Lagdachha Malai Ramailo – Madhav Prasad Ghimire

लाग्दछ मलाई रमाइलो मेरै पाखा पखेरो
हिमालचुली मन्तिर पानी भर्ने पँधेरो

लेकै हेर्यौ लाली गुराँस बेंसी हेर्यो प्याउली
पिरती बास्ने परेवा बिरह बोल्ने न्याउली
हिमाल छुन्छ बेलुकी सप्तर्षिको ताँतीले
जुनेली रात बिताउँछु गाउँदा गाउँदै साथीले

सम्झन्छु म हिउँचुली आँसुको ढिका खसाली
यो बिरानो मुलुकमा बस्दैन माया बसाली
वनमा घाम नलागे जगत सारा अँधेरो
नौडाँडाको पारीमा प्रीतिको देश छ मेरो

मेरो कान्ले लेकैलाई पाकेर जाने बादल
हातले मैले नछोए पनि छ कति कोमल
डर लाग्छ मलाई यही बादलु छायाँले
पार्दछ जहाँ इन्द्रेणी पाइला भिज्ने मायाले

In Spring And Summer Winds May Blow – Walter Savage Landor

In spring and summer winds may blow,
And rains fall after, hard and fast;
The tender leaves, if beaten low,
Shine but the more for shower and blast

But when their fated hour arrives,
When reapers long have left the field,
When maidens rifle turn’d-up hives,
And their last juice fresh apples yield,

A leaf perhaps may still remain
Upon some solitary tree,
Spite of the wind and of the rain . . .
A thing you heed not if you see.

At last it falls. Who cares? Not one:
And yet no power on earth can ever
Replace the fallen leaf upon
Its spray, so easy to dissever.

If such be love, I dare not say.
Friendship is such, too well I know:
I have enjoyed my summer day;
‘Tis past; my leaf now lies below.

Summer – John Clare

Come we to the summer, to the summer we will come,
For the woods are full of bluebells and the hedges full of bloom,
And the crow is on the oak a-building of her nest,
And love is burning diamonds in my true lover’s breast;
She sits beneath the white thorn a-plaiting of her hair,
And I will to my true lover with a fond request repair;
I will look upon her face, I will in her beauty rest,
And lay my aching weariness upon her lovely breast.

The clock-a-clay is creeping on the open bloom of May,
The merry bee is trampling the pink threads all day,
And the chaffinch it is brooding on its grey mossy nest
In the white thorn bush where I will lean upon my lover’s breast;
I’ll lean upon her breast and I’ll whisper in her ear
That I cannot get a wink o’sleep for thinking of my dear;
I hunger at my meat and I daily fade away
Like the hedge rose that is broken in the heat of the day.