Pigeons: White Black

Avinash Shrestha

In Memory of Poet Haribhakta Katuwal
I feel,
I should rest my age
On these blue mimosa flowers.
Who knows the whims of time-
Next instant
Which turn it may take.

Resting on the boulder of solid beliefs
That support life
Skid down like feet on scum,
Sheltered and secured with wishes
Got unfastened like a slackened knot.

Adapting mind to the wishes
And wishes to the mind,
Badgering like this
The black pigeons of my own age
Under the eyes
I’m finished,
But neither the mind knew the wishes
Nor the wishes recognized the mind.

I still feel
I should rest this age
If only for an instant
On these blue mimosa flowers;
Who cares if the youth crossed the borders,
The mind’s still the same.
Translated from Nepali by  Abhi Subedi