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,
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.
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.
Look, the eucalyptus, the Atlas pine,
the yellowing ash, all the trees
are gone, and I was older than
all of them. I am older than the moon,
than the stars that fill my plate,
than the unseen planets that huddle
together here at the end of a year
no one wanted. A year more than a year,
in which the sparrows learned
to fly backwards into eternity.
Their brothers and sisters saw this
and refuse to build nests. Before
the week is over they will all
have gone, and the chorus of love
that filled my yard and spilled
into my kitchen each evening
will be gone. I will have to learn
to sing in the voices of pure joy
and pure pain. I will have to forget
my name, my childhood, the years
under the cold dominion of the clock
so that this voice, torn and cracked,
can reach the low hills that shielded
the orange trees once. I will stand
on the back porch as the cold
drifts in, and sing, not for joy,
not for love, not even to be heard.
I will sing so that the darkness
can take hold and whatever
is left, the fallen fruit, the last
leaf, the puzzled squirrel, the child
far from home, lost, will believe
this could be any night. That boy,
walking alone, thinking of nothing
or reciting his favorite names
to the moon and stars, let him
find the home he left this morning,
let him hear a prayer out
of the raging mouth of the wind.
Let him repeat that prayer,
the prayer that night follows day,
that life follows death, that in time
we find our lives. Don’t let him see
all that has gone. Let him love
the darkness. Look, he’s running
and singing too. He could be happy.
Men decide far more problems by hate, love, lust, rage, sorrow, joy, hope, fear, illusion, or some other inward emotion than by reality, authority, any legal standard, judicial precedent, or statute.
Since an intelligence common to us all makes things known to us and formulates them in our minds, honorable actions are ascribed by us to virtue, and dishonorable actions to vice; and only a madman would conclude that these judgments are matters of opinion, and not fixed by nature.
Friendship is nothing else than an accord in all things, human and divine, conjoined with mutual goodwill and affection, and I am inclined to think that, with the exception of wisdom, no better thing has been given to man by the immortal gods
प्रियतम ! म जान्दछु, यो तिम्रो प्रेम हो जो पात–पातमा स्वर्णाभा
बनेर चम्किरहेछ !
जसले लोसे मेघ आकाशमा जम्मा भइरहेछन्, सुवासित पवनले मेरो
मस्तिष्कमा जलकण छर्छ :
यमि सबै, हे मनमोहन ईश्वर ! तिम्रो प्रेम नै हो ।
आज प्रभातका आकाश–धाराले मेरा नयन भरिए :
यो तिम्रो प्रेम–संकेत हो जो जीवनका कण–कणमा व्याप्त छ ।
तिम्रो चेहरा निहुरियो,
तिम्रो नेत्र मेरा नेत्रसँग मिले :
मेरो ह्दयले तिम्रो चरणमा स्पर्श गरिसक्यो !
प्रियतम ! म जान्दछु, यो तिम्रो प्रेम–संकेत हो ।
प्राणका प्राण ! म मेरो देहलाई चोखो राख्छु, किनकि मेरा अंग–
प्रत्यंगमा तिम्रो स्पर्श भएको छ !
आफ्ना विचारलाई असत्यले धमिलो पार्न दिनेछैन, किनकि तिमीले
सत्यको दीपकद्वारा मेरो विवेक प्रकाशित गरिदियौ !
म मेरो ह्दयमा पापलाई पस्नदिन्न, किनकि त्यहाँ तिम्रो मूर्ति
प्रतिष्ठासहित विद्यमान छ !
मेरा सबै काममा तिम्रो व्यक्तित्व हुनेछ, तिम्रो प्ररणानै रहनेछ !
Come to my pavilion, O my King.
I have spread a bed made of
delicately selected buds and blossoms,
And have arrayed myself in bridal garb
From head to toe.
I have been Thy slave during many births,
Thou art the be-all of my existence.
Mira’s Lord is Hari, the Indestructible.
Come, grant me Thy sight at once.
I will not be restrained now, O Rana,
Despite all you do to block my path.
I have torn off the veil of worldly shame;
Only the company of Saints is dear to me.
Merta, my parents’ home, I have left for good.
My surat and nirat, awakened,
Now shine bright.
My master has revealed to me
The mirror within my own body;
Now I’ll sing and dance in ecstasy.
Keep to your self your gems and jewelry;
I have discarded them all, O Rana.
My true Lord I have come to behold;
None knows of this wealth within the body.
I fancy not your forts and palaces
Nor want silken robes wrought with gold.
Mira, unadorned and unbedecked,
Roams intoxicated in the Lord’s love.
In my travels I spent time with a great yogi.
Once he said to me.
“Become so still you hear the blood flowing
through your veins.”
One night as I sat in quiet,
I seemed on the verge of entering a world inside so vast
I know it is the source of
all of
us.
Men can only think. Women have a way of understanding without thinking. Woman was created out of Gods own fancy. Man, He had to hammer into shape.
Our mistress bids me with all speed to call
Aegisthus to the strangers, that he come
And hear more clearly, as a man from man,
This newly brought report. Before her slaves,
Under set eyes of melancholy cast,
She hid her inner chuckle at the events
That have been brought to pass–too well for her,
But for this house and hearth most miserably,–
As in the tale the strangers clearly told.
He, when he hears and learns the story’s gist,
Will joy, I trow, in heart. Ah, wretched me!
How those old troubles, of all sorts made up,
Most hard to bear, in Atreus’s palace-halls
Have made my heart full heavy in my breast!
But never have I known a woe like this.
For other ills I bore full patiently,
But as for dear Orestes, my sweet charge,
Whom from his mother I received and nursed . . .
And then the shrill cries rousing me o’ nights,
And many and unprofitable toils
For me who bore them. For one needs must rear
The heedless infant like an animal,
(How can it else be?) as his humor serve
For while a child is yet in swaddling clothes,
It speaketh not, if either hunger comes,
Or passing thirst, or lower calls of need;
And children’s stomach works its own content.
And I, though I foresaw this, call to mind,
How I was cheated, washing swaddling clothes,
And nurse and laundress did the selfsame work.
I then with these my double handicrafts,
Brought up Orestes for his father dear;
And now, woe’s me! I learn that he is dead,
And go to fetch the man that mars this house;
And gladly will he hear these words of mine.
Yet though a man gets many wounds in breast,
He diet not, unless the appointed time,
The limit of his life’s span, coincide;
Nor does the man who by the hearth at home
Sits still, escape the doom that Fate decrees.
Justice shines in very smoky homes, and honors the righteous; but the gold-spangled mansions where the hands are unclean she leaves with eyes averted.
Like a bad doctor who has fallen down sick you are cast down, and cannot find what sort of drugs would cure your ailment.
धेरै बगेपछि
आँशु जस्तो पानी
सुकेर गए पनि
आकाशमा कटक्क माया लाग्ने
ढिस्को बनाएर जाँदो रहेछ ।
आकाशबाट
धर्धरी
भक्कानो फोरेर रोएको
कानमा खसेपछि
वेगले भेट्न दौडेँ,
पृथ्वी मेरो मोटरसाइकलको चक्कामा
पहिरन अल्झाएर
झन्डै नाङ्गिइन्,
पानी जस्तै थ्याच्च बसिन्
म भिजेको सरि
मायाले टाँगिएँ र
एक निचरेर सुकाएको हलुका आकाश भएँ ।
जहाँ भामर छ त्यही तिम्रो सिम्सार
तिमी विना चल्दैन मेरो पनि संसार
मन हो गीत कुन मसीले लेखूँ ?
सबै सपना कुन धागोले जोडूँ ?
तिम्रो हाँसो मेरो परिवर्तनको धार
नदेखेको सपना प्यारो भो सानु
नहिँडेको बाटो एक्लै कहाँ जानू
तिमी नै मेरो जीवनको आधार
जहाँ भामर छ त्यही तिम्रो सिम्सार
तिमी विना चल्दैन मेरो पनि संसार
जाँदाजाँदै आज फेरि मन उधारै रह्यो
ढोकैसम्म पुगेर पनि पाइला संघारै रह्यो
छिचोलेरै पुगेको’थेँ कति आँखा बाधा थिए
चाहनाथ्यौ तिमी मेरो सपना पनि आधा थिए
खोलुँ भन्थेँ मनको ढोका सबै अपुरै रह्यो
ढोकासम्म पुगेर पनि पाइला संघारै रह्यो
काँढामाथि टेक्नु पर्यो त्यो पनि त सहेकै’थेँ
दुनियाँ नै वैरी हुँदा तिम्रो आफ्नो भएकै’थेँ
कुन सिमाना कोर्यौ दैव ! बोली अधुरै रह्यो
ढोकैसम्म पुगेर पनि पाइला संघारै रह्यो
When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.
When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.
When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
see with
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
examines,
gnaws on kind words
unsaid,
promised walks
never taken.
Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
dependent upon their
nurture,
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
radiance,
fall away.
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
of dark, cold
caves.
And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be
better. For they existed.
Stories of law violations are weighed on a different set of scales in the Black mind than in the white. Petty crimes embarrass the community and many people wistfully wonder why Negroes don’t rob more banks, embezzle more funds and employ graft in the unions…. This … appeals particularly to one who is unable to compete legally with his fellow citizens.”
Strictly speaking, one cannot legislate love, but what one can do is legislate fairness and justice. If legislation does not prohibit our living side by side, sooner or later your child will fall on the pavement and I’ll be the one to pick her up. Or one of my children will not be able to get into the house and you’ll have to say, “Stop here until your mom comes here.” Legislation affords us the chance to see if we might love each other.”
The white American man makes the white American woman maybe not superfluous but just a little kind of decoration. Not really important to turning around the wheels of the state. Well the black American woman has never been able to feel that way. No black American man at any time in our history in the United States has been able to feel that he didn’t need that black woman right against him, shoulder to shoulder—in that cotton field, on the auction block, in the ghetto, wherever.”
We are not cave dwellers anymore, we live in the age of technology. When someone needs a car, he does not need to build it. He can buy it. When someone needs a murder, he himself does not need to kill. He can order it.
I believe we are still so innocent. The species are still so innocent that a person who is apt to be murdered believes that the murderer, just before he puts the final wrench on his throat, will have enough compassion to give him one sweet cup of water.
The boys with their feet on the desks know that the easiest murder case in the world to break is the one somebody tried to get very cute with; the one that really bothers them is the murder somebody only thought of two minutes before he pulled it off.
Under the rules of a society that cannot distinguish between profit and profiteering, between money defined as necessity and money defined as luxury, murder is occasionally obligatory and always permissible.
Be sure that it is not you that is mortal, but only your body. For that man whom your outward form reveals is not yourself; the spirit is the true self, not that physical figure which can be pointed out by your finger.
Since an intelligence common to us all makes things known to us and formulates them in our minds, honorable actions are ascribed by us to virtue, and dishonorable actions to vice; and only a madman would conclude that these judgments are matters of opinion, and not fixed by nature.
Friendship is nothing else than an accord in all things, human and divine, conjoined with mutual goodwill and affection, and I am inclined to think that, with the exception of wisdom, no better thing has been given to man by the immortal gods”
Life as stage of roles,
everyone performs when it’s time,
We take new roles as we grow
We take new roles by what we know,
Our performances on each role based on our ability
Could be through faith, status, wealth, beauty, character,
Some take bad roles,
A few take good roles,
In between the entrance and exist, we coexist
we perform our destiny
from entrance to exist we choose our choice,
what we do affects another at work, all linked together,
our present affect, our absent affect,
both the young ones and old ones have many roles to play
Our roles end when we are dead
Certainly,
Best of roles are for Allah, the worst roles aim for world.
Allah shall reward us based on aim. Aamiin
Sail your mind like ship,
Fly your heart like wings,
And your heart will be relieved.
रहर के हो ? पीन्जडा जीवनको
रहरकै खातिर उर्लिन्छ भेल पीडाको
रहर के हो ? जहर जीवनको
रहरकै खातिर बल्झिन्छ मृत्यु पीडाको ।
रहर के हो ? एक ठहर जीवनको
रहर नै त रहेछ आशा जीवनको
रहर के हो ? खोई छाड्नै नसकिने
रहर विना जीउनुको अर्थै नरहने ।
रहरले जीवन सून्दर बनाउला
रहरविनाको जीवन व्यर्थै हराउला
रहर के हो ? यात्राको अमूल्य साथी
रहरले त मान्छे पुग्छ माथी माथी ।
रहर जसले छोड्यो त्यो विरक्त भयो
रहर विना उसको जीवनलीला गयो
रहर त गर्नु तर आफ्नै वजनको
रहर पुग्ला हैसियत बमोजिमको ।
रहरले पीडा नदिनु अरुलाई
रहरकै लागी नरुवाउनु अरुलाई
रहरले सेवा गर्नु सधै दूखीकॊ
रहर नगर्नु विनास अरुको ।
Racism is when you have laws set up, systematically put in a way to keep people from advancing, to stop the advancement of a people. Black people have never had the power to enforce racism, and so this is something that white America is going to have to work out themselves. If they decide they want to stop it, curtail it, or to do the right thing … then it will be done, but not until then.
अ अथवा अस्तित्व
स्व अथवा स्वभिमान
हरेक देश र जनतासंग
गासीएको
टासिएको
अलङ्कार हुन् यी दुइ अक्षरहरु
त्यो हरेक देश र जनताको लागि प्रीय हुन्छ
अ र स्व अथवा अस्व
कुनै देश
र जनताले गुमाउन चाहदैनन्
जव अस्व गुम्छ
तव त्यो देश देश रहदैन
र जनता जनता हुदैनन्
अथवा देश र जनता भए पनि
कठपुतली वन्नु पर्छ कसैको
त्यसैले त अस्वको लागि
हरेक युगमा हरेक देशमा
हरेक मान्छेमा युद्घ वाचीरहन्छ
कस्लाई सह्य होला र ?
स्वभिमान खोसीएको
कस्लाई मञ्जुर होला र?
अस्तित्व लुटिएको
त्यसैले अस्व गुमाउनु भन्दा
देश युद्घघोष गर्न तयार हुन्छ
र जनता देशको लागि वलि चढ्न तयार हुन्छन्
तसर्थ हरेक देश र जनतालाई
अति प्रीयकर हुन्छ अस्व
तर विडम्वना त्यहि अलङ्कारहरु
युगौ देखि कुल्चेकाछन् लुटेकाछन्
त्यसको विरुद्घमा आवाजहरु उठाए पनि
ब्यर्थ भएकाछन् ती आवाजहरु
किनभने लुटिनेहरु लुटिएकैछन्
कुल्चिएकाहरु कुल्चिएकै छन्
यहाँ त कसैको स्वभिमानलाई कुल्चिएर उभ्नु पनि
स्वभिमानै ठान्छन् मान्छेहरु
र अस्तित्वलाई अपहरण गर्नुलाई पनि
मानवता नै सोच्छन् मान्छेहरु
यो कस्तो मत्स्यन्याय हो ?
जव कि देश र जनतामा स्वार्थ पूर्तिको लागि
स्वभिमानको हवला दिएर
अरुको स्वभिमानलाई आफैले हडप्नु ?
र मानवताको वकालत गरेर
निर्दोष र निरीहहरु माथी हमला गर्नु
चरीत्र वनेकोछ आजका हिट्लरहरुको
अरुको सामु अस्वको वखान गरेर
भित्र हिंसा र हत्याको योजना वुन्छन्
त्यसैले वर्तमान भयानक संकटहरु ब्यहोर्दै गुज्रिरहेछ
My dad gave me one dollar bill
‘Cause I’m his smartest son,
And I swapped it for two shiny quarters
‘Cause two is more then one!
And then I took the quarters
And traded them to Lou
For three dimes– I guess he didn’t know
That three is more than two!
Just then, along came old blind Bates
And just ’cause he can’t see
He gave me four nickels for my three dimes,
And four is more than three!
And I took the nickels to Hiram Coombs
Down at the seed-feed store,
And the fool gave me five pennies for them,
And five is more than four!
And I went and showed my dad,
And he got red in the cheeks
And closed his eyes and shook his head–
Too proud of me to speak!
I went to the doctor-
He reached down my throat,
He pulled out a shoe
And a little toy boat,
He pulled out a skate
And a bicycle seat,
And said ‘Be more careful
About what you eat.’
Where did you get such a dirty face,
My darling dirty-faced child?
I got it from crawling along in the dirt
And biting two buttons off Jeremy’s shirt.
I got it from chewing the roots of a rose
And digging for clams in the yard with my nose.
I got it from peeking into a dark cave
And painting myself like a Navajo brave.
I got it from playing with coal in the bin
And signing my name in cement with my chin.
I got if from rolling around on the rug
And giving the horrible dog a big hug.
I got it from finding a lost silver mine
And eating sweet blackberries right off the vine.
I got it from ice cream and wrestling and tears
And from having more fun than you’ve had in years.
A girl in the middle years also becomes more centered in her soul-life, the feelings of her heart, and she needs our guidance to learn to express her uniqueness, those small seeds that will someday sprout into gifts, talents, and resources.
My friend devotes himself to his life, whenever he can find the spare time. His motto is: ‘Don’t just sit there: live!’ So he’s too busy to stand, to walk, to do anything, except to live. He even refused to kiss a girl, when invited, on the grounds that it was time again to be living. Schedules are sacred to him.
लालीगुरास
तिमी नफुले
फुल्दैनन् सुनगाभा र सयपत्री फूलहरु
हास्दैनन् वनपाखा र भीरपखेराहरु
किनकी सेता सेता हिमालका फेदीमा छौ
अग्ला अग्ला पहाडको टाकुरीमा छौ
छौ, सुशोभित सुनाखरी जस्तै
छौ हर्षित लालुपाते जस्तै
र नाच्छौ डाफे मुनालसंग गुञ्जदा लोकलहरी
त्यसैले फुलाएका छौ देशलाई मुहारभरी
लालीगुरास
खिलिएकी छौ तिमी हरियाली चुल्ठोभरी
वैंशालु युवतीको चुल्ठोमा खिलिएको फूल झैं
मुस्कुराइरहेकी हुन्छौ झरिवादल र ठिहीमा पनि
वैंशको सहरमा मुस्कुराएको मान्छे जस्तै
सारा क्षण लजाइरहेछ ति म्रो लालीमा देखेर
फुलेका छन् सुनाखरी र सयपत्री ति म्रै आभाष पाएर
त्यसैले जगमगाइ रहेछौ प्रतिष्ठा बनेर
फूलहरुको प्रतिनिधित्वमा फुलेका राष्ट्रियता जगाएर
कहिल्यै नअघाइने ति म्रो रङ्ग
चहार्छ मुटु बनेर धड्किन्छ सारा अङ्ग
लालीगुरास
तिमी नफुले पालुवा मौसममा कोइली बोल्दैन
तिमी नफुले नदीनाला सुसाउदैन
तिमी नफुले दुःखका क्षणहरु भुलिदैन
तिमी नफुले नेपालीको मन फुल्दैन
तिमी नफुले खुशियालीमा देश झुम्दैन
त्यसैले ओइलिएका मनहरुमा ताजा फूल भएर फुल
हरेकको आखामा रोशनी भरेर फुल
हरेक वर्षको चहलपहलसंगै युगौं युग फुल
लालीगुरास
तिमी सबैको मिठो सपना भएर फुल
समय अविरल आइरहन्छ
विना मुहानको पानी जस्तो
पर्खदैन डुवी जाने घाम जस्तो
प्रकृतिले प्रदान गरेको निःशुल्क उपहार
प्राप्त भइरहन्छ
बाच्नको लागि प्राण जस्तो
तर थाहा हुदैन हामीलाई
सहज असहज बनेर पाइलाहरुमा
गतिशील भएर उर्लिदिंदा
बनिदिन्छ सृष्टिको नियम जस्तो
विद्यमान बगिदिने नदीहरुमा
जन्म र मृत्यु दुइ किनारा भएर बगे जस्तो
समय
बलवान हुन्छ
रोकेर रोकिदैंन/छेकेर छेकिदैन
त्यसैले घाम बन्छ कहिले सफलताको
औंसीको रात बन्छ कहिले असफलताको
फक्रिन्छ कहिले रङ्गीविरङ्गी फूल भएर बसन्तहरुमा
पोलिन्छ कहिले आगोको राप बनेर छातीहरुमा
धड्कन हो कि कुन्नी
खुल्दुलीमा आखा
जति च्यातेर हेरे पनि
देखिंदैन कहीं
हतारिएर जति भेट्न खोजे पनि
भेटिदैन कही
व्यस्त व्यस्त भइरहन्छ हरपलमा
समय
छाइरहन्छ सदैव दिनहरुमा, रातहरुमा
र स्पर्श गरिरहन्छ अनुभूतिहरुमा
विना आकृतिको भावना जस्तो ।
वर्तमान छचल्किरहन्छ भविष्यको पानीमा
रोकिदैन भूतकाल पहिरो गए जस्तो
पर्खदैन डुवी जाने घाम जस्तो
When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees,
And they did make no noise, in such a night
Troilus methinks mounted the Troy an walls,
And sighed his soul toward the Grecian tents,
Where Cressida lay that night.
Religions are springs of faith and divine nectar. Keep drinking that holy water but never spit on others.We need Religion till then, when religion automatically melts down and only God remains.
I hate Science. It denies a man’s responsibility for his own deeds, abolishes the brotherhood that springs from God’s fatherhood. It is a hectoring, dictating expertise, which makes the least lovable of the Church Fathers seem liberal by contrast. It is far easier for a Hitler or a Stalin to find a mock- scientific excuse for persecution than it was for Dominic to find a mock-Christian one.
I am already kindly disposed towards you. My friendship it is not in my power to give: this is a gift which no man can make, it is not in our own power: a sound and healthy friendship is the growth of time and circumstance, it will spring up and thrive like a wildflower when these favor, and when they do not, it is in vain to look for it.
I suspect a demand for real change in power relations will occur only if women … come to understand that their need for romances is a function of their dependent status as women and of their acceptance of marriage as the only route to female fulfillment. I think we as feminists might help this change along by first learning to recognize that romance reading originates in very real dissatisfaction and embodies a valid, if limited, protest. Then by developing strategies for making that dissatisfaction and its causes consciously available to romance readers and by learning how to encourage that protest in such a way that it will be delivered in the arena of actual social relations rather than acted out in the imagination, we might join hands with women who are, after all, our sisters and together imagine a world whose subsequent creation would lead to the need for a new fantasy altogether.
The essential difference between novel and romance lies in the conception of characterization. The romancer does not attempt to create “real people” so much as stylized figures which expand into psychological archetypes. It is in the romance that we find Jung’s libido, anima, and shadow reflected in the hero, heroine, and villain respectively. That is why the romance so often radiates a glow of subjective intensity that the novel lacks, and why a suggestion of allegory is constantly creeping in around the fringes. Certain elements of character are released in the romance which make it naturally a more revolutionary form than the novel. The novelist deals with personality, with characters wearing their personae or social masks. He needs the framework of a stable society, and many of our best novelists have been conventional to the verge of fussiness. The romancer deals with individuality, with characters in vacuo idealized by revery, and, however conservative he may be, something nihilistic and untamable is likely to keep breaking out of his pages.
Romance feeds on obstacles, short excitation’s, and partings; marriage, on the contrary, is made up of wont, daily propinquity, growing accustomed to one another. Romance calls for “the faraway love” of the troubadours; marriage, for love of “one’s neighbor.” Where, then, a couple have married in obedience to a romance, it is natural that the first time a conflict of temperament or of taste becomes manifest the parties should ask themselves: “Why did I marry?” And it is no less natural that, obsessed by the universal propaganda in favor of romance, each should seize the first occasion to fall in love with somebody else.
The great novels of sex of the nineteenth century were those of Thomas Hardy. By comparison, Lawrence’s books are more subtle and more revealing. Hardy was interested in the results of the sex impulses as they display themselves in normal life. Sex wrecks Jude; sex ennobles and ruins Tess. Lawrence is not much interested in results. When sex is triumphant in Alvina, the lost girl, the story ends. Her story is just beginning, but the only aspect that interested Lawrence has concluded. Sex in itself and for itself is his fascination, and if this makes him narrow it also makes him shrewd.
Sex can be defined fairly adequately in physiological terms as consisting of the building up of bodily tensions and their release. Eros, in contrast, is the experiencing of the personal intentions and meaning of the act. Whereas sex is a rhythm of stimulus and response, Eros is a state of being. The pleasure of sex is described by Freud and others as the reduction of tension; in Eros, on the contrary, we wish not to be released from the excitement but rather to hang on to it, to bask in it, and even to increase it. The end toward which sex points is gratification and relaxation, whereas Eros is a desiring, longing, a forever reaching out, seeking to expand.
There are two kinds of sex, classical and baroque. Classical sex is romantic, profound, serious, emotional, moral, mysterious, spontaneous, abandoned, focused on a particular person, and stereo typically feminine. Baroque sex is pop, playful, funny, experimental, conscious, deliberate, amoral, anonymous, focused on sensation for sensation’s sake, and stereo typically masculine. The classical mentality taken to an extreme is sentimental and finally puritanical; the baroque mentality taken to an extreme is pornographic and finally obscene. Ideally, a sexual relation ought to create a satisfying tension between the two modes (a baroque idea, particularly if the tension is ironic) or else blend them so well that the distinction disappears (a classical aspiration). Lovemaking cannot be totally classical unless it is also totally baroque, since you cannot abandon all restraints and so attain a classical intensity. In practice, however, most people are more inclined to one mode than to the other. A very classical person will be incompatible with a very baroque person unless each can bring out the other’s latent opposite side. Two people who are very one-sided in the same direction can be extremely compatible but risk missing a whole dimension of experience unless they get so deeply into one mode that it becomes the other.
Political life in our country has plowed in muddy channels, and needs the infusion of clearer and cleaner waters. I am not sure that women are naturally so much better than men that they will clear the stream by the virtue of their womanhood; it is not through sex but through character that the best influence of women upon the life of the nation must be exerted.
अस्पतालको सगाल पलङमा
सेतो सुकिलो ओच्छ्यान पाई
नयाँ रोगी रम्दछ पहिले
खोल र तन्ना सुम्सुम्याई
अहा ! कस्तो सफा विच्छौना,
हातको मयल पनि सर्ला जस्तो
कति नरम औ कति मनोरम
खोपीभित्रको शैय्या जस्तो ।
तर जब ओल्टेकोल्टे गर्दा
तन्ना खोल अलि सर्न जान्छ ,
अनि रोगीको आँखा सहसा
भित्री तहमा पर्न जान्छ ।
ती सुकिला खोलहरूभित्र
कति थाङ्ना ती सिरह डसना
टाल्दैतुन्दै छोप्पिरहेको,
सयौं वर्षको अवशेषपना
छ्या! छ्या!! देख्दै डुङ्ग गनाउने
पीप रगतका टाटैटाटा
जति पल्टायो उति घिन लाग्दो
दिशापिशाबले कुहिँदा पाटा
देख्दछ जब यो रोगी
अनि पो खुल्दछ उसमा भित्री पोल
नब्य झैँ लाग्ने, भव्य झैँ लाग्ने,
ओछ्यान रहेछ केवल खोल
दारा किट्छ अनि त्यो रोगी
चिच्याउन लाग्छ च्यात्तै खोल
खोल खोलमै कति दिन धान्छौ
जगजीवनको मोल ।
तर नारी समाई भन्दछ डाक्टर
छैन यसको ब्रेन कन्ट्रोल
अनि धाइले प्याइदिन्छे
मुसुक्क हाँस्तै रङ्गिन झोल ।
Labor and labor,
labor is your destiny.
There is love
There is truth
And there is money.
labor is your destiny.
To establish yourself
Labor is but a necessity.
Make each and every day
A labor day and go on
working with an aim
To attain the truth.
Your labor is unbroken bliss,
Your labor is self-bliss.
Merge into your labor, my dear,
And see how you are winning
The fire and the water,
And see how finer you are here.
The rattle of wind in sclerophyll
is the murmur of cosmic dust
and particle shift. With each break
in the clouds the queue shuffles
a patient step forward.
Beyond the observatory’s dim glow
bush is black as dark matter tonight;
the distant river is negative space,
and the city on the other side
a scattered galaxy.
Swathed in overcoats against the cold
we wait and wait to put an eye to the telescope.
Through a fish-eye lens
the universe gazes back
into the great eye of humanity
orbiting a mundane star on the outer margins
of the Milky Way, one stella cluster
among the infinite.
There is always something to be made of pain.
Your mother knits.
She turns out scarves in every shade of red.
They were for Christmas, and they kept you warm
while she married over and over, taking you
along. How could it work,
when all those years she stored her widowed heart
as though the dead come back.
No wonder you are the way you are,
afraid of blood, your women
like one brick wall after another.
A man and a woman lie on a white bed.
It is morning. I think
Soon they will waken.
On the bedside table is a vase
of lilies; sunlight
pools in their throats.
I watch him turn to her
as though to speak her name
but silently, deep in her mouth–
At the window ledge,
once, twice,
a bird calls.
And then she stirs; her body
fills with his breath.
I open my eyes; you are watching me.
Almost over this room
the sun is gliding.
Look at your face, you say,
holding your own close to me
to make a mirror.
How calm you are. And the burning wheel
passes gently over us.
Night covers the pond with its wing.
Under the ringed moon I can make out
your face swimming among minnows and the small
echoing stars. In the night air
the surface of the pond is metal.
Within, your eyes are open. They contain
a memory I recognize, as though
we had been children together. Our ponies
grazed on the hill, they were gray
with white markings. Now they graze
with the dead who wait
like children under their granite breastplates,
lucid and helpless:
The hills are far away. They rise up
blacker than childhood.
What do you think of, lying so quietly
by the water? When you look that way I want
to touch you, but do not, seeing
as in another life we were of the same blood.
चोर्ने चिन्तन गर्दछ खाली
मानिसहरूका हरिया बाली
फेरि कसैको पनि फुल-बारी
देख्नै नसकी दिन्छ उजारी
अग्लो रुखमा उसको डेरा
मान्दछ मीठो अम्बा, केरा
निर्धा आए जाई लाग्छ
बलिया आए परपर भाग्छ
फलफूल ल्याई मानिसहरू तर
हनुमान भनी गर्छन् आदर
केवल पशु पो हो त्यो बानर
काला अक्षर भैंसी बराबर
बालकहरू हो, होश समाल
मनमन्दिरमा बत्ती बाल
तिमीहरू मानिस बन्नु छ जाग
बानर बुद्धितर्फ नलाग
संकीर्णताको परखाल नाघी
यथार्थ वैज्ञानिक पन्थ लागी
पीडितमा जागृति बत्ति बाल
भगाइद्यौ भारतका दलाल
प्रगति भो अब व्यापक जाज्वल
परिसके प्रतिगामीहरू तल
उठिसक्यो भई व्यापक जागृति
उदित भै जनमानसको स्थिति
विजयको भई दर्पण शानमा
प्रवल भै मनको बलिदानमा
जनजागृत भै उठदै गयो
परपीडनता टुट्दै गयो
असही शोषण जागृति हो सही
जनयथार्थ कुरो बीचमा नरही
फगत नित्य रुचाइ विलासता
रहन संभव छैन कतै यता
नेपाललाई चीन देखाएर तर्साउने र आफू पनि तर्सने ब्रिटिश–भारतीय नीति अद्यापि कायम छ।
रेजिडेन्ट स्मिथले तराईतिरबाट आउने बाटोका ठाउँको नाउँ समेत खुलेको नक्शा आफूले नपाएको तर उत्तरतर्फको नक्शा चाहिं हेरेको बताउँदै नेपालको बीच भागको नक्शा दिनुभए मेहरवानी हुने थियो भन्दा चन्द्रशमशेर महाराजले खोज्न लगाएको छु भने। तर, त्यो नक्शा दिन चाहिं गाह्रो पर्ने जनाए।
त्यसका लागि भारदारहरूसँग सल्लाह गर्नुपर्ने र भारदारहरूले महाराज अंग्रेजहरूसँग धेरै खुल्न लागेको भन्दै कुरा काट्न थालेको बताउँदै महाराजले त्यसमा उनीहरूलाई दोष लगाउने ठाउँ पनि नभएको बताए।
“तपाईंहरूको व्यवहारले त्यस्तै देखाइरहेको छ”, महाराजले रेजिडेन्टलाई भने, “इण्डिया गभर्मेन्टले नेपाललाई इण्डियाको नेटिभ स्टेट जस्तो ठान्यो भनेर हाम्रा मान्छेका मनमा गोसा परेको छ।”
महाराजले नेपाललाई भारतको नेटिभ स्टेटमा गाभेर लेखेको हालसालैको इम्पोरियल गजेटियर पत्रिका नै देखाएर रेजिडेन्टलाई नाजवाफ पारे। त्यो देखेर नेपालीले साह्रै नराम्रो मानेका र इण्डिया गभर्मेन्टको आलोचना गरेको महाराजले बताए।
अघि रेजिडेन्ट गर्लिस्टोन यहाँ हुँदा एक जना सर्भेयर गोप्य रूपले नेपाल पसेर भोट जाने बाटोघाटोको सर्वे गरेछन्। खर्च सकिएर रेजिडेन्सीमा आएपछि कुरो खुल्यो।
त्यस प्रसंगमा स्मिथले ‘हाम्रो सरकारलाई भोटमा चीन आयो भने नेपालमा पनि सरासर आउन सक्छ भन्ने चिन्ता रहेकोले भोट जाने बाटोघाटोको जानकारी राखिराख्नु आवश्यक ठानेको हुनसक्छ’ भन्दै महाराजको चित्त बुझाउन खोजे।
त्यसलाई ठाडै अस्वीकार गर्दै महाराजले ‘त्यो हुनै नसक्ने कुरो हो’ भने। महाराजले ‘चीनले नेपाललाई भोट जस्तो भनेको नजानेको नसुनेको बताउँदै प्रतिनिधिमण्डल जाने कुरा साविकदेखि चलिआएको औपचारिकता मात्र हो, नेपाल चीनको हुने अरू कुनै संभावना छैन, पहिले चीनकै रोहवरमा सन्धि हुँदा भोटले हामीलाई सालना ५० हजार तिर्ने बन्दोबस्त भएको बताए।
मुख्य कुरा के छ भने, त्यसबेला ब्रिटिश भारतका अधिकारीहरू चीनको त्रास देखाएर नेपालमा आफ्नो प्रभाव जमाउन चाहन्थे। महाराजले पनि त्यो अनुभव गरेकै थिए। ब्रिटिश अधिकारीहरू भने सधैं यही कुरा उठाइरहन्थे। चीनको हाउगुजी देखाएर नेपाललाई कजाउने ब्रिटिश सरकारको नेपाल नीति थियो। आश्चर्य, आज डेढ सय वर्षपछि स्वतन्त्र भारतको नेपाल नीति त्यही छ।
“चीनलाई नेपालमा जम्न ब्रिटिश सरकारले कहिल्यै दिने छैन”, सं. १९६४ मा अंग्रेज रेजिडेन्ट जेम्यानर्स स्मिथले बोलेको यही वाक्य अहिले २०७३ सालमा पनि स्वतन्त्र भारतका नेपालनीतिका जानिफकारहरू दोहोर्याइरहेका छन्। भारतले बारम्बार नाकाबन्दी गरेर नसताएको भए नेपालले पुरानो मित्रराष्ट्र चीनसँग बेपार, पारवहन तथा यातायात सन्धि गर्थ्यो त? अहिले भारतमा सञ्चार माध्यमले कोकोहोलो मच्चाइरहेका छन्, के भन्नु?
नेपालको परराष्ट्र नीतिमा एकरूपता छैन। नेतैपिच्छे, पार्टी पिच्छेका आ–आफ्ना नीति छन्। सार्वभौम र स्वतन्त्र राष्ट्र नेपालले आफ्ना मित्रराष्ट्रहरूसँग समानताका आधारमा सन्धि–सम्झौताहरू गर्ने दिन कहिले आउला? तर, यो अवश्यम्भावी कुरा हो, हुनैपर्छ।
सन् १९०७ सेप्टेम्बर मैन्हाको ३ तारीख मुताविक १९६४ मीती भाद्र १६ गते रोजका दिन व्यहान रजिडन्ट जेम्यानर्स स्मीथ साहेव प्राइभेट मुलाकातलाई ८ वजे सिंहदरबारमा आई कुरा कहानि भयाको टीपन।
रजि– तपायींबाट यौटा नक्सामा १ जना डाक्टरले हेटौडाबाट काठमाडौं यकै दिनमा आयाको बाटोको निसान दियाको छ भनि भंनुहुन्थ्यो. त्यो नक्सा मैले भेटायन.. तपायींबाट पठाई दिनु भयाको नेपालका उत्तरतरफका सेवाना तरफका नक्सा देखें तराई तरफको सिकारी नक्सा पनि हेरी सकेको छु. बीच भागको नक्सा पनि अवस्य हुनुपर्छ. मेहरवानीसाथ मलाई हेर्न दिनुहोस्
श्री ३– त्यो नक्सा मैले खोजन लायाको छु. पाइयो भने पठाई दिनुहुनेछु तर येकदम् हतपति पठाउन भने ठीक हुने छैन कीन भने सो पठाउनाले मैले साह्रै खुल्ला मै काम गरे भनि भारदारहरूका मनमा पर्न जाने र नीको मान्ने छैनन् हाम्रो भारादारहरूका मन्मा के परेको छ भने इंडीया गवरमेन्टको मुराद हामीलाई पनि इंडीयाको यौटा नेटीभ इस्टेट जस्तो गर्नापटी झुकेको छ भनि ठानेका छन् तीनीहरूमा कसै कसैले हाल नया छापियेको इम्पोरियेल गजेटीयरमा नेपाललाई पनी नेटीभ इस्टेटहरूमा सामेल गरी लेखेको हुनाले तस्मा नराम्रो कमेट गरे.
रजि– यो कीताप तपायींसंग छ की?
श्री ३– छ. (भन्या हुकुम मै लीन पठाई देखाई बक्सेपछी) यस्तै कुराहरूले गर्दा तपायींहरूसंग खुल्ला भै काम् गर्नालाई मुस्कील परेको रजि– पुरानु ग्याजेटीयर पनि तपायींसंग छ की
श्री ३– छ म पठाई दिउंला
रजि– मिष्टर गर्लीष्टन यहां रजीडन्ट छंदा इंडीया गवरमेन्टबाट १ जना सर्भेयरलाई गोप्य तवरसंग नेपाल पठायाका रहेछन् र नीज सर्भेयर आई खर्च सकेको हुनाले मिष्टर गर्लिष्टनसंग खर्च माग्न आयेछन् र नीजले सो सर्भेयर आयाको खवर अघिबाट थाहा नपायाको हुनाले मलाई थाहा नदि कीन पठायाको भनि उजुर गरेका रहेछ र गभरमेन्ट इंडीयाले तेस्को जवावमा सर्भे डिपार्टमेन्ट आफ्नै मनासीवले पठायाका हुन् भनि लेखि पठाया छन्. टीवेट्मा नेपालबाट जाने आउने बाटो कति रहेछ भनि जान्नाको गभरमेन्टको इरादा छ. गभरमेन्टलाई टिवेट्मा चीन बलियो भो भने नेपालमा सरासर आउन सक्ने होला भंने दहसत मानेका छं
श्री ३– तेस्तो हुन सक्ला भंने लाग्दैन
रजि– चीन्ले नेपाललाई आफ्नु हो भनि भंन सक्ने छैन भनि सम्झेका छ
श्री ३– चीनले तेस्तो दावा गर्छ भंने लाग्दैन नेपालले चीनलाई मांनुपर्छ भंने लीखित पत्र अहद भयाको केहि छैन खालि टिवेट्संगको अहदमा ५। ५ वर्षमा मिसन् जाने गरेको केहि होइन
रजि– चीनलाई नेपालमा जम्न ब्रिटीस सर्कारले कैल्है दिने छैन. चीनको यांहा रजिडंट पनि छैन
श्री ३– हो, हाम्रो चीनसंग तेस्तो अहद पनि केही छैन. अघि १ पल्ट टीवेट्संग अहद हुंदा साल्को ५०,००० दिने कबुल गरेका थीये टीवेट् तरफको र चीन्तरफको पुरानु कागज पत्रहरू दुरुस्त रहेका छैनन. बृटिस पट्टिको कागजपत्र भने दुरुस्तसाथ अफिसमा रहेको छ
रजि– खचराहरू माथी नेपालको हक् कसरी पुगेको रहेछ
श्री ३– तेस्को लीखत कागजपत्र खोजेको केहि पाइयेको छैन. येस् वीसयेमा हाम्रा ल्हासामा रहेका वकिललाई पनि लेखी पठायाको छु. कीसनसींको वयान तपायींकाहा पठाई दीयाको थीयें. त्यो वयान् हीजो अस्ति नै पठाउन आटेको थीयें तर कसैले सो पठाउन हुदैन भनि भनेको हुनाले १।२ दिन ढीलो हुन गयाको हो. तीनीहरूलाई मैले के भने भने हाकिमहरूले दोस्ताना देखायेनौ भने बृटिसले मात्र हामीउपर कसरी दोस्ती देखाउलान्. सावीक् नभयाको भनिमात्र १९ नाले कसरी कां होला. हामी उपर केहि वदनीयेत् भयाको भया हामीलाई बंदुक खजाना कीन दीन के भनि भने वाहापछीमात्र सो वयान् पठाउनामा मंजुर गरे
रजि– सो वयान पठाउनु हुन्न भनि कसले भनेका हुं
श्री ३– माफ राखनु होस्. तीनीहरूको नाउं म भंन चाहदीन
रजि– इडीया गभरमेन्टले तपायींको यो दोस्तीको काम् बढिया मानको छ
श्री ३– नीज कीसन्सिंको बयान् लिदा दस्तुर माफिक् बकपत्रै गराई लीनालाई सो गर्नाले आफ्नु दील खोली बयान नगर्ने हुनाले कुरा कहानीबाट नीजसंगको खवर लीयेको हो
Hark, I hear a robin calling!
List, the wind is from the south!
And the orchard-bloom is falling
Sweet as kisses on the mouth.
In the dreamy vale of beeches
Fair and faint is woven mist,
And the river’s orient reaches
Are the palest amethyst.
Every limpid brook is singing
Of the lure of April days;
Every piney glen is ringing
With the maddest roundelays.
Come and let us seek together
Springtime lore of daffodils,
Giving to the golden weather
Greeting on the sun-warm hills.
Ours shall be the moonrise stealing
Through the birches ivory-white;
Ours shall be the mystic healing
Of the velvet-footed night.
Ours shall be the gypsy winding
Of the path with violets blue,
Ours at last the wizard finding
Of the land where dreams come true.
Last night beneath the mockery of the moon
I heard the suddenly startled whisperings
Of wakened birds settling their restless wings;
The North-east brought his word of gladness, “Soon!”
And all the night with wonder was a-swoon.
A soul had breathed into long-dreaming things;
Some unseen hand hovered above the strings:
Some cosmic chords had set the earth in tune.
And when I rose I saw the Bay arrayed
In her grey robe against the coming heat.
A pulse awoke within the stirring street–
The wattle-gold upon the pavements thrown,
And through the quiet of the colonnade
The smoky perfume of boronia blown.
In spring I go to war
To sing or to die.
What do I care for my own troubles?
Today I shatter them, laughing in pieces.
Oh, Brothers, know that young spring came
In a whirlwind.
Quickly throw off tired grief
And follow her in a host.
I have never felt so strongly
How much I love you, Oh, Germany,
As the magic of spring surrounds you
Amidst the bustle of war.
Spring is life
Spring is hope
So is love and
happiness.
Spring renews.
Without spring,
life is forlorn.
Spring is nostalgia
after the bitter storm.
Put spring in your heart
ऊ बीसौँ शताब्दीका
अरू करोडौँ झैं
सामान्य थियो
ऊसँग
दुःखका
थुप्रै दागहरू थिए,
बेला–बेला
तिनलाई हेरेर
ऊ पग्लन्थ्यो
ऊ पग्लँदा
उसका आँखा पनि
रसाउन तयार हुन्थे
एउटा सामान्य मानिसको
सबै क्षमता
ऊसँग थियो
तर थिएन
ऊसँग क्रोध
त्यसैले आफ्नै पसीना चुस्नेहरूसँग
ऊ नम्र थियो
त्यही नम्रताले
ऊ
पृथ्वीमा
धेरै वर्ष
रहन पाएन
सुन्दरी
यो भीडमा कविता नपढ
मानिसको ध्यान
कविताको सुन्दरताबाट
तिमीमा सर्छ
र कविता एक्लो हुन्छ
यद्यपि कविता पढ्न
लायक र
राम्रो छ तिम्रो स्वर
तर मानिसका ेखँखु ार ध्यान
कविताबाट उछिट्टिएर
तिम्रो सुन्दर नाकमा
तिम्रो चपल बडे आँखामा
तिम्रो नङमा
तिम्रो शारीरिक सौष्ठव
र परिधानमा पर्न सक्छ
र तिमीले पढिरहेको कविताको प्रयास
बेकार हुनसक्छ
सुन्दरी
कविता बचाउ
My heart is a yellow bird
Praying for a mate
In a summary dawn fountain.
Love is fragile kindness
Kissing a lovely woman’s hand.
video younger times, A boy was I
I loved the earth and loved the sky
an innocent of times gone by
an infant to the world
I grew up strong and grew up fast
and soon a youth with little past
but felt that all was in my grasp
the world could do no wrong
Developing my social skill
became a favorite of the girls
I plunged in deeply to the thrills
the world was mine alone
I sought stability at last
and settled down from hectic past
with marriage vows and bankers draft
a new world would be born
The time was spent before I knew
the marriage has gone the children grew
aquaintances now just a few
the world had surely changed
In older times, A man am I
I love the earth and love the sky
an innocent from times gone by
to face the world alone.
There are things
I will never understand.
The pain, the hate that
exists within my life.
There is nothing but time,
there is nothing real.
Truth is a concept,
no one ever sees.
No one ever feels it right,
and inside the truth
are only questions
of pain, of reality,
and a forgoing existence,
that has everyone living
outside the truth
and inside tradition,
opinion and thought.
With all being accepted now.
All truth changes in time…
“Do you remember yesterday?
Was last year the same? ”
In truth, death is reality.
Inside me, I feel alone,
The world still in motion.
People walking, but I’m the only one who has stopped.
I see me and I feel discussed.
I’m not what people want,
I’m as if handicapped, helpless.
I cry yet no one seems to care,
I try to fit in the world’s puzzle, but I seem too different to fit.
I look deep inside myself and there is pain,
New and old still there growing,
Yet no one sees that part of my fairy tale life.
I want the life that these so-called humans have,
But they just won’t allow me as me.
I want to just jump out of this ugly body of mine,
And stop my pretend life and live my true soul.
Till I start moving in motion with the world,
I will curl up as I am now,
Separated.
The western wind has blown but a few days;
Yet the first leaf already flies from the bough.
On the drying paths I walk in my thin shoes;
In the first cold, I have donned my quilted coat.
Through shallow ditches the floods are clearing away;
Through sparse bamboo trickles a slanting light.
In the early dusk, down an alley of green moss,
The garden-boy is leading the cranes home.
Remnants of sun ribbon the river–
half and half, black river red.
The third night, ninth month lovely hour;
pearled dew, bent bow moon.
Don’t think of the past;
It only awakens painful regrets.
Don’t think of the future;
It paralyzes with uncertain longings.
Better by day to sit like a sack in your chair;
Better by night to lie like a stone in your bed.
When food comes-open your mouth.
When sleeping comes-shut your eyes.
यौटा पहाड: म अझै अग्लिन्छु ।
यौटा म: म अझै उक्लिन्छु ।
अब आफै पन्छाउनु पर्छ काँडाहरु
डोकोभरी पहाड बोकेर
बिसाइदिन्छु पहाड चौतारीमा
उफ ! उ पनि ठाउँ ठाउँ भत्किएछ
छाड्दिनँ उक्लन ठाडो उकालो
साँझमा पनि
झ्याउँकिरीहरु बजाइरहेछन् नगरा
मेरो मुटु बाहेक
झ्याउँकिरीहरु बाहेक
निस्सिम निस्तब्धतामा
मैले पहाडमाथि पहाड बिसाएँ ।
सगरमाथा उक्लेर
चुचुरोमा
अर्को सगरमाथा राख्छु
र फेरी उक्लिन्छु
फेरी राख्छु
फेरी उक्लिन्छु……
………..
पसिनाहरु
मारियाना ट्रेन्चमा
उत्सव मनाऊँन् ।
मस्तिष्क तन्तुहरु
धारणा परिवर्तन गर ।
संकीर्णताको परखाल नाघी
यथार्थ वैज्ञानिक पन्थ लागी
पीडितमा जागृति बत्ति बाल
भगाइद्यौ भारतका दलाल
प्रगति भो अब व्यापक जाज्वल
परिसके प्रतिगामीहरू तल
उठिसक्यो भई व्यापक जागृति
उदित भै जनमानसको स्थिति
विजयको भई दर्पण शानमा
प्रवल भै मनको बलिदानमा
जनजागृत भै उठदै गयो
परपीडनता टुट्दै गयो
असही शोषण जागृति हो सही
जनयथार्थ कुरो बीचमा नरही
फगत नित्य रुचाइ विलासता
रहन संभव छैन कतै यता
भ्रष्ट प्रशासन पर जा पर जा
रक्त क्रान्तिको घन्क्यो बाजा
उठ्यो बबण्डर हुँदै सशक्त
महल अटारी अस्तब्यस्त
सामन्तीले संगीन रोप्यो
जनजागृतिले दुनियाँ छोप्यो
झुपडी भन्दछ शहरै घेर्छु
धरती भन्छिन् काया फेर्छु
थाम्दा थाम्दा थाम्नै नसकी
पीडितहरूका टेवा मर्के
अड्दा अड्दा अड्नै नसकी
अग्ला घरका भित्ता चर्के
जाली दोषी क्रूर कठोर
पीडित जनका पसिना चोर
निम्न जनका रक्त पिपासा
धरतीका गुण गौरव नासा
भावना बलिदानकोले
देश भै बिध्वंशकारी
रक्त क्रान्तिका बबण्डर
आउँदैछन् वेग मारी
नीच हत्याराहरूका
भावनामाथि चढी
कस्सिदैछन् र्सवहारा
तोड्न आफ्नो हत्कडी
क्रूद्ध भै कंकाल उठ्दैछन्
नहट्ने प्रण गरी
ज्यूँनु यो धिक्कार भन्छन्
शत्रुहरूको तल परी
आत्मबल माथि उठेको
देश हो यो स्वाभिमानी
खूनको बदला लिने हो
कुन कुराले आज हामी
गर्न हत्या देशको
संगीनमा राख्ने सहारा
भाग जनताले थुकेका
आत्मगौरवहीन सारा
The fields are snowbound no longer;
There are little blue lakes and flags of tenderest green.
The snow has been caught up into the sky–
So many white clouds–and the blue of the sky is cold.
Now the sun walks in the forest,
He touches the bows and stems with his golden fingers;
They shiver and wake from slumber.
Over the barren branches, he shakes his yellow curls.
Yet is the forest full of the sound of tears…
A wind dances over the fields.
Shrill and clear the sound of her waking laughter,
Yet the little blue lakes tremble
And the flags of tenderest green bend and quiver.
Spring is life
Spring is hope
So is love and
happiness.
Spring renews.
Without spring,
life is forlorn.
Spring is nostalgia
after the bitter storm.
Put spring in your heart
Harshness vanished. A sudden softness
has replaced the meadows’ wintry grey.
Little rivulets of water changed
their singing accents. Tendernesses,
hesitantly, reach toward the earth
from space, and country lanes are showing
these unexpected subtle risings
that find expression in the empty trees.
कालो चट्याङ्गः पीडाका खरपसहरु दुखेर
जीवनका मृत सागरमा
म रोलर कोस्टरका सपनाहरु देख्दैछु
ढापसुङ वस्तीतिर
कठपुतली आत्माहरु
साइवरयुगीन ‘किस्.कम्’ नाट्यरचना गर्दैछन्
संघात तरङ्गः दन्दनाउँदा रथहरु
भुत्याहा जाहाजहरुमा सवार छन्
पग्लिएका ढुङ्गाहरु
कालमसानतिर कल्की अवतारहरु
पर्खिरहेछन्
ए खोई विस्तृत नेपालका सपनाहरु ? के हामी
ब्यूझिसक्यौ र ?
एकीकरणका खुँडाहरु फलामे रक्षाकवच लाएर
व्हेलका दाँतभाँच्न हिडेका छन्
वीरगनः विजुलीबन्दुक
खोई हनुमानध्वजका परिघटनाहरु ?
आउ, फेरि एकपल्ट पत्थरकला बोकेर
जिउँदै शवपरीक्षा हुने वस्ती तिर जाऔं
उः ! वुद्धका कुरा गर्ने वात्सायनहरु
कुरुप सुन्दरीका कुरा गर्दैछन्
ग्राहक पर्खेका मसाज पार्लरहरु
वेवसाइटमा इन्टरनेट फ्रेन्ड फाइन्डरतिर
के हेर्दैछन् ?
‘कामरेड मिटिङमा होइसिन्छ ।’ धनधान्य
कामरेडहरु आश्वस्त छन्
आह ! हामी कसिङ्गर फाल्ने कन्टेनरका खोजीमा कहाँ छौ, कन्टेनर फाल्ने कसिङ्गरका खोजीमा
पो छौं !
काम पाइएन ? त्यसो भए जाऔं टाउकाले टेकेर
विश्वरेकर्ड बनाऔं
जिन्दगी सिङ भाच्चिएका अर्नाहरुको दौड हो
हारे यत्रैसित !
को ठूलो ? सत्रुका हातबाट मारिएका शहीद
कि आफन्तका हातवाट मारिएका शहीद ?
शहीद हुनेहरु सबै निख्रिसकेका छैनन्
यसर्थ विवाद जारी छ
म्यूजियममा हाम्रो इतिहास छ,
विदेशमा हाम्रो वर्तमान छ,
भविष्य हाम्रो कहाँ छ ?
के थाहा ?
हामी राष्ट्रिय निकुञ्जका नेपाली हौं
देश परिवेशः पुरातनपन्थी थकाइमा
मस्त निदाइरहेको बेला
एकथरी देशहरु
कालापहाड तर्फ लागेका छन्
मुटू कलेजो हराएर
बूढा सुब्बाका जोखनाहरु मूच्छित छन्
सर्वत्र विद्रोही र छापामारका कुरा
भूकम्पीय क्षतिका भविष्यवाणीसहित
आह ! पालतिर हामीले थुप्रै
ट्रमा सेन्टर खोलेका छौं
भगवानहरु सेल्टरमा छन् – छैनन्
तर हामी गरिवहरु
भगवानका मामलामा साह्रै धनी छौं
कम्ब्याट ड्रेस
एम – १६
नाइटभिजन
स्काई ट्रक …
नाइजेरियाली मिसदङ्गाहरु वीच
हामीले पनि वोधिका केही
नयाँ शब्दावली पाएका छौं
बज्रस्वाँठ अख्तियारहरु
हिरासतमा गाँजाखेती गर्छन्
अनि क्यूपर वेल्टतिर कतै
वरफका ढुङ्गाहरु पल्टाउँदै
पिङ्गपङ्ग भाइरस खेल्छन्
आफन्तहरुबाट कति वेचिए
पराइका चेलीवेटीहरु ?
क्यूरियोका सम्बन्धहरु रुन्छन्
खोई कहाँ हराए जामुना गुभाजुहरु ?
आजभोलि कार्टुनीकृत विषादका सिमसारहरुमा
जादुका धुम पो मच्चिएका छन् ।
अग्निमाला
नवः हिमयुगीन अर्घेलाहरु
सिमिट्रीमा रेटिसेन्ट बालहरु
आरोहण गर्छन्
मेथाडोन खाएका हुडिनीहरु
साइवरकोष्टरमा
अपरेशन डेजर्ट स्ट्रोम गर्छन्
गन्धका नाताहरु उस्तै छन्
मात्र नात्रेड्यामस विश्वमा
प्राविधिक गडवडीमा क्षमाप्रार्थनाहरु
आतङ्कका हिमाल चढिरहेछन्
ए हाम्रा सभानाहरु
अल्ट्राभ्वायलेट क्यामेरातिर
कति छन् अदृश्य जोखिमहरु ?
टेलिस्कोप भिरेका गिद्धहरु
शोकेसभित्रका कुकुरभुकाई सुन्दैछन्
उ ः ! परभक्षी आतङ्कका हल्लाहरु
आजभोलि मन्दिरैमन्दिरको देशमा
देवताहरु शरणार्थी बनेका छन्
‘कुकुरदेखि सावधान !’ गिदीमा भ्रम टाँसेर मान्छेहरु
मान्छेहरुद्वारा सावधान छन्
‘भैचालो आउँदैछ ! भैचालो आउँदैछ !’
एउटा सम्भावित भैंचालाको सम्मानमा
मान्छेहरु घर छोडेर कटेरो निर्माणमा
ब्यस्त छन्
‘विद्युतीय धरापमा नपरे फेरि भेटौंला !’
‘सुरक्षा कारवाइमा नपरे फेरि भेटौंला !’
संकटकालमा झ्याप्प निभ्ने संकटकालीन बत्तीहरुमा
एउटा सिङ्गो पुस्ता गीत गाइरहेछ
स्वराष्ट्रिय
यौटी केटी भेटेँ मैले
इस्कुलको बाटो,
हातमा थ्यो यौटा थाल
किताबको साटो !
मुख थियो निन्याउरो
लथालिङ्ग केश,
ओठ पनि कत्ला कत्ला
केकेजस्तो भेष !
सानै थिइन्, शरीरमा
खालि जामा चोला,
मेरोभन्दा उन्को उमेर
अलि पाको होला !
दया लाग्यो, आफ्नो खाजा
मैले उन्लाई दिएँ,
तर उनी उल्टै जङ्गनि्
म त वाल्लै परेँ ।
देख्छु म यहाँ पुतलीसडक,
पुतलीबजार,
पुतलीगाउँ लागेन पत्ता
खोजे नि हजार ।
हुन त पक्कै होला त्यो गाउँ
कहीं यो माटोमै,
बसेको छ कि मलाई नै ऊ
ढुकेर बाटोमै ।
कल्पना फुर्छ पुतली-ज्यूको
छिर्बिरे धर्सा,
त्यो गाउँ कत्ति सुरम्य होला
सुनचाँदी वर्षाले ।
उडाइ उसको गीतझैँ लाग्छ
आवाजविनाको,
सुतेको शान्ति सुस्तरी उठ् छ
हृदय-कुनाको ।
राम्रो छ है, सबैभन्दा राम्रो छ
मलाई मेरो देश,
प्राणभन्दा नजिक छ त यौटे छ
त्यो हो मेरो देश ।
प्राण प्यारो, किनकि म अहिले
छु है यसैमा,
मरेपछि हुन्न प्राण, तर म
हुन्छु देशैमा,
त्यसैले त प्राणभन्दा मेरो म
मलाई मेरो देश ।
यो आकाश अनि यसमा लर्केको
सप्तरङ्गी केश,
यसको शरीर थरीथरी यहाँका
भाषा अनि भेष,
यही हो है कैले पनि नमर्ने
मेरो आफ्नो देश ।
अघि हिँड़्नेहरूको पाइलाको धुलोले
ड्याम्म छोपेको छ
स्पेसको बाटो।
पुरानो बाटो भत्काएको भ्रमको
मीठो निद्रालाई
विचारको अँध्यारो कोठामा सुताउनेहरू
ब्यूँझिएको रिहर्सलको बतास चल्छ
बतासमा कता-कता टुक्रिन्छ विचार। टुक्रिन्छ।
कता-कता छरिन्छ संवेदना। छरिन्छ।
बतासमा भत्किबस्छ नी!
पारम्पारिक सत्ताको घर।
पछि-पछि कुदिबस्ने
आलाप, नारा, मानसिक रोगी घोषणाको अनुहार
चिन्दैन
(किन चिन्नु?)
स्पेसको अर्को फाटक टेक्ने पस्पेसराइडरले।
कति रिस् जस्तो चर्किबस्नु?
जोड़िन नसक्ने जङ्गली संवेदनाले। कति चर्किबस्नु?
हँ अक्षर
कति फिँज जस्तो फुटिबस्नु?
( बाटो हुँदैन
बाटोको घर, परिवार
आफन्त, छिमेकी संसार केही हुँदैन।
बाटाले भत्किनु, बनिनु पर्दैन।
बाटो नै हुँदैन । हुँदैन बाटो।
कहॉं छ बाटो?)
बाटो बनाएँ भन्नु
लुते घोषणा हुन्छ।
अघि हिँड़्नेहरूले
खोसलिराखेको
नाङ्गो(?) सत्यमा
ओभरराइटिङ गर्दै बस्नुको
घमण्डको बेलुन सधैँ फुल्लिबस्छ। फुल्लिबस्छ।
जब त्यो फुट्छ, त्यो फुट्छ
त्यसको आवाजलाई
नयॉं-को अवतरण मानेर आरती गाउने
गाइनेहरू
किलामा गोरूहरू झैं घुमिबस्छ। घुमिबस्छ।
किन डराउनु?
त्यो जोड़ले रिसाउने पाठकसित।
त्यसले त्यसको पाठलाई
त्यसको निजी पतलुङ जस्तो पैह्रेको छ।
पछि हिँड़्नेहरूको पाइलाको धुलोले
फेरि ड्याम्म छोपेको छ
अर्को स्पेस।
पसीनाहरू दिनभर काम गर्न आउँछन्
माटोसित खेलेर फर्कन्छन्।
पसीना माटोजस्तो गन्हाउँछ
माटो पसीनाजस्तो गन्हाउँछ
त्यो गन्धमा बॉंच्छ
बस्तीको भोक।
भोकहरू गीत गाउँछन्
हो हो माले हो हो -हरूको
स्मारकपत्र हातमा बोकेर।
हरेक शताब्दीले माटो दिएर पालेका भोकहरूले लेखेर पठाएको
सहुलियतहरूका अपीलपत्रको आँगनमा बसेर
आउने भोटकै समीक्षा गर्दैबस्छन्
नीति निर्माता मन्त्रीहरू।
खेत र ग्रामपञ्चायत
सँगै बसेको
ग्रामसंसदबाट
न्यायपालिकाको मृत्युको खबर ढुक्कैले सुनाउँछन् मण्डल बाजे।
पसीनाहरूलाई पनि भोक लाग्छ
भोक लागेको देखाउँदैनन् तिनीहरू।
ठण्डा महीनाको छुट्टी बिताउन आएका
शहरे पढ़न्ते छोराहरूलाई
अनौं थमाएर सामुहिक स्वरमा भन्छन् पसीनाहरू-
“…जोत्नू अब तिमीहरू आफै तिमेरका अक्षरहरू…”
खेतको धानबाली अनि उनीहरूको होमवर्क
दुवैले
टाउकोभरि उठाएका छन्
ऋण र दायित्वको एक थाक नयॉं संस्करण।
सरकार भत्किँदै बनिएको कति भयो
खेत जोत्ने हलो फेरिएन
न फेरियो खेत भिजेको हेर्ने सपना झुण्ड्याएर
आँखामा नै चर्किएको बूढ़ाबाको मोटो चश्मा।
हेर्नू,
यसपालिको भोट पनि खड़ेरीले नै जित्यो।
साइला बाहुनले बाजेलाई पछ्याएनन्
बाबुलाई पछ्याएनन्।
उसले भने- म म भएर बॉंच्छु
म आफै बनाउँछु बाटो।
धेरै दाजुभाईबीच
कुन्नि किन साइला मिल्नै सकेनन्
भने- बरू कोइलाखानी जान्छु
पढ़्न जॉंदिनँ।
म ठग्दिनँ
यसरी नै एकदिन अग्लिन्छु।
उसको कोठा छुट्टियो
फोक्टा छुट्टियो।
एकदिन
त्यही कोठामा सर्किनी कान्छी पसिन्
त्यसपछि त पानी छुट्टियो
जिन्दगानी छुट्टियो।
साइला बाहुनलाई गाउँबाटै निकालियो
नाउँबाटै निकालियो।
आहिले साइलाको आफ्नै गाउँ छ
आफ्नै नाउँ छ।
उ अहिले भन्छ-
मेरो नाउँ कसैले मेट्न सकेन
मेरो गाउँ कसैले मेट्न सकेन
जसले मेट्न खोजे
उनीहरूले नै
मेरो आफ्नो नाउँ बनाए
मेरो आफ्नो गाउँ बनाए
यसो गर्न मैले नै उनीहरूलाई सघाएँ।
रगतको आफ्नै मगज हुँदैन
दिमागका हरेक रेसामा रगत नपुगे
गिदी मर्ला र समाज बदल्ने
संघर्षको मार्गचित्र कसले सोच्ने?
रगतको आफ्नो आँखा हुँदैन
आँखाको नानीले रगत खान नपाए
दृष्टीहरू मर्लान्
र, स्वतन्त्र मानिसका अनुहार केले हेर्ने?
रगतको छुट्टै कान हुँदैन
कानका सबै अबयबमा रगत नपुगे
श्रव्यशक्ती मर्ला
र, मानिसको विजयी गीत केले सुन्ने?
आफ्नो ओठ पनि हुँदैन रगतको
आधरका हरेक सिरामा रगत नपसे
आमाका चुम्बनलाई
केले ममतामयी, ज्युँदो र न्यानो बनाउँने?
रगतको आफ्नो गला हुँदैन
पुग्दो रगत कण्ठमा सिंचित नभए
निर्जीव गलाले
मुलुकको मायामा
गर्विलो गीत कसरी गाउला?
रगतको आफ्नो हात पनि हुँदैन
देशबासीका सहस्र हातहरूमा रगत नपुगे
हातहरू पनि मर्लान्
र ठूठाजस्ता हातले हतियार समाउँदैनन्
अनि सिमानाका प्रत्येक गौँडामा
देशको रखवारी कसरी गर्ने?
कुनै किसिमको मुटु पनि हुँदैन रगतको
मुटुका अणुअणुमा रक्तकण नपुगे
मुटु पनि मर्ला
र आर्यघाट पुगेको मुटुले
सारा नेपालीको ढुकढुकी कसरी बोलिदेला?
फोक्सो पनि हुँदैन रगतको आफ्नो
फोक्सोका दुबै फप्लेटामा हर्दम् रगत नपुगे
फोक्सो मर्ला र मृत फोक्सोले
जातजातका मानिसले कसरी सास फेर्ने?
पाठेघर पनि हुँदैन रगतको
हरेक जवान युवतीका गर्भाशयमा
नित्य स्वच्छ रगत नपुगे
सृष्ठीको मुहान मर्ला
र क्रन्तीवीर जन्माउँने
मातृसपना कसरी पुरा होला?
रगतको हिँड्ने खुट्टा पनि हुँदैन
खुट्टाका हड्डी, नसा र मांसपेसीहरूमा
मनग्गे रगत नपुगे
खुट्टहरू मर्लान्
त्यसपछि त,
परिवर्तनको नयाँ क्षितिज टेक्न
इन्क्लाबी जुलुसमा कुन पाइला हिँड्लान् ?
उता चिडियाखाना छ
र्सपहरु छन, गोहीहरु छन्
स्याल र भालूहरु छन्
गिद्धहरु छन्
यता मन्त्रालयहरु छन, संसद र क्याविनेट छ
प्रधानमन्त्री,
मन्त्री,
अध्यक्ष र सांसदहरु छन्
वाग्मतीको पुलले
यी दुबै शहरहरुलाई
चुपचाप जोडिदिएको छ
युगौँदेखि उत्तानो आँ…खोलेर बसेको
कान्तिपुर
कहिल्यै नअघाउँने खञ्चुवा मुख
जसको अनुहारबाट सर्वत्र पीपैपीप खस्या’छ
किनभने पीलोझैँ पाकेर निधारमै
ढ्याक्क सिंहदरबार बस्या’छ ।
जसै कुमबाट प्रथमपल्ट हातहरू पलाए
मनुष्यहरू दङ्ग परे
त्यस उप्रान्त यही हतियारले
सभ्यतालाई यो चुचुरासम्म पु-याए ।
हातहरूलेले थरि-थरिका हतियार चलाएपछि
हरप्पा, महेन्जोदाडो र सिन्धुघाटीको सभ्यता टुसाए
हो, यिनै हातले औजारहरू अर्जापेपछि
ताजमहल उभियो, मोनालिसा मुस्कुरायो
हातका औँलाहरू बिथोवन र मोजार्टका छातीमा नाचेपछि
सिम्फोनी-सागरहरू उर्लिए
मुलुकका गुन्द्रुक सुकाउँदाझैँ
बाङ्गाटिङ्गा सिमाना र इतिहासका घुम्तीतिर
हातहरूले तीर-भाला र खुँडा-खुकुरीका धारले
हावामा केही काटे
अन्तमा प्रहारगरे बैरीका गर्धनहरूमा छपाछप्
र त मुलुक आफ्नै चारकिल्लाभित्र कायम छ
र त हामी आफ्नै मुलुकका नागरिक कायम छौँ
हातहरू, जसले प्रेमपत्र लेखे…सिउँदोमा सिँदुर हाले
हातहरू, जसले कोक्रो हल्लाउँदै लोरी गाए…
आशिर्वादको टिका लगाइदिए
हातहरू, जसले सपनाको छेउछाउ फूल उमारे…बस्ति बसाए…
हातहरू, जसले पहाड-मधेशमा जात-जातका मानिस
र तिनका इन्द्रेणी-सपनाहरू जोडेर एउटा सिङ्गो देश बनाए
हो तिनै हातहरू अचेल
केटाकेटीका सपनाको सुरक्षामा व्यस्त छन् ।
She sat beside me yesterday
With lip and eye, so blandly smiling,
So full of soul, of life, of light,
So sweetly my lorn heart beguiling
That she had almost made me gay
Had almost charmed the thought away
(Which, like the poisoned desert wind,
Came sick and heavy o’er my mind)
That memory soon mine all would be,
And she would smile no more for me.
Faint from the bell the ghastly echoes fall,
That grates within the grey cathedral tower;
Let me not enter through the portal tall,
Lest the strange spirit of the moonless hour
Should give life to those pale people, who
Lie in their fretted niches, two and two,
Each with his head on pillowy stone reposed,
And his hands lifted, and his eyelids closed.
From many a moldering oriel, as to flout,
Its pale, grave brow of ivy-tressed stone,
Comes the incongruous laugh, and revel shout-
Above, some solitary casement, thrown
Wide-open to the wavering night wind,
Admits its chill, so deathful, yet so kind,
Unto the fevered brow and fiery eye
Of one, whose night hour passeth sleeplessly.
Ye melancholy chambers! I could shun
The darkness of your silence, with such fear,
As places where slow murder has been done,
How many noble spirits have died here
Withering away in yearnings to aspire
Gnawed by mocked hope-devoured by their own fire!
Methinks the grave must feel a colder bed
To spirits such as these, then unto common dead.
Nearly all our powerful men in this age of the world are unbelievers; the best of them in doubt and misery; the worst of them in reckless defiance; the plurality in plodding hesitation, doing, as well as they can, what practical work lies ready to their hands.
Value is the life-giving power of anything; cost, the quantity of labor required to produce it; its price, the quantity of labor which its possessor will take in exchange for it.
Men are more evanescent than pictures, yet one sorrow for lost friends and pictures are my friends. I have none others. I am never long enough with men to attach myself to them, and whatever feelings of attachment I have are to material things.
Eager anticipation of the upcoming adventure
a journey into foreign lands
filled with undiscovered species
and unseen wonders.
A dragon and a phoenix
perch on a mountain
above the king.
Seven living creatures
with seven eyes and seven wings
sit in a circle
upon seven beryl thrones.
Forty trumpets are sounded
twenty sacrifices offered.
Thirteen priests in scarlet robes
approach the altar
stained with the blood
of a newborn child,
a supplication to the gods
to bring rain to the land.
Stick the needle into your arm,
sniff the fine, white powder,
smoke the fancy pipe.
Watch your eyes dilate
as your brain
drips from your ears
into a puddle of pink goo
lying at your feet.
A hydrangea grows by the pond
and sprinkles its petals over the ground.
The sparrow sings on a maple tree
and offers her feathers to the whims of the wind.
Bluegill jumps from the water
and returns its body to the world from whence it came.
Much emphasis is placed on knowledge and memory,
intelligence is worshipped and information is mankind’s god.
Yet these too are trivial and shall turn to dust.
People cling to memories yet these too are mortal
and shall fade with age and die with death.
No, what is immortal, and is important
does not age, does not die, and is rarely sought.
Wisdom and love are the fruit of the soul
and these do not age but grow with time.
Yet these treasures are ignored and mocked.
Many people believe they possess wisdom,
yet they do not seek it.
Many covet love, and wish it for themselves,
yet are reluctant to give it,
sharing it only with close friends and family.
Wisdom and love are the food of the soul
yet people stuff their souls with hatred and ignorance,
and while their bodies live healthy and well,
souls suffer and starve.
Wisdom often comes with age but
wisdom does not come from age.
Indeed, there are children who are wise
and elders who are fools.
No, knowledge and wisdom are enemies.
Knowledge is of the world and for the world,
wisdom is of the soul and for the soul.
Knowledge is nothing more than trivial facts
that help make us feel good about ourselves,
but wisdom is true understanding of life and what is life.
Only when one has wisdom, rather than knowledge,
can one truly understand the purpose of dying,
and more importantly, the purpose for living.
The liar, at any rate, recognizes that recreation, not instruction, is the aim of conversation, and is a far more civilized being than the blockhead who loudly expresses his disbelief in a story which is told simply for the amusement of the company.
Low-anchored cloud,
Newfoundland air,
Fountainhead and source of rivers,
Dew-cloth, dream drapery,
And napkin spread by fays;
Drifting meadow of the air,
Where bloom the desired banks and violets,
And in the whose fenny labyrinth
The bittern booms and heron wades;
Spirit of the lake and seas and rivers,
Bear only perfumes and the scent
Of healing herbs to just men’s fields!
The full-orbed moon with unchanged ray
Mounts up the eastern sky,
Not doomed to these short nights for aye,
But shining steadily.
She does not wane, but my fortune,
Which her rays do not bless,
My wayward path declineth soon,
But she shines not the less.
And if she faintly glimmers here,
And paled is her light,
Yet alway in her proper sphere
She’s mistress of the night.
I think awhile of Love, and while I think,
Love is to be a world,
Sole meat and sweetest drink,
And close connecting link
Tween heaven and earth.
I only know it is, not how or why,
My greatest happiness;
However hard I try,
Not if I were to die,
Can I explain?
I fain would ask my friend how it can be,
But when the time arrives,
Then Love is more lovely
Than anything to me,
And so I’m dumb.
For if the truth were known, Love cannot speak,
But only thinks and does;
Though surely out ’twill leak
Without the help of Greek,
Or any tongue.
A man may love the truth and practice it,
The beauty he may admire,
And goodness not omit,
As much as may befit
To reverence.
But only when these three together meet,
As they always incline,
And make one soul the seat,
And favorite retreat,
Of loveliness;
When under kindred shape, like loves and hates
And a kindred nature,
Proclaim us to be mates,
Exposed to equal fates
Eternally;
And each may other help, and service do,
Drawing Love’s bands tighter,
Service he ne’er shall rue
While one and one make two,
And two are one;
In such case only doth man fully prove
Fully as a man can do,
What power there is in Love
His inmost soul to move
Resistlessly.
Two sturdy oaks I mean, which side by side,
Withstand the winter’s storm,
And spite of wind and tide,
Grow up the meadow’s pride,
For both are strong
Above they barely touch but undermined
Down to their deepest source,
Admiring you shall find
Their roots are intertwined
Insep’rably.
Light-winged Smoke, Icarian bird,
Melting thy pinions in thy upward flight,
Lark without song, and messenger of dawn
Circling above the hamlets as they nest;
Or else, departing dream, and shadowy form
Of midnight vision, gathering up thy skirts;
By night star-veiling, and by day
Darkening the light and blotting out the sun;
Go thou my incense upward from this hearth,
And ask the gods to pardon this clear flame.
The fable, which is naturally and truly composed, so as to satisfy the imagination, ere it addresses the understanding, beautiful though strange as a wild-flower, is to the wise man an apothegm, and admits of his most generous interpretation.
The current of our thoughts made as sudden bends like the river, which was continually opening new prospects to the east or south, but we are aware that rivers flow most rapidly and shallowest at these points.
The first sparrow of spring! The year beginning with younger hope than ever!… What at such a time are histories, chronologies, traditions, and all written revelations? The brooks sing carols and glees to the spring.
सेलायो उनको चिता र दिनको ज्वाला निभ्यो पश्चिम
यो छाया–छविको डुब्यो दिन, डुब्यो रङ्गीन त्यो जीवन
थोत्रो देवल, शून्यसान दुनियाँ, सारा अँध्यारोतिर
जाऊ हे सखि ! साँझको शिखरको पारी उज्यालोतिर
बत्ती यो घरबाट बल्छ अहिले सङ्घारमा दख्खिन
बाल्थिन् यै घरभित्र बत्ति घरकी लक्ष्मी उनी क्वै दिन
हे वैवस्वत ! बत्ति यो शहरमा तिम्रो लगी जोडिद्यौ
उल्टीद्यौ सब अन्धकार उनको बाटो तिमी छोेडिद्यौ
छायारुप लिएर शून्य घरमा आई नच्याऊ अब
हाम्रा आँसु नहेर, निष्ठुर बनी माया चुँडाल्द्यौ सब
हल्का प्वाँख उचाल, झार भुइँमै धूलो र मैलो जति
जाऊ सुन्दर शान्त देश, पुतली ! हे ज्योतिकी सन्तति !
लाऊ अञ्जुलि तीन बार जलको, खाएर जाऊ सखी !
यौटा फुल चुँडेर दिन्छु दिलको लाएर जाउः सखी !
आँसू आज पुछेर दुःख सब यो बिर्सेर जाऊ सखी !
मान्छेको घर अन्धकार छ भनी सम्झेर जाऊ सखी !
आऊन् पुष्पविमान पुण्यबलले निस्केर आकाशमा
हाँसी क्यै वरदान द्यौ रहरको, जाऊ सखी ! बैँसमा
लैजाओ अमरावती शहरमा हे स्वर्गका देवता !
ताराका सँग हाँस है, अब तिमी नौ लाखमा एउटा
हाँस्यौ, प्यार गर्यो, बिगार गरिनौ कैल्यै कसैको यहाँ
यो चारै दिनमा पनी गरिसक्यौ जो गर्नुपर्ने यहाँ
केही बाँकि भए म गर्छु सँगिनी ! ज्यूँदै छु आधा अब
तिम्रो खेल समाप्त भो सब, तिमी विश्राम लेऊ अब
मट्टीलाइ फुकेर प्राण बिउँझ्यौ हे फुलकी वासना !
हाँस्यौ घाम र जूनको मनि यहाँ हे स्वर्गकी सिर्जना !
देवी ! जोबनमै गयौ, मलिन यो मट्टी बिसाईकन
हाम्रै जीत छ प्यार चार दिनको पायौ महापावन
टाढा निर्मल मौन शान्त गहिरो आनन्दले दीपित
तिम्रो शाश्वत धामभित्र भवको पर्दा खसाली सुत
एकै बार जहाँ सुतेर कहिल्यै पर्दैन है ब्यूँझन
बल्छन् बाहिर जून्किरीसित जहाँ नौलाख तारागण
लीला माइतका भुलेर घरका धन्दा तिमीले गर्यो
आमाको ममता भुलेर कसरी माया मलाई गर्यो
छातीबाट झिकेर प्राणसरिका छोरी मलाई दियौ
हेरी आखिर घाटबाट रसिला आँखा ममा चिम्लियौ
‘ख्वै छोरीहरु छन् कता, म त गएँ, ख्वै माइती छन् कहाँ !
प्यारा ! यति रहेछ भेट, टुहुरी हेरेर बस्नु यहाँ !’
धोको यत्ति कहेर के हृदयले उल्टीरहेकी थियौ
हेरी आखिर घाटबाट रसिला आँखा ममा चिम्लियौ
मैले सोधिनँ, अन्त्यकाल कुनमा धोको अडेको थियो
मैले रोइनँ, प्राण जान कतिको बाधा परेको थियो
हेरेँ टुल्टुल खाली, दीन मुखमा हेरीरहेकी थियौ
हेरी आखिर घाटबाट रसिला आँखा ममा चिम्लियौ
आँसू झर्न सकेन खालि रसिला आँखा लिएकी थियौ
बाक्लो फुट्न सकेन खालि दिलको भाषा भनेकी थियौ
मेरो ध्यान गरी मभित्र कसरी आत्मा मिलाईदियौ
हेरी आखिर घाटबाट रसिला आँखा ममा चिम्लियौ
गथ्र्यौँ दम्पति मृत्युका पनि कुरा माया र सन्तोषमा
भन्थ्यौ– मैँ पहिले मरुँ हजुरको प्यारो यही काखमा !
साँच्चै भाग्यवती सती हृदयकी सच्चा ! मलाई जित्यौ
हेरी आखिर घाटबाट रसिला आँखा ममा चिम्लियौ
तिम्रो पाप थिएन, चार दिनको चोला थियो कञ्चन
तिम्रो धर्म थियो, सुन्यौ दिनभरी श्रीकृष्णको कीर्तन
राती शीतल मेघको मनि महानिद्रा सजीलै लियौ
हेरी आखिर घाटबाट रसिला आँखा ममा चिम्लियौ
तिम्रो रुप र माधुरी धमिलिँदै जाला कुनै कालमा
जानेछन् अनि बिर्र्सदै गुन पनी यो बैगुनी विश्वमा
बिर्सि बिर्सिसकिन्न किन्तु कहिल्यै जो यो अनौठो गर्यो
हेरी आखिर घाटबाट रसिला आँखा ममा चिम्लियौ
यति दिन पछि मैले आज बालाजि देख्याँ,
पृथिवि तलभरीमा स्वर्ग हो जानि लेख्याँ।
वरिपरि लहरामा झूलि बस्न्या चरा छन्,
मधुर वचन बोली मन् लिँदा क्या सुरा छन्।।१।।
याँहाँ बसेर कविता यदि गर्न पाऊँ,
यस्देखि सोख अरु थोक म के चिताऊँ।
उस्माथि झन् असल सुन्दरि एक् नचाऊँ,
खैंचेर इन्द्रकन स्वर्ग यहीं बनाऊँ।।२।।
सारा ढोका र झ्यालहरु लातले खोलेर
डाँकाझै आउँछ हावा कोठाभित्र
र एक छिनमै दराजहरु उघारेर,
कागतपत्रहरु पल्टाई हेरेर
केही नपाउँदा रिसले रन्थनिएर
अरु झ्यालहरुबाट हाम्फालेर भाग्दछ ।
आकाशको आँखा दुखेको छ
ऊसित आँखा जुधाउँदा आफ्नै आँखा पीरो हुन्छ,
ज्वरपीडित सूर्य सकी नसकी हिडिरहेछ आकाशमा
तुवाँलो भुवाको खास्टो ओडेर
झ्यालमा उभिएर एक्लै,
म बाहिर हेरिरहेछु
हेरिरहेछु र सोचिरहेछु–यो कस्तो बसन्त
यो चैतको दिनको कस्तो उराठलाग्दो पहर हो !
यो कस्तो मुर्दा शहर हो !
सडकका दुई किनारमा वसन्तको स्वागतार्थ
हरियो सारी हतार–हतार बेरेर उभिएका झ्याङहरु
अबीरका थाल बोकेका आरुका रुखहरु,
लावाका थाल बोकेका आलुबखडाका रुखहरु
अनि स्कूलका केटाकेटीहरुझैं
सङ्गीन झण्डाहरु हल्लाइरहेका पूmलका सानासाना बोटहरु
म हेरिरहेछु
देखिरहेछु
र सोचिरहेछु
वसन्त यहाँ किन आउँछ विदेशी पाहुनाझैं
यो कस्तो औपचारिकता
किन आउँदैन ऊ त्यसरी
जसरी युवावस्थामा जुँघारेखी आउँछ ?
या हर्षमा मुस्कान
आफंै, अनायास र अनजान,
उफ् यो कस्तो वसन्त हो !
जता हे¥यो उतै देखिन्छ
भित्र ठोस हुन छाडेर
बाहिर बाहिरै मात्र बढेर अग्ला भएका
बाँसका ठानाहरुलाई नुहेर
पश्चात्ताप गरिरहेका आफ्m्नो खोक्रोपनमाथि
आफ्नो हातको बलभन्दा
ग¥हुङ्गो रातो पूmल समाएका
कल्कीका बोटहरुलाई
दुई हात तल झारेर उभिरहेका
यी लत्रेका हातहरुले रातो पूmल समात्ने के दर्कार
के अधिकार
टाढा–टाढासम्म उभिएका छन्
न्यास्रो अनुहार लाएका असङ्ख्य मौन घरहरु
प्रत्येक घरको मुखमा झुुि न्डएको छ विदेशी ताल्चा
भोटे ताल्चा अथवा हिन्दुस्तानी ताल्चा
कुनै घरको मौलिक ओठ छैन
यो कस्तो वसन्त !
खोई मानिसहरुले चोला फेरेको ?
खोई घरहरुले बोक्रा फेरेको
खोई
खोई
खोई
म चिच्याउन चाहन्छु —खोई
तर खोई मेरो आवाज किन निस्कन्न ?
के भयो मेरो आवाजलाई
यो के हो डल्लो गुच्चाजस्तो मेरो घाँटीमा
जो मैले घाँटी खोल्दा मुखमा गई अड्कन्छ
र मुख खोल्दा घाँटी थुन्न पुग्दछ
अनि यस्तो लाग्छ मानांै
अब ममा कुनै उम्लाई छैन
कुनै उत्तेजना छैन
कुनै आवाज छैन
कुनै विस्फोट छैन
मभित्रको मानिस मरिसक्यो
अब त फगत् मेरो रुपमा उभिएको छ
पड्किसकेको सोडाको एक बोतल—
एउटा खाली बोतल !
नयाँ वर्ष नयाँ सरुवा भई आएको हुलाकेझैं
झोलामा सुर्जेको एउटा पुलिन्दा बोकेर
छानामाथि वैशाख हिँडिरहेछ
भारी अल्छी पाइला सारेर
भित्ता-घडीको लङगूर हल्लिरहेछ उसको
पदचापले
ट्वाक्……ट्वाक्……..ट्वाक्……..ट्वाक्
निस्तेज भई आकाश पल्टेको छ
न्यास्रो अनुहार पारेर
बेमौसमको बर्षात
बेला-कुबेलाको वादलको गडयाङ-गुडुङ
आकाशलाई पखाला लागेको छ
विष्णुमतीको फोहर हैजे पानी पिएर
ट्वाँ
सहनाइको बेसुरा ध्वनिबाट निस्किरहेका छन्
हैजाका असङ्ख्य अदृश्य कीटाणुहरु
मध्यान्ह दिन
चर्को घाम
सारा रुखहरुले आफ्नो आङ कन्याइरहेका छन्
फेरि एकचोटि
नयाँ वर्षआएको छ
फेरि एकचोटि
भित्ताको नयाँ क्यालेण्डरमा
आफ्नो जीवनको भिसा झुण्डयाउनु छ
फेरि एकचोटि
सँगी साथीहरुको सूचि बनाउनु छ
फेरि एकचोटि
भयानक बमहरु बोकेर, उडिरहेका हवाइजहाज
र रकेटमुनि बसेर
लेख्नु छ प्रियजनहरुको नाममा
सफलता, शान्ति र दीर्घायुको शुभकामना-पत्र ।
‘भोक लाग्यो’ ठिटोप्रति
न गाँसको प्रबन्ध
न बासको प्रबन्ध
तैपनि
बाँचेकै छ
हुर्केकै छ
यो मगन्ते ठिटो
नयाँ सडकको पेटीमा
पेटीजस्तै सधै असङ्ख्य पाउमुनि कुल्चिएर
कसैको वासनाको द्रुतगामी रकेटमा राखेर
यो ठिटो उडाइयो
अनजान र अनिश्चित भविष्यको अन्तरीक्षमा
बिना कुनै स्पेस सूट !
‘अक्सिजन मास्क’
र सुरक्षित सञ्चालनको
तर ऊ
बेवारिसपनाको भारहीन अवस्थाबाट
सकुशल ओर्लियो
नयाँ सडकको पेटीमा
झुत्रो प्यारासुट ओढेर
यो शिशु
जन्मियो यिशुजस्तै
कुमारी आमाको गर्भबाट
र बसेको छ अहिले ऊ
नयाँ सडकको पेटीमा
ल्याम्प–पोष्टको ‘क्रस’ बोकेर ।
पुसको जाडो
रांै ठाडो हुने रात
उदास, उजाड, पूmटपाथ
एक कुनामा सिउरेर
सुतेको छ ऊ झुत्रो बोरा र पुरानो अखबार ओढेर
अखबार ः जसको छातीमा छापिएका छन्
ठूला–ठूला अक्षरमा ‘बालदिवस’ का समाचार
मन्त्रीज्युबाट उद्घाटन,
मिठाई र पुरस्कार वितरण
तथा बाल–बालिकाहरुको प्रगतिको विज्ञापन
सुत बाबा सुत
सुत ज्ञानी सुत
सुत राजा सुत
यसरी नै निश्चित भै सुत
एक दिन यस्तो पनि आउनेछ
जब तिम्रा यी अखबार र झुत्रे बोराका
लुगा पनि
झुण्ड्याइने छन्—म्युजियममा
कालुपाँडेजस्तै
कालुपाँडेको लुगासँग
र त्यस बेला लेख्नेछ इतिहासकारले
‘उहिले–उहिले’ को नेपालमा
दुई थरिका मानिस थिए
एक थरी
जो अखबारमाथि पल्टन्थे
हेडलाइनको सिरानी हालेर
महत्वपूर्ण खबर बनेर,
अर्को थरी
जो त्यो खबरको न्यानो ओढेर
पुस–माघको जाडो काट्थे बेखबर भएर
उहिले–उहिलेको नेपाल
एउटा बासी अखबारजस्तो थियो ।
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 ।
A new scientific truth does not triumph by convincing its opponents and making them see the light, but rather because its opponents eventually die, and a new generation grows up and is familiar with it.
The mind that is cheerful at present will have no solicitude for the future and will meet the bitter occurrences of life with a smile.
Life is a romantic business. it is painting a picture, not doing a sum but you have to make the romance, and it will come to the question of how much fire you have in your belly.
It has come to this, that the friends of liberty, the friends of the slave, have shuddered when they have understood that his fate was left to the legal tribunals of the country to be decided. Free men have no faith that justice will be awarded in such a case.
It is as when a migrating army of mice girdles a forest of pines. The chopper fells trees from the same motive that the mouse gnaws them,—to get his living. You tell me that he has a more interesting family than the mouse. That is as it happens.
A field of water betrays the spirit that is in the air. It is continually receiving new life and motion from above. It is intermediate in its nature between land and sky.
Youth is not a time of life, it is a state of mind. It is not a matter of red cheeks,red lips,and supple knees. It is a temper of the will; a quality of the imagination; a vigor of the emotions; it is a freshness of the deep springs of life.
एक् मन् चित्त लगाइ चाकरि गर्याँ
खूसी भया छन् हरि।
मान्पाथी पनि भुक्तमान् थपिदिया
कैल्यै नछुट्न्या गरी।
रोज् रोज् दर्शन पाउँछू चरणको
ताप् छैन मन्मा कछू।
रात् भर् नाच् पनि हेर्छु खर्च नगरी
ठूला चयन्मा म छु।
लामखुट्टे उपियाँ उडुस् इ सँगि छन्
इन्कै लहड्मा बसी।
लाम्खुट्टेहरु गाउँछन् इ उपियाँ
नाच्छन् म हेर्छु बसी।
बिन्ती डिट्ठा विचारीसित म कति गरूँ
चुप् रहन्छन् नबोली
बोल्छन् ता ख्याल् गर्या झैं अनि पछि दिनदिन्
भन्दछन् भोलि भोली
की ता सक्तीन भन्नू कि तब छिनिदिनू
क्यान भन्छन् यि भोलि
भोली भोली हुँदैमा सब घर बितिगो
बक्सियोस् आज झोली
प्रकृतिले जब व्यङ्ग्य रेखिन्
चेहरा तिनका बने
नेपालीको भान लेखिन्
बान् भो हाम्रो भने ।
सब गधाले खुशले ऐंके
भ्यागुताले गाए कें कें
भो भुजङ्गजाति प्रसन्न
मातृभूका पुष्प रोए
धन्य तिनको जन्म धन्य
(हुन त केवल शुक्र-कीरा!)
ज्योतिषीले नाम राख्यो
कोहेनूर! वाह! विश्वहीरा!
नामजस्तो व्यङ्ग्य के छ ?
मणिधर भन्छन् सर्प जो छ
नेपाली रे देश-धमिरा
अङ्ग नै मानिन्छ राम राम
सब खटिरा
व्याकरण मिल्दैन सड्छ
माफ गर्नोस् !
हँस्सी मात्रै लेखिरैछु
आँसु झार्नोस् !
पातालपुरीको गद्य भो
अङ्ग्रेजीको उल्था जस्तो !
हिन्दी वा नेपाली यो !
तैपनि के दालरोटी-
निम्ति कलम नरेटूँ यो ?
गधाका बच्चा हुन्छन् पाजी
भ्यागुताका के हुन् काजी ?
खूब पढाउँथे ती गुरु !
(गुणशील गुरुका पुच्छर थिए
लौरो सीङ?) भो है कथाको
होस् न छिटै पो शुरु !
“ए गधा हो! ‘फ्रग’को माने भ्यागुतो ।
“फ्रगको माने भ्यागुतो ।
फ्रगको माने भ्यागुतो ।”
“के रे? के रे? के रे? के रे?”
“भ्यागुतो
भ्या! भ्या-गु-तो।”
एकादशीको दिन थियो
पशुपति ल्याएछ कालले
एक दिन निज धर्म्ममा
मरन्च्याँसे अक्षता-आशे!
मालिक सम्शेर कोही सम्झे
वेकुण्ठ सुख-टर्ममा
चाकरीका निम्ति आए-
शिवको अनि शेरको औ खीरको
धर्म्मराही धर्मराई
भस्मेश्वरका पासमा
चिता सुँघेछन् आफ्नो है
ढल्को तनको भासमा ।
“हे ठिटा हो!” बोल्न थाले
“भातृभाषा मर्दछिन्
नेपाली बाँच्दैन कहिल्यै
हिन्दीले राज गर्दछिन्।”
मानिस मर्ला भन्ने डर पो
आत्मा भरी छारो चल्यो
वेद तत्पर डग्मगाए
गीता जल्यो गीता जल्यो ।
बोल्न एउटा लाज हो जब
मानिस भैकन साँप स्याँक! स्याँक!
भ्यागुतो क्याँक! क्याँक!
लगुड हाम्रो भै सजीव
बोल्छ हातमा-
‘टाउको टयाक! टयाक!’
(माफ गर्नोस् तीतो लागे!)
सग्लै छन् ती मन्त्र बोलूँ
‘फर्सी फ्याक! फ्याक!’
बाँसमाथि राख नरिवल
काक झुत्रो एक बनाऊ
तीतेपातीले सजाऊ
स्मारक एउटा महापुरुषको
मलको ढिस्कोमा बनाऊ!
मुर्दा बोल्थ्यो नेपालीमा
छक पर्यौं ।
क्या गह्नायो मुखको गन्ध ।
थुक गर्यौ।
सिलटिम्मुर बरफसाथ
ल्याऊ पहेंला चाँवल,
श्याम भाग्छन् रात भरभर
यस्ता मीठा पागल!
हीहीहह हीहीहह
बोल्यो गधा!
छेपाराले मुत्दछन् रे
यस्ता बुज्रुगका चिहानमा
सर्वदा!
खूब झरीमा एक कुकुर
स्याउँ स्याउँ कीरा
सड्थ्यो लाचार! नाम सोधेँ
रै हीरा।
झन्डै झन्डै मै मरेथें
त्यो गह्नाई
बान्ता आई!
तिम्रो बुद्धि! गिद्धलोचन!
यस्तै लाग्यो है मलाई!
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 !!
रातले रोइरहिथिन् लाखन
जलदाना,
मैले कनिका जस्ता मानी टिपी निलेँ ती
नाना !
पुछेँ गगनको छाती—
बालेँ दीप प्रभाती !
तारानलको अन्तर ज्वलनले
म भएँ रातो—
अग्नि शिखा झैँ— एक कुर्लनले
लिएँ तिमिर सातो—
पूर्व क्षितिजतिर फर्की लाएँ
बोलेँ तातो—
अन्धकारको गो टाटो—
बाक्लो कुइरो फाटयो !
छिर्का परेका ललित र लाल
हे ! कमाल !
ती हुन् मेरा विचारहरुका करवाल,
स्वरले उच्चाल—
रेटिदिएका तम–सेनाका
सकल पराजित छाल
विजयसिउर यो शानि मेरो,
प्रभात पटलको फेरो—
बास माटीको ढिकुरो—
केवल कुखुरो !
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 !
म रङ्गीचङ्गी छु वसन्त छोरी ।
म जन्मिएँ कोकिलले कर्राई ।।
झुसिल्किराको सपना सिँगारी ।
दिए पखेटा प्रभुले मलाई ।।१।।
म हूँ पहीली बुझ पङ्खदार ।
वसन्तको फूल लिँदी सिँगार ।।
कता कताको सुकुमार सार ।
फुलेर उठ्दो क्षणको विचार ।।२।।
आकाश जस्तो सुनसान चित्त ।
हुँदा फुरी भाव नयाँ विचित्र ।।
इन्द्रनी जस्तो रंगरुप पाई ।
उचालिए झै म उडें रमाई ।।३।।
म बीउ झै ली सपना सुतेथें ।
झरी र छाया अनि घामभित्र ।।
क्यै कुत्कुतीले बुझ पङ्खदार ।
बनी उडें क्या कलिली विचित्र ।।४।।
सिँगारिएका कति रङ्ग जाति ।
धुलो सुनौला दुइ पङ्खमाथि ।।
हालै बनाएर परी मलाई ।
वसन्तको बाग दिए बनाई ।।५।।
ठिटी म सानी अनि रूपखानी ।
हूँ र्स्वर्गकी एक परी बयानी ।।
बुन्छन् पखेटा प्रभुले मलाई ।
तरङ्गको तान लिई रँगाई ।।६।।
बनी हलूका सुख झैं सलक्क ।
म नाच्छु फुर्फुर्र घुमी फरक्क ।।
जहाँ म जाने मन गर्छु फिर्छु
फुका हँसीली रसिली विचर्छु।७।।
चुसेर मीठा रस फूलमाथि ।
गमक्क भै मस्त बसेर जाति ।।
म बन्छु ध्यानी सुखको वसन्ती ।
न छोप्न खोजे तर यत्ति बिन्ति ।।८।।
सुरुक्क पारी रस फूलबाट ।
चुसेर मीठो अति मस्तसाथ ।।
छोपी अँगालोसित पङ्खद्धारा ।
म देख्छु सातौं सब र्स्वर्ग प्यारा ।।९।।
पिलिक्क पारिकन चट्ट आँखा ।
काला उज्याला कतिका चनाखा ।।
म हेर्छु छन् फूल कहाँ उज्याला ।
भनेर आफ्ना रसदार प्याला ।।१०।।
बसेर प्यूँदो रस थोर बेर ।
मजा अनौठोसँग मस्त हेर ।।
मर् इशको जो रस बासवाला ।
चाखिरहेको छु चुमेर प्याला ।।११।।
अरू उडेको सुखमा हलुका ।
अरू रमेको रसभित्र नीका ।।
देखेर आफै पुतली बनेर ।
नाचें दिलैमा सुख मिल्छ हेर ।।१२।।
सौर्न्दर्यको रूप भजेर रङ्गी ।
त्यहाँ हुने जो रस चुस्नु सङ्गी ।।
त्यही सबै र्स्वर्ग भनेर जान ।
मिल्ला त्यहा इश्वर गन्ध पान ।।१३।।
झुसिल्किराको सपना सिँगारी ।
दिए पखेटा प्रभुले फिजारी ।।
म डुल्छु सारा वन खेत बारी ।
बनेर आँखाकन रूप भारी ।।१४।।
छ शक्ति क्या हेर विचित्र नानी ।
चोली रँगीलो लिनकी म ध्यानी ।।
झुसिल्किरा तुच्छ खराबबाट ।
जन्में म कस्तो रँग-रूपसाथ ।।१५।।
बसेर यौटै मनभित्र ध्यान ।
गरेर सारा मनलाइ तान ।।
बदलिन्छ चोला रँग मिल्छ राम्रो ।
देखिन्छ त्योर् इश्वर हेर हाम्रो ।।१६।।
पाइन्छ मीठा रस चट्ट प्यूँन ।
पुगिन्छ क्या र्स्वर्ग वसन्त ज्यूँन ।।
जहाँ छ राम्रो उसतर्फउड्न ।
लिई पखेटा फुर्रुर्रुर हिँड्न ।।१७।।
O friend! hope for Him whilst you live, know whilst you live,
understand whilst you live: for in life deliverance abides.
If your bonds be not broken whilst living, what hope of
deliverance in death?
It is but an empty dream, that the soul shall have union with Him
because it has passed from the body:
If He is found now, He is found then,
If not, we do but go to dwell in the City of Death.
If you have union now, you shall have it hereafter.
Bathe in the truth, know the true Guru, have faith in the true
Name!
Kabîr says: ‘It is the Spirit of the quest which helps; I am the slave of this Spirit of the quest.
Dear Mom, send my dad across; the rainy season has come.
Oh, dear daughter, how can I?
Your dad’s too old; the rainy season has come.
Dear Mom, send my brother across; the rainy season has come.
Oh, dear daughter, how can I?
Your brother’s too young; the rainy season has come.
Dear Mom, send my uncle across; the rainy season has come.
Oh, dear daughter, how can I?
Your uncle’s too dandy; the rainy season has come.
My youth is budding, is full of passion;
How can I spend this time without my beloved?
Would someone please coax Nizamuddin Aulia,
The more I appease him, the more annoyed he gets;
My youth is budding……
Want to break these bangles against the cot,
And throw up my blouse into fire,
The empty bed scares me,
The fire of separation keeps burning me.
Oh, beloved. My youth is budding.
To-day, this insect, and the world I breathe,
Now that my symbols have outelbowed space,
Time at the city spectacles, and half
The dear, daft time I take to nudge the sentence,
In trust and tale I have divided sense,
Slapped down the guillotine, the blood-red double
Of head and tail made witnesses to this
Murder of Eden and green genesis.
The insect certain is the plague of fables.
This story’s monster has a serpent caul,
Blind in the coil scrams round the blazing outline,
Measures his own length on the garden wall
And breaks his shell in the last shocked beginning;
A crocodile before the chrysalis,
Before the fall from love the flying heartbone,
Winged like a sabbath ass this children’s piece
Uncredited blows Jericho on Eden.
The insect fable is the certain promise.
Death: death of Hamlet and the nightmare madmen,
An air-drawn windmill on a wooden horse,
John’s beast, Job’s patience, and the fibs of vision,
Greek in the Irish sea the ageless voice:
‘Adam I love, my madmen’s love is endless,
No tell-tale lover has an end more certain,
All legends’ sweethearts on a tree of stories,
My cross of tales behind the fabulous curtain.’
This bread I break was once the oat,
This wine upon a foreign tree
Plunged in its fruit;
Man in the day or wine at night
Laid the crops low, broke the grape’s joy.
Once in this time wine the summer blood
Knocked in the flesh that decked the vine,
Once in this bread
The oat was merry in the wind;
Man broke the sun, pulled the wind down.
This flesh you break, this blood you let
Make desolation in the vein,
Were oat and grape
Born of the sensual root and sap;
My wine you drink, my bread you snap.
Lady, lady, should you meet
One whose ways are all discreet,
One who murmurs that his wife
Is the lodestar of his life,
One who keeps assuring you
That he never was untrue,
Never loved another one . . .
Lady, lady, better run!
Ghosts of all my lovely sins,
Who attend too well my pillow,
Gay the wanton rain begins;
Hide the limp and tearful willow.
Turn aside your eyes and ears,
Trail away your robes of sorrow,
You shall have my further years-
You shall walk with me tomorrow.
I am sister to the rain;
Fey and sudden and unholy,
Petulant at the windowpane,
Quickly lost, remembered slowly.
I have lived with shades, a shade;
I am hung with graveyard flowers.
Let me be tonight arrayed
In the silver of the showers.
Every fragile thing shall rust;
When another April passes
I may be a furry dust,
Sifting through the brittle grasses.
All sweet sins shall be forgot;
Who will live to tell their siring?
Hear me now, nor let me rot
Wistful still, and still aspiring.
Ghosts of dear temptations, heed;
I am frail, be you forgiving.
See you not that I have need
To be living with the living?
Sail, tonight, the Styx’s breast;
Glide among the dim processions
Of the exquisite unblest,
Spirits of my shared transgressions,
Roam with young Persephone.
Plucking poppies for your slumber . . .
With the morrow, there shall be
One more wraith among your number.
Oh, I can smile for you, and tilt my head,
And drink your rushing words with eager lips,
And paint my mouth for you a fragrant red,
And trace your brows with tutored finger-tips.
When you rehearse your list of loves to me,
Oh, I can laugh and marvel, rapturous-eyed.
And you laugh back, nor can you ever see
The thousand little deaths my heart has died.
And you believe, so well I know my part,
That I am gay as morning, light as snow,
And all the straining things within my heart
You’ll never know.
Oh, I can laugh and listen, when we meet,
And you bring tales of fresh adventurings, —
Of ladies delicately indiscreet,
Of lingering hands, and gently whispered things.
And you are pleased with me, and strive anew
To sing me sagas of your late delights.
Thus do you want me — marveling, gay, and true,
Nor do you see my staring eyes of nights.
And when, in search of novelty, you stray,
Oh, I can kiss you blithely as you go ….
And what goes on, my love, while you’re away,
You’ll never know.
With you, my heart is quiet here,
And all my thoughts are cool as rain.
I sit and let the shifting year
Go by before the windowpane,
And reach my hand to yours, my dear . . .
I wonder what it’s like in Spain.
SPEAK low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet
From out the hallelujahs, sweet and low
Lest I should fear and fall, and miss Thee so
Who art not missed by any that entreat.
Speak to mo as to Mary at thy feet !
And if no precious gums my hands bestow,
Let my tears drop like amber while I go
In reach of thy divinest voice complete
In humanest affection — thus, in sooth,
To lose the sense of losing. As a child,
Whose song-bird seeks the wood for evermore
Is sung to in its stead by mother’s mouth
Till, sinking on her breast, love-reconciled,
He sleeps the faster that he wept before.
Go, sit upon the lofty hill,
And turn your eyes around,
Where waving woods and waters wild
Do hymn an autumn sound.
The summer sun is faint on them —
The summer flowers depart —
Sit still — as all transform’d to stone,
Except your musing heart.
How there you sat in summer-time,
May yet be in your mind;
And how you heard the green woods sing
Beneath the freshening wind.
Though the same wind now blows around,
You would its blast recall;
For every breath that stirs the trees,
Doth cause a leaf to fall.
Oh! like that wind, is all the mirth
That flesh and dust impart:
We cannot bear its visitings,
When change is on the heart.
Gay words and jests may make us smile,
When Sorrow is asleep;
But other things must make us smile,
When Sorrow bids us weep!
The dearest hands that clasp our hands, —
Their presence may be o’er;
The dearest voice that meets our ear,
That tone may come no more!
Youth fades; and then, the joys of youth,
Which once refresh’d our mind,
Shall come — as, on those sighing woods,
The chilling autumn wind.
Hear not the wind — view not the woods;
Look out o’er vale and hill-
In spring, the sky encircled them —
The sky is round them still.
Come autumn’s scathe — come winter’s cold —
Come change — and human fate!
Whatever prospect Heaven doth bound,
Can ne’er be desolate.
Shabnam
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