Poetry:
Krishna Pakhrin
A Piece of Cloud and My Dream
When I see you
I find you landed above the hill
by bending like a piece of sky
akin to a folks of thirsty spilornis
and getting yourself scattered high above horizon,
as if, jasmine is blooming there on the sky;
at such moment, I wish to name you cloud.
Yes, by picking you, from
that green hill
from that moon-raising horizon
I wish to fasten on vacant frame of my eyes
and to erase the ‘vacant’ from existence.
But my cloud, afar from me
hovering above every roof
crying inside drops of tears, acts of laughing;
and then I wish to say- my girl,
your acting is futile, as
futile were my dreams of past.
(Translated from Nepali by Suman Pokhrel)
