“I Am the Melancholic Koel of Autumn”

I’m the melancholic koel of autumn,

A queen of scattered splendor,

I’m the verdant snowy mountain shore,

With forgotten tales of dreams.

I’m my mother’s left eye,

The shade of dignity’s haze,

I’m the twilight raga of compassion,

I’m the illusion of withered bloom.

I’m the waning moonlight, the extinguished radiance,

Presently, I’m a beggar’s trance,

Searching in my barren heart,

I’m the crimson of withered marital joy.

I’m the progenitor of Janak and Kapil,

My sons possess immense knowledge,

My Sita gifted the world

An exemplar of reverence.

Near Vaishali I sit,

Unnoticed, in the barren thicket,

I listen to my own tearful eyes,

The songs of valorous Lichchhavi warriors.

In the quiet night, the pure Gandaki

Takes away my forlorn breath,

Standing on the riverbank, I listen,

To the melodious verses of Vidyapati.

Amidst the deep azure, thunder roars and pours,

Softly, gently, rhythmically downpour,

The waves sing like intoxicated honeybirds,

“Hey, hey friend! Our sorrows no more.”

Amidst the moonlit fields and wealth’s harvest,

I sway, dressed in greenery,

Gaining some wisdom, oh mad one, run!

I head to Kapilavastu’s territory.

Scattered vines, tears welled up,

I wander, marred and bruised,

In each particle, I search for my lost,

In every corner, I seek my endless treasures.

I’m the tarnished garland of a ruined grove,

Rising, I sip my bittersweet emotions,

Not the cuckoo, in this secluded haven,

Resides a recurring memory’s call.

I’m the melancholic koel of autumn,

A queen of scattered splendor,

I’m the verdant snowy mountain shore,

With forgotten tales of dreams.