Rajendra Bhandari Poems
|3.||an incomplete folk-tune||10/19/2017|
|5.||Time does not pass||10/19/2017|
|6.||FROM THE MARKET||10/19/2017|
|7.||SOME QUESTIONS FROM THE ANNUAL EXAMINATIONS||10/19/2017|
|8.||THE EXPANDING UNIVERSE||10/19/2017|
|9.||Father and My Birthday||10/19/2017|
Comments about Rajendra Bhandari
Parting the leaves of the banyan tree
the egg-shaped sun came
dropped The Times of India
at my door.
The Times of India gave me a country
floundering to be a nation,
a blood-stained earth
crying out to become a mother.
Later, the day gave me
agitating streets on fire
seeking a clear identity.
As the sun flared up in a flame,
the griddle of the sky
roasted the earth like a roti
by a handful of mouth
round a table.
Translated from the Nepali by Pankaj Thapa