~Suman Pokhrel~
Trans : Abhi Subedi
Standing on top of each morning briefly
stopping by each evening shortly
unmindful, my eyes are chasing,
my eyelids are sweeping with light the sky
splattered with colours pilled out
after hitting horizon’s last shore.
I am thinking
what is this crimson,
colour of lovers’ hearts
torn from each other and
taking on to opposite paths,
or the reddish glow of minds
come together after
dark moments of separation?
Half of my life is soaked in colour
watching these red glows
spilled over the side-door that admits the day
and the bamboo portals
that shut out the day,
but could not understand
whether this earth and sky
part in the evening
and meet in the morning
or part in the morning
and meet in the evening!
