Translated from Nepali by Hem Bishwakarma
How many wades of time
Have you crossed?
Dear Son, where have you reached
Stepping on your age?
Here I am,
Clasping your baby
Kissing your soft and innocent face
In the remembrance
And, marching on the boot of responsibility
Swaying those arms undervalued by my country
To fight incessantly —
common battle of the century
Dear Son, have you reached?
What hill of youth
You have been mounting?
Which sky of your dream?
‘You have been decorating?
What tune of your life?
You have been humming?
What whistle of the se
‘You have been blowing?
In your sprouting nostalgic flashback
In your baby-mirror of remembrance
Do you sketch your father’s face, dear Son?
I think your arms got stronger
Avision has been planted in your mind!
Here I am,
Counting the footsteps
Of the small logs that you lifted to run
A two-step distance to reach to me
Touching these fingers that you caught on
While we walked somewhere
And with the ¢elebration in memory
Of the first-word you uttered
I have stayed in a dark nook of overseas
In this narrow earth
Lightening a Diyo of love
Chanting the mantras
In front of the shrine of my present days
Firing the incense of newspapers of disorders
Looking at the youth’s face of the nation
On muddy water in Kalasha of corrupted authority
‘With the virtual presence
Of the so-called tactful leaders of the country
I am laying some rice grains
Telling the fortune
Evil has risen in the country
In my astrology,
Why do I see?
My virtual Son,
Cuts the throats of thousands of hope
Flings the certificates away
Wears a combat-dress as me
And picks up a gun of workers.
-Vismrit is a poetry lover. Music and film lover. And having an immense amount of respect for creativity. I currently stay in KSA.