Arrived in Paris once more
I arrived again in Paris
To see you
To pour all my jovial smiles
You are unrestrained and expansive, vast like a sea
I hope you will smile more this time
The still sea though seeming quiet
Is stirring up
In a tide
But you cannot be like this
You are likened to the memory raining my heart
Or like the ephemeral light of lightening
They close in and peter out
Smile and get vexed
But you stay unconcerned
Neither smiling more nor getting more irate, un-stirred
Why are you staring at me?
Do you think I am wayward?
To stir the creative mind
Do you think I am over- smart?
Or you are looking intently on my inner fire
The song of the age.
With the girl of the Annam road
I have not come to steal prosperity
Nor to mislead you
I have come to smell the prosperity of Paris
To see the development of Paris
And to behold the beauty of it
To talk to Mona Lisa
Why are you fleeing from me?
I am not an Englishman
I have with difficulty learned a little English
(I always speak Nepali)
I lost the way
That compelled me to ask you
I have already told you
I have not come to mislead you
I have not come to litter your path
I have not come to assassinate the kernel of your language
(such people come to our country)
Why are you running away from me?
Why are you quiet?
Why are you grumbling?
And unremittingly staring at me?
The tree and young lady
When the autumn keeps on passing
When the leaves are falling
The trees are getting stripped
But the young ones are covering up
Just the reverse
The spring is approaching
The leaves are growing
The trees are branching out
Those birds migrating somewhere
They come to taste old love
But ladies are shedding
Why they are doing this?
Cannot nature make less naked both of them?
With the wind of Paris
You are storming from afar
And drumming my ear
But you are keeping all from me
Why are only beating my ear
I am watching Paris
And seeing a spot that meets triangular paths
And Eiffel Tower and Lubre being intently watched
You want me to thank you?
Or you are going to tell me an old story
Or you want to scold me as a little lad of a small country?
When you are creeping up to the ear
You must say clearly
Why are you boxing my ear and
When I get closer to Paris
I have conned the spirit of your Renaissance
I have smelled the pollen grain of the Vinci garden in Kathmandu
What will you tell me?
The story of your romance?
The wound of the Euro debt?
Or do you think
And the end of our stalemate and uncertainty
Or the finale of our negative force
Or you are frightened?
Seeing inside me the volcanic energy of a New Nepal?