Ishwar Ballabh
Previously his heart was cruel,
Today this river is being cruel
Seemingly without banks
It is flowing everywhere.
Perhaps your travails, too,
Are like that very river
Entangled, without shores,
In the midstream and vortex.
Whether be it an edifice of walls
Or may it always transpire
As something completely different
Form one’s own truths
May it perhaps turn into stones
Whose touch does not reach deep within,
It is hard
It is cruel
It is different
Ceaselessly.
But that cruel mind
Has another image, too,
But if those moments experienced
By it with those spent lifetimes
Turn into dhupi firs, perchance,
Or if transformed into bakaino branches,
It becomes quite something else.
An unknown and anonymous feeling it becomes
Therefore, didn’t I seek you out?
You tell me
The things of those times and environs
I too think of and remember them.
It was when one singular spectrum of light
Was knitting other lights
But if you forget all these
Where can I go again?
Therefore,
I begin talking about
The dawns of the mornings
And then I translate also the believer in you
Into light, along with your eyes.
I begin translating.
I wash and cleanse the rainbows
Over the horizon
With the other real rainbow.
I thus begin washing and cleansing.
It was just only in the recent days past
When we together used to walk
For days on the highways.
Scooping in our palms
The early rays of dawns and sunsets
We used to talk of irrigating the earth.
You always said:
Man himself is a flower plant
And I used to say:
Man himself is a river and a tree.
Perhaps that was why
We, all in voices and chords unison,
Used to seek the freedom of man
Imprisoned by someone.
What are you busy with these days—
Doing what?
You tell me yourself
But I’m busy looking for you.
While seeking freedom and salvation
With us together
Another man has gone missing
I’m looking for him, too.
Translated by Padma Devkota [Poet and lyricist Ishwar Ballabh who successfully geared the experimental cult of modern Nepali poetry, was an exponent of sensibilities, an emperor of potentialities and a charioteer of self-consciousness. Poet Ballabh was born on 12 July 1936 in Kathmandu. During his Darjeeling stay as a student, he came in contact with poet Bairagi Kainla and critic Indra Bahadur Rai, and the trio launched Tesro Aayam, the Third-Dimension Movement in Nepali poetry, which is popular even today. Ballabh’s published works are poetry collections Aagoka Phoolharu Hun Aagoka Phoolharu Hoinan, Euta Saharko Kinarama, Samantar, Kasmai Devaya, Dhuwako Jungle and two essay collections Kehi Bhoomikaharu and Sochko Mayamath. He died on 23 March 2008 in Kathmandu. ]