer wheels, flowers! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let the flowers <br>Fade, the prayer wheels run down. <br>What have they to do <br>With us who have stood atop the snow <br>Atop the mountain, <br>Flags seen from the valley? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It might be possible to live in the valley, <br>To bury oneself among flowers, <br>If one could forget the mountain, <br>How, never once looking down, <br>Stiff, blinded with snow, <br>One knew what to do. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Meanwhile it is not easy here in Katmandu, <br>Especially when to the valley <br>That wind which means snow <br>Elsewhere, but here means flowers, <br>Comes down, <br>As soon it must, from the mountain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Donald+Justice">Donald Justice</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=368820" data-title="Sestina: Here in Katmandu de Donald Justice" data-description="We have climbed the mountain. There's nothing more to do. It is terrible to come down To the valley Where, amidst many flowers, One thinks of snow, As formerly, amidst snow, Climbing the mountain, One thought of flowers, Tremulous, ruddy..."></div> </div> </div>

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