Blind man on a revolving chair (poem)

-Bhupi Sherchan/Pawan Pokhrel

For the whole day
Like a withered bamboo
Dozing
Repenting
Upon my void

.

For the whole day
Like an ailing rock piegon
Pecking at my breast with my own beak
Scratching wounds

For the whole day
Like a pine-clump in solitary
Sobing quietly from unmanifested agony

For the whole day
Like a leafy mushroom
Far from the vastness of earth and sky
Embeding my feet in a small spot
Concealing myself with a parasol

At evening
When Nepal contracts to Kathmandu
Kathmandu huddles to Newroad
And Newroad- trodden, fragmented upon
countless feet
Becomes a shop of newspaper, tea and
paan

In varieties of attire
different types of rumours come and go
Cackling like a chicken who has laid eggs

The newspapers stroll
And darkness ascends to pavement at places
Frightened by the vehicular lights
And panicked by the countless hummings
and stings of bees

I get up
Like the spirits get up in the day of justice
And not getting the 'Lethe' river of oblivion
I jump into the glass of wine
And forget my past storyPast life and death

Everyday alike

A sun rises from the kettle of tea
Everyday a sun sets in the empty glass of
wine
The earth where I reside is revolving as
always

Only I am unfamiliar
From the changes around me
From the scenes
From the fun

Like a blind man forced to sit
On a revolving chair of an exhibition

Prominent Nepali poet Bhupi Sherchan's masterpiece 'ghumne mech mathi andho manchhe' translated by Pawan Pokhrel