~Mukunda Prayas~
Trans : Suman Pokharel
On the picture of nature
made up by assembling the bright colors,
who did paint with the color of smoke ?
These eyes feel uncomfortable
to see these scenes these days.
Melodies are running away from the ears
and getting evoked in distance
by hiding itself out of sight.
Some faces seemingly that of near ones
tend to come closer, by striking
on the narrowing down walls of memories.
The tastes are scratchy
the bed is out of shape
and the former theater of life seems in distance afar.
Besides being unable to count
the remaining numbers of steps to reach the destination
are getting fewer, and
the steep is getting harder to walk up.
Why does the pace of movement of Sun
get slower every moment?
Why do the nights sleep late night
to see the dreams black and white?
Why does the earth, without any notice
starts revolving unbalanced from the early morning.
Now, knew that
on being unable to stay firmly
one should get their body rested.
I am waiting for
the last feeling that could be gained
from the last truth.
(Source : Asian signature – Focus, 4th Vol, No2 (April 2017) )
कविता प्रकाशन गरवदिनुभएकाेमा
हार्दिक धन्यावद ।