कविता / Poem
म प्रेम गर्छु प्रियतमा
म प्रेम गर्छु प्रियतमा
भन्नु छैन केही
फूलको बदली फूल
गोलीको बदली बारूद
लड्नु छैन त्यसै
जित सेंक्छु उब्जाउँला
थप्रका निम्ति भण्डार
मेरो मानु तिमी
तिम्रो पाथी म
कित गर्नु हिसाब
बरु आऊ लैजाऊ
हदयमा रोपेको
भावनाले सिंचेको
एक बोट प्रेम
बढोस् फुलोस्, लटरम्म वाली होस्
उजाडिएको हावामा सुगन्ध मोलियोस्
यो जीवन बाँच्नको
केही अर्थ बनोस्
I love you, Beloved —
there is nothing to say.
Flower for flower,
gunpowder for bullet —
I will not fight that way.
Whatever victory yields, I’ll harvest,
a storehouse heaped for your palms.
You are my measure,
I am your vessel —
what accounts need to be settled?
Come instead, and take away
this sapling of love —
planted in the heart,
watered with feeling.
May it grow, may it bloom, may it bear fruit in plenty;
may its fragrance fill even a desolate wind.
May this life of being alive
find some meaning.