निरन्तर फिलिङ्गो (Incessant Flame)

निरन्तर फिलिङ्गो



उसले त्यो कुनामा कुँद्दैथियो
आँखाको अम्लले छायाँभरी
झिंगाहरुको झूल,
अम्लाहरु हाँसोको स्वतन्त्र चिप्लेटीमा चिप्लिँदै
काँपिरहन्थे ज्वरोको अपेक्षामा नाच,
त्यहाँ पस्ता सबै निभ्थ्यो ऊ बल्थ्यो
त्यो कहिल्यै नभिजिएको रङ्गभरी

त्यो त एक दिनको कुरा थियो,
सदा त झ्यालको पल्लासँग परेवा
प्रभातमा जोरी खोज्दै विस्ट्याउँदा,
जोडीजोडी आएर, झिर्का त्यान्द्रा ल्याएर
उसलाई शिशाबाटै नानीमा ठुँगेर
चुच्चोमै अलिकति घाउ चखाउन लग्थे वचेराहरुलाई
पेट हुँडलिएको र रत्न ओकलिएको
अपरान्हभरी

तैपनि कसरीकसरी कुन समुद्रले हो
घोलिन्थ्यो, किनारामा कडा फल छालमा पथ्र्यो
अर्को तटमा पछारिन्थ्यो, कुटुकुटु खाइन्थ्यो
मृत्युको झिरझिरे कोषकोषको जलनमा,
र खितितिति खितितिति
अनुदिन हुन्थ्यो एउटै स्मरणमा,
केवल उसको आफ्नो स्मरणमा

र त हुनेवाला उसको नानीमा हुन्थ्यो
भावनाको एउटा धर्सो तीर आगततर्फ
विचरित भएर उकहाँ आउँथ्यो, सधैँ मुन्टो लुकाएर
कुनाहरुमा लुकेका हसिना ती नानीको गुरुत्वाकर्षमा
तानिएर आउँथे, उसलाई नचाउँथे,
हर्षको बाली पकाउँथे, थचक्क बसेका रमितेलाई
हुलहुलै उठाएर ख्वाउँथे,

ऊ कहिल्यै व्यस्त हुन सकेन
विकल्प अंश नलाग्दा, देख्यो होला
बादलबीच हराइरहने सूर्यमा
समयको विशाल वक्रीय फाँटमा
फलिरहने, चाखिइरहने, कोयो फ्याँकिइरहने,
भूईँमा उम्रिइरहने, अथवा अनन्तको ट्वाल्ल सून्य,
आवाज सुत्ने भ्याक्कुम

खटिया यहाँ निद्रा कहाँ,
खाना यहाँ स्वाद वहाँ— हुँदा
निद्राहरुले विशाल याममा मक्किएर
हायलकायल भइरहँदा जुनसुकै बेला
कल्पनाको सुन्दर खाँबो भएर
ऊ स्वप्नहरुको उर्वर भूमिमा
द्वारझैँ पूर्णविराम बन्नसक्छ ।

Incessant Flame

In that nook he was etching

All over shadow with the acid of his eyes

A veil of flies; fingers,

Slipping on the unhindered slide of mirth,

Shivered as if dancing expecting fever,

On entering everything dulled he glowed

All through the hue never before seeped into

That was a one-day thing.

Customarily, when pigeons in the dawn took to scuffling

With glass window-panes and left droppings,

Coming in couples, bringing in kindling

Pecking him in the pupils even from beyond glass,

Took on their beaks some of the wound to their fledglings for a taste

In the whole of the afternoon of stirred up bowels and puking of gems.

And yet somehow by some sea

He would be dissolved; upon beach he would crash a hard shell-fruit in the waves,

Wreck on another shore, get nibbled at

In the deathly burning up of cells,

And tittering- giggling

Be translated into a memory

Just into his memory.

So would the to-be reside in his pupils;

A straight shaft of emotion charging towards the yet-to-come

Would return back to him completing excursion; those angels

With their heads ever bowed, hiding in nooks,

Pulled by the gravity of the pupils

They would come, make him dance,

Ripen crops of happiness; onlookers slumped on the ground,

Them they would raise in hordes to feed,

He could never be busy

For he inherited no alternative; he must have seen

In the sun getting lost amid clouds,

In the great curvy expanse of time,

Fruiting, being tasted, being sowed after being eaten,

Sprouting on the ground a sapling, the staring void of eternity,

The vacuum where sound sleeps

Bed hither sleep whither,

Meal here savor there — so being,

Withering in the season become tremendous with slumbers,

Wrought up so, he might, at any moment

Stand a handsome pillar

In the fertile land of dreams,

A gatepost of termination.