Muna Madan written by Laxmi Prasad Devkota:
http://literature.wnso.org/2002/munamadan.htm
We Nepalese
Poet:Laxmi Prasad Devkota Translated by:David Ravin
We are the children of Aurora,
Offspring of Asia's reawakened age,
Sons of the Hiamlayas we crave,
To climb the peaks wreathed with the golden rays.
We are the products of the Buddha's soil
The honey-sweet playmates of Janaki,
the flower of our earth,
We are the fulgence of the fingers of Araniko,
And the ripe harvest of Prithvinarayana.
We are the golden dreams of Tribhuvana.
We are Mahendra's garden rich in flowering shrubs,
We are the rivals of the tiger,
And the sentinels of demaocracy.
We are the still small voice of humanity;s dove,
With the Danphe's prismatic plumes of fancy,
We are the scented breath of the Himalayan flowers that grow
out of the dust of the sages that lie in their long silence.
We are the songsters of the luxuriant wilds
That trill and warble love upon the leafy boughs of the world,
We are the mountain temples, of humanity,
We are the liberal liquefaction of the Himalaya's snow-breast
that nourishes the life of India in network of serpentine rills.
We are the prophetic angels of the east,
That dwell in the dominion of the first sun-beam.
We are the partners of this round home,
this terrestrial sphere,Partaking of a single plate.
We are the worshippers of self sacrifice,
We are the citizens of the world.
http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/blockedme.php
Offspring of Asia's reawakened age,
Sons of the Hiamlayas we crave,
To climb the peaks wreathed with the golden rays.
We are the products of the Buddha's soil
The honey-sweet playmates of Janaki,
the flower of our earth,
We are the fulgence of the fingers of Araniko,
And the ripe harvest of Prithvinarayana.
We are the golden dreams of Tribhuvana.
We are Mahendra's garden rich in flowering shrubs,
We are the rivals of the tiger,
And the sentinels of demaocracy.
We are the still small voice of humanity;s dove,
With the Danphe's prismatic plumes of fancy,
We are the scented breath of the Himalayan flowers that grow
out of the dust of the sages that lie in their long silence.
We are the songsters of the luxuriant wilds
That trill and warble love upon the leafy boughs of the world,
We are the mountain temples, of humanity,
We are the liberal liquefaction of the Himalaya's snow-breast
that nourishes the life of India in network of serpentine rills.
We are the prophetic angels of the east,
That dwell in the dominion of the first sun-beam.
We are the partners of this round home,
this terrestrial sphere,Partaking of a single plate.
We are the worshippers of self sacrifice,
We are the citizens of the world.
http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/blockedme.php
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