Carrying untold explosions in me;
setting countless forbidden flights over me,
millions of experiments are underway upon me.
Sweeping aside, to the banks, trillion of stars,
I have been flowing, an ocean.
I, an ocean, am flowing along the footpaths.
I, an ocean, am babbling about the roads with my brows drawn.
Morning and afternoon, the sun plunges into me.
Half, or full, the moon plays happily in me
Burning I am in millions of lamps.
Alive with pride I am in millions of cities.
I have been flowing, an ocean.
Not asking anyone, I am flowing.
Not telling a lie to anyone, I am flowing.
To flow is my necessity.
To flow is my unbroken chain of deeds.
Import or export, relation and kinship,
everything is a flow.
I have been flowing, an ocean,
in the need of my land.
I have been flowing
on the tiny desk and a chair of an office,
on a masyauda*, resolution and clarification.
How many pebbles wrestle among themselves in me and flow!
How many branches float on me and are left aside!
The brook, river and truth
have been muddied by the flood, so say the men.
I, by myself, can raise a cyclone.
I have been flowing, an ocean.
I keep surging on towards the Himalayas / flinging revolts.
I again rise up to the walls / dismantling their edges.
I again fall onto the lap of my own pace.
My fall upon dry and barren hills is not anti social,
nor a nonsense, mispronounced word or non Nepali.
Rising, falling and resuming.....
I have been flowing, an ocean.
* masyauda - draft of an office document |
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