भकुन्डो

केटाकेटी छँदा
थोत्राथोत्री मोचाभित्र
बोराका टुक्रा
या टालाटुली कोचेर बनाएको सानो भकुन्डो खेलिन्थ्यो
र भकुन्डो जति थोत्रियो
उति सिलाउँथ्यौँ हामी
ओर्तिर - पर्तिरका चोसाचोसीहरु तानेर,
र जब सकिन्नथ्यो सिलाउन,
हामी त्यसलाई अर्कै मोचाको लुगा फेरिदिन्थ्यौ
र चिटिक्क देखिन्थ्यो भकुन्डो फेरि  !

आजकल त बिलकुल छोडियो भकुन्डो खेल्न
जबदेखि थालियो भकुन्डिन आफैँ,
बुझ्न थालियो 
कि आफू मात्र हैन 
सारा देश...  
सिङ्गो पृथ्वी नै भकुन्डिँदैछ...
एक से एक मत्त खेलाडीहरुको माझमा
प्रश्न खाली गोलको हुन्छ, पेलानको हुन्छ ...
जब कि
देश— प्रान्तका  सीमानाहरु
च्यातिएका छन् धुजाधुजा,
ढुट्टिएका छन् अनेकन् क्षेत्रहरु;
तर कुनै खेलाडी सर्दैन अघि
सिलाउन यो भकुन्डो पृथ्वी, जोगाउन यो भकुन्डो पृथ्वी  ।

________________
English Version:

Football

We used to play with a small ball
made out of an old sock
with one or two holes in it—

all sewn,

and tightened
by stuffing 

scraps of useless cloth

or jute sack;
and the more the ball became tattered,
the more we had to sew it
by pulling together
each of its fraying fringes, and when
we couldn't sew it any more,
we used to clothe it
in another sock, and then
it'd look neat and clean again! 

But these days
I've given up playing football altogether—
when I myself
started getting customarily kicked off, I realized

that the whole country... the whole Earth itself
is also being kicked off
among the A-One, drunk players,
the question is only
of goals and exertion
of force and pressure, whereas
the boarders of nations—provinces
are in fraying rags, with too many
regions razed to the ground.
Still … no player comes to the fore
to sew... and save
this ball of Earth.  

(Composition and Translation: Haris Adhikari; First appeared in Grey Sparrow Journal, USA)