poem – the sentence

Morning came and duteous Rama to the palace bent his way,
For to make his salutation and his due obeisance pay,

And he saw his aged father shorn of kingly pomp and pride,
And he saw the Queen Kaikeyi sitting by her consort’s side.

Duteously the righteous Rama touched the ancient monarch’s feet,
Touched the feet of Queen Kaikeyi with a son’s obeisance meet,

‘Rama!’ cried the feeble monarch, but the tear bedimmed his eye,
Sorrow choked his failing utterance and his bosom heaved a sigh,

Rama started in his terror at his father’s grief or wrath,
Like a traveller in the jungle crossed by serpent in his path!

Reft of sense appeared the monarch, crushed beneath a load of pain,
Heaving oft a sigh of sorrow as his heart would break in twain,

Like the ocean tempest-shaken, like the sun in eclipse pale,
Like a crushed repenting rishi when his truth and virtue fail!

Breathless mused the anxious Rama,-what foul action hath he done,
What strange anger fills his father, wherefore greets he not his son?

‘Speak, my mother,’ uttered Rama,’ what strange error on my part.
Unremembered sin or folly fills with grief my father’s heart,

Gracious unto me is father with a father’s boundless grace,
Wherefore clouds his altered visage, wherefore tears bedew his face?

Doth a piercing painful ailment rack his limbs with cruel smart,
Doth some secret silent anguish wring his tom and tortured heart,

Bharat lives with brave Satrughns, in thy father’s realms afar,
Hath some cloud of dark disaster crossed their bright auspicious star?

Duteously the royal consorts on the loving monarch wait,
Hath some woe or dire misfortune dimmed the lustre of their fate.

I would yield my life and fortune ere I wound my father’s heart,
Rath my unknown crime or folly caused his ancient bosom smart!

Ever dear is Queen Kaikeyi to her consort and her king,
Hath some angry accent escaped thee thus his royal heart to wring,

Speak, my ever-lovinging mother, speak the truth, for thou must know,
What distress or deep disaster pains his heart and clouds his brow?’

Mother’s love nor woman’s pity moved the deep-determined queen,
As in cold and cruel accents thus she spake her purpose keen:

‘Grief nor woe nor sudden ailment pains thy father loved of old,
But he fears to speak his purpose to his Rama true and bold,

And his loving accents falter some unloving wish to tell,
Till you give your princely promise, you Will serve his mandate well!

Listen more, in bygone seasons,-Rama thou wert then unborn,
I had saved thy royal father, he a gracious boon had sworn,

But his feeble heart repenting is by pride and passion stirred,
He would break his royal promise as a caitiff breaks his word,

Years have passed and now the monarch would his ancient word forego,
He would build a needless causeway when the waters ceased to flow!

Truth inspires each deed attempted and each word by monarchs spoke,
Not for thee, though loved and honoured, should a royal vow be broke,

If the true and righteous Rama binds him by his father’s vow,
I will tell thee of the anguish which obscures his royal brow,

If thy feeble bosom falter and thy halting purpose fail,
Unredeemed is royal promise and unspoken is my tale!

‘Speak thy word,’ exclaimed the hero, ‘and my purpose shall not fail,
Rama serves his father’s mandate and his bosom shall not quail,

Poisoned cup or death untimely,-what the cruel fates decree,
To his king and to his father Rama yields obedience free,

Speak my father’s royal promise, hold me by his promise tied,
Rama speaks and shall not palter, for his lips have never lied.’

Cold and clear Kaikeyi’s accents fell as falls the hunter’s knife,
‘Listen then to word of promise and redeem it with thy life,

Wounded erst by foes immortal, saved by Queen Kaikeyi’s care,
Two great boons your father plighted and his royal words were fair,

I have sought their due fulfilment,-brightly shines my Bharat’s star.
Bharat shall be Heir and Regent, Rama shall be banished far!

If thy father’s royal mandate thou wouldst list and honour still,
Fourteen years in Dandak’s forest live and wander at thy will,

Seven long years and seven, my Rama, thou shalt in the jungle dwell,
Bark of trees shall be thy raiment and thy home the hermit’s cell,

Over fair Kosala’s empire let my princely Bharat reign,
With his cars and steeds and tuskers, wealth and gold and arméd men!

Tender-hearted is the monarch, age and sorrow dim his eye,
And the anguish of a father checks his speech and purpose high,

For the love he bears thee, Rama, cruel vow he may not speak,
I have spoke his will and mandate, and thy true obedience seek.’

Calmly Rama heard the mandate, grief nor anger touched his heart,
Calmly from his father’s empire and his home prepared to part.

poem – greetings

Message from returning Rama, Vanars to Ayodhya brought,
Righteous Bharat gave his mandate with a holy joy distraught:

‘Let our city shrines and chaityas with a lofty music shake,
And ourpriests to bright Immortals grateful gifts and offerings make,

Bards, reciters of Puranas, minstrels versed in ancient song,
Women with their tuneful voices lays of sacred love prolong,

Let our queens and stately courtiers step in splendour and in state,
Chieftains with their marshalled forces range along the city gate,

And our white-robed holy Brahmans hymn and sacred mantras sing.
Offer greetings to our brother, render homage to our king!’

Brave Satrughna heard his elder and his mandate duly kept:
‘Be our great and sacred city levelled, cleansed, and duly swept,

And the grateful earth be sprinkled with the water from the well,
Strewn with parchéd rice and offering and with flower of sweetest smell,

On each turret, tower, and temple let our flags and colours wave,
On the gates of proud Ayodhya plant Ayodhya’a banners brave,

Gay festoons of flowering creeper home and street and dwelling line,
And in gold and glittering garment let the gladdened city shine.

Elephants in golden trappings thousand chiefs and nobles bore.
Chariots, cars, and gallant chargers speeding by Sarayu’s shore,

And the serried troops of battle marched with colours rich and brave,
Proudly o’er the gay procession did, Ayodhya’s banners wave.

In their stately gilded litters royal dames and damsels came,
Queen Kausalya first and foremost, Queen Sumitra rich in fame,

Pious priest and learned Brahman, chief of guild from near and far,
Noble chief and stately courtier with the wreath and water jar.

Girt by minstrel, bard, and herald chanting glorious deeds of yore,
Bharat came,-his elder’s sandals still the faithful younger bore,-

Silver-white his proud umbrella, silver-white his garland brave,
Silver-white the fan of chowri which his faithful henchmen wave,

Stately march of gallant chargers and the roll of battle car,
Heavy tread of royal tuskers and the beat of drum of war,

Dundubhi and echoing sankha, voice of nations gathered nigh,
Shook the city’s tower and temple and the pealing vault of sky!

Sailing o’er the cloudless ether Rama’s Pushpa chariot came,
And ten thousand jocund voices shouted Rama’s joyous name,

Women with their loving greetings, children with their joyous cry,
Tottering age and lisping infant hailed the righteous chief and high.

Bharat lifted up his glances unto Rama from afar,
Unto Sita, unto Lakshman, seated on the Pushpa car,

And he wafted high his greetings and he poured his pious lay,
As one wafts the chaunted mantra to the rising God of Day!

Silver swans by Rama’s bidding soft descended from the air,
And on earth the chariot lighted,-car of flowers divinely fair,-

Bharat mounting on the chariot, sought his long-lost elder’s grace,
Rama held his faithful younger in a brother’s dear embrace.

With his greetings unto Lakshman, unto Rama’s faithful dame,
To Bibhishan and Sugriva and each chief who thither came,

Bharat took the jewelled sandals with the rarest gems inlaid,
Placed them at the feet of Rama and in humble accents said:

‘Tokens of thy rule and empire, these have filled thy royal throne,
Faithful to his trust and duty Bharat renders back thine own,

Bharat’s life is joy and gladness, for returned from distant shore,
Thou shalt rule thy spacious kingdom and thy loyal men once more,

Thou shalt hold thy rightful empire and assume thy royal crown,
Faithful to his trust and duty, Bharat renders back thine own,

poem – the sacrifice

Years have passed; the lonely Rama in his joyless palace reigned,
And for righteous duty yearning, Aswa-medha rite ordained,

And a steed of darkest sable with the valiant Lakshman sent,
And with troops and faithful courtiers to Naimisha’s forest went.

Fair was far Naimisha’s forest by the limpid Gumti’s shom.
Monarchs came and warlike chieftains, Brahmans versed in sacred lore,

Bharat with each friend and kinsman served them with the choicest food,
Proud retainers by each chieftain and each crownéd monarch stood.

Palaces and stately mansions were for royal guests assigned,
Peaceful homes for learnéd Brahmans were with trees umbrageous lined,

Gifts were made unto the needy, cloth by skilful weavers wrought,
Ere the suppliants spake their wishes, ere they shaped their inmost thought!

Rice unto the helpless widow, to the orphan wealth and gold,
Gifts they gave to holy Brahmans, shelter to the weak and old,

Garments to the grateful people crowding by their monarch’s door,
Food and drink unto the hungry, home unto the orphan poor.

Ancient rishis had not witnessed feast like this in any land,
Bright Immortals in their bounty blest not with a kinder hand,

Through the year and circling seasons lasted Rama’s sacred feast,
And the untold wealth of Rama by his kindly gifts increased!

poem – sita lost

Morning dawned; and with Valmiki, Sita to the gathering came,
Banished wife and weeping mother, sorrow-stricken, suffering dame,

Pure in thought and deed, Valmiki gave his troth and plighted word,-
Faithful still the banished Sita, in her bosom held her lord!

Mighty Saint,’ so Rama answered as he bowed his humble head,
‘Listening world will hear thy mandate and the word that thou hast said,

Never in his bosom Rama questioned Sita’s faithful love,
And the God of Fire incarnate did her stainless virtue prove!

Pardon, if the voice of rumour drove me to a deed of shame,
Bowing to my people’s wishes I disowned my sinless dame,

Pardon, if to please my subjects I have bade my Sita, roam,
Tore her from my throne and empire, tore her from my heart and home!

In the dark and dreary forest was my Sita left to mourn,
In the lone and gloomy jungle were my royal children born,

Help me, Gods, to wipe this error and this deed of sinful pride,
May my Sita prove her virtue, be again my loving bride!’

Gods and Spirits, bright Immortals to that royal Yajna came,
Hen of every race and nation, kings and chiefs of righteous fame,

Softly through the halls of splendour cool and scented breezes blew,
Fragrance of celestial blossoms o’er the royal chambers flew.

Sita, saw the bright Celestials, monarchs gathered from afar,
Saw her royal lord and husband bright as heaven-ascending star,

Saw her sons as hermit-minstrels beaming with a radiance high,
Milk of love suffused her bosom, tear of sorrow filled her eye!

Rama’s queen and Janak’s daughter, will she stoop her cause to plead,
Witness of her truth and virtue can a loving woman need?

Oh! her woman~s heart is bursting, and her day on earth is done,
And she pressed her heaving bosom, slow and sadly thus begun:

‘If unstained in thought and action I have lived from day of birth,
Spare a daughter’s shame and anguish and receive her, Mother Earth!

If in duty and devotion I have laboured undefiled,
After Earth I who bore this woman, once again, receive thy child!

If in truth unto my husband I have proved a faithful wife,
Mother Earth I relieve thy Sita from the burden of this life!’

Then the earth was rent and parted, and a golden throne arose,
Held aloft by jewelled Nagas as the leaves enfold the rose,

And the Mother in embraces held her spotless sinless Child,
Saintly Janak’s saintly daughter, pure and true and undefiled,

Gods and men proclaim her virtue! But fair Sita is no more,
Lone is Rama’s loveless bosom and his days of bliss are o’er!

poem – the sandals

Tears nor sighs nor sad entreaty Rama’s changeless purpose shook,
Till. once more with hands conjoinéd Bharat to his elder spoke:

‘Rama, true to royal mercy, true to duties of thy race,
Grant this favour to thy mother, to thy brother grant this grace,

Vain were my unaided efforts to protect our father’s throne,
Town and hamlet, lord and tiller, turn to thee and thee alone!

Unto Rama, friends and kinsmen, chiefs and warriors, turn in pain,
And each city chief and elder, and each humble village swain,

Base thy empire strong, unshaken, on a loyal nation’s will,
With thy worth and with thy valour serve thy faithful people still!’

Rama raised the prostrate Bharat to his ever-loving breast,
And in voice of tuneful hansa thus his gentle speech addrest:

‘Trust me, Bharat, lofty virtue, strength and will to thee belong,
Thou could’st rule a worldwide empire in thy faith and purpose strong,

And our father’s ancient min’sters, ever faithful, wise and deep,
They shall help thee with their counsel and thy ancient frontiers keep.

List! the Moon may lose his lustre, Himalaya lose his snow,
Heaving Ocean pass his confines surging from the caves below,

But the truth-abiding Rama will not move from promise given,
He hath spoke and will not palter, help him righteous Gods in heaven!’

Blazing like the Sun in splendour, beauteous like the Lord of Night,
Rama vowed his Vow of Duty, changeless in his holy might!

‘Humble token,’ answered Bharat, ‘still I seek from Rama’s hand,
Token of his love and kindness, token of his high command,

From thy feet cast forth those sandals, they shall decorate the throne.
They shall nerve my heart to duty and shall safely guard thy own,

They shall to a loyal nation absent monarch’s will proclaim,
Watch the frontiers of the empire and the people’s homage claim!’

Rama gave the loosened sandals as his younger humbly prayed,
Bharat bowed to them in homage and his parting purpose said:

‘Not alone will banished Rama barks and matted tresses wear,
Fourteen years the crownéd Bharat will in hermit’s dress appear,

Henceforth Bharat dwells in palace guised as hermit of the wood,
In the sumptuous hall of feasting wild fruit is his only food,

Fourteen years shall pass in waiting, weary toil and penance dire
Then, if Rama comes not living, Bharat dies upon the pyre!’

do pran mile – gopal singh nepali

दो मेघ मिले बोले-डोले, बरसाकर दो-दो बूँद चले ।

भौंरों को देख उड़े भौरें, कलियों को देख हँसी कलियाँ,
कुंजों को देख निकुंज हिले, गलियों को देख बसी गलियाँ,
गुदगुदा मधुप को, फूलों को, किरणों ने कहा जवानी लो,
झोंकों से बिछुड़े झोंकों को, झरनों ने कहा, रवानी लो,
दो फूल मिले, खेले-झेले, वन की डाली पर झूल चले,
दो मेघ मिले बोले-डोले, बरसाकर दो-दो बूँद चले ।

इस जीवन के चौराहे पर, दो हृदय मिले भोले-भाले,
ऊँची नज़रों चुपचाप रहे, नीची नज़रों दोनों बोले,
दुनिया ने मुँह बिचका-बिचका, कोसा आज़ाद जवानी को,
दुनिया ने नयनों को देखा, देखा न नयन के पानी को,
दो प्राण मिले झूमे-घूमे, दुनिया की दुनिया भूल चले,
दो मेघ मिले बोले-डोले, बरसाकर दो-दो बूँद चले ।

तरुवर की ऊँची डाली पर, दो पंछी बैठे अनजाने,
दोनों का हृदय उछाल चले, जीवन के दर्द भरे गाने,
मधुरस तो भौरें पिए चले, मधु-गंध लिए चल दिया पवन,
पतझड़ आई ले गई उड़ा, वन-वन के सूखे पत्र-सुमन
दो पंछी मिले चमन में, पर चोंचों में लेकर शूल चले,
दो मेघ मिले बोले-डोले, बरसाकर दो-दो बूँद चले ।

नदियों में नदियाँ घुली-मिलीं, फिर दूर सिंधु की ओर चलीं,
धारों में लेकर ज्वार चलीं, ज्वारों में लेकर भौंर चलीं,
अचरज से देख जवानी यह, दुनिया तीरों पर खड़ी रही,
चलने वाले चल दिए और, दुनिया बेचारी पड़ी रही,
दो ज्वार मिले मझधारों में, हिलमिल सागर के कूल चले,
दो मेघ मिले बोले-डोले, बरसाकर दो-दो बूँद चले ।

हम अमर जवानी लिए चले, दुनिया ने माँगा केवल तन,
हम दिल की दौलत लुटा चले, दुनिया ने माँगा केवल धन,
तन की रक्षा को गढ़े नियम, बन गई नियम दुनिया ज्ञानी,
धन की रक्षा में बेचारी, बह गई स्वयं बनकर पानी,
धूलों में खेले हम जवान, फिर उड़ा-उड़ा कर धूल चले,
दो मेघ मिले बोले-डोले, बरसाकर दो-दो बूँद चले ।

navin kalpana karo – gopal singh nepali

निज राष्ट्र के शरीर के सिंगार के लिए
तुम कल्पना करो, नवीन कल्पना करो,
तुम कल्पना करो।

अब देश है स्वतंत्र, मेदिनी स्वतंत्र है
मधुमास है स्वतंत्र, चांदनी स्वतंत्र है
हर दीप है स्वतंत्र, रोशनी स्वतंत्र है
अब शक्ति की ज्वलंत दामिनी स्वतंत्र है

लेकर अनंत शक्तियाँ सद्य समृद्धि की-
तुम कामना करो, किशोर कामना करो,
तुम कल्पना करो।

तन की स्वतंत्रता चरित्र का निखार है
मन की स्वतंत्रता विचार की बहार है
घर की स्वतंत्रता समाज का सिंगार है
पर देश की स्वतंत्रता अमर पुकार है

टूटे कभी न तार यह अमर पुकार का-
तुम साधना करो, अनंत साधना करो,
तुम कल्पना करो।

हम थे अभी-अभी गुलाम, यह न भूलना
करना पड़ा हमें सलाम, यह न भूलना
रोते फिरे उमर तमाम, यह न भूलना
था फूट का मिला इनाम, वह न भूलना

बीती गुलामियाँ, न लौट आएँ फिर कभी
तुम भावना करो, स्वतंत्र भावना करो
तुम कल्पना करो।

sarita – gopal singh nepali

यह लघु सरिता का बहता जल
कितना शीतल¸ कितना निर्मल¸

हिमगिरि के हिम से निकल-निकल¸
यह विमल दूध-सा हिम का जल¸
कर-कर निनाद कल-कल¸ छल-छल
बहता आता नीचे पल पल

तन का चंचल मन का विह्वल।
यह लघु सरिता का बहता जल।।

निर्मल जल की यह तेज़ धार
करके कितनी श्रृंखला पार
बहती रहती है लगातार
गिरती उठती है बार बार

रखता है तन में उतना बल
यह लघु सरिता का बहता जल।।

एकांत प्रांत निर्जन निर्जन
यह वसुधा के हिमगिरि का वन
रहता मंजुल मुखरित क्षण क्षण
लगता जैसे नंदन कानन

करता है जंगल में मंगल
यह लघु सरित का बहता जल।।

ऊँचे शिखरों से उतर-उतर¸
गिर-गिर गिरि की चट्टानों पर¸
कंकड़-कंकड़ पैदल चलकर¸
दिन-भर¸ रजनी-भर¸ जीवन-भर¸

धोता वसुधा का अन्तस्तल।
यह लघु सरिता का बहता जल।।

मिलता है उसको जब पथ पर
पथ रोके खड़ा कठिन पत्थर
आकुल आतुर दुख से कातर
सिर पटक पटक कर रो रो कर

करता है कितना कोलाहल
यह लघु सरित का बहता जल।।

हिम के पत्थर वे पिघल-पिघल¸
बन गये धरा का वारि विमल¸
सुख पाता जिससे पथिक विकल¸
पी-पीकर अंजलि भर मृदु जल¸

नित जल कर भी कितना शीतल।
यह लघु सरिता का बहता जल।।

कितना कोमल¸ कितना वत्सल¸
रे! जननी का वह अन्तस्तल¸
जिसका यह शीतल करूणा जल¸
बहता रहता युग-युग अविरल¸

गंगा¸ यमुना¸ सरयू निर्मल
यह लघु सरिता का बहता जल।।

basant git – gopal singh nepali

ओ मृगनैनी, ओ पिक बैनी,
तेरे सामने बाँसुरिया झूठी है!
रग-रग में इतना रंग भरा,
कि रंगीन चुनरिया झूठी है!

मुख भी तेरा इतना गोरा,
बिना चाँद का है पूनम!
है दरस-परस इतना शीतल,
शरीर नहीं है शबनम!
अलकें-पलकें इतनी काली,
घनश्याम बदरिया झूठी है!

रग-रग में इतना रंग भरा,
कि रंगीन चुनरिया झूठी ह !
क्या होड़ करें चन्दा तेरी,
काली सूरत धब्बे वाली!
कहने को जग को भला-बुरा,
तू हँसती और लजाती!
मौसम सच्चा तू सच्ची है,
यह सकल बदरिया झूठी है!

रग-रग में इतना रंग भरा,
कि रंगीन चुनरिया झूठी है!