I could only wet my feet

leopard painting pierre maxo

Here’s a poem by Nepalese poet Manju Kanshuli, translated by Wayne Amtzis and Manju Kanchuli

THE WAY OF A RIVER, THE FOREST, NIGHT

 

I did not forge that river

whose current drags the living down

and tosses a carcass to its banks

I only wet my feet—that for a few days

became lifeless. The river was not

the stable still continuous flow I thought it to be.

I could not cross that river

I never tread that path

where my tiny range-bound hands

were fated to be brushed by the beast

swallowing its solitude,

by the leopard’s clawing paws.

I cleared that forest with my gaze

thinking it useless to render it so, my eyes

turned back immediately.

The forest was not blessed

with the security, solitude and pleasure

I thought there to be

I could not pass through that forest.

 

Not again did I step through to brigand night

whose tusk now gnaws the moon

having devoured the sun.

Only a morning, naively, reached day

and it blanched with night—its whole body

so soon took on the darkest hues.

Night was not the cove—

warm, impregnated with mild dream—

I thought it to be

I could not immerse myself in the black liquids of that night.

lesan-river

 

leopard bdce80

 

 

 

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/immerse/”>Immerse</a&gt;

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