Clasping a number of plots for stories

The mind dashed 

To the store-house of words.


As they are paralyzed on their own

Incapacitated with polio

Were lying around 

In the waste-bin of the words.


I won`t write these stories, poems

With cursed and 

Suicidal words that commit rape 

In broad daylight by 

Piercing the poor, guiltless pages.


An unabridged sky lies over me.

The perennial planet`s footfall space

Wherever I may go


Must trample

A chunk of the earth

And pull over the selfsame sky.

In the abode between sky and earth

Where synonyms and antonyms 

Reside within us 

The augmented sky never desired to be a trampler

Nor the cushiony earth did change her call

On serving a lump of turf.

Even then we bear the agony of being squeezed

Even then we bear the bruise of being trampled.

                                                                                        - translated by Mandeep Lama


Sudha Rai, born in Darjeeling, West Bengal in 1968 is a poet residing in Gangtok, Sikkim. She has translated Khalil Gibran`s Love Letters and has five collections of poetry in Nepali to her credit.