An Anthology of Contemporary Nepali Poetry



Bhupeen



The Ugly Verse



How long should poetry
stay beautiful alone.

How long must it be
beauty's only urn.

I so wish today that
I made it ugly too.

in the ugliest of states
poetry remains the loveliest 
of all.

in the filthiest
of the violent seas
poetry bathes and comes out the cleanest.
I really so wish today
that I rendered it ugly too.

come on dear poets
let's free poetry
from this tyranny of beauty
let's free it, let's free it
from the beauty's infinite bondage.
let's see
how dark the world will look
after it's light is put out.
let's see how empty will the human world's
emptiness be.

in what way is a nude temple different
from a nude brothel?
how does a parliament smell differently
from the way a crematorium does?
what difference really is there
in the cold blood of a court
of law and that of a butcher's?
just outside their walls stands
poetry
in the pristine garb of honesty.

today I so strongly long to
turn it into a thing ugly.

come, my dear poets
let's declare poetry dead today.
and let's see how much
more alive will it look
sitting upon it's own corpse.

let's see 
how mad
will the gun go about the end of imagination
to what distance
will the tyrant's laughter reach,
and how creastfallen can art be.

great times are still to come
when beautiful verses shall be written.
for today's shake, I opt to write
the ugliest of poetry
ever written.
and exactly the way the guns writes
the poetry of violence 
on the chest of martyrs.

how long, how long should poetry
stay beautiful and alone.

		(Translated from Nepali by Manu Manjil)





A Thousand Years' Sleep



I have slept for a thousand years
in a single life
Now I want to wake up from it.

Laying the man in the cradle,
the Buddha sings a lullaby.
Promising to wake me up,
Buddha too has gone laying me asleep.
Man has learnt to dream
in course of his long walk.
Besides, the god
has taught us to dream in sleep.
Like the moths that are
trapped between the cold
pages of books, 
I have been sandwiched
between the volumes of enchanting
scriptures of religions.
I have been trapped amidst
the bulky volumes of philosophy 
and have slept soundly all through my life, 
with a dream to wake up.

I want to wake up now
from a thousand years' deep slumber.

		(Translated from Nepali by Mukul Dhahal)