Name : Manorhary
( Authoress, Poetess)
DOB : 14.12.1971
Born in Yangon and currently living in Yangon.
Parent : U Win Aung : Daw Deanna
Education : Master of Physics, Dip in English
Work at Idea Magazine as an Executive Editor.
Already published over 40 fictions and one solo poem book.
the very first published story is in Mahaythi Magazine, June'1990.

 

Ma Naw Hary.

I wrote this poem at the time when I was been to go back home. I inspire myself as a bird and then I immediately want to fly head-down to the ground of the motherland Burma, despite standing on one leg, that looks like a strong steel dancer. I compose this poem with this inpiration.

The watching bird

When I call aloud the world yesterday, A blue leave fall itself headdown to the ground And then it becomes mixed with yellowish dreams of mine.

I saw then the whole woods and mountain range become vigorously green.

My heartbeat was still though. Please let me hear the first sermon of Buddhist doctrine without using the phrase “there was sunny”. Even though I tried to look at my sky through my window at night, I did not find it. Such a night could not be reliable. It makes me exhausted to scream out at the stars. It is also hateful for me to see such grand cities and villages with special names. For me, nothing could be the same as my mother’s home, that gives me a refuge and protects me, where I feel safe myself with my own virtue.

 

Watch Bird

 

Hey the world!

Do reply me when I call you!

Do behold my voice!

Do strain your ears to hear the colors of my sky!

Do bless the darkness before me!

Do gild my wings!

 

Look!

I am the bird watching the world.

It is the right to fly whether I spread out myself in the sea of my mind individually, or I could also live narrowly and narrow-mindedly in a little well in my individual way.

Everything is opposing against my norms and own rules.

Why didn’t I die yet?

But now …. Mr.Poet!

Neither I need to worry about haunted jungle and mountain.

Nor have I a fellow here who hails me ‘Hey man’.

Mr. Painter!

Neither I saw one-line sketched portrait

Nor need to worry about the desire to see yourself in a mirror.

Oh! Mr. scriptwriter …..

No need to worry about enactment of the play because there is no original script.

Here, the place is covered with ashes of nostalgia.

Call me.

And carry a song, which includes none of my name, on your shoulder!

As I am staying alone on the mountain ranges as far away as from my dream.

As I launder and cleanse my pride for a moment silently, I just wanna think deep with the song which has none of my name.

Hey the world!

Do stop crying, buddy! Don’t you?

Just wait the day when I will fly head down to the ground.

 

Ma Naw Hary.

 

Translated by Htoo Lwin Myo

bluewind