-Bhupi Sherchan (1936-1989)

Like a Banyan tree
Grown in a small pot filled with soil,
I spread my two branches, then I wilted,
Finding myself enclosed
By suffocating walls.


So I stood upright to breathe in free air,
I crooked my five bare fingers,
I turned back the lines of fate on my palm,
Running in search of illumination.
Now I am shut away in my fist,
A prisoner of my own hardness.


But one day you will realize
The breezes, the light within me,
You will know that, though I seem hard,
Inside I am soft,
Like the palm of a hand inside a clenched fist.





Translated by: Michael Hutt