~Gopal Prasad Rimal~
Translated by Yuyutsu Sharma
I had a dark one then,
the one who couldn’t dare to face
daggers of my awesome presence.
I was her King
but she couldn’t be my Queen.
A doorkeeper’s daughter she was,
could speak only to doorkeepers.
To some cannibal world she belonged,
savagery being her religion.
Could she dare to face
the glowing pinpoints of my shimmering eyes?
But then I had white ones too
who like the dark one
possess me in their dreams
because in reality
it was no better than an obscene joke.
In dream, thus, they labored to save me from myself,
like in dreams they had tried to tame me.
In dreams their vicious schemes flowered.
In dreams, they conspired to kill me.
In dreams they plotted
to suck the blood tingling in the veins of my rebellious heart.
Times of the dark ones
came and passed away.
Now the white ones are dancing in the castles of filth.
and with them I am dancing too.
But aren’t such games nothing
but figments of fantasy?
Can such games choke the stars of my conscience?
Have I sought a divorce from harlots of illusion?
I am used to dancing with the dames of revolution
That’s why to me love and revolution seem equal.
That’s why revolution has yet to accept my sacrifice.
That’s why revolution has yet to become my bride.
I have already offered my salute to it.
I am thirsty of revolution. I am its ardent lover.
Revolution has yet to make love to me.
I am hungry.
It has yet
to serve the storms of my hunger.
(Source : Drunkenboat.com)