Kavita – Ek Sundari Beshya Prati

छ प्राप्तिको सुरा शरद् ! सुखोत्सवी छ मानव !
फली, फुकी, धनी धरा सुनौलिएर मुस्किइन् !
सुधा–उरीज सप्किंदी ! स्वभावमस्त ! मुस्कुरी !
ए सुन्दरी ? रसा सरी रुमाल फर्फराउँछयौ ?
रसाल भार रेशमी विचित्र चित्र रेखिए !
बन्यौ कि फूलले तिमी ? सुगन्ध ली हवा बहे !
रङ्गीन ज्यान झ्यालकी ! बजारबीचकी उषा !
उपास्दथें म अम्बिका ! झसङ्ग झैं यहाँ भएँ !
शरन्निशा तिमी झुकी, झिकी लजालु घूँघट,
स्मिति–प्रयोगिनी बनी, जिती सफेद चाँदनी,
सितारिंदी उदाउँछयौ ? बनाइ अङ्ग मख्मली ?
टुना गरेर चित्तमा चकोरका झिलीमिली ?
अनङ्गबाण झैं बस्यौ ? मिलिन्द डाक्न चञ्चली !
स्वरुप–शिल्पकारको टुना गवाउनाकन ?
म हूँ सितार स्नायुको, बजीरहेछु झन्किँदै !
समुद्र आज हो बडो छचल्किँदो जुनेलिँदै !
गुलाफतापले रचे विरिञ्चिले मनुष्य कि ?
मिलेर राग, वासना, फलिन्, फुलिन् वसुन्धरा !
छ मासुरङ्ग रेशमी लुगा लगाउने चरी !
अनङ्गबागमा बसी अलाप्दछे धनी सुरा !
जिती समाधि साधुको परी अपूर्व छिल्लिए !
छ मृत्तिका–प्रधान नै मनुष्यजीव, भूसुता !
म मासु–लाञ्छना गरी म पस्छु है चिसो गुफा !
म फूलको हूँ पारखी ! म पुज्छु सृष्टि, सुन्दरी !
मिहीन वाण हानिंदा, न घाउ लाग्नु हो शिला !
म मासुको हुँ ढुक्ढुकी ! म वेदना, म शास हुँ !
म चर्म रे ! म दृष्टि रे म रश्मिको जवाफ हुँ !
म हारको विहार रे ! म पादको सिँगार हुँ !
म स्वप्निंदो छु उर्वशी, जिलाउँदो छु मेनका !
मलाई दिव्य कामिनीको तिर्सना अनन्त छ !
म मत्तमा ! म मस्तता ! मलाई प्यास सुन्दर !
म अड्छु ! फुल्छु, हेर्छु रे ! मनुष्य पुष्प फर्फर !
इशार, फुल्छ चित्त यो ! पुकार, चल्छ छाति यो !
म मासुको गुलाफको मिठास के गरी भूलूँ ?
निसर्गको छ ऐन यो ! छ कृष्णलाई चैन यो !
समाधि–मग्न शम्भुको प्रकोपवादको खुशी !
म दीपको पतङ्गको अडान–निम्ति वार के !
यही त ब्रह्मपाश हो ! र बाँधिने मिठास हो !
यही चकोर प्यास हो ! हुनाको मात, आश हो !
म पौडिने तरङ्ग हो ! म मस्तिने सुवास हो !
न साँझ चान्द्र शैलमा प्रभापुरी अघि स्फुटी
गुलाफिइन् हिमालका समस्त टाकुरा जली !
यही अपूर्व कीर्तिले ! पखेरु खल्बल्याउँदै !
इशार स्वर्ग ! छैन त्यो भनेर भो म भन्दिन !
चिनेचिने सरी छ क्यै ! मलाई “आ” भनीकन
इशार्दछयौ ! म आउँला ! पिएर तृप्ति ल्यूँ अघि !
मलाई बोधिसत्वमा पु¥याउँ भन्छ पालुवा !
समस्त चारु चीजले मलाई आज डाक्दछन् !
तथापि अड्छु गौडले ! छ पर्श कालको यहाँ
जहाँ उडेर रङ्ग क्यै परेछ दाग द्धारमा !
तिमी गिज्याउँछयौ अरे ! म मूर्ख हैन, ए पख !
समाजलज्ज मान्नको छ देखिने अरु टक !
‘सुटुक्क झट्ट आ !’ भनी रुमाल फर्फराउँछयौ ?
कटाक्ष तीक्ष्ण लाउँछउौ ? सवाल मौन ल्याउँछयौ ?
यहीं छ द्धार, देख्छु है ! ए पर्ख ! क्यै निरख्छु है !
म देख्छु छूत मृत्युको ! त्यो चोइटो खसेछ है !
यहाँ त मृत्यु देखिनै हुँदैन रे तिमी जहाँ !
न हाँस ! कालको कथा कता कता सुनिन्छ है !
तिमी नजीक काल के ? म काल साथ लड्दछु !
तिमी भिडाउ सुन्दरी ? म मृत्यु साथ भिड्दछु !
उषा थिइन्, जली मरिन् ! सुवर्ण–साँझ अल्पिइन्
न आँशु हुन्, न तारका, वितान झल्झलाउँछ !
न देखिने खुँडा लिने मलाई क्वै सताउँछ !
कुचाल मार्छ सुस्तरी ममा प्रहार गर्न ए !
प्रसूनसाथ रोइनौ ? निशाग्र दृष्टि धोइनौ ?
र पुत्तली पखेरुका सुवर्ण–धूल छोइनौ ?
सुचारु साँझ जल्दथिन्, तिनी अगाडि रोइनौ ?
गलेर चाँदनी कणी, जली, ढली, थपोइनौ ?
म मार्छु मृत्यु सुन्दरी ! म क्रोधमा छु ! मार्न द्यौ !
विनाश चाल मार्छ रे ! म रोक्छु गर्व झर्न द्यौ !
म फूल झर्न दिन्न रे ! म रङ्ग उड्न दिन्न रे !
अहा ! यो मुस्कुरी पला अमोल हिँड्न दिन्न रे !
तँ वैंश ! अड् ! नमर् ! नमर् ! म गाउँला सदा ! सदा !
सुरा न सिद्धियोस् परी ! नशा भरी, र प्यास होस् !
तँ झ्यालको न नाश होस् ! तँ दृष्टि नित्य दास हो !
झकाइ, यो अटूट होस् ! तिमी, सदा निमन्त्रणा !
ए चन्द्रमा ! कला नफेर् ! तँ मेघ हे ! नजा नघेर् !
तँ पोज बस् ! तँ ओठ जी ! ‘मुसुक्क !’ मत्र्यता नवर् !
तँ नूर हो स्थिरप्रभा ! यहाँ छ कामिनी–शिखा
धधग् धधग् ज्वलन्त जो, तँ चित्त ! नित्य धग्धगा !
म वीर हुन्छु प्रेयसी ! शिंगार शस्त्रले तिमी !
पठाउ काल युद्धमा ! चढाउ अश्व, कल्पना !
अरण्यमा विशाल त्यो जहाँ गएर जानकी
दिएर रामवाहुमा प्रचण्ड शक्ति मुस्किइन् !
निचोर सृष्टिकी तिमी सजीव कामिनी बन्यौ !
तिमी, ममा छ विश्वको त फ्याक, फ्याक रे मुटु !
तिमी, म साथ चल्छ यो ! तिमी, म साथ फुल्छ यो !
हिमाल सम्झ पार्वती ! रसालकुञ्ज, राधिके !
अचम्म ! छौ बजारमा ? यहाँ कसोरि छौ तिमी ?
विशाल सृष्टि–वल्लरी प्रफल्ल एक पुष्प ए ?
म सोध्छु ए ! विचित्रकी तरङ्ग ! वृत्ति–बावली !
मभित्र बज्छ बाँसुरी, मिहीन औ पुरानिया !
न तौल अङ्गुली तिमी ! दशैं त मूल्य हो भनी !
हजार ज्यान अर्पिने विलासदास सामुमा !
अहो ! कसोरि सस्तियौ ? तिमी ? लसुन, प्याज झैं !
छ सानु रश्मि जो यहाँ, चढाउलाई हाँक खै ?
जमीनमा झरी बस्यो मिठासको महाफल ?
कहाँ छ टिप्नुको मजा ? र ज्यान जानुको रस ?
ए प्रेरणा विशालकी ! गंभीर–अब्धि कूलमा
बनेर रेणका म¥यौ ? जहाज–पाल बन्दिनौ ?
शहीद चारुको म ता ! प्रभातको विहङ्गम !
म स्वर्गपुष्प–चोर रे ! प्रताप आत्मदानको !
मलाई माग चाहियो ! मलाई आग चाहियो !
म भस्मबाट ब्यूँतिने विलासको चरा नहुँ !
म पूर्ण आपूm दिन्छु हे ! जुहारलाई ज्यान होस् !
मुहारलाई प्राण होस् ! मिटान निम्ति शान होस् !
म दिन्न अंशदान ए ! म सिंगुलै चढाउँछु !
नमाग यत्ति मात्र रे ! म आउँदो छु ! धाउँछु !
तिमी त सृष्टिधूलिका, मिले म विश्व रच्दछु !
विशाल सूनसान नै बसाउनेछु सुन्दरी !
कुँदेर चन्द्रखण्ड यो अपूर्व शिल्पकारले
छ मर्नु ! यत्ति मोलमा बिक्यौ भने प्रभावकारी !
बुझें ! बनेर व्यङ्ग्यकी विशालता तिमी बस्यौ
बजारमा समाजको, गिज्याइ आजको मुख ?
जहाँ छ साँढे स्वार्थको सुचारु पुष्प–भक्षक !
जहाँ छ राज्य मासुको र आँशुको जलाशय !
छ कीट लुब्ध पुष्पमा ! विनाशसार प्यार छ !
ठगी, अपूर्व रुपको ! र नोटको बजार छ !
चुरो किनिन्छ मानवी ! गरीबमाथि मार छ !
जहाँ समाज नामको कुनर्कको मुहार छ !
समानता अजीव छन् जहाँ, र ढ्वाँग सार छ !
अहा ! बनेर व्यङ्ग्यकी प्रदीपिका जल्यौ तिमी !
तिमी मनुष्य–मातृका ! तिमी सुधा ! तिमी क्षुधा !
विशाल विश्वदीपिका तिमी ! तमोमयी तृषा ?
यो लात हो विरिञ्चीमा ! यो सृष्टिमाथि लाञ्छना !
निसर्गको प्रवञ्चना !
यो दागदीप आजको ?
विशाल व्यङ्ग्य, व्यङ्ग्य हो !
समाजको समाजको !
प्रकोप–मूर्छिता चिता ! कराल सुन्दरी तिमी !
निशुम्भ, शुम्भ डाक्तछयौ ? प्रचण्ड, चण्ड, मुण्ड के ?
लगाइ रुण्ड मुण्ड के ! छछम् ! छछम् ! धिधिक् ! धिधिक् !
धपक्क बल्न इच्छियौ ? जमीन डग्डगाउँदै ?
ए व्यङ्ग्य ! व्यङ्ग्य नै बनी गिगिल्ल, हाँस झ्यालमा !
म बुझ्न सक्छु कालिके !
सिंगारिई सुरा पियौ ?
ल नाच ए भयङ्करा !
सती, प्रलाञ्छिता, भृता, प्रकुण्ठिता, प्रवञ्चिता,
रुलाउँछयौ विभेदले, झिझिल्किएर शानमा !
शठात्म–रुण्डमुण्डको झुलाउ माल्य अङ्गले !
मताउ ती महापशु ! प्रताडन अगोचरा !
स्वरुपमा नदेखिई, स्वभाव के लुकाउँछयौ ?
रुमाल के फुकाउँछयौ ?
गिगिल्ल, फर्फराउँछयौ ?
मुसुक्क काम पुत्तली बनी तिमी छकाउँछयौ
दशाङ्गुली, गनी, गनी,
“तँ आ !” भनी
जनाउँछयौ ?
जनाउँछयौ वलि ?
छली ?
नमाग पेटले तिमी मलाई ! डर्छु हे खरी !
नडाक मासुले तिमी मलाई ! जल्छ है डढी !
म धीर, वीर मर्द रे ! सहन्न मान–हानि यो !
नजिस्क, जानिजानि यो !
नजिस्क है !
म डाटुँला, न रुप चिने सरि ?
ए फ्याउरी !
ए स्निग्ध घोडा घाँसकी
खरिद प्यार मासुकी !
ए गर्त ! यौनप्यासकी !
ए पुत्तली विनाशकी !
विकारकी ए दाउ ए !
सँभाल वृत्ति आउ हे
लुकी, छली, नखाउ औ चपाउ हे ।
समाजध्वंसकी तिमी मिठीमुहार माउ हे !
न मान्दछयौ भने हरे !
छ के सिवाय वेवशी ?
ए उर्वशी !
यो कत्रो रीस , कत्रो रीस ?
भन्दछयौ “त्यहीं बसिस् ?
न आस्यमा, न आस्यमा,
परिस्, मरिस् ?”
लुकाई गन्ध क्रोधको, ज्वलन्त क्वै चितासरि,
शिकारका खरानीले घसी मुहार सुन्दरी,
महाशिखा !
उडाउँछयौ प्रलोभिनी !
यो इविनिङ् पेरिस् !
अपूर्वकी कला बनी
दिई जगत्मा लात के ?
खसाल्न गर्तमा सिक्यौ
प्रलुब्ध पूँजीपातके ?
ए काम वारिवाहकी निवासिनी सुदामिनी !
गिराई वज्र ज्योतिको,
बिलाउँछयौ निरुत्तरा ?
छुँदै लिएर प्राण के ?
हराउँछयौ विनाडर ?
ए सृष्टि वारि–वर्षिणी !
ए नागिनी ! ए दंशिनी !
प्रहासिनी !
ए पाशिनी !
ए सृष्टि–माउ ! सृष्टिकी प्रभक्षिणी,
अभागिनी !
पुजूँ कि पाद ? स्त्री–प्रभा !
हिलाऊँ प्राण–चामर ?
सजूँ कि शून्य सुन्दर ?
बजाऊँ भित्र घण्ट यो ?
बजाऊँ पाठ ! कण्ठ यो ?
रचूँ नयाँ जगत् म के ?
असी र चार प्यारका तयार पारुँ व्यञ्जन ?
अपार सद्य अज्मिए
प्रवेश गर्दछयौ ? भन !
त्यजेर छद्य चाल यो, के सत्यरुप धर्दछयौ ?
के कल्प, कल्प मातमा,
म साथमा दुगुर्दछयौ ?
ए पोथी शक्ति ! भूसुता !
लिएर जाल रेशमी सुवर्ण–मत्स्य–दिल कुनै,
अमोलको, खगोलको,
समुद्र–नीरबाट के शिकार्न शौक गर्दिनौ ?
ए पाल ! तालमा त्यहाँ !
हिमाल–सानुका मनि !
खिलाउँदी, पिलाउँदी र प्यारले जिलाउँदी !
जो सत्यमा छ, सम्झ हे !
स्वधम्र्मको सदा विधि !
म क्रुद्ध हुन्छ !
ठान्दछयौ जगत् भरी चले मिशीन ?
मिशीन मात्र चल्दछन् ?
अजीव छन् सबै ?
सबै ?
नज्यूँदछन् कुनै दिल, यहाँ तल ?
बुझी, चल !
म हैन प्राणहीन हे !
म हुँ उत्ताल जिन्दगी !
म भावको हुँ आँकुरा !
म दिव्यजाल माकुरो !
म जान खोन्छु के ठगी !
चरी सँगी ?
नशा हुँ अग्निको म ता !
म बाफ चक्षुनीरको
प्रवाहमा यो श्वासको समीरको !
छुँदैन यी पुकारले ,
ए छोइयू !
धुने भएन आँशुले ?
ए धोइयू !
परेर प्ररणा तिमी
झिलिक्क पङ्ख फोइयू !
म सत्ते रोइरा’ छु ए !
म आफु खोइरा’ छु ए !
ए सत्य रुपमा झर !
न फेरि लाञ्छना गर !
पचाउँछयौ नि बूझ है !
तिमी मलाई ल्यौ सबै !
ए आत्मा ! आऊ ! स्वर्ग जाऊँ
अन्भ, अन्भ, साथमा !
कुनै अपर्श उच्चता लिएर सद्य लौ सजूँ
रङ्गीन अभ्र पातमा !
कूचो समाऊ रश्मिको ! बढार पूर्व आँगन !
म साथ शक्ति ! घोसल !
विचित्र अग्नि माँगन !
निहार बेलिपूmलको टपक्क एक जीवन !
धु्रव–प्रदेशतारका अपारका निहारन !
जहाँ घुमेर साथमा अभेद्य ज्योति दम्पति,
सँगाल्छ विश्वसम्पति !
विचार अङ्क एकको उदेक ए
जहाँ दुई !
छ छाल, उछ्लिने
अनन्त–आँतको भरी
बोलाउँदै परस्परी !
महामरु प्रफुल्ल हुन्छ,
सर्छ सृष्टिवल्लरी !
तिमीले मन्त्र यो शिके,
“म अर्पिए सँधैभरि !”
म अश्रुसिन्धु हुन्छु ए !
डुबी डुबी तिमी मर !
जिई वर !
छ प्यारको हिमालयी महाघर !
गजूरमा छ त्यो मजा !
अनन्तसौख्यको ध्वजा !
जहाँ तुषार प्यारमा
उषा चढुन् शिंगारमा !
हारमा !
समाज आऊ लौ ! तरुँ !
बगाऊँ धार प्यारको !
किनारमा बसी रचूँ !
पुरी नयाँ अपारको !
घडाभरी छ, चन्द्रमा !
कलङ्क ध्वौ, बगी झर !
यहाँ पर !
के जिल्ल पर्दछयौ अरे ?
म उच्च–बुद्धि–पागल !
भए त कालिका, छली !
विनाशदीप सक्कली !
ए मानिसै भए पनि
मनुष्यको अरण्यमा मृतासमान एकली !
धराकलि !
मलाई चर्म देख्दछयौ ?
कि नोटका ठूला बिटा ?
न मर्म या निरख्दछयौ ?
सुतेछ हाय ! देवता !
सकारिनौ त प्यार के ?
ए ओर्ल ! छौ तयार के ?
भयो, भयो, न दृक् तर ?
क्षुधा, क्षुधा, रही मर !
तृषा, तृषा, सधैंभर !
डटेर झ्यालमा बस !
डढाऊ लौ बनारस
अधर्मिणी ! हिंडे पर !
सलाम ! भो क्षमा गर !
बिगार्दछयौ मुहार के ?
जगत् पखाल्न शक्दथ्यौ !
हिलो भर !
सडी मर !

Kavita – Ma

स्वर्ग र भूको सूक्ष्म हुँ स्पन्दन–
दाना तिलको,
यति छु मसिनो ! सक्छ को सम्झन ?
दिल झिल्को ?
अलग सचेतन सागर चेतन
कण जलको !
जति जति गिर्दछु उति उति उठ्दछु !
अन्त न बलको
विश्व बनाउँछु, विश्वधनी छु—
क्षण–झुल्को ।
सृष्टि, स्थिति र प्रलय म भोग्दछु,
प्रतिपलको ।
मेरा नीलिम गहिराइमा
मेरै अनिलको
तपन, जपन र अन्तः स्वपन छन्
ऋजु र कुटिलको ।
सब ती विसर्जन मिल्दछु जलमै,
जल–फुल्को !
जोरिन्छ जतातिर मानवतासँग,
साँध यो दिलको,
अनन्त शक्ति र ज्योति छु उत्तम
युगको अमर झिल्को !

Kavita – Kshitij Tira

पर पर कुइरी नील किनारा,
स्वर्ग झरीकन जिमीमा छुन्छ,
लामो सडकमा अडी यसबार,
दूर चिहाई दृगले गुन्छ ।
बहुविध पत्थर कङ्कड, काँढा,
बाढी, खाडी, उकाली हुन्छ,
ओर्ली किरण र उक्ली डाँडा,
दूर शिखरमा स्वर्ग नुहुन्छ ।
दिनदिन हेरन नील–काढाँमा,
माकुरीको जाल रहन्छ,
दिनको उज्यालो पर पाटामा,
बाटामा तर कुइरो बहन्छ ।
मानिस आफैं आफ्नो डरमा,
आँखा चिम्ली कैद रहन्छ,
आफैं मगन्ता आफ्नो घरमा,
मृत्यु पुजीकन मृत्यु सहन्छ ।
दुःखले पायो हेर्न कहाँ पर ?
मुटु शर पन्छी दृग चिमलिन्छ,
चतुर्मुखी अघि बन्दछ अमुखर,
घाट र घर बीच तित रुमलिन्छ ।
चिथरो दौरा, आधी छ नाङ्गो,
टोपी शिरमा गोल धरो छ,
गन्धक तन औ हर क्यै बाङ्गो,
भरिया मनिरै ठिङ्ग बरो छ !
कल्पिरहेछु शिखर किनारा
सुन्दर बस्ती श्रमको झलमल,
पूरा मानव हँसमुख सारा,
नव युगलोचन रचना उच्चल !
आँधीहरुमा झर्छन् तरुवर,
तिनमा तारागणले रुन्छ,
हुरी चढेका मानवहरु तर,
भोलि दिनले सम्झिरहन्छ ।

Kavita – Grahan Nuhaundi Prati

क.

सूर्यकी दुहिता ! चन्द्रकी भगिनी !
ए युवती ! गर स्नान !

ख.

अनार पालुवा लाल रहन्न
थाक्दछ बुलबुल गान !
समयले सुन्दर स्वपना सहन्न !
टुट्दछ रेशम तान !

ग.

यस पोकाम बिच्छी पस्छन्,
साँप हिलामा बस्छन् ।
मैला बेहोशीका क्षणमा
क्रूर जहरले डस्छन्
धोई राख्नुपर्दछ यस्तो
रातो रेशम थान !

घ.

अनन्त सम्झी मानव–जीवन
प्रलय भुल्दछौ हामी
क्षणका अन्धा दास बनीकन,
भ्रमका सुन्दर सदन बनाउन,
छौं नामी !

ङ.

सूर्य पिताको मुखमा राहु छ !
किरणहरुमा बार !
हिउँ हुने शङ्का मातालाई छ ।
खण्डहरको दुःस्वप्न कडाले
झस्किरहेछ संसार !

च.

जीवन–ज्योतिमा छाया पर्दछ,
किन बिरसौं ?
मत्र्यताको स्याउ रङ्गको
यस कायामा मृत्युको छाया
छोइरहेछ !
किन हरषौं ?

छ.

महाकालको दर्शन पायौं
ग्रास विषे !
छूत लाग्दछ पन्छीहरु लौ ?
क्या तरसे !
पृथिवीको हो यो गङ्गाजल !
स्नान गर !
चिसो छामोस् मूर्ख कलेवर !
सविता परका सविताको
भजन गर !

ज.

भूनिशाको यस छायामा
सूर्य बसे !
मत्र्यताको होश नराखे,
हृदय नधोए
यस्ता क्षणमा
साँप पसे !

झ.

बाग्मतीमा मध्याह्न
ग्रस्त महान् !
तर्सेकी चरी क्वै
गर्छ स्नान !

ञ.

बैंशचुलीमा छाया छ !
यो हो हृदय पखाल्ने बेला !
आवान यो हो महाश्मशानको !
धोऊ, गङ्गाजलले सुन्दरी !
अल्पायु सुनौला चोला !

ट.

ग्रहण बुझेका स्नाताहरुको
हृदय पखाल्ने भू–जल छ !
अवनिपुष्पमा बादल छाया !
विश्वास किरणमा निर्मल छ !

Kavita – Asia

अमृत कलकल वाणी !
ज्वालामुखको तिम्रो माला, द्धीपपुञ्जको भूषण ।
“आमा” भन्दछ आधा मानव, लाख विहङ्गम वाणी !
अगणित तिम्रा राष्ट्र–अङ्गमा जागृतिको छ तरङ्ग,
रङ्ग छ एक बिहानी !
जाग जाग हे !
शिखर लाग हे !
चिरनिद्रित दृग मिच ज्ञानी !
निर्मल हृदय छ तिम्रो वैकाल, वल्कसको जल–खानी !
प्रथम किरणकी ऊँची चुली, प्रथम सृष्टिकी रस लहरा !
सभ्यताकी गुरुमा नि !
सकल धम्र्मकी किरण–केन्द्र ए ! विश्वकी पहली बिहानी !
पामीर तिम्रो विश्व–छत्र हो ! झ्यालमोलङ्मो कीर्ति–चुली !
स्टानोभोइदेखिन् एल्बुर्जपर्वत–हार बयानी !
निहुरिन्छयौ तिमी यूरालउपरमा चुमी यूरोपा रानी,
उत्कर्षहरुको खानी !
चिरशोषित हे ! चिरदूषित हे !
जाग, जाग हे जाग !
अरबौं जनका जनशक्ति लिई उन्नति–पथमा लाग !
उच्चारन हे विश्वप्यारको,
विश्व–शान्तिको वाणी—
महाद्धीपकी ए महारानी !
आर्य र मङ्गोल द्राविड, निग्रो, कमचटूकी या जापानी,
सुमेरुदेखिन् वालीसम्मन् यूराल फुजी सीमानी,
एक लहरमा सब लहरेलान् !
एक प्रभावले सब सिहरेलान् !!
एक हि लक्ष्य निशानी !
मानवताको झन्डा उचाली !
युगका कुइरा फाली !!
एक सूत्रमा सकल राष्ट्रको प्यारको माला गाँसी,
भाइ परस्पर जानी !
उच्चालित होऊ !
उच्चालित होऊ !
जाग जगत्मा, मावनताको
जीवशक्ति प्रमाणी !
महाद्धीपकी ए महारानी !
सकल विभवकी खानी !
जाग एशिया रानी !
चीन छ तिम्रो वीर सुपुत्र सिंह उठेको अब शानी
रुस सदृशको तनय विशाल छ, विश्वविजेता विज्ञान ।
तर भूतलमा आज छ राती,
थरथर काँप्दछ मानवजाति,
आण्विक ली पशुबल कोही धम्की दिन्छ नजाती,
तिमीले बोक्नु छ आश–दियाली
तिमीले अमृत–थाली
तिमीले बटार्नु छ सूत्र सुनौला, प्रेमको पन्था चाली !
विश्वशान्तिकी ध्वनि बन शानी !
महाद्धीपकी महारानी !
जाग छ आज बिहानी !!

Poem – Barsha

आइन् वर्षा हररर चढी वायुपङ्खी विमान,
पाङ्ग्रा घर्षी शिखर गरजी थर्कियो आसमान ।
झिल्के झिल्का, अचल मुख भो त्रासले नील गाढा,
चूली नाघिन् प्रकृति कलिलिन्, देखिंदै दूर टाढा ।
बाफैको हो रथ त हलुका, शानले त्यो विशाल
पत्रे बुट्टा रजत–तहमा पर्छ कल्सिन्छ छाल ।
मुस्किन् विद्युत् वरुणदुहिता साँवली कोमलाभा
गोरा डाँडा विचरन चुली उल्किई, देखिंदामा ।
फर्फर पार्छिन् चदर हलुका, लत्रिंदो, मेघ ह्वैन,
लाखौं मोती—लुङ नपहिरी चित्त बुझ्ने हुँदैन ।
पोल्टो झोली रतन—निधिका स्नेहले मुस्कुराइन्,
यौटा मोती—लुङ चुँडिन गै शैलमा झर्झराइन् ।
नाच्दी, कुद्दी, हरष उछली, यानमै आजलाई
आएकी ती तुहिन–कलिली पार्वती भेट्नलाई,
गाँऊ भन्छिन् जगत् छहरी स्वर्गको दिव्य तान,
ठाडा बन्छन् श्रवण कविका शीतलो सुन्न गान ।
आशङ्काले भुरभुर गुँडै सम्झिंदा पङ्ख नाना
जाओ बच्चाहरु नतरसून् गर्जिदा स्वर्ग–छाना,
लर्बर् गर्दा कुशल कमिला ! लौ गरे हे हतार,
तेसै ओर्ली चिर चकँरिंदो चील ! होला अबेर ।
तस्वीरै झैं अलि छिन उडी वायुले पक्ष फेर्दा,
सन्नाटामा तरुवरहरु ! उक्लिंदो खात हेर्दा,
पर्खी बस्थ्यो पवन पहिलो सुन्न फर्मान दूर
तिम्रा राजा सलिलनिधिका ! लौ सुने यो नुहेर !
“लाखौं मूरी रतन–जलका वायु मैले उचालें,
पारावार प्रभुहृदयका उच्च आदेश पालें,
बाफीला ती रजत घटका चारु बान्की उचालें,
वर्षी बोकी वरणदुहिता पार्वती भेट्न थालें ।
“लेखें मैले जलदपटमा अक्षराकार धेर,
इच्छा छारा प्रभु वरुणको, वर्षको यो सवेर,
हाँगा, लच्की, लहर लहरी, खातिई, पत्रिएर
बोल्दा छन् ती अमिट सुरमा कान थापेर हेर ।
“तानाशाही दिनकर भए, सुन्छु यस्तो फिराद,
मेरो छाती जल, जल छ ! ती सन्किएछन् फसाद !
दण्डी दिन्छु स्थगन रविको राजको होस् धरामा,
शून्याभासी कुछ दिन बनून्, दुःख भो उर्वरामा ।
“बच्चा ! दुःखी ! हिम अचलका पङ्ख ! प्राणी ! प्रशाख !
तिम्रा भेजा मम हृदयका रत्न छन् लेउ लाख !
लामा छाया सजल घनका लाख तिम्रा सियाल !
रङ्गीचङ्गी धनु विजयको, दैन्य सारा पखाल ।
“धूली खोला सलिल, वरर्षी शानजस्तो अटूट,
पाई प्राणी अमृत–लहरी फस्टिनेछन् अछूट,
दौरामा छन् जलधि–दुहिता, साम्य कारुण्यभाव,
फैली चाँडो मुख अवनिको, हुन्छ, आनन्द–लूट ।
“पृथ्वी फल्लिन् सलिल–कलिली धानले छापिएर
गाई रोप्लान् चपलवयसी, दृक्–बिजुली लिएर ।
बाली राम्रो, तृण अति हरा, वर्ष राम्रो कबूली
पारावार प्रभु–हृदयको फुट्छ सङ्गीत केली ।
“मीठा, मीठा अमृत रसका बिज्जुले लाख, लाखा
भर्दै राम्रा फल तरुहरु पाउँछन् भन्न, ‘चाख’ ।
भारी शाखा शरदऋतुमा लच्किंदा दानलाई,
मेरो इच्छा यति छ, यति हो नील आदेश, भाइ !
“लौ लौ गाओ दल दल वनै, वृक्ष हो ऊठ सारा,
बर्षे घैंटा घट घट गरी स्वर्ग–पीयूष धारा ।
दर् दर् दर्के अमित–कनिका, प्यून लागिन् धराले,
उफ्री, नाची चल विटप हो, पाउनेटौ जराले,
“यो बेला हो रस–मिलनको, प्राप्तिको यो चहाड,
यो गानाको गगन, जनको कल्पनाको बहाड,
यो पौडीको सुखजलधिमा फूल रातो असारे
झन्डा सम्झी, मुजुर–मन भै पिच्छमा रङ्गधारे ।”

Poem – Ughrera Bigreko Bihan

रोई रात, किटेर दन्त, पगली, झाँक्रो फिँजारी, झरी,
आत्मा तुल्य स्वदेशकी, दुःख परी, क्रन्दी, पुकारा गरी,
धच्की द्धार समस्त न्यायमुखरी घुँक्की, हुरी भै उडी
आयो क्रान्तिपछाडि शान्तिसरिको यौटा बिहानी घडी !
दुष्ट स्वप्न विनष्ट भो, तिमिर गो, गो काठिने शासन !
धोएको छ हवा, तथापि धनको यो व्योममा आसन !
टुक्रा धूर्त भए, वरिपरि रहे, चाँदी बनी फूलिए !
चूली–चञ्चल–हात बाल रविको पीछा गरी डम्मिए !
यौटा घोष भयो सुवर्ण–स्वरको उत्तुङ्ग है श्रृङ्गमा !
तान्थी जागृति आँग भूमितलमा, न्यानो पसी अङ्गमा !
बोले पङ्ख उडेर अल्प हुन गो आनन्द सारा तर !
छोप्यो बादलले, चिसो जगत भो, आगो निभ्यो सुन्दर !
रोगी हुन्छ बिहान, दुर्बल तथा रुन्चे, निकम्बा अब !
आँधी हो कि कराउने ? विफल भो विस्फोटको, गौरव !
काँपी थुर्थुरि घाम भाग्छु दुनियाँ आशा टुसैमा मरी !
आगो बाल्नुप¥यो घरैघर बसी, को खप्छ यो थुर्थुरी !

Poem – Manis Birat

क.
सहस्रशीर्ष, सहस्रपाद !
झल्किरहेछ एक विराट् !

ख.
अल्प सहस्र संवत्सरले केवल, जिनतिन,
अल्पोच्चोरित,
उसका इङ्गित
हामी सारा नेपाली हुँ !
हाम्रो देश छ हाल,
एक अनाविष्कृत केवल,
एक अनुच्चारित, कल्पनु
परको, लोक कमाल !
अदृष्ट विशाल ! नेपाल !

ग.
नागहृद्मा वनकणीमा,
मानिस जन्म्यो,
हरियो फूल !
सम्भावनाको क्षितिजद्धारमा,
प्रथम पर्वतको यो किनारमा !
माछो, कछुवा, वराह र वामन,
बन्दै दारमा !
सिंढी चढ्दो, बढ्दो अगाडि,
पूर्ण पछाडि, पुकारमा !

घ.
माटो फूल भो
ओठको लागि !
बास्नी खुल्न !
फूल, चरा भो,
उड्न र बोल्न !
पछि भो पन्छी,
सुन्दरलाई,
पिउन, उछल्न !
मानिस हुन गो !
मुटु विराट्को
छाम्न, छिचोल्न !

ङ.
कोरा मानिस, हिउँको थुप्रो !
खाडी, बाढी !
मानव–पदार्थ सब–माटो, हावा,
अग्नि अनादि !

च.
विकृत मानिस, सर्प, भ्यागुता,
गोही, डाँस !
घूँघा, गधा !
या सिस्नो, बाँस !
मानिस एउटा बनिरहेछ !
‘सोऽहं, सोऽहं !’ भनिरहेछ !

छ.
हामी तारा धूली धुलेका,
मन्दोष्ण कणी,
ताराका हुँ हामी पनाति,
नेबुलाका हामी जनाति,
सूर्यका नाति,
पृथ्वीका छोरा ।
चन्द्रका भाइ, बहिनी पनि !
स्वर गङ्गामा !
पछिको पोषण सार यहाँ छ !
पृथिवीमा !
यहाँ विराट्को एउटै मुटुको
ढुकढुक चल्छ !
कोटी पादले कोही चल्छ ।
कोटी शीर्षले कोही टटोल्छ ।
कोही बोल्छ ।

ज.
बहिनी रेणु ! दाज्यू हिमाल !
हामी उसका जीवकणी हुँ !
एउटै मानिस सबमा दुगुर्छ,
प्रति चेष्टाले उसका, हामी,
एक एकमा एक अनन्त,
अखिल धनी हुँ !

झ.
मिरमिर मानिस माटोमा छ !
तिरमिर मानिस सूर्य किरणमा !
छिरबिर मानिस वनमा त्यहाँ छ !
एउटा मानिस झल्किरहेछ,
सब वस्तुमा, सब जनमा !

ञ.
पूरा, अधूरा
मिरमिर ! किरमिर !
एउटा मुटुको ढुकढुक, ढुकढुक !
एक कल्पना, छिर िबर, छिरबिर !
एक रुधिरको धावन, सिरसिर !

ट.
विश्वहरुको जोड गरीकन,
एउटा विश्व बन्यो !
विश्वहरुका राजा मिलीकन
एउटा राजा बन्यो !

ठ.
एउटा मानिस ढाक्दछ नेपाल !
थल, जल, आकाश !
निल्दछ देश र निल्दछ काल !
बन्छ विशाल !
विश्व जीवनीको गाना गाउँछ !
मीठो ठाँट !
मानिस विराट् !

Poem – Yug Balak

पिन्चे, लुत्याहा, परेवा–छाती
छाडा,
पुट्ट, सिँगाने, भुस्याहा साथी,
काँढा !
घ्यारघ्यार बिरालोको घाँटी,
जाँडा ।
यही न हाम्रो भविष्य सुई हो !
टाढा !
देवदूतले अभिशापित भुइँ हो,
गाढा,
ईश्वरलाई दुःख दिन दुई छन्,
राँडा ।
चित्र रङ्गीन उज्याला हेर्दछु,
बाल !
स्याउ फलेका, अनार फुटेका
लाल !
कसरी आउला नवीन सुनौला
छाल ?
यस्तो यत्रो देवदूतको
हेला ?
यो लापर्वाही, यो लाचारी,
मेला ?
“आउँदैनौँ” भने ती यसतिर फेरि
जेलाँ ?
सुन्दर झर्ने कसरी असुन्दर
भेला ?

Poem – Aho Malai Tajoob Lagchha

क.
थलथल माछो नृसिंह जाग्छ !
वानस्पत अणु मङ्गल माग्छ !
बानर एउटा चन्द्रमा ताक्छ !
अहो ! मलाई ताजूब लाग्छ !

ख.
मृतकणी औ किरणको शादी,
थियो अगाडि !
एक प्यारको स्पन्दन जाग्छ !
कस्तो त्यसको सन्तति अगणित,
दुनियाँ ढाक्छ !
माछो, कछुवा, वराह, वामन !
इतिहास लाग्छ !
अहो ! मलाई ताजूब लाग्छ !

ग.
कोही अदुभुत मिरमिर सिँढीमा
ढीलो सुस्त,
चढिरहेको जस्तो लाग्छ !
अस्ति आजको अन्तर देखी,
चमत्कार नै निहुरी भाग्छ !
भोलि कल्पन हुन्छ असम्भव,
क्षितिज किनारा पर, पर लाग्छ !
अहो ! मलाई ताजूब लाग्छ !

घ.
अङ्ग पल्हायो, अङ्ग बिलायो !
छैटौँ इन्द्रिय यसको क्या हो ?
किरणकणीले आत्मा बेह्री
मासुरङ्गको, पृथिवीको क्या !
पोशाक लगायो !
जल, थल, नभको विजयी बन्न
मन्त्रदान के यसले पायो ?
कालकर नै पक्री गिज्यायो !
मृत्यु छिचोली हेर्ने ताक छ !
अहो ! मलाई ताजूब लाग्छ !

ङ.
आफ्नै वेगले हार, गुहारमा,
पुच्छ्रे तारो यो आकाश–किनारमा !
परमाणु फुटाई आफ्नै, निभ्छ कि ?
आफ्नै किरणले, आफ्नै घरमा ?
राम बालक छ, रावण जाग्छ,
कैलाश हिलाई शक्ति नै माग्छ !
कसले जित्दछ ? कसले राज्छ ?
यस लङ्कामा भीषण भाग छ !
अहो ! मलाई ताजूब लाग्छ !

च.
खण्डहरहरुको सपना देख्दछु !
माकुरोको जेहेनी जाली !
कमिला गजबका शहर बनाउँछन्,
प्रबन्ध निकाली !
भीर पुगेका बस्तु देख्दछु,
कोही डाक्छ !
तर्सी उठ्दछु झट्ट कहाली !
सातो भाग्छ
अहो ! मलाई ताजूब लाग्छ !

छ.
कुन होला त्यो, तारा–जङ्गल
—फूलको धागो, जसले गाँस्छ !
रातभर कहिले सुत्दिन, साथी !
त्यो धागोको छेउ भेट्टाई,
तानूँ तानूँ जस्तो लाग्छ !
मुटुभन्दा झन् गिदी पो दगु¥यो !
यसमा अभाग छ !
मन्त्रले आँधी हान्ने ढुक्कुर,
पक्रूँ भन्दा किन पर भाग्छ !
खलबल मन भो, निद्रा नलाग्छ !
शङ्का, आशा किन यति जाग्छ ?
अहो ! मलाई ताजूब लाग्छ ?

ज.
चन्द्रमाले यो जाति
माथि डाक्छ ?
मङ्गलमा के नव आबादी
यसको लाग्छ ?
बन्ला हृदय कि ? सीमा नाघ्छ ?
अहो ! मलाई ताजूब लाग्छ !

Poem – Maal Kindi

क.
समय बराबर प्यारले फर्की,
उल्टो छाल
हान्छ कमाल !
किनकि अगाडि क्यै झल्केथ्यो,
बेहोश वेगमा,
स्वर्गको माल !

ख.
सम्झनाले गिज्याइहिछ बोक्रालाई,
निद्रालाई तन्द्रालाई,
ऊँगलाई आत्माको !
“तैले बेंक्मा राखेमध्ये
कुन हो अक्षर ?
कुन हो सुन्दर ?
के ले जिउँछन् रातमा यो ?”

ग.
क्षणहरुले लुटिरहन्छन्
नित्य मलाई
गरीब बनाई,
सम्झनाले लुटेर तिनकन,
“लौ ला” भन्छे — यो भारी चीज,
खोसी ल्याएँ !
तेरो, तँलाई !

घ.
अलकत्राले कालो सडक छ
नकली माल रङ्गीन भडक छ !
दिनकरको छ यात्रा अन्त !
बाँकीपुरमा याद अटक छ !
बिजुली–तारमा एक चटक छ !
पृथिवी बन्छिन् बैकुण्ठ !

ङ.
स्वर्गावतरित सन्ध्या ओर्ली
पसल–सींढीमा ओर्लन खोज्छिन् !
ज्योतिषी छन् साथी दृग दुई
जब नव तारा झल्किन रोज्छिन् !
उज्यालो भनेको अमृत हो !
जिइरहन्छ, जिलाइरहन्छ !
ती झल्किथिन्, लझ गुँज्छिन् !

च.
फेला परयो तब एउटा ताला !
खुले हृदयको सारा कोठरी,
ऐनावाला !
झल्किन् हजारौं रङ्गले
बाला !
नशा, नशाका तार भरी क्यै बिजुली दुगु¥यो,
ज्वाला माला !

छ.
सुन्दरीजल झर्ना झरेथ्यो
जीवन–चक्र घेर घुमाई !
दुनियाँका सब नगरी झिलमिल
पारुँ जस्तो लाग्यो मलाई !

ज.
दिनकर डुबेथे यत्ति निम्ति !
बिजुली बलेथे यत्ति लागि !
अनन्त क्षणहरु भुरभुर उडेथे
ठाउँ बनाउन यस क्षण लागि !
म पनि सारा संसार घुमेथें
पाउन यत्ति, यत्ति भागी !
एक थलनिम्ति संसार बन्छन्
एक पलनिम्ति पृथिवी घुम्छिन्
एक क्षण लागि जीवन बन्छन्
अनन्तका पनि क्षणमा गुँड छन् !

झ.
एकै क्षणको आन र तान,
दिव्य दर्शन या सूनसान !
एक पलकमा नितको ज्यान !
एक झलकमा पर आश्मान !
एक झलकमा जगत् श्मशान !

ञ.
मानवताको बिरुवामाथि
फुल्दछ यति तर्क भन्ने जानें !
दुई आँखाले पिए त्यो राति
त्यो अमृत जो सुरले जाने !

ट.
सुन्दरता ! के पायौ याद ?
चोरी हुन्छन् पथमा कत्रा ?
आफू सग्लै टिपियौ, अचेता !
धनी बनाउँछयौ कोष परत्र !

ठ.
स्वरुपभन्दा छाया अमर छ !
छाया ठूलो ! छाया सुन्दर !
तिम्रो तत्क्षण थिति नै अमर छ !
अजर छ तिम्रो मोहनी–मन्दिर !

ड.
प्यार भनीकन कोही छुँदो हो,
अवहेलनको तिम्रो काया !
पूजा गर्दै कोही रुँदो हो –
सम्झन सक्छयौ ?–
सकुची, चित्रन तिम्रो छाया !

ढ.
प्राप्त तिम्रा वैभव सीमित !
अप्राप्त तिम्रा धन छन् असीमित
आपूmभन्दा तिमी छौ ठूली !
अचेत छौ ए शक्ति अकेली !

ण.
कुनै कुनामा, भारतदेश,
शायद् वाष्पिल दर्पण सामु
दुखले टिप्छयौ फुल्दो केश !
बैँसको हरियो, मीठो, फुल्दो
उपवनमा भै शरदावेश !

त.
कसरी बताऊँ तिमी छौ उस्तै ?
बयस अमरमा सुन्दर चूली ?
आँधी न छुन्छन्, समय न छुन्छ !
परिवर्तन छ पदको धूली !
एकान्त हराएँ मैले सुन्दरी !
बेहोश निमौले संगमा बोली !
समय अडाई, विजयकथाका
वार्ता खोली !

थ.
सींढी पसलका ओर्ल शके ए !
ती लोचनका झुम्का ओराल !
उन्नाईसौँ बत्तीस सन् छ !
बदल, सके लौ, तिमी यो काल !

द.
स्पर्शहरुले खिइँदै शोभो
छाया–जगत्मा आश्रय लिन्छन् !
सचेत बन्दा आत्मा, आखिर,
त्यसमै सदन बनेको पाई—
निवसन्छन् !
आइरहिछौ ! मेरा हकले
सबका छिन्छन् !
विशाल विश्वको बाजार विषे, मेरा हकले,
माल किन्छन् !

ध.
संसारी क्वै स्तरमा भुल्दी
आफ्नो राज र सच्चा शासन !
ए अचेता ! पाउली याद !
मुग्ध दिल हो सुन्दर–आसन !

न.
सम्बन्धहरुमा मसिना, मीठा
सञ्चित अश्रुत स्वर नै बोली !
कोही जनममा चित्रकलामा
चकित बनाई, झल्के भोली !
पूरा मिलनमा, लबढब हुँला
विश्वनाथका मुटु भै डोली !

Poem – Sandhe

मेरो नाम छ साँढे !
वैज्ञानिक पटु शक्तितन्त्रले
मन्त्र गरीकन छाडे !
पशुबल पाँडे !
क्षेत्र क्या फाँडे !
पन्ना पृथिवी उजाडेँ !
“हा ! हा !” गर्दछ तर्सी दुनियाँ,
डुक्री, हाँकी–हपारेँ !
मेरो नाम छ साँढे !
मानिस जाति थिचियोस्, मिचियोस्,
के पर्वा ?
बलको सुराले लाल छ आँखा,
मेरा मगजमा रिसका ज्वलनका
अणु अर्वा !
विस्फोटक छन् ध्वनिहरु ध्वुंसक,
शठ–गर्वा !
जवाफदेही दुनियाँप्रति के !
तृणचर वा !
अङ्गाररङ्गा हूँ ढाडे !
मेरो नाम छ साँढे !
दया भनेको कमजोरी हो,
गर्जी ड्वाँ !
बालक जन्मनसम्मन् तर्सून् !
पृथिवी झ्वाँ !
आगो डकार्दछु ! सभ्यता खार्दछु,
भुट्दछु च्वाँ !
किनकि म साँढे, साँढे नै हुँ !
भाले ह्वाँ !
वरपर हेरन, तर्सन छाडेँ
मेरो नाम छ साँढे !
सभ्यता सब अट्ने उदर यो,
शस्त्र शिङ्गार !
फलाप मशल् औ विश्व निडर यो,
वंव्–हुङ्कार !
तोपहरुको मुहरी मुख यो
ड्वाँ ओडार !
प्रलयकालको हुँ पटु पाँडे !
मेरो नाम छ साँढे !

Poem – Paani

क.

पानीजस्तो के छ जगत्मा ?
पानी !
रानी, सब रसकी !

ख.

आम्लजन औ जलजनकी यी
कस्ती मधुर मिलन !
कस्ती तरल मिलन !
दुई प्रेमीले संसार बसाए
यस जलमा !
दुई बिलाई एक बनेथ्यो
तत्व यसैमा, कोमलमा !
प्यारका आँखा चार, बराबर,
जल बन्छन् ! जल बन्छन्,
दुईटा दिलका दूरालिङ्गन,
भावित सङ्गम,
बाफ उडीकन, बादल बन्छन् !
बादल बन्छन् !
दूरी मिटाउन घर्षन्छन् !
सम्झनाका बिजुली–लहरा
विलसन्छन् क्या
द्रवाभिपुख ती पानीमा !
हृदयले सारा रस नै निचोरी,
बाहिर झिक्दा,
आउँछन् पानी, नानीमा !

ग.

पानी–रानी आइरहिछन्
ज्येठको दिनमा गगनमा !
धुवा भुवामा, धुवा भुवामा,
शानी गतिमा, बगुवामा !
घुम्टो डाली,
माकुर–जाली
पर्दा–नशीन झैं, पर्दा–नशीन झैं, वरुणकुमारी,
सुकुमारी !
रत्नाञ्चला छन् भारी, प्यारी !
वायुप्ङखी चढीरहिछन्, लगाम रोकी
पर्वतवारि !
पाश्र्वमा छ चाँदीपत्ती कुँदिएको क्या
जलझारी !
फटिक महलमा भेट्न उमाकन
बढ्छिन् उत्तरतिर ती, के ? भन !
कोमलताले खुशले चुमिई
वनस्थली क्या मस्की !
पानी आइन् !
कविकी कहानी
पानी, रानी सब रसकी !

घ.

उत्तर लम्क, उत्तर लम्क !
स्वागत गर्छौ नेपाली !
खुस्की मोती–पोल्टो, छम्क,
झर्र झमटमा गानाको धन,
पुलकित तृणमा अफाली !

ङ.

पृथिवी परिथिन् विविध कटौरा
पक्रन, पहिलो वर्षणमा !
देश देशका सिमाना सब,
नीला, लगायौ तिमीले रानी !
प्रथम प्रलयको घर्षणमा !
पर्वतबाट खेल्यौ सुरेली
बेल्यौ बनायौ गर्त, दरी !
पृथ्वीको यो अनेहार बनायौ,
शिल्पिवरी !
समतल, अवतल, उत्तल सुन्दर !
आरोहण औ अवरोहणको
सङ्गीत सरि !
तिम्रा पद, पद, पन्ना उब्ज्यो,
हरियो लाग्यो सुन्दरता !
सभ्यताले मन्दिर पायो,
दुनियाँ बन्यो, भो जग–रमिता !
पहिलो भाषा, शब्दको खानी !
पहिलो चित्र, नभपट भित्र,
पहिलो शिल्प हिमानी !
दृगमा रसायौ पहिलो प्रीति
सलिल तरङ्ग हो पहिला गीति !
नाच्न सिकेथ्यो चराचरले,
तिम्रै तरल पयरले !
पानी ! पानी ! जादूगर्नी !
सभ्यता हो तिम्री छोरी !
तारीफ तिमी छौ दिशि दशकी !
पानी ! रानी सब रसकी !

च.

लहडी नानी !
ए पानी !
वसन–गुलाफी, श्रृङ्गार–सुनौली,
उषालु वेला,
दिव्य गगनमा, क्या स्वर्बाला !
अनुपम, नौली !
करबाल लिएकी बिजुली, चमचम,
वर्षा–समरको भूमि गगनमा,
हाँक्दा वीरा रुपौली !
आँधिकेशर आरुढा तिमी
कालो कराली,
सङ्क्रान्ति–कालकी गजौंली !
बीभत्स–स्वरुपिणीमा
बष्यौंली !
पुस्करिणीमा शान्तरसकी
स्वर प्रतिविम्बी दर्पण निश्चल
साधु उरझै्र झल्कौली !
उत्तुङ्ग शिखरमा वसुन्धरा
तिमी तपस्विनी ज्ञानी !
सेती, फटिक हिमानी !
पार्वतीकी रोगन शानी !
उच्चताकी अमर कहानी !
ध्यानी !
शिवकी प्रिया छौ,
स्वर्णदीपिका भाव–शिखरले पूजा गर्दी
शङ्कपद अभिमानी !
ए पानी !

छ.

बुरबुर चीनी सल्लाघारीहरुमा राति
बुट्टा जाति, बहुभाँति !
सुस्त हवाको चलनीद्धारा
छिर्दै, मधुकर मैदा झाछर्यौ !
एकान्तलाई पाउडर लगाई,
सफेद सिंगाछर्यौ !
पर्वतबाट हाम्फालेर,
समतल सम्झी,
माइती जाने बाटो वेली
नूपुर पछाछर्यौ !
चल्दाचल्दै बाटामा तिमी
पलपल उपल, उपलमा कोमल
चाँदी–बेली सिंगाछर्यौ !
ढुङ्गालाई बोल दिईकन बुलबुल पाछर्यौ !
अथवा, चिसापानी गढीमा,
हिउँका पुतली फुरफुर झाछर्यौ !
अथवा सुन्दरताको स्वपना
रँगिलो धुनमा लच्का माछर्यौ !
अथवा तीतरपङ्खहरुले
व्योम बराबर सुन्दर सिंगाछर्यौ ।
अथवा, एकली वाष्पिल तरणी
नीलो दधिमा विहरी तछर्यौ ।
अथवा, बेरी इन्दुलाई सौन्दर्यक्षुधाले,
मस्त सुधाले,
भूवातनका स्नायु लस्दी,
विस्मृत गति भई क्षणभर बस्दी
अमृतगोला छाती हाली
चकोर भूचर डाहा भछर्यौ
अहिले तहतह चाँगीचाँगी
हाँगा हाँगी
पत्ती कुँदेकी, चमकी चाँदी,
दक्षिणबाट उताछर्यौ !
अस्पष्टताकी मोहनी बन्दा
हेमन्त–कुहर भै क्या झछर्यौ !
अथवा सानो पुत्लो मन्त्री ,
उपत्यका नै क्या भछर्यौ !
पहाड पाखा–पटुकी भे वा,
कोमल मलमल क्या बेछर्यौ !
साँझ, बिहान, स्वर्गका लहँगा,
रँगरँग ठाटी, क्या धछर्यौ !
गरीब शब्दावली नै अड्छे
आफै झस्की !
पानी ! रानी सब रसकी !

ज.

फूल–जरामा पस्दी रानी !
पूmल–कोपीमा बस्दी रानी !
शीत–विन्दुमा खस्दी रानी !
किरणहरुमा लस्दी रानी !
हे महाध्र्या पानी !

झ.

ढुङ्गा अजङ्गका
बोकी, वम्का मारी दम्की
भूमा धम्की,
वृक्ष उखेडी ढयाम्मै पारी
खाडी डम्की,
उम्किन्छयौ जब उग्र गतिले,
मच्चाईकन भीषण उत्सव
बाढी गौरव !
रिसले उर्ली,
फींजका फौज बटारी, हुरली,
क्रान्तिनादिनी वेगकी काली
हेर्दछु केवल, रसनाबद्ध,
उग्र प्रशंसा पाली ।
जब हे ! पर्वत–छाm उछाली
हान्छयौ धराका ठोस किनारा,
सारा !
‘पोथी क्रोध’ म भन्छु तिमीकन
भीमा भामिनी !
ध्वंसकी दामिनी
‘माता’ भन्दछु ‘सब रसकी ! ’
पानी ! रानी सब रसकी !

ञ.

सागरकी काली !
सागर–नीलो
हिउँकी गौरी !
वज्र–करा !
पर्वत–शिल्पिनि !
ध्वंस–प्रजल्पिनि !
वर्षा–विलपिनि !
छाँगा–छहरा !
देवि ! तिम्रो रुप छ अनगिन
नाम अनन्त छ पारावार !
माई ! धाई !
वर्णन गर्न तिम्रो आज,
सक्तिन हाई !
केवल गर्छु नमस्कार !

ट.

तर सबभन्दा तिम्रो महिमा
मानवीय दुई नानीमा !
प्यार क्षारकी सिन्धु हे विन्दु !
विश्वगोला बनेर अटाउँछयौ,
दृगनानीमा ! दृगनानीमा
सृष्टिको मुटुको रस भै आउँछयौ
झछर्यौ कविको कहानीमा
तब सरस्वती वीणा रोकी,
क्षणभर हेर्छिन् जिल्ल परीकन,
पानीमा !
विन्दु झिल्किंदो नानीमा !

Poem – Jhanjha Prati

क.

आ ! फिंजारी घनका भाँक्रा, सगर–सागर गाँसी !
उग्ररुपिणी ! प्रलयसदनि ! वर्षकी वेदनाराशि !
नाश् रे शेष शिशिर, भंडारी ! शोध् रे पृथिवी–वासी !

ख.

सत्ययुगको निद्रा तेरो ! कलिको प्रबोधन–वेला !
विकल–प्राण–पवन–संगमा अश्रुकी जलधिवेला !
अतीत–कारागत सब आत्माहरुको क्रन्दन फोई
नाच् रे खण्डित कृष्ण घनमा, इन्साफ मागेर रोई !
चम्की ! झञ्झकी हे आत्मा !
सुत्छ मनुज अँधेरी रातमा !
भाइ भुल्छ भाइ आज ! विषम थितिमा यो समाज !
चल्दो छ धूलिई, मासी !

ग.

लङ्का सल्क्यो ! सुन्दर विलपी ! रुद्रभृकुटीज्वाला !
क्रान्ति उठ्छ मनुज थिचिंदा, हुरी ! मै विषम–चाला !
जर्जर आडम्बरका विटप खडा छन् अझ रे काला !
छन् अँधेरी–सेज–स्वपित मरेका हृदयवाला !
जाग् रे ! वायुबघिनी ! गर्जी रे ! झञ्झाकी काली !
मानव अझ छ मानवान्ध ! आँखामा डालेर जाली !
सडल जगत् जा बढारी ! जर्जर दलका दल !
मानव दानवहरुका कृतिले, अझ छ बगाउँदो भल !
धूलीदलका छाया–लहर बढार्दै भूतका राशि !
आ ! फिंजारी घनका झाँक्रा सगर सागर गाँसी

घ.

कुपित सृष्टिकार सपना ! दिव्य दण्डकी हावा !
हे बेरोक ! पगली शक्ति ! असत्यको बोल् तँ धावा !
क्या विलासी सुरको भवन प्रलय छायाले छायो !

ङ.
नाची नागिनी बिजुली ! स्वर्गले डसिई, क्रन्दन गायो !
नर–भविष्य बदलीमा छ ! निफन्दे सृष्टिको डाली !
ढुक्क रहेको शोषण–मुटुमा मृत्युको असिना फाली !
ध्वंसिनी ! हे ! तेरा क्रूर गतिमा करुणा हुन्छन् !
सक्रिय शान्त मुटुमा तेरो सुन्दरले स्वपना बुन्छन् !
भोलि हुन्छ धौत गगन, पवन निर्मल सन्त !
ऋतु वसन्त हाँस्छ मधुर, शिशिर हुन्छ अन्त !

Poem – Badal Ko Swagat

ओहो पङ्खे मोती–पोल्टी सागर–चेली चाँदी छाल !
वाष्पिल सिंहमा वायुपङ्खी, हिउँचुलीमा छहरी याल !
भूतल शीतल पारी सियाली, कलिली निलाई पर्वत ढाल,
बुरबुर डाली कुइरो चीनी, सल्ला सियामा मर्मर जाल,
कृषियुगका सब आदिम गाना गर्छन् छहरी मोती कमाल !
बिजुली नागिनी सँगमा चम्के,
स्वर नगवेली लहरा फन्के,
वाफन फोही गिरी गडराए,
कुइरी झरीले छोयो ढाल !
धर्ती दुहौँला, छाती फुहौँला धानी असारे कुर्ली टाल !
बर्खा, बिजुली, धूप सहौँला,
धूमका मुनितिर रोप्न नुहौँला, पोषन भूका भोका बाल !
जबतक हाम्रो हात कोदाली, टर्ला जगमा रे अनिकाल !
स्वर्ग नहोला नित मुख नीलो,
जगत्को छाना बुट्टिन ढिलो ! चल्ला सागर छाल !
रत्नाकरको याद नटुट्ला जनवन माथि तप्त विशाल !
सङ्घर्ष ध्वनि छ आज गगनमा,
प्रगति छ मिठो आज पवनमा,
सातरङ्गी विजयपताका चम्किरहेको हेर ! कमाल !

Poem – Go Greyhound

A few hours after Des Moines
the toilet overflowed.
This wasn’t the adventure it sounds.

I sat with a man whose tattoos
weighed more than I did.
He played Hendrix on mouth guitar.
His Electric Ladyland lips
weren’t fast enough
and if pitch and melody
are the rudiments of music,
this was just
memory, a body nostalgic
for the touch of adored sound.

Hope’s a smaller thing on a bus.

You hope a forgotten smoke consorts
with lint in the pocket of last
resort to be upwind
of the human condition, that the baby
sleeps
and when this never happens,
that she cries
with the lullaby meter of the sea.

We were swallowed by rhythm.
The ultra blond
who removed her wig and applied
fresh loops of duct tape
to her skull,
her companion who held a mirror
and popped his dentures
in and out of place,
the boy who cut stuffing
from the seat where his mother
should have been—
there was a little more sleep
in our thoughts,
it was easier to yield.

To what, exactly—
the suspicion that what we watch
watches back,
cornfields that stare at our hands,
downtowns
that hold us in their windows
through the night?

Or faith, strange to feel
in that zoo of manners.

I had drool on my shirt and breath
of the undead, a guy
dropped empty Buds on the floor
like gravity was born
to provide this service,
we were white and black trash
who’d come
in an outhouse on wheels and still

some had grown—
in touching the spirited shirts
on clotheslines,
after watching a sky of starlings
flow like cursive
over wheat—back into creatures
capable of a wish.

As we entered Arizona
I thought I smelled the ocean,
liked the lie of this
and closed my eyes
as shadows
puppeted against my lids.

We brought our failures with us,
their taste, their smell.
But the kid
who threw up in the back
pushed to the window anyway,
opened it
and let the wind clean his face,
screamed something
I couldn’t make out
but agreed with
in shape, a sound I recognized
as everything I’d come so far
to give away.

Poem – Prodigal

You could drive out of this country
and attack the world with your ambition,
invent wonder plasmas,
become an artist of the provocative gesture,
the suggestive nod, you could leave
wanting the world and return
carrying it, a noisy bundle
of steam and libido, a ball of fire
balanced on your tongue,
you might reclaim Main Street in a limo
longer than a sermon, wave at our red faces
while remembering that you were born
a clod hopper, a farmer’s kid,
and get over that hump once and for all
by telling A Great Man’s stories—
the dirty jokes of dictators, tidbits
of presidential hygiene, insights
into the psychotropic qualities of power
and the American tradition of kissing
moneyed ass. Your uncle would still
call you Roy Boy, pheasants
sun themselves beside the tracks,
waiting for the dew to burn off
before their first flight, and corn
grow so high that if you stood
in the field you’d disappear, the fact
aiming your eyes down the road.

Poem – An Old Story

It’s hard being in love
with fireflies. I have to do
all the pots and pans.
When asked to parties
they always wear the same
color dress. I work days,
they punch in at dusk.
With the radio and a beer
I sit up doing bills,
jealous of men who’ve fallen
for the homebody stars.
When things are bad
they shake their asses
all over town, when good
my lips glow.

Poem – Learning to Swim

At forty-eight, to be given water,
which is most of the world, given life
in water, which is most of me, given ease,

which is most of what I lack, here, where walls
don’t part to my hands, is to be born
as of three weeks ago. Taking nothing

from you, mother, or you, sky, or you,
mountain, that you wouldn’t take
if offered by the sea, any sea, or river,

any river, or the pool, beside which
a woman sits who would save me
if I needed saving, in a red suit, as if flame

is the color of emergency, as I do,
need saving, from solid things,
most of all, their dissolve.

Poem – Her My Body

about the left nipple
of the woman in the bathroom.

She is drying her hair, the woman
whose left nipple is sore.
We looked this evening
for diagonal cuts
or discoloration
or bite marks from small insects
that may be in our bed.

It is a good bed, a faithful bed.
A bed that won’t be hurt
by the consideration we gave
to the possibility of small
though disproportionately
strong insects in our bed.

The blow-dryer sounds like a jet
taking off. The first time
I flew to Brussels, people began
the journey happy but ended
with drool on their shirts.

She is drying her hair
though she has never been to Brussels.
Drying her hair
though she could be petting a dog.
Drying her hair
while having red thoughts
about what the pain in her nipple means.

I would not dry my hair
in such a moment but I am bald.
The body of the woman
has many ways to cease
being the body of the woman.

I have one way
to be happy
and she is that way.

I would like to fly with her to Brussels.
We would not be put off by the drool.
This is what happens when people sleep.
We would buy postcards of the little boy
who saved Brussels when he peed on a fire.
We would be romantic in public places.

For the moment
these desires can best be furthered
by petting a dog.

I’m also working on this theory.
That sometimes a part of the body
just hurts.
That the purpose of prayer
is to make the part of the body
that sometimes just hurts
the little toe or appendix.

Something vestigial or redundant.
Something that can be jettisoned.
I have no reason
to use the word cancer
while petting a dog.

Here is a piece of a second
during which a jet is not flying
nor is it on the ground.

I’m working on a theory
that no one can die
inside that piece of a second.

If you are comforted
by this thought you are welcome
to keep it.

Poem – The First Dreams

The Wind is ghosting around the house tonight
and as I lean against the door of sleep
I begin to think about the first person to dream,
how quiet he must have seemed the next morning

as the others stood around the fire
draped in the skins of animals
talking to each other only in vowels,
for this was long before the invention of consonants.

He might have gone off by himself to sit
on a rock and look into the mist of a lake
as he tried to tell himself what had happened,
how he had gone somewhere without going,

how he had put his arms around the neck
of a beast that the others could touch
only after they had killed it with stones,
how he felt its breath on his bare neck.

Then again, the first dream could have come
to a woman, though she would behave,
I suppose, much the same way,
moving off by herself to be alone near water,

except that the curve of her young shoulders
and the tilt of her downcast head
would make her appear to be terribly alone,
and if you were there to notice this,

you might have gone down as the first person
to ever fall in love with the sadness of another.

Poem – Consolation

How agreeable it is not to be touring Italy this summer,
wandering her cities and ascending her torrid hill towns.
How much better to cruise these local, familiar streets,
fully grasping the meaning of every roadsign and billboard
and all the sudden hand gestures of my compatriots.

There are no abbeys here, no crumbling frescoes or famous
domes and there is no need to memorize a succession
of kings or tour the dripping corners of a dungeon.
No need to stand around a sarcophagus, see Napoleon’s
little bed on Elba, or view the bones of a saint under glass.

How much better to command the simple precinct of home
than be dwarfed by pillar, arch, and basilica.
Why hide my head in phrase books and wrinkled maps?
Why feed scenery into a hungry, one-eyes camera
eager to eat the world one monument at a time?

Instead of slouching in a café ignorant of the word for ice,
I will head down to the coffee shop and the waitress
known as Dot. I will slide into the flow of the morning
paper, all language barriers down,
rivers of idiom running freely, eggs over easy on the way.

And after breakfast, I will not have to find someone
willing to photograph me with my arm around the owner.
I will not puzzle over the bill or record in a journal
what I had to eat and how the sun came in the window.
It is enough to climb back into the car

as if it were the great car of English itself
and sounding my loud vernacular horn, speed off
down a road that will never lead to Rome, not even Bologna.

Poem – Neither Snow

When all of a sudden the city air filled with snow,
the distinguishable flakes
blowing sideways,
looked like krill
fleeing the maw of an advancing whale.

At least they looked that way to me
from the taxi window,
and since I happened to be sitting
that fading Sunday afternoon
in the very center of the universe,
who was in a better position
to say what looked like what,
which thing resembled some other?

Yes, it was a run of white plankton
borne down the Avenue of the Americas
in the stream of the wind,
phosphorescent against the weighty buildings.

Which made the taxi itself,
yellow and slow-moving,
a kind of undersea creature,
I thought as I wiped the fog from the glass,

and me one of its protruding eyes,
an eye on a stem
swiveling this way and that
monitoring one side of its world,
observing tons of water
tons of people
colored signs and lights
and now a wildly blowing race of snow.

Poem – Dear Reader

Baudelaire considers you his brother, and Fielding calls out to you every few paragraphs as if to make sure you have not closed the book, and now I am summoning you up again, attentive ghost, dark silent figure standing in the doorway of these words.

Poem – Embrace

You know the parlor trick.
wrap your arms around your own body
and from the back it looks like
someone is embracing you
her hands grasping your shirt
her fingernails teasing your neck
from the front it is another story
you never looked so alone
your crossed elbows and screwy grin
you could be waiting for a tailor
to fit you with a straight jacket
one that would hold you really tight.

Poem – Candle Hat

In most self-portraits it is the face that dominates:
Cezanne is a pair of eyes swimming in brushstrokes,
Van Gogh stares out of a halo of swirling darkness,
Rembrant looks relieved as if he were taking a breather
from painting The Blinding of Sampson.

But in this one Goya stands well back from the mirror
and is seen posed in the clutter of his studio
addressing a canvas tilted back on a tall easel.

He appears to be smiling out at us as if he knew
we would be amused by the extraordinary hat on his head
which is fitted around the brim with candle holders,
a device that allowed him to work into the night.

You can only wonder what it would be like
to be wearing such a chandelier on your head
as if you were a walking dining room or concert hall.

But once you see this hat there is no need to read
any biography of Goya or to memorize his dates.

To understand Goya you only have to imagine him
lighting the candles one by one, then placing
the hat on his head, ready for a night of work.

Imagine him surprising his wife with his new invention,
the laughing like a birthday cake when she saw the glow.

Imagine him flickering through the rooms of his house
with all the shadows flying across the walls.

Imagine a lost traveler knocking on his door
one dark night in the hill country of Spain.
“Come in, ” he would say, “I was just painting myself,”
as he stood in the doorway holding up the wand of a brush,
illuminated in the blaze of his famous candle hat.

Poem – Madmen

They say you can jinx a poem
if you talk about it before it is done.
If you let it out too early, they warn,
your poem will fly away,
and this time they are absolutely right.

Take the night I mentioned to you
I wanted to write about the madmen,
as the newspapers so blithely call them,
who attack art, not in reviews,
but with breadknives and hammers
in the quiet museums of Prague and Amsterdam.

Actually, they are the real artists,
you said, spinning the ice in your glass.
The screwdriver is their brush.
The real vandals are the restorers,
you went on, slowly turning me upside-down,
the ones in the white doctor’s smocks
who close the wound in the landscape,
and thus ruin the true art of the mad.

I watched my poem fly down to the front
of the bar and hover there
until the next customer walked in–
then I watched it fly out the open door into the night
and sail away, I could only imagine,
over the dark tenements of the city.

All I had wished to say
was that art was also short,
as a razor can teach with a slash or two,
that it only seems long compared to life,
but that night, I drove home alone
with nothing swinging in the cage of my heart
except the faint hope that I might
catch a glimpse of the thing
in the fan of my headlights,
maybe perched on a road sign or a street lamp,
poor unwritten bird, its wings folded,
staring down at me with tiny illuminated eyes.

Poem – The Iron Bridge

I am standing on a disused iron bridge
that was erected in 1902,
according to the iron plaque bolted into a beam,
the year my mother turned one.
Imagine–a mother in her infancy,
and she was a Canadian infant at that,
one of the great infants of the province of Ontario.

But here I am leaning on the rusted railing
looking at the water below,
which is flat and reflective this morning,
sky-blue and streaked with high clouds,
and the more I look at the water,
which is like a talking picture,
the more I think of 1902
when workmen in shirts and caps
riveted this iron bridge together
across a thin channel joining two lakes
where wildflowers blow along the shore now
and pairs of swans float in the leafy coves.

1902–my mother was so tiny
she could have fit into one of those oval
baskets for holding apples,
which her mother could have lined with a soft cloth
and placed on the kitchen table
so she could keep an eye on infant Katherine
while she scrubbed potatoes or shelled a bag of peas,

the way I am keeping an eye on that cormorant
who just broke the glassy surface
and is moving away from me and the iron bridge,
swiveling his curious head,
slipping out to where the sun rakes the water
and filters through the trees that crowd the shore.

And now he dives,
disappears below the surface,
and while I wait for him to pop up,
I picture him flying underwater with his strange wings,

as I picture you, my tiny mother,
who disappeared last year,
flying somewhere with your strange wings,
your wide eyes, and your heavy wet dress,
kicking deeper down into a lake
with no end or name, some boundless province of water.

Poem – The Names

Yesterday, I lay awake in the palm of the night.

A soft rain stole in, unhelped by any breeze,

And when I saw the silver glaze on the windows,

I started with A, with Ackerman, as it happened,

Then Baxter and Calabro,

Davis and Eberling, names falling into place

As droplets fell through the dark.

Names printed on the ceiling of the night.

Names slipping around a watery bend.

Twenty-six willows on the banks of a stream.

In the morning, I walked out barefoot

Among thousands of flowers

Heavy with dew like the eyes of tears,

And each had a name —

Fiori inscribed on a yellow petal

Then Gonzalez and Han, Ishikawa and Jenkins.

Names written in the air

And stitched into the cloth of the day.

A name under a photograph taped to a mailbox.

Monogram on a torn shirt,

I see you spelled out on storefront windows

And on the bright unfurled awnings of this city.

I say the syllables as I turn a corner —

Kelly and Lee,

Medina, Nardella, and O’Connor.

When I peer into the woods,

I see a thick tangle where letters are hidden

As in a puzzle concocted for children.

Parker and Quigley in the twigs of an ash,

Rizzo, Schubert, Torres, and Upton,

Secrets in the boughs of an ancient maple.

Names written in the pale sky.

Names rising in the updraft amid buildings.

Names silent in stone

Or cried out behind a door.

Names blown over the earth and out to sea.

In the evening — weakening light, the last swallows.

A boy on a lake lifts his oars.

A woman by a window puts a match to a candle,

And the names are outlined on the rose clouds —

Vanacore and Wallace,

(let X stand, if it can, for the ones unfound)

Then Young and Ziminsky, the final jolt of Z.

Names etched on the head of a pin.

One name spanning a bridge, another undergoing a tunnel.

A blue name needled into the skin.

Names of citizens, workers, mothers and fathers,

The bright-eyed daughter, the quick son.

Alphabet of names in a green field.

Names in the small tracks of birds.

Names lifted from a hat

Or balanced on the tip of the tongue.

Names wheeled into the dim warehouse of memory.

So many names, there is barely room on the walls of the heart.

Poem – Night Golf

I remember the night I discovered,
lying in bed in the dark,
that a few imagined holes of golf
worked much better than a thousand sheep,

that the local links,
not the cloudy pasture with its easy fence,
was the greener path to sleep.

How soothing to stroll the shadowy fairways,
to skirt the moon-blanched bunkers
and hear the night owl in the woods.

Who cared about the score
when the club swung with the ease of air
and I glided from shot to shot
over the mown and rolling ground,
alone and drowsy with my weightless bag?

Eighteen small cups punched into the

bristling grass,
eighteen flags limp on their sticks
in the silent, windless dark,

but in the bedroom with its luminous clock
and propped-open windows,
I got only as far as the seventh hole
before I drifted easily away –

the difficult seventh, ‘The Tester’ they called it,
where, just as on the earlier holes,
I tapped in, dreamily, for birdie.

Poem – Silence

There is the sudden silence of the crowd
above a player not moving on the field,
and the silence of the orchid.

The silence of the falling vase
before it strikes the floor,
the silence of the belt when it is not striking the child.

The stillness of the cup and the water in it,
the silence of the moon
and the quiet of the day far from the roar of the sun.

The silence when I hold you to my chest,
the silence of the window above us,
and the silence when you rise and turn away.

And there is the silence of this morning
which I have broken with my pen,
a silence that had piled up all night

like snow falling in the darkness of the house—
the silence before I wrote a word
and the poorer silence now.

Poem – Dearth Demise

Satiety help me I have inhabit
of this world. Extant upon its designs
to be more aimlessly fluttering at
the window, to shadow all the patterns

it offers each sun. In frames far as eye
I draw my words towards a juggler’s shards
as if our fallings-down our deaths occurred
but did not involve a lot of colloquialized

arm movements, the body language throws. Thus
the shape of your silence when it speaks me
is different than mine in saying you,

though both of them resemble that spasm hymned as
repose lifepause a happen of sorts the way
the horizon’s a long way without meaning to.

Poem – The Patriots

at the edge of the city in
the garbage dump where the
trucks never stop unloading
a crazy congregation stumbles
from trashmound to trashheap
they smash their fists down on
whatever’s intact they tear
to bits the pitifew items
that have remained whole they
rip everything old clothes
papers cans bones to nothing
with their glazed teeth
the enlightened the faithful
every few meters one of them
falls and is torn to shreds by
the others at the edge of
the city where there’s a line
waiting to join

Poem – The Misunderstanding

I’m charmed yet chagrined by this misunderstanding–
As when, after a riot, my city’s smashed-in stores appear all
Boarded up, billboarded over, with ads for wind-insurance.
Similarly, swimmingly, I miss the point. You too?

And my misunderstanding doesn’t stop there, it grows–soon
I can’t see why that sudden influx of fugitives,
All the world’s escapees, rubbing themselves lasciviously against the
Berlin Wall.
They stick like placards to it. Like napalm. Like ads for–

And me, I haven’t even bought my biodegradable genitalia yet!
No. I was born slow, but picking up speed I run through
Our burnt-out streets, screaming, refusing to buy a house.
Finally, exasperated, the misunderstanding overtakes me, snatches
up

Handcuffs. So now here I am, found with all you others
Impatiently craning, in this queue that rumors out of sight up ahead
somewhere,
Clutching our cash eager to purchase whatever it is, nervous
As if bombs were about to practice land-reform upon our bodies,

Redistribution of eyes, toes, arms, here we stand. Then, some new
Age starts.

Poem – Face in the Window

I am a modest house, a house solely
notable for the fact I lived here once.
Its brass plaque depicts an oxygen eye
in which two pupils of hydrogen dance.

Downstairs is where I lit fires whose insights
with approach-velocity froze me, then
singed off into flame. This always happened when
I came close to a truth. Months passed. Years. Nights.

Shall I accommodate myself again,
a humble aquarium of lordly
thumbs, some fin de species? Of course each word

the blackout-moth mutters to my keyboard
shows the snowiest letter on this page is “I”—

Poem – Space

From the trees the leaves came down
until we joined hands with a wand
and that act enabled them
somehow then to reach the ground

where they scuttered round our feet
urging the latter to unite
with a baton as if that act
together with the hands can clasp

a dowsing-stick cut from the same
branch from which we launched
converging on gravity’s purge-point

at which point we merged to remove
all consonants from our star-maps.
The infinite consists of vowels alone.

Poem – Sleep

We brush the other, invisible moon.
Its caves come out and carry us inside.

Poem – Story of Or

To pose nakedness is
To refute it. A pose
Is a clothes. Like
Stanzaic arrangements of

The word which should
Ideally, be in pain against
Its w and its d. No slack
Is why such heaves of or

To denude itself could
Make us exude gold, yet when
Was that ever opposite enough

What scream or epigram
This sperm has come
To measure our mouths for.

Poem – On the Critical Attitude

The critical attitude
Strikes many people as unfruitful
That is because they find the state
Impervious to their criticism
But what in this case is an unfruitful attitude
Is merely a feeble attitude. Give criticism arms
And states can be demolished by it.

Canalising a river
Grafting a fruit tree
Educating a person
Transforming a state
These are instances of fruitful criticism
And at the same time instances of art.

Poem – Not What was Meant

When the Academy of Arts demanded freedom
Of artistic expression from narrow-minded bureaucrats
There was a howl and a clamour in its immediate vicinity
But roaring above everything
Came a deafening thunder of applause
From beyond the Sector boundary.
Freedom! it roared. Freedom for the artists!
Freedom all round! Freedom for all!
Freedom for the exploiters! Freedom for the warmongers!
Freedom for the Ruhr cartels! Freedom for Hitler’s generals!
Softly, my dear fellows…
The Judas kiss for the artists follows
Hard on the Judas kiss for the workers.
The arsonist with his bottle of petrol
Sneaks up grinning to
The Academy of Arts.
But it was not to embrace him, just
To knock the bottle out of his dirty hand that
We asked for elbow room.
Even the narrowest minds
In which peace is harboured
Are more welcome to the arts than the art lover

Who is also a lover of the art of war.

Poem – A Worker Reads History

Who built the seven gates of Thebes?
The books are filled with names of kings.
Was it the kings who hauled the craggy blocks of stone?
And Babylon, so many times destroyed.
Who built the city up each time? In which of Lima’s houses,
That city glittering with gold, lived those who built it?
In the evening when the Chinese wall was finished
Where did the masons go? Imperial Rome
Is full of arcs of triumph. Who reared them up? Over whom
Did the Caesars triumph? Byzantium lives in song.
Were all her dwellings palaces? And even in Atlantis of the legend
The night the seas rushed in,
The drowning men still bellowed for their slaves.

Young Alexander conquered India.
He alone?
Caesar beat the Gauls.
Was there not even a cook in his army?
Phillip of Spain wept as his fleet
was sunk and destroyed. Were there no other tears?
Frederick the Greek triumphed in the Seven Years War.
Who triumphed with him?

Each page a victory
At whose expense the victory ball?
Every ten years a great man,
Who paid the piper?

So many particulars.
So many questions.

Poem – The Mark of Evil

On my wall hangs a Japanese carving,
The mask of an evil demon, decorated with gold lacquer.
Sympathetically I observe
The swollen veins of the forehead, indicating
What a strain it is to be evil.

Poem – To Those Born After

I

To the cities I came in a time of disorder
That was ruled by hunger.
I sheltered with the people in a time of uproar
And then I joined in their rebellion.
That’s how I passed my time that was given to me on this Earth.

I ate my dinners between the battles,
I lay down to sleep among the murderers,
I didn’t care for much for love
And for nature’s beauties I had little patience.
That’s how I passed my time that was given to me on this Earth.

The city streets all led to foul swamps in my time,
My speech betrayed me to the butchers.
I could do only little
But without me those that ruled could not sleep so easily:
That’s what I hoped.
That’s how I passed my time that was given to me on this Earth.

Our forces were slight and small,
Our goal lay in the far distance
Clearly in our sights,
If for me myself beyond my reaching.
That’s how I passed my time that was given to me on this Earth.

II

You who will come to the surface
From the flood that’s overwhelmed us and drowned us all
Must think, when you speak of our weakness in times of darkness
That you’ve not had to face:

Days when we were used to changing countries
More often than shoes,
Through the war of the classes despairing
That there was only injustice and no outrage.

Even so we realised
Hatred of oppression still distorts the features,
Anger at injustice still makes voices raised and ugly.
Oh we, who wished to lay for the foundations for peace and friendliness,
Could never be friendly ourselves.

And in the future when no longer
Do human beings still treat themselves as animals,
Look back on us with indulgence.

Poem – My Young Son Ask Me

My young son asks me: Must I learn mathematics?
What is the use, I feel like saying. That two pieces
Of bread are more than one’s about all you’ll end up with.
My young son asks me: Must I learn French?
What is the use, I feel like saying. This State’s collapsing.
And if you just rub your belly with your hand and
Groan, you’ll be understood with little trouble.
My young son asks me: Must I learn history?
What is the use, I feel like saying. Learn to stick
Your head in the earth, and maybe you’ll still survive.

Yes, learn mathematics, I tell him.
Learn your French, learn your history!

Poem – Solidarity Song

Peoples of the world, together
Join to serve the common cause!
So it feeds us all for ever
See to it that it’s now yours.

Forward, without forgetting
Where our strength can be seen now to be!
When starving or when eating
Forward, not forgetting
Our solidarity!

Black or white or brown or yellow
Leave your old disputes behind.
Once start talking with your fellow
Men, you’ll soon be of one mind.

Forward, without forgetting
Where our strength can be seen now to be!
When starving or when eating
Forward, not forgetting
Our solidarity!

If we want to make this certain
We’ll need you and your support.
It’s yourselves you’ll be deserting
if you rat your own sort.

Forward, without forgetting
Where our strength can be seen now to be!
When starving or when eating
Forward, not forgetting
Our solidarity!

All the gang of those who rule us
Hope our quarrels never stop
Helping them to split and fool us
So they can remain on top.

Forward, without forgetting
Where our strength can be seen now to be!
When starving or when eating
Forward, not forgetting
Our solidarity!

Workers of the world, uniting
Thats the way to lose your chains.
Mighty regiments now are fighting
That no tyrrany remains!

Forward, without forgetting
Till the concrete question is hurled
When starving or when eating:
Whose tomorrow is tomorrow?
And whose world is the world?

Poem – What Has Happened ?

The industrialist is having his aeroplane serviced.
The priest is wondering what he said in his sermon eight weeks ago
about tithes.
The generals are putting on civvies and looking like bank clerks.
Public officials are getting friendly.
The policeman points out the way to the man in the cloth cap.
The landlord comes to see whether the water supply is working.
The journalists write the word People with capital letters.
The singers sing at the opera for nothing.
Ships’ captains check the food in the crew’s galley,
Car owners get in beside their chauffeurs.
Doctors sue the insurance companies.
Scholars show their discoveries and hide their decorations.
Farmers deliver potatoes to the barracks.
The revolution has won its first battle:
That’s what has happened.

Poem – The Burning of the Books

When the Regime
commanded the unlawful books to be burned,
teams of dull oxen hauled huge cartloads to the bonfires.

Then a banished writer, one of the best,
scanning the list of excommunicated texts,
became enraged: he’d been excluded!

He rushed to his desk, full of contemptuous wrath,
to write fierce letters to the morons in power —
Burn me! he wrote with his blazing pen —
Haven’t I always reported the truth?
Now here you are, treating me like a liar!
Burn me!

Poem – To Posterity

1.

Indeed I live in the dark ages!
A guileless word is an absurdity. A smooth forehead betokens
A hard heart. He who laughs
Has not yet heard
The terrible tidings.

Ah, what an age it is
When to speak of trees is almost a crime
For it is a kind of silence about injustice!
And he who walks calmly across the street,
Is he not out of reach of his friends
In trouble?

It is true: I earn my living
But, believe me, it is only an accident.
Nothing that I do entitles me to eat my fill.
By chance I was spared. (If my luck leaves me
I am lost.)

They tell me: eat and drink. Be glad you have it!
But how can I eat and drink
When my food is snatched from the hungry
And my glass of water belongs to the thirsty?
And yet I eat and drink.

I would gladly be wise.
The old books tell us what wisdom is:
Avoid the strife of the world
Live out your little time
Fearing no one
Using no violence
Returning good for evil —
Not fulfillment of desire but forgetfulness
Passes for wisdom.
I can do none of this:
Indeed I live in the dark ages!

2.

I came to the cities in a time of disorder
When hunger ruled.
I came among men in a time of uprising
And I revolted with them.
So the time passed away
Which on earth was given me.

I ate my food between massacres.
The shadow of murder lay upon my sleep.
And when I loved, I loved with indifference.
I looked upon nature with impatience.
So the time passed away
Which on earth was given me.

In my time streets led to the quicksand.
Speech betrayed me to the slaughterer.
There was little I could do. But without me
The rulers would have been more secure. This was my hope.
So the time passed away
Which on earth was given me.

3.

You, who shall emerge from the flood
In which we are sinking,
Think —
When you speak of our weaknesses,
Also of the dark time
That brought them forth.

For we went,changing our country more often than our shoes.
In the class war, despairing
When there was only injustice and no resistance.

For we knew only too well:
Even the hatred of squalor
Makes the brow grow stern.
Even anger against injustice
Makes the voice grow harsh. Alas, we
Who wished to lay the foundations of kindness
Could not ourselves be kind.

But you, when at last it comes to pass
That man can help his fellow man,
Do no judge us
Too harshly.

Poem – Contemplating Hell

Contemplating Hell, as I once heard it,
My brother Shelley found it to be a place
Much like the city of London. I,
Who do not live in London, but in Los Angeles,
Find, contemplating Hell, that it
Must be even more like Los Angeles.

Also in Hell,
I do not doubt it, there exist these opulent gardens
With flowers as large as trees, wilting, of course,
Very quickly, if they are not watered with very expensive water. And fruit markets
With great leaps of fruit, which nonetheless

Possess neither scent nor taste. And endless trains of autos,
Lighter than their own shadows, swifter than
Foolish thoughts, shimmering vehicles, in which
Rosy people, coming from nowhere, go nowhere.
And houses, designed for happiness, standing empty,
Even when inhabited.

Even the houses in Hell are not all ugly.
But concern about being thrown into the street
Consumes the inhabitants of the villas no less
Than the inhabitants of the barracks.

Chiso Astray – Bhupi Sherchan

यहाँ जो आउँछन्
मुटुभरि आगो, ओठभरि ज्वाला बोकेर आउँछन्
यहाँ जो बस्छन्
हत्केलाभरि खरानी र आँखाभरि धुवाँ बोकेर बस्छन्
र यहाँबाट जो जान्छन्
पोल्टाभरि निभेका विस्वासहरु र सपनाहरु सोहोरेर जान्छन्
यस्तो छ यो चारभञ्ज्याङ् खाल्टो
एउटा चिसो एष्ट्रे जस्तो छ
यो चारभञ्ज्याङ् खाल्टो

Abhishapta Ghar – Bhupi Sherchan

जब–जब बायाँ र दायाँ पट्टिका छिमेकीहरुले
एकार्काको छानामाथि ढुङ्गा बर्साउँछन्
यस घरको छानामा घाम ताप्न बसेकी बूढीको चश्मा र
कौसीमा रमिता हेरिरहेकी दुलहीका चुराहरु फुट्छन्,
आधारातमा जब छिमेकीहरुले आपस्तमा
जहाँबाट जे पायो त्यसैले कुटाकुट गर्छन्
भोलिपल्ट बिउँझेर यस घरको बातको रोगी बूढाले
आफ्m्नो लौरी भाँचिएको पाउँछ ।
यस्तो छ अभिशप्त घर
डढेलोको बीचमा उम्रेको रुखजस्तो छ यो घर ।

Prajatantra Diwas – Bhupi Sherchan

आज फागुन सात गते
प्रजातन्त्र दिबस
गर्व लाग्दो पर्व नेपालीको
एउटा ठुलो जुलुसले गरिरहेछ शहर परिक्रमा
बाटाभरि हिडिरहेछन सेता दौरा सुरुवालहरु
हेडमासटरको पछि पछि पसिना पुछ्दै बालहरु
चङ्गा झैँ उड्दैछन हावामा काला टापि
(विचारशून्य मस्तिष्कलाइ छोपी)
फर्फराइरहेछन्? जतासुकै काला कोटहरु
(जसभित्र छन्? सायद जुलुसपछि ‘पप्लु’ खेल्न राखेका नोटहरु)

आज फागुन सात गते
प्रजातन्त्र दिबस
गर्व लाग्दो पर्व नेपालीको
यहाँ केन्द्रमा मात्र हैन
अन्यत्र भइरहेको होला
प्रत्येक अञ्चलमा, हरेक जिल्लामा
जहाँ गर्दै होलान परिक्रमा
अलङ्?कृतहरु पट्टी मा बेरिएर
झुन्डिएर बिल्लामा
आज फागुन सात गते
प्रजातन्त्र दिबस
गर्व लाग्दो पर्व नेपालीको

आज प्रजातन्त्र दिबस
धेरै संख्या छ जुलुसेहरुको
तै पनि म सोच्नलाई र सोध्नलाई छु विवश
हो धेरै छ मान्छेहरुको गन्ती
तर खै दुल्हा?
जसको खुशिमा सम्मिलित भइ
हिँडिरहेछ यो जन्?ती!
आज फागुन सात गते
प्रजातन्त्र दिबस
गर्व लाग्दो पर्व नेपालीको

Ma – Bhupi Sherchan

१
म एक पुत्र
एक पति
र एक पिता हुँ

२
एक न्वारान
एक विवाह
र एक चिता हुँ

३
म एक होटल
एक बोतल
र एक प्याला हुँ

४
म एक श्रम
एक उत्पादन
र एक ज्याला हुँ

५
म एक इन्टरभ्यु
एक लामो क्यु
र एक क्यान्डिडेट् हुँ

६
म एक खाली बिल
एक खाली विभाग
र एक खाली पेट हुँ

७
म एक सभा
एक श्रोता
एक वाह
र एक ताली हुँ

८
म नेताजीको एक गीत
एक भाषण
र एक गाली हुँ

९
म एक जुलूस
ए उफ्र्याइँ
एक नारा
र एक झण्डा हुँ

Galat Lagchha Malai – Bhupi Sherchan

जब म
यी भोकमा डुबेका चोकहरुमा
यी वैलाएका कलीजस्ता गल्लीहरुमा
हेर्छु एक-दुइ दिन बसेर बास
तब मलाई गलत लाग्छ
मेरो देशको इतिहास

यो बाटोमा बीचमा माटो खनेर
बसेका देवताहरु
यो बुझेर पनि लाटो बनेर
बसेका देवताहरु
यो बुझेर पनि लाटो बनेर
बसेका मानिसहरु
यी भूकम्पपीडित मन्दिर
र
ढल्केका गजूरहरु
यी सालिक बनेर दोबाटोमा
उभिएका हजूरहरु
जब देख्छु म यी सबलाई
सधै त्यहीं सधै उस्तै र
सधै एकनास
तब मलाई गलत लाग्छ
मेरो हुरीको इतिहास
जब म
असङ्ख्य सीताहरुलाई सधै
बाटो-दोबाटोमा,
गल्ली-गल्लीमा,
देश-विदेशमा,
यूक्लिप्टसका रुखझै नङ्ग्याइएको देख्छु
अनि जब देख्छु असङ्ख्य भीमसेन थापाहरुलाई
निस्पन्द, निश्चल, शिथिल, चुपचाप उभिएका
आफ्नो आत्माको गीत मारेर
कल्कीका बोटझै
दुबै हात तल झारेर
तब मलाई गरुँ-गरुँ झै लाग्छ
आफ्नो रगतको उपहास

जब म
यी भोकमा डुबेका चोकहरुमा
यी वैलाएका कलीजस्ता गल्लीहरुमा
हेर्छु क-दुइ दिन बसेर
तब मलाई गलत लाग्छ
मेरो देशको इतिहास
सुन्छु अमरसिंह काँगडासम्म बढेको कुरा
सुन्छु तेन्जिङले सगरमाथा चढेको कुरा
सुन्छु बुद्धले धरामा शान्तिको बीउ छरेको कुरा
सुन्छु अर्निकोको कलाले विश्व-मन हरेको कुरा
सुन्छु सधै सुन्छु र केवल सुन्छु
तर मलाइ हुँदैन विश्वास

जब म
यी भोकमा डुबेका चोकहरुमा
यी वैलाएका कलीजस्ता गल्लीहरुमा
हेर्छु एक-दुइ दिन बसेर बास
तब मलाई गलत लाग्छ
मेरो देशको इतिहास
यो मेरो सत्य इतिहास ।

Maani Nabhayeko Jindgani – Bhupi Sherchan

आउँछन् जब किरण भोरका
झ्यालभित्र ज्वरको रापझैं
उठ्छु चूपचाप ओछ्यानबाट
घाममा सुकाएको गीलो कपडाको बाफझैं
हराउँछु दिन–दिनभरि घरबाहिर
रक्सी पिएर बिर्सेको पापझै
रातको साथमा घर फर्कन्छु
नशा उत्रेपछिको पश्चात्तापझैं
आह ! यसरी बितिरहेछ जीवन
सन्निपातको रोगीको प्रलापझैं ।

Dui Tukra – Bhupi Sherchan

१

जहिले पनि भर्खरकी किशोरीजस्ती
साँच्चिकै तिमी हिमालकी छोरीजस्ती
कुन्नि के छ तिमीमा, जो अरुमा छैन
कि तिमीलाई जति पाए पनि थोरैजस्ती

२

एकलास तिम्रो बाटोमा रमाइलो दिन सक्तिनँ म
तिमी थाकेर ढल्दा सहाराको हात दिन सक्तिनँ म
बर्सनै नपाई डाँडा काटेको बादल मेरो यौवन
चाहेर पनि ए ओइलाउँदी कली ! वर्षाद दिन सक्तिनँ म ।

Bed Lamp – Bhupi Sherchan

भोरको उज्यालोमा उसलाई निभाएर
सधै–सधै म घरबाट निस्कन्छु
र दिन–दिनभरि
सूर्यसरि
यस क्षितिजबाट त्यस क्षितिजमा
भट्किरहन्छु
मानिसहरुको बीचमा
अनि जब रातमा घर फर्कन्छु
ऊ त्यहीँ त्यसरी नै
निभेर झोक्रिएर बसेको हुन्छ
जाग्छ मनको कुनै कुनामा
एक अव्यक्त माया
र हठात् म उसलाई स्पर्श गर्न पुग्छु
ऊ खुशीले धप्प बल्छ
ऊ मेरा कोठाको ‘बेड–ल्याम्प !’
ऊ मेरी ‘धर्मपत्नी’ ! !’

Poem – She Spins Silk

Far up river in Szechuan,
waters rise as spring winds roar.

How can I dare to meet her now,
to brave the dangerous gorge?

The grass grows green in the valley below
where silk worms silently spin.

Her hands work threads that never end,
dawn to dusk when the cuckoo sings.

Poem – The Solitude of Night

t was at a wine party—
I lay in a drowse, knowing it not.
The blown flowers fell and filled my lap.
When I arose, still drunken,
The birds had all gone to their nests,
And there remained but few of my comrades.
I went along the river—alone in the moonlight.

Poem – On Gazing into a Mirror

Follow Tao, and nothing is old or new.
Lose it, and the ruins of age return.

Someone smiling back in the mirror,
hair white as the frost-stained glass,

you admit lament is empty, ask how
reflections get so worn and withered.

How speak of peach and plum: timeless
South Mountain blazes in the end?

Poem – The Old Dust

The living is a passing traveler;
The dead, a man come home.
One brief journey betwixt heaven and earth,
Then, alas! we are the same old dust of ten thousand ages.
The rabbit in the moon pounds the medicine in vain;
Fu-sang, the tree of immortality, has crumbled to kindling wood.
Man dies, his white bones are dumb without a word
When the green pines feel the coming of the spring.
Looking back, I sigh; looking before, I sigh again.
What is there to prize in the life’s vaporous glory?

Poem – Bringing in the Wine

See how the Yellow River’s water move out of heaven.
Entering the ocean,never to return.
See how lovely locks in bright mirrors in high chambers,
Though silken-black at morning, have changed by night to snow.
… Oh, let a man of spirit venture where he pleases
And never tip his golden cup empty toward the moon!
Since heaven gave the talent, let it be employed!
Spin a thousand of pieces of silver, all of them come back!
Cook a sheep, kill a cow, whet the appetite,
And make me, of three hundred bowls, one long drink!
… To the old master, Tsen,
And the young scholar, Tan-chiu,
Bring in the wine!
Let your cups never rest!
Let me sing you a song!
Let your ears attend!
What are bell and drum, rare dishes and treasure?
Let me br forever drunk and never come to reason!
Sober men of olden days and sages are forgotten,
And only the great drinkers are famous for all time.
… Prince Chen paid at a banquet in the Palace of Perfection
Ten thousand coins for a cask of wine, with many a laugh and quip.
Why say, my host, that your money is gone?
Go and buy wine and we’ll drink it together!
My flower-dappled horse,
My furs worth a thousand,
Hand them to the boy to exchange for good wine,
And we’ll drown away the woes of ten thousand generation!

Poem – Hard is the Journey

Gold vessels of fine wines,
thousands a gallon,
Jade dishes of rare meats,
costing more thousands,

I lay my chopsticks down,
no more can banquet,
I draw my sword and stare
wildly about me:

Ice bars my way to cross
the Yellow River,
Snows from dark skies to climb
the T’ai-hang mountains!

At peace I drop a hook
into a brooklet,
At once I’m in a boat
but sailing sunward…

(Hard is the journey,
Hard is the journey,
So many turnings,
And now where am I?)

So when a breeze breaks waves,
bringing fair weather,
I set a cloud for sails,
cross the blue oceans!

Poem – Clearing At Dawn

The fields are chill, the sparse rain has stopped;
The colours of Spring teem on every side.
With leaping fish the blue pond is full;
With singing thrushes the green boughs droop.
The flowers of the field have dabbled their powdered cheeks;
The mountain grasses are bent level at the waist.
By the bamboo stream the last fragment of cloud
Blown by the wind slowly scatters away.

Poem – Drinking Alone

I take my wine jug out among the flowers
to drink alone, without friends.

I raise my cup to entice the moon.
That, and my shadow, makes us three.

But the moon doesn’t drink,
and my shadow silently follows.

I will travel with moon and shadow,
happy to the end of spring.

When I sing, the moon dances.
When I dance, my shadow dances, too.

We share life’s joys when sober.
Drunk, each goes a separate way.

Constant friends, although we wander,
we’ll meet again in the Milky Way.

Poem – Autumn River Song

The moon shimmers in green water.
White herons fly through the moonlight.

The young man hears a girl gathering water-chestnuts:
into the night, singing, they paddle home together.

Poem – Green Mountain

You ask me why I dwell in the green mountain;
I smile and make no reply for my heart is free of care.
As the peach-blossom flows down stream and is gone into the unknown,
I have a world apart that is not among men.

Poem – Reaching The Hermitage

At evening I make it down the mountain.

Keeping company with the moon.

Looking back I see the paths I’ve taken

Blue now, blue beneath the skyline.

You greet me, show the hidden track,

Where children pull back hawthorn curtains,

Reveal green bamboo, the secret path,

Vines that touch the traveller’s clothes.

I love finding space to rest,

Clear wine to enjoy with you.

Wind in the pines till voices stop,

Songs till the Ocean of Heaven pales.

I get drunk and you are happy,

Both of us pleased to forget the world. 

Poem – The Roosting Crows

On Soochow’s terrace the crows find their nests.
The King of Wu in his palace drinks with Hsi Shih.

Songs of Wu, Dances of Chu quicken their pleasure

One half of the sun is caught in the valley’s throat.
The clock’s silver arrow marks the passing hours.

They rise early to see the autumn moon,

Watch it sink down into deep river.

Daylight glows in the East. Dawn renews their joy. 

Poem – In Spring

Your grasses up north are as blue as jade, 
Our mulberries here curve green-threaded branches; 

And at last you think of returning home, 

Now when my heart is almost broken…. 

O breeze of the spring, since I dare not know you, 

Why part the silk curtains by my bed? 

Poem – Old Poem

Did Chuang Chou dream he was the butterfly?
Or the butterfly dream he was Chuang Chou?
In the single body’s transformations
See the vortex of the Myriad Creatures.
No mystery then that the Magic Seas
Shrank again to crystal streams,
Or down by Ch’ang-an’s Green Gate
The gardener was Marquis of Tung-Ling.
If this is the fate of fame and power,
What is it for- this endless striving?

Poem – Wine

Drinking, I sit,
Lost to Night,
Keep falling petals
From the ground:
Get up to follow
The stream’s white moon,
No sign of birds,
The humans gone.

Poem – Snow at Changsha

Out of the north the snow
Is assaulting Changsha:
Its clouds over Hunan go
(Where few snows are):
A myriad homes makes cold
Far borne on the gale
With scattered leaflets old
Where raindrops hail,
Not grown to flake-like flowers.

Empty of angels pale
Flaccid my purse.
Yet a silver pot may bail
Credit for wine.
No one to fetch it? Why then
I drain off the froth.
Must I wait again and again
Till the dizzy crows
Come home to their roosting bowers?

Poem – Newlywed’s Departure

Chinese vines climb up low hemp plants;
the tendrils cannot stretch very far.
To marry a daughter to a drafted man
is worse than abandoning her by roadside.
“I just did my hair up as a married woman,
haven’t even had time to warm the bed for you.
Marry in the evening and depart in the morning,
isn’t that too hurried!
You are not going very far,
just to guard the borders at Heyang,
but my status in the family is not yet official.
How can I greet my parents-in-laws?
When my parents brought me up,
they kept me in my room day and night.
When a daughter is married,
she has to stay even if she’s wed to a chicken or dog.
Now you are going to the place of death.
A heavy pain cramps my stomach.
I was determined to follow you wherever you went,
then realized that was not proper.
Please don’t be hampered by our new marriage;
try to be a good soldier.
When women get mixed up in an army,
I fear, the soldiers’ morale will falter.
I sigh, since I’m from a poor family
and it took so long to sew this silk dress.
I will never put this dress on again,
and I’m going to wash off my make-up while you watch.
Look at those birds flying up in the sky,
Big or small they stay in pairs,
but human life is full of mistakes and setbacks.
I will forever wait for your return.”

Poem – The Mocking Bird

What! Is the mocking bird come?
The Spring, he comes to say,
The Spring is here today.
All sounds, all words he knows.
His feathers preen how he will,
He is the same bird still.

Where flowers most thickly screen,
Difficult to be seen,
His varying notes deride
The topmost boughs between.
If out of time he chide.
Lo! slander at your side!

Poem – To Bi Sayao

Once stately figures in the art of rhyme,
Now sadly down at heels, our careers in ruin,
Regarded by our servants with disdain,
We are grown old and gray before our time.
Yet in your joyful, carefree company,
The most consoling thought occurs to me:
Though we are doomed to poverty and strife,
Our poems shall have a long and prosperous life.

Poem – Dreaming of Li Po

After the separation of death one can eventually swallow back
one’s grief, but
the separation of the living is an endless, unappeasable anxiety.
From
pestilent Chiang-nan no news arrives of the poor exile. That my
old friend
should come into my dream shows how constantly he is in my
thoughts. I fear
that this is not the soul of a living man: the journey is so
immeasurably far.
When your soul left, the maple woods were green: on its return
the passes were
black with night. Lying now enmeshed in the net of the law,
how did you find
wings with which to fly here? The light of the sinking moon illumines
every
beam and rafter of my chamber, and I half expect it to light up your face.
The
water is deep, the waves are wide: don’t let the water-dragons get you.

All day long the floating clouds drift by, and still the wanderer
has not
arrived! For three nights running I have repeatedly dreamed of you.
Such
affectionate concern on your part shows your feelings for me!
Each time you
said goodbye you seemed so uneasy. It isn't easy to come',
you would say
bitterly;The waters are so rough. I am afriad the boat will capsize!’.
Going
out of my door you scratched your white head as if your whole life’s ambition
had been frustrated.
The Capital is full of new officials, yet a man like this is so wretched!
Who is going to tell me that the `net is wide’ when this ageing man
remains in difficulties? Imperishable renown is cold comfort when you can only
enjoy it in the tomb!

Poem – Old Couple’s Departure

The four outskirts are not yet safe and quiet,
I am old, but have no peace.
All my sons and grandsons died in battle;
it’s no use to keep my body alone in one piece.
Throwing away my walking stick, I walk out the door.
The other soldiers are saddened, pitying me.
I’m lucky to still have all my teeth
but I regret the marrow has dried in my bones.
Wearing a soldier’s helmet and armor,
I salute my officers before departure.
My old wife is lying in the road weeping.
The year is late and her clothes thin.
Though I know at heart this is our death-farewell,
her shivering in cold still hurts me.
I know I will never come back,
yet hear her out when she says, “Eat more!”
The city wall around Earth Gate is very strong,
and the Xingyuan ferry is hard for the enemy to cross,
so the situation is different from the siege of Ye City,
and I will have some time before I die.
In life we part and we rejoin;
we have no choice, young or old.
I recall my young and strong days,
and walk about with long sighs.
War has spread through ten thousand countries
till beacon fires blaze from all the peaks.
So many corpses that grass and trees stink like fish,
rivers and plains dyed red with blood.
Which land is the happy land?
How can I linger here!
I abandon my thatched house
and feel my liver and lungs collapse.

Poem – Looking At Mountain Tai

How is Mountain Tai?
Its green is seen beyond State Qi and State Lu,
a distillation of creation’s spirit and beauty.
Its slopes split day into Yin and Yang.
Its rising clouds billow in my chest.
Homecoming birds fly through my wide-open eyes.
I should climb to the summit
and in one glance see all other mountains dwarfed.

Poem – A Homeless Man’s Departure

After the Rebellion of 755, all was silent wasteland,
gardens and cottages turned to grass and thorns.
My village had over a hundred households,
but the chaotic world scattered them east and west.
No information about the survivors;
the dead are dust and mud.
I, a humble soldier, was defeated in battle.
I ran back home to look for old roads
and walked a long time through the empty lanes.
The sun was thin, the air tragic and dismal.
I met only foxes and raccoons,
their hair on end as they snarled in rage.
Who remains in my neighborhood?
One or two old widows.
A returning bird loves its old branches,
how could I give up this poor nest?
In spring I carry my hoe all alone,
yet still water the land at sunset.
The county governor’s clerk heard I’d returned
and summoned me to practice the war-drum.
This military service won’t take me from my state.
I look around and have no one to worry about.
It’s just me alone and the journey is short,
but I will end up lost if I travel too far.
Since my village has been washed away,
near or far makes no difference.
I will forever feel pain for my long-sick mother.
I abandoned her in this valley five years ago.
She gave birth to me, yet I could not help her.
We cry sour sobs till our lives end.
In my life I have no family to say farewell to,
so how can I be called a human being?

Poem – Song of Lovely Woman

Third day, third month festival,
and the air fresh with spring;
beside Serpentine Lake in Chang’an,
many lovely women stroll.
Their appearance is elegant,
their thoughts lofty and refined,
their complexions delicate,
figures in perfect proportion.
Their embroidered silk gowns
glisten with spring light;
golden peacocks and beasts of silver
strut upon the fabric.
What is it that they wear
upon their heads?
Jeweled headbands with kingfisher feathers,
dangling to their hairlines.
And what is it that we see
upon their backs?
Pearl-studded overskirts
drawn tight at the waist.
Among them are kin of the Pepper-flower Chamber with its cloud-patterned curtains-
the Duchesses of Guo and Qin,
honored with the names of nations!

A great roast of purple camel hump
rises from a green cauldron,
and crystal plates gleam
with heaps of white-scaled fish.
But the rhinoceros horn chopsticks,
long-sated, are slow to descend,
and the belled knife-handles
dance vainly above the roast.
The flying steeds of the eunuchs
hardly stir the dust,
as they bear in eight exotic dishes
from the Imperial Kitchens.

Poem – View From A Height

Sharp wind, towering sky, apes howling mournfully;
untouched island, white sand, birds flying in circles.
Infinite forest, bleakly shedding leaf after leaf;
inexhaustible river, rolling on wave after wave.
Through a thousand miles of melancholy autumn, I travel;
carrying a hundred years of sickness, I climb to this terrace.
Hardship and bitter regret have frosted my temples–
and what torments me most? Giving up wine!

Poem – The Pitiful Young Prince

Hooded crows fly at night
over the walls of Chang’an,
uttering harsh cries
above Welcoming Autumn Gate,
then head for people’s houses,
pecking at the lofty roofs,
roofs beneath which high officials
scurry to escape barbarians.
The golden whip is broken in two,
the nine horses are run to death,*
but it is still not possible
for all of royal blood to flee together…

In plain sight below his waist
a precious ornament of blue coral,
the pitiful prince stands weeping
at the corner of the road.
When I ask, he refuses to tell
either name or surname;
he only speaks of his desperation,
and begs to become my slave.
For a hundred days now
he has lain hidden in brambles;
there is no whole skin left
on his entire body.
But the sons and grandsons of Gao-zu
all have the same noses-
the dragon-seed, naturally,
differs from that of ordinary men.

Jackals and wolves in the city,
dragons lurking in the wilds,
the prince had better take care
of that thousand-tael body!*
I don’t dare talk long here
in plain view by the crossroads,
but for the sake of my prince
I will stay for a moment.
Last night the east wind
blew in the stench of blood,
and camels from the east
filled the former Capital.*
The Shuo-fang veterans
were known as skilled warriors,
they always seemed so fierce,
but now how foolish they look!
It is rumored that the Son of Heaven
has already abdicated,
but also that the Khan
is lending his support,
that the men of Hua gashed their faces
and begged to wipe out this disgrace.
Say nothing! Someone else
may be hiding and listening.
Alas, Prince, you must be careful,
stay on guard,
and may the spirits of the Five Tombs*
watch over you always.

Poem – The Eight Formation

Your achievements overshadowed
any in the Three Kingdoms;
most famous of all was your design
for the Eight Formations.

Against the river’s surge,
they stand solid, immovable,
a monument to your lasting regret
at failing to swallow up Wu.

Poem – Rain

Roads not yet glistening, rain slight,
Broken clouds darken after thinning away.
Where they drift, purple cliffs blacken.
And beyond — white birds blaze in flight.

Sounds of cold-river rain grown familiar,
Autumn sun casts moist shadows. Below
Our brushwood gate, out to dry at the village
Mill: hulled rice, half-wet and fragrant.

Poem – No Sight

Li Bai, no sight of you for a long time,
It’s tragic that you pretend to be insane.
The whole world wants to kill you.
I alone treasure your talent.
Quick-minded, improvising thousands of poems,
you roam like a falling leaf for a cup of wine.
You studied here at Kuang Mountain
and it’s time to return, now that your hair is white.

Poem – By The Lake

The old fellow from Shao-ling weeps with stifled sobs as he walks furtively by the bends of the Sepentine on a day in spring.
In the waterside palaces the thousands of doors are locked. For whom have the willows and rushed put on their fresh greenery?

I remember how formerly, when the Emperor’s rainbow banner made its way into the South Park, everything in the park seemed to bloom with a brighter color. The First Lady of the Chao-yang Palace rode in the same carriage as her lord in
attendance at his side, while before the carriage rode maids of honour equipped with bows and arrows, their white horses champing at golden bits.
Leaning back, face skywards, they shot into the clouds; and the Lady laughed gaily when a bird fell to the ground transfixed by a well-aimed arrow.
Where are the bright eyes and the flashing smile now?
Tainted with blood-pollution, her wandering soul cannot make its way back.
The clear waters of the Wei flow eastwards, and Chien-ko is far away: between the one who has gone and the one who remains no communication is possible.
It is human to have feelings and shed tears for such things; but the grasses and flowers of the lakeside go on for ever, unmoved.
As evening falls, the city is full of the dust of foreign horseman. My way is towards the South City, but my gaze turns northward. (tr. Hawkes)

Poem – Restless Night

As bamboo chill drifts into the bedroom,
Moonlight fills every corner of our
Garden. Heavy dew beads and trickles.
Stars suddenly there, sparse, next aren’t.

Fireflies in dark flight flash. Waking
Waterbirds begin calling, one to another.
All things caught between shield and sword,
All grief empty, the clear night passes.

Poem – Lone Wild Goose

Alone, the wild goose refuses food and drink,
his calls searching for the flock.

Who feels compassion for that single shadow
vanishing in a thousand distant clouds?

You watch, even as it flies from sight,
its plaintive calls cutting through you.

The noisy crows ignore it:
the bickering, squabbling multitudes.

Poem – A Woman of Quality

Matchless in breeding and beauty,
a fine lady has taken refuge
in this forsaken valley.
She is of good family, she says,
but her fortune has withered away;
now she lives as the grass and trees.
When the heartlands fell to the rebels
her brothers were put to death;
birth and position availed nothing–
she was not even allowed
to bring home their bones for burial.
The world turns quickly against
those who have had their day–
fortune is a lamp-flame
flickering in the wind.
Her husband is a fickle fellow
who has a lovely new woman.
Even the vetch-tree is more constant,
folding its leaves every dusk,
and mandarin ducks
always sleep with their mates.
But he has eyes only
for his new woman’s smile,
and his ears are deaf
to his first wife’s weeping.
High in the mountains
spring water is clear as truth,
but when it reaches the lowlands
it is muddied with rumor.
Her serving-maid returns
from selling her pearls;
she drags a creeper over
to cover holes in the roof.
The flowers the lady picks
are not for her hair,
and the handfuls of cypress
are a bitter stay against hunger.
Her pretty blue sleeves
are too thin for the cold;
as evening falls
she leans on the tall bamboo.

Poem – Morning Rain

A slight rain comes, bathed in dawn light.
I hear it among treetop leaves before mist
Arrives. Soon it sprinkles the soil and,
Windblown, follows clouds away. Deepened

Colors grace thatch homes for a moment.
Flocks and herds of things wild glisten
Faintly. Then the scent of musk opens across
Half a mountain — and lingers on past noon.

Poem – Full Moon

Above the tower — a lone, twice-sized moon.
On the cold river passing night-filled homes,
It scatters restless gold across the waves.
On mats, it shines richer than silken gauze.

Empty peaks, silence: among sparse stars,
Not yet flawed, it drifts. Pine and cinnamon
Spreading in my old garden . . . All light,
All ten thousand miles at once in its light!

Poem – Advent of Spring

The city has fallen: only the hills and rivers remain.
In Spring the streets were green with grass and trees.
Sorrowing over the times, the flowers are weeping.
The birds startled my heart in fear of departing.
The beacon fires were burning for three months,
A letter from home was worth ten thousand pieces of gold.
I scratch the scant hairs on my white head,
And vainly attempt to secure them with a hairpin.

Raja Kewal Ek Kalam – Laxmi Prasad Devkota

क.
राजा, केवल एक कलम देऊ !

सावनमा !

क¥याङकुरुङको प्वाँखको डन्डी,

हिमाली बादल छोएको,

मानसरोवर सलिल उछाली,

धोएको !

निर्जन–बासा, एकलासी,

प्रेमको बिन्दु रोएको,

जीवनमा !
ख.
राजा, केवल एक कलम देऊ !

सावनमा !

घामछायाको विशाल वनमा,

इन्द्रेणीको लच्कनमा,

किरण–कणीको सुन्दर, सुन्दर,

मिश्रणमा !

सुन्दरताको मिश्रणले बरबर, बरबर,

क्वै भावुकको रोदनमा,

मुजूरहरुको नर्तनमा,

कमलको भाउ कीचडका,

रमरममा
ग.
तित्रा बादल

तित्रा बादल

तीन–तारे तितिरबितिरमा

बोलिरहेको पक्रन्छु

थोपल पङ्खी गगनमा,

बेच्छु जुगान्जुग जनजनमा

बोलुन् बराबर क्षणमा !

विजय धनुष तब लच्केला

कालउपर !

कुवेर दीन हुन्, इन्द्र डाहामा,

हाँस तिमी

भर्दै उर, हे भर्दै उर !
घ.
अमरत्वको ली झम्के परेली

कविता

बोल्ली मलाई, “श्रृगार किन्दिनोस्

बाबा सविता ! ”
ङ.
धाई बनाउँछु त्यल्लाई

तालिम नरमले

काँढा मरुन् सब पृथिवीका

शीतल मलमले !

तीन–तारे तित्रा मर्दैनन्

बोल्छन् जगजुग

मर्दछ काल शरमले !

साँची राख्दछु आजको ढुकढुक,

आजको बरबर,

राजा !

कवि भै साउनचरी

केवल एक कलमले !

Pralaya Bedana – Laxmi Prasad Devkota

यस दुनियाँमा सुखदुःख दुईको गहिराइमा डुबियो खरुब,
दुःख भो अतिशय सुख भो अतिशय प्रभुले पु¥यायो मनसुव ।

विषको महको चाखी मिठास जगमा बसियो अन्धसरी,

तर प्रभुको क्यै चेत खुलेन अब दुःखीको लौ मसरी ।

जीवात्मा यो त्यतिको पतित भो ब्रह्माण्ड यसको नरकानल,

आफ्ना भूलहरु नागिनीझैं बेरिरहेछन् वक्षस्थल ।

तिनबाट म केही मोचन पाऊँ भन्दै प्रभुजी गर्छु पुकार,

यस्तो पतित धूलिकणी भै पुग्नै सकिन नि प्रभु–पदसार ।

मानवताका भाव हजारौं मैले गाएँ कवितामा,

तर ती सारा विफल भईकन फोस्रो भए सब प्रभु श्यामा ।

होश पुगेन छन्द पुगेन हृदय पुगेन प्रभु पदमा,

अब ता मेरो आशा छैन अगाध गर्तमा छु जगमा ।

मेरो केवल साथ निराशा मेरो केवल छटपट जीवन,

मेरो मनको आकाश समूचा केवल अग्नि–तपन ।

जलको विन्दु यस सिन्धुमा मैले पाइन हाय अभागी ।

किनकि मैले अरुकन जल दी ठण्डा पार्न सकिन सुभागी ।

यस कारण मेरो तनको मनको पनि अणेव्रत ध्वंस हुन लाग्यो,

प्रलयानलले काल–स्वरुप ली विश्व जलाउन अब जाग्यो,

यसमा अब के मसीको अन्त सीमा चरम क्षतिको,

नास्तिकताले अहम्भावको गाइरहेछन् प्रभु ! यतिको ।

प्रलय नीदमा सुतिरहेछु मेरो ब्रह्माण्ड जल्यो,

आउन सक्ने प्रभुको पदमा मेरो आत्मासम्म गल्यो ।

यस कारण यो जगती–तलमा एक अभागी नष्ट भयो,

यसको औषधि केही छैन किनकि स्वयं यो प्रष्ट भयो ,

जाति बान्धव कुल ज्ञातिको निम्ति न मेरो बिन्दु झ¥यो,

सिन्धु दिएथे परमेश्वरले जल सब आगो बनी द¥यो ।

धन्य हे आत्मा ! धन्य हे ईश्वर ! तिम्रो लीला बुझिएन,

तिम्रो पदमा साथ स्मृति ली आह ! कहिल्यै भिजिएन ।

अब यसलाई केही छैन गयो कहाँ यो पुग्यो कहाँ ?

केवल विषको थोपा पिउँदै अझ जल्दैछ बसी यहाँ ।

Bhoot Sawar – Laxmi Prasad Devkota

क.
थिए सिकन्दरका जुँघा

क्या बाघका !

करमा कस्तो करवाल !

मुठी कस्ता !

लाख, लाखका !
ख.
झोक्रिरहन्थ्यो, झोक्रिरहन्थ्यो,

लहडी एक !

भाग्यो केही ?

सब मोटाए चाटी, चाटी !

विश्वविजेताको छ उदेक !
ग.
“के चाहिन्छ ?”

त्यो भन्छ,

“हा ! हा ! हा ! हा ! घाम नछेक”

शस्त्रअस्त्रको शेखीउपर

हेर ! बुद्धिको कत्रो टेक !
घ.
दीवालाका दान गजब छन् !

स्वतन्त्र दिलको पुजारी

हाँस्दछ, हाँस्दछ मेरा दिलमा

पाजी, पूँजी, लूटहरुमा,

इन्कार तथा धिक्कार

नामका खुट्टा बजारी !