Photo & Poetry:
Rajeshwor Karki
The Mauribhir and the Trip Downhill
Somewhere on the trip,
When I asked the sea for the sun,
It vaporized till the sun went off,
When I asked the sky for the moon
Its shadow eclipsed the moon
Not to mention of the distant sun and moon
The past, lived by the very self
Could not be composed into embraces
Nor did the fancied future retain
As I drifted along, the present I counted as mine
Too could not remain in the arms
What remained along
Is a mere deadly trip
Along the steep bee slope
As frightening as life!
Tranquil and dreadful,
A distinct remnant of nature
The bee slope,
That taught me to own terrible pains in silence
Lovely but remote,
That taught me to scale the unattainable heights of life
With its beautiful melodies
Cool but hard,
That taught me to display a cool smile
Albeit with a hard composure
In a way, the bee slope
Taught me the sublime art
To live as a human.
The bee slope
A refined artistry of life
Taught me to comprehend pain along with the rustic beauty
Letting others expose, standing on the back
While the self remaining screened in the back
Taught the extensive love of Dalli and Gattasaina,
Taught the modesty and self-esteem of Jhumrekhola and Nahakuli
But the bee slope itself,
Like a plan, entrapped in a grand planners diary
Kept living in difficulty and remoteness
With sweet prospects fancied.
The subject of my soul
The great bee slope
That, for ages, could neither understand itself
Nor could explain to others
In spite of Bheri flowing all over its eyes
It remained a thirsty onlooker
Once again
Kept walking along a sloppy trail of life,
Just kept its pace moving……
Today, standing on the marks of memories
I am musing of a life, like that of the bee slope
Fearing of a slip on the way downhill
I lived the life of the entire bee slopeI,
a human, happened to be
More terrifying and remoter
Than what I counted the bee slope to be
For this, I ask people
Not to take as ultimate, whatever on the way they
comprehend.
Translation: Mahesh Paudyal
