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Nepali Translated Poems

Nepali Translated Poems

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Published by Namaste'

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Published by: Namaste' on Apr 03, 2009
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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Translator: Maya Watson
Village Solitude
 I am here. I 'll be here.I won't goto the city,I have no part thereThe sound of a flutetouches my every part. I am innocentlike the flute boy's eyes, the flute boy's heart,I won't goto the city.A dog has barked or a stream has flowed,the wind touched or has not touched the trees:I am in the foam of every ripple on the waters,I am in every leaf on all the branches,I have no place in the noise of the city crowd.Cocks crow or don't,someone whistle or doesn't:wherever you put your hand, there you've touched my heart.Where men have walked and have not walkedI am down both roads.father heavensand mother horizon,happy and satisfied,I won't goto the city.Welcome, whoever comes from there but don't lug the city with youor I'll have no part,not even in people's hearts.
Country Road
Don't put me down as a muddy track,don't I reach the hills and fields,don't I reach the solitudes and towns?
I go to where country roads endand where roads areentering the highwaysI disappear,striding forward in the heart.Evening sometimes rests on my shoulder,and sometimes the dawn,moonlight sometimes rests on my shoulder, and sometimes the sunsometimes a fog, the dewthe stars sleep on my shoulder,sometimes I strideas heart-felt song.Don't put me down as a muddy track.
The Dead
There are ravines and cascades,there are the small green groves and there is black rock,there is the occasional crow of the cock,and the sparrow's chirp,there is a distant look in the eyes,the is a local tongue you can't comprehend,a cold breeze,the morning paths where no one has walked,white prayer flags flap with the wind:symbols of the dead,memories of the dead, but whereare the living?
Five minutes ago nothing was,now a thick fog rises,I was borninto the world thus,although the fogrose from nothing,emptiness was.Our coming and goingis thus.
On the road to the new school sitemore sheep than people walk,sheep like people people like sheep,innocent, hopelessignorant, loveableon the road to the new school sitemore sheep than people walk.There is the old school building but the door is closed.The school's doors opens but the classrooms are empty, black boards, desks, and chairs like sheep,and when the headmaster leaves for townthey are sheep without a shepherd.Even when the new school is finished probably there will still be more sheep than people here.
Village Stream
I am the village stream,no one can stopmy flowing,I sing but not to tell you anything,not to make you understand, but those who listenhear their own sorrows,feel their own worriesthey even get answers.Amazing !But to tell you somethingI never sing,I sing for singing,natures tonguethose who try to understand, understand.Those who don't can't.I am the village stream,no one can stop

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