The Brook

I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.

By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorpes, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.

Till last by Philip's farm I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I chatter over stony ways,
In little sharps and trebles,
I bubble into eddying bays,
I babble on the pebbles.

With many a curve my banks I fret
By many a field and fallow,
And many a fairy foreland set
With willow-weed and mallow.

I chatter, chatter, as I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I wind about, and in and out,
With here a blossom sailing,
And here and there a lusty trout,
And here and there a grayling,

And here and there a foamy flake
Upon me, as I travel
With many a silvery waterbreak
Above the golden gravel,

And draw them all along, and flow
To join the brimming river
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
I slide by hazel covers;
I move the sweet forget-me-nots
That grow for happy lovers.

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
Among my skimming swallows;
I make the netted sunbeam dance
Against my sandy shallows.

I murmur under moon and stars
In brambly wildernesses;
I linger by my shingly bars;
I loiter round my cresses;

And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

---Alfred Lord Tennyson

A Battlefield Song

where is the lion?
when will he come?

I do not have a turquoise-mane
my turquoise-mane is the forest of Ganden burial ground,
the deer and doe living in that forest
and the lonely sun of the Himalayan sky.

this head is lonesome like a barren land
these hands are lonely like a banner
and the window on the wall of time is forsaken.

on the fingertips of a writer
the dazzling flame of a stone’s life stories,
carries all miseries of the river
a moment at the crest of a ship’s flag.

I do not have a turquoise-mane
my turquoise-mane is a bright torch
burning in the pitch darkness of night
with its handles like a warrior’s hands—
a desolate snow mountain,
blessed by the sun and moon.

like a pillar, the ancestors are desolate,
the naro in the records of ancestors renounced
even the palace gate in my dream is deserted.

a symphony carries the melodies of aspirations
from the sunlight of southern horizon
and disturbs the silence of Drakmar,
the sacred mountain of royal lineages.

where is the lion?
when will he come?

---Tashi Rabten

Murderer

you agitated my rivers
blighted flower buds
fouled the sweet-scented air
harassed the birds of the land arrayed in turquoise petals

you ripped the ropes of my old tent
spoilt the firewood of my earthen hearth
set toxic leaves on fire and
inscribed evil spells on the flags erected outside my gate

you crushed the horns of my wild yaks
scraped vulture bones for flutes
and agonised horses with chained hooves

in this land of incessant hell
should I still, intently, receive atonement
from you, the incarnation of evil?

---Tashi Rabten

City of Faith

As well as Buddhism and Christianity
Some gods dig water channels like Allah
Some are the Holy Marys pushing wheelchairs in the park
Where ghosts thrive, gods thrive too
As shadow follows the light
Where light shines strongest you feel secure warmth
But don’t fear the places where ghosts roam
Sometimes the city’s depths are lighter than its surface
This is the advance of civilization.

---Tien Huan-chun

हमारा कालेज का बचुआ

जब से एफ. ए. फेल हुआ,
हमारा कालेज का बचुआ |

नाक दाबकर सम्पुट साधै,
महादेवजी को आराधै,
भंग छानकर रोज़ रात को
खाता मालपुआ |

वाल्मीकि को बाबा मानै,
नाना व्यासदेव को जानै,
चाचा महिषासुर को, दुर्गा
जी को सगी बुआ |

हिन्दी का लिक्खाड़ बड़ा वह,
जब देखो तब अड़ा पड़ा वह,
छायावाद रहस्यवाद के
भावों का बटुआ |

धीरे-धीरे रगड़-रगड़ कर
श्रीगणेश से झगड़-झगड़ कर,
नत्थाराम बन गया है अब
पहले का नथुआ |

हमारे कालेज का बचुआ |

---सूर्यकान्त त्रिपाठी 'निराला