Red Sun

Sun is red in the sky!

Could it be Dawn or Dusk?
Could it be a new beginning?
Or beginning of an end
Of all the red spilled
In the forests, streets and homes?

Will the blue-bordered red
Continue to smile as it does
Under the red sun?

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मौन धारण

शहीदका नाममा मौन धारण गर्न
छातिमा हात राखेर शिर झुकाउँदा
सोच्छु–
जहाँ
क्रान्तिको डरले घरमै बस्नेहरू,
व्यक्तिगत इबीमा फस्नेहरू,
स्वार्थको राजनीतिमा पस्नेहरू,
मरेर जाँदा “शहीद” मानिन्छ,
त्यहाँ शहीदको सम्मान कसरी पो हुन्छ ?

सोच्छु–
क्रान्ति र आन्दोलनका नाममा उदाएका भुइँमान्छेहरू
जब
सत्तामोहमा परेर,
अपराधको बाटो पक्रेर,
स्वाभिमानलाई बिर्सेर,
क्रान्तिको मर्म लत्याएर,
जनलाई घात गरेर
देश बेच्न पनि पछि पर्दैनन्,

धुरुधुरु रुँदा हुन् ती महात्माहरू
जसले
आमाबाबुको काख छाडेर
जीवनसाथीलाई एक्लो पारेर
छोराछोरीलाई सुनौलो सपना बाँढेर
मित्रजनलाई विश्वास गरेर घात नगरी
क्रान्ति सफल पार्न
देशका लागि प्राणको आहुती दिए !

मान !

 न्याय नपाई कोही रोइरहँदा

               न्यायालयको मान रह्यो सायद !

अपराधीहरू खुल्लमखुल्ला हिँडिरहँदा

               न्यायालयको मान बढ्यो सायद !

न्यायकै किनबेच चलिरहँदा

               न्यायालयको इज्जतले आकाश छोयो सायद !

र त,

     न्याय पाउँ भन्नेहरू 

                   न्यायालायमै रोइरहेछ्न् !

     अपराधी समाऊ भन्नेहरू

                     डरले काँपिरहेछ्न् !

      न्यायको किनबेच नगर भन्नेहरू

                     कठघरामा उभ्याइरहेछ्न् !

© सन्दीप्त

राजकुमारीकी र उनकी आमा

सूर्यले बादललाई सिन्दुर लगाएको त्यो साँझ
राजकुमारीझैँ सझिएकी 

कोमल हातमा गुडिया बोकेकी

एउटी सानी नानीका आँखाले 

आफ्नी आमासँग 

प्रश्नहरू सोध्दै थिए–

“आमा घर जाने बेला भएन ?

कति खेप बोक्न बाँकी छ

ईँटा र बालुवाको भार ?

कति समय लाग्ला बनाउन

हाम्रो पनि यस्तै ठूलो घर ?”

Global Village

“We’ll create a Global Village,” they said.

And they laid

The basic foundations

To connect people

From different Nations.

***

The Global Village to people is dear;

It’s brought them near

And they understand

The world better than ever.

***

Is the world getting better, though,

I wanna know

When we are closed

In the closeness

Of this virtual world?

Are we going farther away

From our families?

From our friends?

From our neighbors?

From our society?

***

How do we balance between the world’s

Real and Virtual?

How do we carry on

Ourselves without

Being enthralled by stuffs

That are not quite real?

He sits in the corner of his dark room and cries

He sits in the corner of his dark room

And cries

Remembering the girl who cheated on him

And then

Threatened to sue him for no crime

He did.

He knows her tears will melt the mass,

Her voice will resonate in the crowd,

Her accusations will kill him even if

The court proves him innocent.

He knows no one, no law can

Help him.

That’s why

He sits in the corner of his dark room

And cries. 

Parents and their Daughters

In towns and cities connected by roads

Never distant are the daughters

With no compromises and loads

Close to parents are the daughters.

***

Never distant were the daughters

We hope all our lives

Close to us were the daughters

We dream all our lives.

******

We hope all our lives

To return again to our parents

We dream all our lives

To see once again our parents.

***

To return again to our parents

We lament in this far off land

To see once again our parents

We pray in this desolate land.

******

[Note: I had written this poem in Nepali (माइती जान नपाउने चेली). After I received a comment from Mick Canning and read the translation, I felt so bad. So I tried translating the poem myself. This is also my effort on the Pantoum form of poetry.]