Saturday, November 29, 2008

आमा (कविता)

आमा तिमीलाई सम्झँदा ,
नयनमा मोती टल्पलाउँछ,
गाँठो पर्छ मुटुमा भक्कानीएर,
लर्बराउछ पाइला धर्तिमा,
हुर्कायौ बढायौ सहेर हजार चोटहरु
अनिदो ,छटपटीका रातहरु अनि भोकहरु
प्यासका पलपल घुट्कोहरु बिर्सेर ,
भबिष्यको मिठो सपना बुनेर
तातेताते हिडन सिकायौ,

चिन्ताले फाटेको मन सिँउदै
अशिक्षाको डोको बोकेरै भए पनि
सीसाकलम समाउन सीकायौ
बाह्खरी लेख्न सीकायौ
तिम्रो श्पर्श कति पबित्र,
पौडिरहेँ आँचल भित्र
कोरीरहन्थे सुनौलो सचित्र

भत्काउन दुखको पहाड,
निस्कीएँ आगनबाट दिनदहाड,
अग्लामहल र कारहरुको कोलाहल छिचोलेर
भावनमा डुबिरहे एकैछिन
कल्पनामा टोलाइरहेँ सम्झेर तिम्रो काख
तर, भुलिरहेँ शहरको रमझममा,
नशामा उम्लीयो तिम्रो याद,
झस्कीए, तर्सिएँ, आफनै छायाँ देखेर,
भुलिसकेछु तिम्रो माया
बिर्सीसकेछु तिम्रो छाँया

फोन गर्छु हरपल साथीलाई,
एक घन्टी पनि बज्दैन तिमीलाई
जन्मायौ किन यस्तो सन्तान लाई!
यो ब्यस्तताको कुहिरो भित्र
सबैबाट तिरस्कृत भएछुँ ,
अपमानको पगरी गुथेछुँ
मानवता हराएको नगरीमा एक्लो भएछुँ
निसास्सीदो यो यात्रामा ,
पोलिरह्यो तिम्रो ममताले
बाटो भुल्ने छैन पाइला लर्रबराए पनि

बिर्सने छैन आफना लक्ष्यहरुलाई
पखाल्ने छु मेरा पापहरुलाई,
रिन तिर्नेछु आमा तिम्रो चोखो स्नेहको
सुयोग्य सन्तान भएर फक्रिनेछु
तिम्रै पाउमा पुजा गर्नेछु
आमा तिम्रै सेवा गर्नेछु !

>> सुनिता गिरी, 
      हङकङ



Saturday, November 22, 2008

यति भए पुग्छ (कविता)

मलाई जुनेली रात होइन,
सूनौलो विहानी भए पुग्छ,
तडकभडक फेशन होइन,
एकसरो कपडा बेरे पुग्छ,

मिठो र मसिनो पनि खोज्दिन म,
मेरै गुन्द्रुक र ढिडो मस्काए पुग्छ,
मलाई बन्धनमा बाधिने पिंजरा होइन,
स्वतन्त्रताको भारी भए पुग्छ,

विलासिताको जीवन रोज्दिन म,
मेरै तराई पाहाड हिडे पुग्छ,
टुक्राउने हम्मर होइन मलाई,
भाइ भाइ जोड्ने बन्धुत्व भए पुग्छ,

दुःखले दुःख होइन मलाई,
सुखले दुःख गर्न पाए पुग्छ,
गौरव मान्छु, फुलाउछु छाती,
अनि हेर्छु आकाशमाथी,

जहा, त्यहा, जुन बेला, त्यस बेला,
छरिएर रहेपनि , सयौ फुल एउटै माला,
यस्तो इतिहास बनोस,अब,
सबै नेपाली सद्भाव छाओस, एउटै मुटु बनोस् देशको,
एउटै हाँसो हाँसोस्, अब बन्ने संविधान मर्मको
जय होस् नेपाल र नेपालीको।।।
जय होस् विर शहिदको।।।
>>फुयाल, राजकुमार गोलढुङ्गा गा. वि. स – २, काठमांडौं

Saturday, November 15, 2008

"अर्थहिन भएछ" - कविता

अर्थहिन भएछ यो जिन्दगानी
शब्दहरु बटुली लेख्दै नँया कहानी ।
रात मेटाउने खै कहाँ छ त्यो विहानी
जिउँदो लाश भयो पुरै यो जवानी ।।

खुशी छु भनौ भिजेका छन् यी सिरानी
लेख्दा मुटु छोए माफ होस रिसानी ।
के नै हुन्छ शरीरमा अब होस् खरानी
उडी जाँदा हावामा कतै नपरोस् पानी ।।

छाती भरी सम्झना लादैछु निसानी
खुशी संग बस है त्रि्रै हो जवानी ।
लेख्दा लेख्दै शब्द हराए के भनौं कहानी
अनौठो यात्रा भएछ आफ्नै जिन्दगानी ।।

घात प्रति घातले सताए नभिजाउनु सिरानी
माया मेरो सवै भुलि दिनु हुँदा म खरानी ।
अभिमानमा अडिक रहे प्रेमलाई सवै ठानी
स्वर्ीर्थी संसारले चिनेन माया भयो बैमानी ।।

अर्थहिन भएछ यो जिन्दगानी
शब्दहरु बटुली लेख्दै नँया कहानी ।
रात मेटाउने खै कहाँ छ त्यो विहानी
जिउँदो लाश भयो पुरै यो जवानी ।।
-अरुण "म" मेहता भद्रकालीस्थान, काठमाण्डौ, नेपाल ९८४१४७०९६७

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

POEMS OF BHIM DARSHAN ROKA

My country
Where the clouds can always count on restthat place to which they aspirewhere every stream is cradled by a double cliffthere my country
Where morning rouses its rays in the mountainsthe river gripping both banks descendsthe earthbound forest stands while the stones and water sing
Where craggy sentinels tireand go to sleep in the plainmy beloved spring has come to drench mehere where a tent is pitched by the rocky overhang
You are not Alone
All our daily rites, houses where we shardmultitudes of skies, and horizons we've made
all with youyour companions
Scenes of rows of ridges and jungle slopes cliffs that brace the hills and slidesheroes and now and then
all with youyour companions
Flowers and leaves holding upstanding trees understating hearts, and quiet tongueseveryone’s own share of joy and sorrow
all with youyour companions
Had it not been spring
Had it not been spring,had you not been singing that song,had you not so shyly blushed,the rhododendrons wouldn't seem so red.
Had the world not worn a blossom on its breast,had the shade vines not entwined in braid,had you last spring saved nothing,what would've been left for this spring?
Had the wilds not touched the towns,had reason not drank of ecstasy,had you not poured more and more for me,the flowers would've never opened up their hollow cups.
Seeing Nepal
Seeing Nepal it seems familiarin the morning its seems somewhere I've stepped in this courtyard beforein my heart it seemsI've met this place in dreams,
Seeing Nepal it seems
A song has been sung from the ridge tops,a path has wound down from the slopes,in my heart it seemsat last the sweat of foreign lands has been wiped clean.
Seeing Nepal it seems
walking and walking at last I've reached the end,come to the house I abandoned at dawn,and how will I be able to go?It seems these Himalays have blocked the road.
Just one Quarter of the Night is left
Just one quarter of the night remainsthe collected consequences of the first three partsthe moon, which alone reached the Easthas now in me just a single hope
Just one quarter of the night is left
How many there were who began here the song of nighteach lighting their won individual starsand now, who is left?You, I, and with us our desires
Just one quarter of the night is left
The Season of Rain
The season of rain has comebearing the rainbow's seven colorswhy shouldn't I run with shirt held out to gather inthis gift from far off lands has come.
The season of rain has come.
Why not speak in a voice like thunderwhy not open my suffocating heartin the jhar-jhar of the falling waterall seven of he scale's notes are sunk.
The season of rain has come.
In the sky black clouds fly,on the earth the crazed shadows race,why not touch both banks todaythe rolling river and I leap out together.
The season of rain has come.
If You Put the Boat in the Water
If you put the boat in the waterI'll give my hands for oars
In the midst of trough and crestI'll give you in the storm the shore
If your boat gets caught somewhereI'll part the curtain of wave
If you gamble all with meI'll surrender all to you.
Time is coming
From every hand,from lands both hospitable and hard,from jungle, slop, and stone,and from gentle sighs
it comesTime continually comes.
Water flows into water,leaf dances upon leaf,from the approaching of seasons,and the sound of your speaking
time comesTime continually comes.
It touches as if to say something
then listens to me awhilethrashing about in my breathingtaking each moment
it goestime continually goes.
It rises up from meexpanding heavenwardwhere it turns to blue skythat will be my past.
Lake Phewa
At the verge of the forestwaiting, dreaming of meveiling her face with her shivering sarireclining on the shadows of the trees.
Here the white boats of cloud make crossing,here the mountains descend, shouldering loads of snowsuddenly melted by the many raysof the sun when it scatters itself here
Here the wind peels the watershere the ripples run togethermaking my heart tremble-and here the deep sky also trembles.
Here you, and the dawn of the women drawing waterhere the meeting of turtle dove and his matethe shadow of birds seen in the watertouches the sky in flight here.
Here hold the border of your sari gentlyhere light the thousand butter lamps of the starsand watch or meraising your eyes on the crests of a thousand waves.
Your Nearness
However close, close to you I comethat much more far, far I feelwhat kind of journey is this?more distant even that deathmiles from intimacywhere life beginsI am born endlesslywithin the child within me.
When I see You
I always sing your songalways come to youbut you, approaching from afarupon get closerrecognizing me become ripplinganimatedflow by so swiftlyand then reaching some distance,seem confusedwandering "why did I run?"searching some excuse to turnwhen I see youI feel I'd like to spend my liferunning on your shore.
An Age has Passed
An age has passed since leaving homejourneying, a traveller aloneI am walking, my friend! Walkingaway from the beginning, toward an end unknown.An age has passed…
Every morning I set out to walkand every evening I light the starswhen every day ends the same wayWhy does it make me so afraid?
An age has passed…
When as I go, wherever I stay
feels like my house to meif I were to retrace to my steps tomorrowhow would I know my home?An age has passed…
Alone Alone Aloof and Sad
Alone alone aloof and sad, I amthe sky in which the sun has set, but the stars have not yet risenwherever yesterday she may have staidthat abandoned place, I am
alone alone aloof and sad
the banks of certain riversthe love always made to waitso far from somewherefrom somewhere, so near I am
alone alone aloof and sad.
Who Comes to Snatch my Song?
Who comes to snatch my song, Companion on this lonely trip!
I have already crossed the finish,who comes to snatch my triumph!who comes to snatch my song,companion on this lonely trip!
The present, yoursthe future will be mine,who comes to snatch my past!who comes to snatch my song,companion on this lonely trip!
love, my beginninglove will be my endwho comes to snatch my love!who comes to snatch my song,companion on this lonely trip!
I've Come by Many Roads
I've come by many roadssinging many songsstanding, a mountainand arriving here, as the river courseI've come by many roads
running, a hurricaneresting, a shadowmeandering, youthAnd arriving here, as loveI've come by many roads.
The Mountain's Call
Love,lets go therewhere the view of the Himalaya is clearwhere its borderlands beginto where it comes searching
Pure, clearsacrosanctsitting..risingcrossing over its own peaksstretching out into a hundred rangesit callscome lets see ourselvesin the many mirrored tender gazeyou, and I, and the thousands like us.
To the Star of the Indigo Night
To this star of the indigo night I am looking for solaceI pray my love as well-far from home is looking
to this star of the indigo night
However distant we becomewhatever long way we wander in the daywhen evening falls I will return againto the lighted glowing rim
to this star of the indigo night
How lofty our rendezvousso sober, silent, eternalnever a word is spokenbut oh, I understand the eyes, the glances
and the star of the indigo night
Fog
Above the far hillsheavier then theyyet lighter than caressesthe column of fog slowly slowlyclimbs the precipices
and
I am also climbingmy own precipicesglancing at the other parallel passing over the jut of rock, glen, and gorge
Standing on the cliffson the bank of the river that carries the flood and borewalking alonegazing at the horizon's far shoreI am drawing my shape deep within the cloud's inner core.
Border of your Thought
Circumference of the Earth, border of your thoughtrising, silent growing thinthinner than gesturelighter than sweet summonssilk brushed over silktouching meshapes of sky.
Wheeling flock of pigeonsmorning airwave follows wave, each it ownon tenderness youth leanson ripeness the swelling budyour coming and goingin all ten directionstouching meroom after room of the sky!
Here There Without Care
Here there without caremimicking white clouddon't let me make for the skyabandoning the Earth
Even if someday I tryto soar to that great up high slam me with the airsend hail, send rain
Block my way with braid of lighteningcaste me back on to the Earthhere there without caredon't let me take for the sky
Night ! Day!
The crush of passengers covers everything.I can't see out.Where are we? To what are we close?Where having I been brought?This place looks familiar,
but the way so strange, swinging round and round like ring roadNight! Day! Stop ! Stop!I want to get off here,I got on my mistakeWhat mood was I lost in?
Now it's getting late.in the morning my bus went empty,but even empty, it must have reached its' destination.I'd have filled it.I came to finish the journey.The first one's long gone,how far time ahs tossed it,now only the last is left,any moment now.If you want, come on, I'm waiting.I didn't come to watch.I came to finish the journey.
At the Temple
Boudhist templebalanced, solid unparallel creationwithin the temple, temples within templeslayers upon layers of stoneresonating ring of bronzeseamless surfaces of brickdetermined to stand eternal
I saw-filling my eyesmy heart brimmingraised aloft on a hundred handsthe artists take up history and standrunning in the pages of booksthe magazines, the tourist's camerasbowed, standing before the temple
I saw-the refuse of years swept up in a heapa doll of rags carried by the confluencecast up on the shorea desiccated roota huddled old womangiven nothingtaking nothingstaring at the templeherself, the temple-comparingstanding alongsidetrying to reach the pagesthe magazines, the tourist's camerasfilling my eyesmy heart brimming with her.Going toward the cityI saw ahead on the roadshe was walkingleading me forward.I look behind:the temple has faded into shadow.
Four Pieces
The sky of starsdistant hope callsand I catch the fragranceof the yet unblossomed bud.
The heart carries me with itchildhood plays tagwhoever I lay my eyes upon he draws me in.
I drink, yes that's my habitintoxicated immersed, unconscious my storywho has been violated, come closefor I am young, for I am vital.
After every star's been countedand every breath's become a sigh,what more? Now love that you are with me,and now that I have called you mine.
My voice
The single uproar of many people is advancinglisten carefullyin it is my voice as wellperhaps it will first touch you then touching all peoplegrow larger, larger
the size of the solar systeman assembly of sunsif night, then a meeting of moonsthe seated starscircling roundclean and pureoutside and in
of the weeks, Martyr's Weekof the months, those of holy celebrationpainted in the colors of revolutionthe arrival of revolutions' long age has soundedby now familiarthe sound of the heartthe sound of resonating metaleven if blow is added to blowthese have come togetheras if he strong midday sun were ringing
joining, drawing closerconverging in a single directionto last age after agewith a single desirespreading both handstouching all three octavesmeeting place for all the notesthis approaching change
in the thousands and thousands if you can't pick out my voiceif you can't recognize itI'll be happy, I'll know that it has merged completely that that's no worry, that there isn’t far to gothat I can reach this destinationthat I have become ripe, ready to fall.
Staring Fire
What fire starts its self?Negligence must've ignited it,or did someone mean to light it?But why?Ask; they're bound to say something;
Butter lamp, kitchen fire, funeral pyreglimmer of gem and candle, all of a tribehere fire has comeemerged from the sunonce begun, like the sun it blazesother similarities too it sharedburning, this fire,rising within its bordersencompassing both is and is notin me as wellthe butter lamp burns, and there is worshipbright the electric light illuminateshard labor strokes the kitchen hearthand only after death the funeral pyreFire's final requirement.If it's needful, who wouldn't start it?
The Moment of Your BirthYou are dancingYour danceA palaceIn which are thousands of mudra and armsLegs and legs, pillars and pillarsTurning and turningsRoom after roomThe palace full of window after window, door after doorYou can see deeper and deeperFitting thousands of peopleMillions of vibrations, and liquid ripplingsOh Creation!Oh wave upon Water!On your shoresVillages and citiesOh Nepali river bubbling forth!This is the moment of your birth,Today, your birthday!

POEMS OF BHIM DARSHAN ROKA

The Ditch
Marching marching; a backward glancegood Lord! There! A Gapping Ditch!disbelief-how it came therehow I crossed it
marching marching; a backward glance
But oh behind me, long line advancingthe varied tiny shapeshow can they ford it?hear banging, for them I fear
marching marching; a backward glance
Do I go on?how to begin to fill this pit, this gapping fear?no, I refuse to forward march, doing nothinghere my duty, I turn
marching marching; a backward glance