Gopal Prasad Rimal is a leading Nepalese poet who introduced free verse to Nepali poets, employed folk lores and native images, wrote vehemently against the autocratic Rana regime.

The Mother's Dream
Consolation
Meeting
A Fairy Tale

The Mother's Dream         From Modern Nepali Poems

Mummy ! Will he come ?
"Yes, my child, he will come.
He will come pouring light like the morning sun.
You will see a weapon, shining like dew
Suspended from his waist,
With that will he fight evil !
You will at first imagine his presence to be an illusion,
And touch him with your fingers
To feel him, but he will come
More tactile than snow or fire."

You will see, he will come like a storm,
And you will follow him like a leaf !
In the past when he poured himself out like moonlight,
Falling down from life's sphere,
The vast immobile cosmos had wiggled.
He will come, my child,
And you will get up."
Will he come, Mummy?
As the coming dawn tickles the bird's throat
So is my anxious heart tremulous for his arrival.
"Yes, he will come like the morning sun pouring light.
Now, I get up and go.
But you shall be he-
This was the dream of my youth."

Consolation     Dr Tara Nath Sharma's translation                                                        top

Don't cry, just wait for a little while,
Your warrior who is moving ahead driving the whole world before him
Will come to your little room later in the day,
He will return and fit himself in your embrace,
His bright burning face
Will appear later in your own dim lamp,
Don't cry, just wait for a while.

It's true, he made himself very different,
He made himself unrecognizable at first glance,
He made his loving heart hard by knocking it about,
He made his gentle melodious voice heavy and sharp and dry,

His soft hair became matted;
He became gray and dusty like a yogi;
Because he found the world different from what he had thought,
He found that it had to be turned upside down,
That is why he became a warrior, he is fighting with all his heart ! No, he has not become cruel,
He has not stopped loving you,
He hasn't forgotten you
You just wait for a while,
He will come to take his ease on your loving lap;
He will come to fit himself within your own embrace,
Your warrior who is moving ahead driving the whole world before him
Will come to your little room later in the day.
No, don't be afraid,
He has not gone so far off that he can't be reached,
He is only defending himself against those who attack him,
Because of this he has not gone far off to no purpose,
Don't be sad, but rather be joyful,
You should be radiant,
Even if he cares nothing for himself
He fully cares about you,
Although he is fighting without noticing anything else, he often pays attention to you,
Therefore you should be joyful,
When he gets news of you he gets courage and strength,
You become the source of his power,
No, don't be afraid,
He has not gone so far off that he can't be reached,
The warrior who has gone far off to do battle
Will come later to play on your lap,
Your warrior who is advancing driving the whole world before him
Will return to your little room later in the day.

He made his will strong, you should also become strong,
He has given his life for the sake of life you should not be less than him,
Later in the day he will say;
"I have melted in your love, beloved I have returned."
If he comes to hide his black face in your skirts,
Wouldn't that be like dying?
There , you too should swear, saying:
"I do not want to see the face of defeat,
The door of my house is closed to one
Who turns his back to the battle,
The garland of my embrace is not for one who has fallen in defeat,
My victory garland is only for one who has won."

Say it, don't be afraid,
Against the tyranny which does not allow us to hold our heads high,
Against the poverty which does not allow us to speak,
Against the poverty which does not allow us to live,
Against the ignorance which allows us to know nothing.
He is zealously fighting against that;
Victory will soon return,
His brightly burning face will appear in your dim lamp,
Your warrior who has gone far off to do battle
Later in the day will come to play on your lap,
Your warrior who is advancing driving the whole world before him
Later in the day will come to your little room.

Meeting                                                                   top                   

Why are you waiting for the full moon?
It's her you are to meet, right?
See her in her own light,
Meet her this very day on this new moon night.
Why are you waiting for the coming of Spring?
Are you searching for a flower?
Smell her very own scent,
Meet her this very day in this autumn month,
Meet her this very day on this new moon night.
Is there any need for a priest to propitiate when you meet?
Isn't her voice melodious enough?
Merely by shaking your head follow the rhythm of her voice,
Meet her right away without playing a fanfare,
Meet her this very day on this new moon night,
In your imagination you have often clad her.
In a polychrome veil like a satin blouse.
the color of a peacock's throat,
Thus you may be thinking of bringing her
those kinds of veils and blouses when you meet her;
But meet her as she is in herself,
Don't waste your time going to the bazaar.
Let her shyness be her veil,
Let her be clad in your embrace;
See her skin which is like satin,
Meet her as she is,
Meet her this very day on this new moon night.  

A Fairy Tale                                               top  

A princes and a poor youth !
How like two falling stars
the slanting lids of her round eyes
Moved to kindle the divine flame
On the poor young breast?
How heaven saw itself mirrored
In the poor youth's eyes.

Sparkling like dew drops
On a lotus leaf shooting up farm mud bed !
Perplexing are these questions,
But the fairy tale is silent over it.
It has only this much to say:
They fell in love !

Like a shower this may have occurred
Like fire this may have spread.

In the passing glance on the highway
And at that, the cool glance of a princess,
What do you get from that glance
To soothe your feverish spirit, to stop your hunger,
With which as if it were the heaven's treasure
Why do you walk with your head held high like a winter cloud, 
O' poor youth !

Wouldn't you be squeezed dry like rain clouds?
Wouldn't your breast be crushed under the impossible weight of a meeting

Wouldn't your heart be torn by storm flashes?
But the fairy tale is silent over such exquisite pain.

The poor youth in the tale remains unmoved
As if through magic transfixed.

With airy steps made light he enters the princess' quarter
(and) they are married.

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