नेपाली साहित्यको सम्पूर्ण पत्रिका

So That the Troubles may not Spill Over (A Poem)

Trans. Abhi Subedi

How can the wick burn without oil?
How can life flow smoothly devoid of experience?

Pratisara Sayami

Everyone asks me
questions
this one echoes-
why are you like the sky before downpour today?

I’ve often said-
Pain has no language
Its something to be felt
in the restlessness
in the sufferings
in the agony of death
borne by the sacrificial fowls
buffalo, bulls and he-goats
I packed up my troubles
like mustard seeds
in a bag
that even kind words
said to me in my troubles
pierce through
spilling all the content
leaving nothing in the bag
and I distribute them
mixing with the tears
with the words
with the sobbing
with the sighs
with the silence
among those whom I regard as mine.

Once again
I become an empty mustard bag
like the sky emptied of the rain
clean like the floor freshly shined
tight like the belt of cotton cloth
and shine up like the face of a mother
just returned from the dooryards of death
after the bitter-sweet taste of maternity.

सान्दर्भिक पोस्ट

Indeed
with the mustard seeds of pain
pressed hard within me
I fall like drops of lamp oil
on the path of life
How can the wick burn without oil?
How can life flow smoothly devoid of experience?
So I feel up my troubles
like the mustard seeds
in bags
within and without me.

 

Translated from Nepalbhasa by Dr Abhi Subedi.

प्रतिक्रिया
Loading...