A Glimpse Of The Voyage Poem by Matrika Pokharel

When, just yesterday
they entered the Singha Durbar
showing us a different way
and just now
tired of a long journey
they drank water from Tukuche
and headed north
through the Durbar Marg,
we stopped for a while
on our ways
seeing wounds of tumbling
they forced upon history.

For years bygone
the harvest of treachery
was aplenty
and now, those who collected the yield
are drawing farmhands into the palace!
Adding fruit juice in human tears
they are holding a feast
with human tongue and brain cooked alongside.
Pale like a jaundiced guy,
our companions of yester years
are attending the banquet
amid demonic laughters!

The previous year
the harvest of treachery
was affluent too!
Recently,
after they pawned our reason
and ascended the dark stairs of selfishness
and after they stabbed
the bosoms of our faith
we stared at the wounds
they inflicted upon us,
and stopped for a while
on our journey.

These days,
I detest scaling the Durbar Marg.
At times, we come across
relatives of yester years
who once waited to sell
our heads for some puny pelf!
It is not easy
to talk a little
or to smile a little
with those who are awaiting death.
Of late,
I therefore detest
to walk along the Durbar Marg.
Molesting our dreams
just now
the patients of jaundice
have moved northward.
This time
seeing the wound they inflicted
we stopped for a while
on our journey.

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