Niraj Singh Thakuri
In the middle of an unfathomable ocean
I can see a liner
Sinking bit by bit.
I am on board the same liner
Languished at a corner
Starting out, without a word.
I have been banned from reading poetry
And proscribed from speaking;
Four points have been demarcated as my boundaries.
At a small closet inside the liner
There are people in power
But are beleaguered by sycophants;
There also are those with connections
Briefing them about me;
They are flaying me
And are telling I must be wiped out;
They are seeking blessings
From the prominent ones present there
And are accumulating medals.
In yet another small cabinet in the liner
There are people who have lost power
They are mulling on a way
To regain their lost power.
The ship has been occupied
By passengers of different sorts;
Some are talking about slicing the ship
And sharing the fragments
Others are threatening of a revolt
A few of them are annealing their weapons
While other are distributing pamphlets and raising slogans;
There also are some preparing for a demonstration
While others are busy delivering speeches!
Oh, how strange passengers they are!
They are mindless
That if they continue with their pranks
The liner can sink for sure
Or else, they are feigning ignorance
Even if they know it so well.
On the other side of the ocean
Many crocodiles sit, enjoying the show,
And are anticipating a sumptuous meal,
No matter from which point I watch
This line
And my nation
Look exactly alike.
Trans: Mahesh Paudyal