The Eyes of Swayambhu
Beloved poet 'Icchuk'!
On one of those days that have become history
a few days before you were killed
we are together - you and I
and with a pair of underground hands
you had scribbled a couple of sleepless dreams
at this very place
where, under the eyes of Swambhu
I am at present
seeking for those days
albeit in recollections!
Beloved poet 'Icchuk'!
When the news of your murder
reached villages and counties
like a momentous storm
the eyelashes of all seekers of a bright sky
were simultaneously soaked
and villages, tired of scarcities
wept along with me.
Papers sold more copies
for carrying the news of your demise.
The hapless people wept at your end
until their tears gathered to form a Gandaki -
yes, they were the same people
whose future you are seeking
even after your demise
the way people search for saligrams
in Kaligandaki.
Children sang mourning songs.
Beloved poet 'Icchuk'!
All these happened at the news of your murder!
A day after your murder
I asked the keen eyes of Swayambhu
whether a sun
with an old bag
and a lean body
roamed around, thither
as it did a day or so
earlier in the past.
I asked further
if a moon with sweet dreams
came that way, or not.
Have you seen
the foot marks of his murder?
Mounted on the top of this hill
did you recognize
the corpse of my beloved poet?
[...] Read more
poem by Matrika Pokharel
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