|
|
|
|||||
|
A day comes once A day comes once but one in an era It brings changes, helter-skelter, topsy-turvy The mute and meek begin to speak The lips of whose suffer start to move Those who were thought to endure will rise in vengeance Those who were thought to slept Will steadily began to walk Those who were disposed as if dead will swiftly arise The dead ashes will be rekindled The storm will began to move There will be a great uproar here Cowards will became brave A wave of excitement will began to move There will be a great uproar here Sins will begin to be revealed. A day comes but once in era! By Gopal Prasad Rimal The dream of mother Is he really coming, mother? Yes, my son, he is surly coming Spreading his flashing light Like the suns morning rays You will see the dagger at his waist Glistening like the morning dews With which he will fight against injustice At his sudden appearance You will hesitate weather its dream or reality And begin to feel him He is more blazing then fire More biting then fire. Is he such mother? Yes, of course, when you were born I had expected to see in your fragile face His own image In your sweet smile his own lovely reflection In your lisp his sonorous voice But the melodious song Couldnt make you its flute My entire youth I had a dream That you would be him But anyway, he is coming I am mother; I can voice the creations total energy: He is coming This is not an idle dream After his arrival You wont in this way Come down on to my lap And wouldnt listen to true fact Like you are glued to fiction You will be able to see, bear and accept it Instead of needing my solace You on way to the battlefield Console me your mother, who is so week in mind Despite your comforts I neednt caress your hair As of a sick child You will see he will come bursting in like a storm You will follow him like a leaf Age ago when he descended from the living world And overflowed like the moon beams The entire inertia had stirred, my son, Is he definitely coming to wake you up. He seems to be coming, mother The hushed expectation of his coming Has made my hurt flutter Like the break of down inspiring the birds to chirp Yes, he is coming, He is coming like a morning sun Spreading out its rays, Now let me go. But my entire youth I had a dream That you were himself. By Gopal Prasad Rimal Meeting Why are you waiting for the full moon? Its her you are to meet, right? See here in her own light Meet her this very day on this new moon light Why are you waiting for the coming of spring? Are you searching for a flower? Smell her very own scent Meet her this very day in this winter month Meet her this very day on this new moon light. Is there any need for a priest to propitiate When you meet? Isnt her voice melodious enough? Merely by shaking your head Follow the rhythm if her voice Meet her right away without playing a fanfare Meet her this very day on this new moon night. In your imagination you have often clad her In a polychrome veil like a rainbow You have dressed her in a satin blouse The colour of peacocks throat Thus you may be thinking of bringing her Those kinds of veils and blouses when you meet her But meet her as she is in herself Dont waste your time going to the bazaar. Let her shyness be her veil Let her be clad in your embrace See her skin, which is like stain Meet her as she is Meet her this very day on this new moon light By Gopal Prasad Rimal
|
|
|||||
|
|
||||||
|
|
||||||
