Wind launched an assault
on the green leaves of the tree
and the clouds unable
to bear the pangs smashed
their headpieces on the dried-up
riverbed of the night, vomiting blood.

Vomiting blood the same night
a fierce storm lashed at the trees
thrashing at the bank of my heart
crushing lush branches
flinging leaves into far off directions
pulling roots
from the very womb of the earth
giving birth to
a fresh river of tumult....

The same river
is now drying up slowly
and the sky angrily
fumbling for its own blue
in the empty spaces
of a dried-up riverbed

And the people looking
for a flash of their own tears
in little puddles of the rainwater.

Translated from the Nepali by Yuyutsu Sharma