Aatma-Wyatha (आत्म-व्यथा) is a collection of poems by Agam Singh Giri. It’s first edition was published in the year 1959 by Samsher Rai, at Nauyug Nepali Pustak Mandir (Gorubathan). With the aid of Tales in Two Language, three poems from this collection have been translated from Nepali into English. We hope you enjoy them and purchase the entire collection from your nearest book stores. In the process of educating yourself, do help in keeping local book stores afloat.
The three poems that have been selected and translated deal with different themes. The first and second deal with reminiscence and love respectively, while the last one is somewhat of an obituary for the community. Both the original (नेपाली) and the translated versions have been uploaded.
शैशव-स्मृति
आज बितेको स्मृतिले छुपछुप मेरो नयन रुझायो!
पट्-परिवर्त्तन जीवनको यो
चकित परेर हेरिरहेछु
मधुमय मेरो शैशव-बेला
बितिरहेको हेरिरहेछु
कोमल तन यो खुम्चिरहेको
क्रमशः मैले देखिरहेछु
चिउँड़ो माथि हात लगाई
व्यथा मनको लेखिरहेछु
मानस-पटमा आज मधुरो शैशव-याद सतायो
आज बितेको स्मृतिले छुपछुप मेरो नयन रुझायो !
भुवँराहरूका मधु-नर्तनमा
कहिले बेसुर सुर मिलाएँ
पुतलीहरूका प्वाँख रंगिला
बाल-हृदय खुब ललचाएँ
कहिले परेवासंग नाचेको
कहिले कोयलसंग गाएको
बादलको त्यो नभ-नर्तनमा
भ्रान्तिमा म मग्न रहेको
बाल-क्रीड़ाका यादहरूले हृदय चकनाचूर गरायो
आज बितेको स्मृतिले छुपछुप मेरो नयन रुझायो !
शैशवको त्यो निर्मल हृदय
कल्मषशण्य नित्य थियो
शुद्ध पवित्र मनको जीवनसुखमय मधुमय सत्य थियो
कहाँ कता गो छाड़ी मलाई
मातृ-हृदयको ममता-प्यार
कहाँ कता गो छाड़ी मलाई
बन्धुहरूको हृदयोदगार
परिवर्त्तनको निर्ममताले मनमा गहिरो चोट पुरयायो
आज बितेको स्मृतिले छुपछुप मेरो नयन रुझायो !
Childhood memories
Today, my past memories quickly drenched my eyes!
I am watching the sudden-change in life
with astonishment
I am watching my honeyed childhood-period
pass away
I see tender body shrivel,
One by one.
With my hand over my chin,
I am writing about my heartache.
Faint childhood remembrance plagues my brain today.
Today, my past memories quickly drench my eyes!
In the sweet dance of the bumble bee,
occasionally I tried tuning my discordant tune.
Colourful wings of the butterfly,
I enticed my young heart immensely.
At times, dancing with pigeons
And sometimes, singing with cuckoos
Remaining immersed in the illusions
of the dance of the clouds in the sky,
The remembrance of the childhood amusements shatters the heart.
Today, my past memories quickly drench my eyes!
That immaculate heart of childhood
contained a sinless dance.
In the life of a pure and holy heart,
there was truth in its happiness and sweetness.
Where did it go, leaving me?
The affection and love of a mother’s heart
Where did it go, leaving me?
The heartfelt praise of my friends.
The ruthlessness of the change rendered a deep injury to the heart
Today, my past memories quickly drench my eyes!
दुइ दिनको
अतिथि होइन धेरै दिनको
बास छ केवल दुइ दिनको
साथ छ मेरो यस जीवनको
सामल सारा दुइ दिनको
दुइ दिनको यो यात्रा मेरो
परिचय केवल दुइ दिनको
जगको माया ममता-बन्धन
प्रणय मेरो दुइ दिनको
सुख ता लामो किञ्चित छैन
हाँसो पनि यो दुइ दिनको
दुख नै दुःखको छैन गुनासो
आँसू पनि यो दुइ दिनको
भतभत पोल्ने मादक ज्वाला
उन्माद सबै यो दुइ दिनको
अधर कलिलो कम्पित तिम्रो
चुम्बन रसिलो दुइ दिनको
Of two days
I am not a guest of many days
My stay is only for two days1
I am accompanied by this life
Provisions entirely for two days
In this journey of mine which is of two days
Introduced and acquainted only for two days
The love of this world- an entrapment
My affections are for two days
Even a little joy does not last long
Laughter are also for two days
No grievance for sorrows and misfortune
Even tears last for two days
The burning fervour of the alcoholic flame
Every frenzy only for two days
Your tender quivering lips
Sensual lush kisses that lasts two days.
1 Here, two days is not used as a count of days but indicates the brevity of our lives.
नचिनिने भएछौ !
तिमी ता यहाँ नचिनिने भएछौ !
गालाका रगतहरू सुकिसकेछन्आँखाका ज्योति सब हराइसकेछन्
तिमी ता रुँदा रुँदै निदाएको
बालक जस्तो
कठोर कारागारको यातना भोगी
विरक्त बन्दी जस्तो
गाँस खोसिएको बास लुटिएको
विह्वल हतभागी जस्तो
कस्तो कस्तो भएछौ
तिमी ता यहाँ नचिनिने भएछौ !
अतीत – गौरवले धपक्क बलेको
अघिको चहकिलो अनुहारमा
ग्लानिका विषाक्त रेखाहरू कोरिएछन्
पहाड़का बैशाखी बनमा
तिमी जङ्गली फूल झैं हँसिलो देखिन्थ्यौ
तर अब ता चेहरामा तिम्रा
विषादका काला धर्साहरू कोरिएछन्
चोटमा भुक्नु होइन बरू सहनु सिकेछौ
अबता अर्कै अर्कै जस्तो भए छौ
तिमी ता यहाँ नचिनिने भएछौ !
‘तिमी को हौ’ – चिनाउन आएको होइन म
बितेका गौरव-गाथा कहन आएको होइन म
तिम्रा संतप्त छातीका पीरहरू उखेल्न आएको होइन म
सजिलै खोसिएको गाँस
हलुकै लुटिएको बास दिलाउन आएको होइन म
छातीको त्यो गहिरो खोपिल्टा पुर्न आएको होइन म
निर्धा आँशुका धारा हेर्न आएको होइन म
केवल तिमी ‘तिमी’ नै हौ कि चिन्न आएको म
तर, तिमी ता यहाँ नचिनिने भएछौ !
You’ve become Unrecognizable
Over here, you’ve become unrecognizable!
Blood in your cheeks have dried,
Glimmer in your eyes have faded,
It looks like you sobbed into slumber,
like an infant.
It looks like you suffered the torment of harsh imprisonment,
like an apathetic prisoner.
With your mouthful snatched and shelter looted,
like an agitated person with no luck.
You don’t look quite the same.
Over here, you’ve become unrecognizable!
In the past- ablaze with pride
where your countenance gleamed,
has now become shrivelled with toxic wrinkles of depression.
In the mountain, within the forest of spring,
you used to look cheery like a wild flower.
But now in that face of yours,
black streaks of sorrow have been engraved.
Instead of barking when wounded, you’ve learned to tolerate.
Now, you’ve become a lot different.
Over here, you’ve become unrecognizable!
I’ve neither come here to remind you of – ‘who you are’,
nor have I come to narrate tales of glories gone.
I didn’t come to lift the burdens from your agonised chest.
Mouthful that was easily snatched,
shelter that was fearlessly looted, ensuring reparation is not my intention.
I’ve neither come to fill the deep hollow in your chest,
nor have I come to see the stream of endless tears.
To ascertain whether you are ‘you’ is the only reason I’ve come.
However, over here, you’ve become unrecognizable!
The poems have been republished and translated with permission from the editors of Agam Singh Giri Rachanawali.
THE KAKU 