Travelers Destined For Different Roads Poem by Matrika Pokharel

They observed the ripples of Marsyangdi
and observed the greenery that flanked.
We decided in group
to write verses on those things
but I said
I spotted the blood of Sobhakanta
in the water of Marsyangdi
and in the greenery by its sides
found a garden of faith!

Standing on the bosom of Marshyangi
they talked of the cliffs
and I sought there for the faith of Sobhakanta.
They talked of the pure water
that formed the ebb of Marshyandi
while I sought in it
for the uncorrupt heart of Sobhakanta.
We were pilgrims of different tastes!

On the banks of Marshyandi,
they saw things like that
and I saw different things.
They looked through yellow jaundiced eyes
and I through blue ones.
We- travelers on the Marsyangdi bank.

They talked of the white cascades
flowing downhill,
colliding with the walls
along the side of Marsyangdi;
I found in those waterfalls
the throbbing of Sobhakanta's heart.
They talked of the green paddy
on the ridges that parted the terraces
while I found in them
the footmarks of Shobhakanta
and in each cottage I sought
for the essence
of his lean, dilapidated body!
Friends, you don't need to take me otherwise;
in this season, at this place
I cannot weave verses of greenery
nor can I sing of the silver cascades.
Though we are co-travelers on the Marshyangdi bank
we are of different tastes!


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