घामसँगै अस्ताउँछ यो शहर
सुनसान भइदिन्छ, बढाइदिन्छ डर
निद्रा प्यारो, जाग्न सक्दैन हर पहर
मरेतुल्य बाँचिरहेको छ यो महानगर !
सपनाको भारी, प्रतिस्पर्धाको कहर
घोलिदिन्छ मस्तिष्कमा कालकूट जहर
जरैदेखि उखेल्दै आशा र रहर
मरेतुल्य भएको छ यो महानगर !
सहन नसकी अनेक प्रहार र अत्याचार
कराउँदै छ रक्षाका लागि गुहार
कसरी पर्छ खै नागरिकको भर ?
मरेतुल्य बाँचेको छ यो महानगर !
© सन्दीप्त
Sun is red in the sky!
Could it be Dawn or Dusk?
Could it be a new beginning?
Or beginning of an end
Of all the red spilled
In the forests, streets and homes?
Will the blue-bordered red
Continue to smile as it does
Under the red sun?
शहीदका नाममा मौन धारण गर्न
छातिमा हात राखेर शिर झुकाउँदा
सोच्छु–
जहाँ
क्रान्तिको डरले घरमै बस्नेहरू,
व्यक्तिगत इबीमा फस्नेहरू,
स्वार्थको राजनीतिमा पस्नेहरू,
मरेर जाँदा “शहीद” मानिन्छ,
त्यहाँ शहीदको सम्मान कसरी पो हुन्छ ?
सोच्छु–
क्रान्ति र आन्दोलनका नाममा उदाएका भुइँमान्छेहरू
जब
सत्तामोहमा परेर,
अपराधको बाटो पक्रेर,
स्वाभिमानलाई बिर्सेर,
क्रान्तिको मर्म लत्याएर,
जनलाई घात गरेर
देश बेच्न पनि पछि पर्दैनन्,
धुरुधुरु रुँदा हुन् ती महात्माहरू
जसले
आमाबाबुको काख छाडेर
जीवनसाथीलाई एक्लो पारेर
छोराछोरीलाई सुनौलो सपना बाँढेर
मित्रजनलाई विश्वास गरेर घात नगरी
क्रान्ति सफल पार्न
देशका लागि प्राणको आहुती दिए !
सूर्यले बादललाई सिन्दुर लगाएको त्यो साँझ
राजकुमारीझैँ सझिएकी
कोमल हातमा गुडिया बोकेकी
एउटी सानी नानीका आँखाले
आफ्नी आमासँग
प्रश्नहरू सोध्दै थिए–
“आमा घर जाने बेला भएन ?
कति खेप बोक्न बाँकी छ
ईँटा र बालुवाको भार ?
कति समय लाग्ला बनाउन
हाम्रो पनि यस्तै ठूलो घर ?”
“We’ll create a Global Village,” they said.
And they laid
The basic foundations
To connect people
From different Nations.
***
The Global Village to people is dear;
It’s brought them near
And they understand
The world better than ever.
***
Is the world getting better, though,
I wanna know
When we are closed
In the closeness
Of this virtual world?
Are we going farther away
From our families?
From our friends?
From our neighbors?
From our society?
***
How do we balance between the world’s
Real and Virtual?
How do we carry on
Ourselves without
Being enthralled by stuffs
That are not quite real?
He sits in the corner of his dark room
And cries
Remembering the girl who cheated on him
And then
Threatened to sue him for no crime
He did.
He knows her tears will melt the mass,
Her voice will resonate in the crowd,
Her accusations will kill him even if
The court proves him innocent.
He knows no one, no law can
Help him.
That’s why
He sits in the corner of his dark room
And cries.
In towns and cities connected by roads
Never distant are the daughters
With no compromises and loads
Close to parents are the daughters.
***
Never distant were the daughters
We hope all our lives
Close to us were the daughters
We dream all our lives.
******
We hope all our lives
To return again to our parents
We dream all our lives
To see once again our parents.
***
To return again to our parents
We lament in this far off land
To see once again our parents
We pray in this desolate land.
******
[Note: I had written this poem in Nepali (माइती जान नपाउने चेली). After I received a comment from Mick Canning and read the translation, I felt so bad. So I tried translating the poem myself. This is also my effort on the Pantoum form of poetry.]
Were they humans when
they dragged me to the streets?
Were they humans when
they tore my clothes to tatters?
Were they humans when
they fed me their excreta?
Were they humans when
they scalped me and kicked me and punched me?
What had they become when
they called me a witch?
***
Had i been a witch
wouldn’t i have pushed them away?
Had i been a witch
wouldn’t I have stolen their riches?
Had i been a witch
wouldn’t i have inflicted terror upon them?
Had i been a witch
would i have prayed the Lord
to make them humans again?
All she ever asked for was–
a morsel of good meal
with her family
in a house that
protected them
from the blistering sun,
from the drenching rain and
from the chilling cold.
***
Her wish never came true
but she hoped it would,
until one day–
the dark clouds
washed out her crops,
washed out her hut,
washed out her hopes,
washed out her life.
***
She now wails, but in vain!
For it is not loud enough
to wake the gods up in heaven
above those dark clouds
that brought the rain!
उसले फगत मागेकी थिई
टन्टलापुर घामबाट,
मुसलधारे वर्षाबाट अनि
कठ्याङ्ग्रीदो जाडोबाट
जोगाउने घरमा
मीठो खानाको एक गाँस !
***
उसको सपना पूरा भएको थिएन
तर ऊ पूरा हुने आश गर्थी,
त्यो दिनसम्म जुन दिन
काला बादलले
उसको बाली बगाइदिए,
उसको छाप्रो बगाइदिए,
उसका आशा बगाइदिए,
उसको जिन्दगी बगाइदिए !
***
अहिले ऊ व्यर्थै रुन्छे !
किनकि उसको क्रन्दनले
झरी बनेर बर्सेका
काला बादलमाथि बसेका देउतालाई
उठाउन सक्दैन !
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