~Nabin Pyasi~
Translated by : Ismael subba
I am a lover
Sleeping in the grave of
Spy of love…
Woke up from this grave
I want to walk
Such restricted paths
Of the world
Where,there is free
For you and me to walk….
Where,the hand of winds
Which steals Your fragrance will be handcuffed…
Where,the flowers which wants your beauty,
Will be prisoned
And where,the darkness prevails in the horizon which
Awaits your sweet smile..
While walking you,
All of a sudden hold my hands
Make my heart shake in
Terror,.
Let moon forget in rush
To walk in its own axis,
And let the moon less night slaps
An excuse to make her remember…
Clouds panic and polls
And drip some drops of water
In your huge empire of hairs…
Night,itself runs away
In fear
And let it spread a pair of bright morning
Which is pressed and burdened always in its neck…
Where,the birds who use to sing along with you…
Let it be that their peak carry
Sign of danger,
Where,there will be a bar of thrones for
your own shadow
Which wants to lost in your very own rogue dress…
While my eyes sit in your “chaubandi’s” chair…
The teasing creaked guard
May goes in vain and let it be separate from power..
I also want to see your
Foot steps to be vanished,
As no one must come
Revealing the marks
To listen your songs of the bandings…
Just like the colour of rays
Couldn’t reach
The portrait of gentle breeze
Sketched by December or January’s cold..
Just like the running wheels couldn’t come
To the heart of soils
following
The trampled marks by wheels only….
As the line of fate
could not
Reach
Riding the ship of colao…
Dragging the luggage of happiness
Till the airport of life….
In the same manner,
By mistake also
May the procession of beautiful butterflies not come
Around the places
You have trodden..,
Where,the mirror which drinks your beauty and
Starts shivering
May got damaged by stones,
Where in the rivers, your valuable tears are put up in business…
Let the shores raid…
Where,the time starts a war against the cities which disturbs you again and again…
I am a lover,
Sleeping in the grave of
A spy of love,…
Waking up from this grave,
I want to walk on such restricted paths
Where there is free for you and me to walk…..
And
In the midst of countries schulman
Let not be the songs of the lost of bidari’s youthful days…
(Source : Poet sent it via ‘नयाँ रचना पठाउनुहोस्‘ section of this website )
