The Tale of a Town and Many Villages

                                                                  Pravin Rai Jumeli

The painted winds of east

gushed, told a tale and vanished

Possessing the blanket knitted by cold and dust

the new flowers hided that tale

throughout their eyes

within their hearts

Years, as fishes in the water

slipped away from the time

the love of the town bulged as mountains

in the angles of desire

in the marshes of will

One night the awaken mother saw that

plucking the flowers from the stem of village

Gangtok1 was fleeing away

From that very night and in every night

Gangtok snatches and takes away the flowers

also the leaves, branches and stem

and one day, mother went there and saw:

Gangtok was not became a garden by so many flowers

again she returned and saw:

the songs of birds that Gangtok could not steal

also the tune of winds and the smell of earth

indeed it is impossible to steal the flats2 of solitude

oh, impossible is to rob the blue verse of sky

also the Sa Re Ga Ma Pa Dha Ni Sa3 of the streams

‘Mother, only flowers are not your offspring

these songs, these tunes and these smells

these flats, these verses and

the ascending scales of musical notes

are also your children

You are not solitary, mother

not you are alone’:

Saying this the flowers of Lalpatey3

showed her palm

Mother picked the radiance of the Sun

and hided within her womb.

जवाफ लेख्नुहोस्

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