The Map Of Smile

As birds fly in the sky

As toils bloom in the field terraces

As smiles dance

In the pure, playful lips of children

In the same vein,

Is to fly-bloom-dance,

In every part of the earth, prosperity.

I still have the remembrance–

At the school I studied

During tiffin-time

Flew a great many of

Paper gliders over in the sky

In the chain of indivisible unity.

In the garden very near the school

So many flowers of a dream blossomed out

In red-yellow-pink and other many colours.

By catching hold of our small fingers

There were teachers who taught us to make gliders

Hence, they flew the paper gliders all over the sky,

There was a gardener to look after the garden

Hence, bloomed the colourful dreamy flowers.

While RamnarayanYadav sir was teaching

'Is Nepal small?' in the class

He said–

Now in your hands should not only be pens,

But there also, must be a promise to draw the nation's progress

Not only the letters of books,

Like the sweat-saturated-pages on the breast of soil,

You have to read the curved plough-written letters.

Have to hold not only text and exercise books in your bag,

But also, sovereignty and nationality,

He further said–

Your lips should sing not just the national anthem,

But the song of unity too.

 

Since the very moment

I had started to know my country,

Identified the letters of nationality,

Hymning the chant of unity,

And erected the high tower of dreams.

Nowadays, I keep on thinking over–

How long has it been

Since paper gliders last flew in the school sky,

Flowers last bloomed in the garden,

Which journey may have been the teachers measuring,

May the gardener have been blooming or not in the garden?

Now–

The children, who were like the flowers of maize

Studying letters or unemployment in school?

Carry up the bags full of books or

Various dreams without happiness?

Draw the map of progress or

The stories of Kuwait and Malaysia?

I constantly think

Do they sing the national anthem of unity or

The songs of Doha and Saudi?

When all things are remembered

The Tika of soil all over the forehead hurts,

When nationality fades away,

The border line hurts,

The flag bloomed with the moon and the sun hurts,

And as the needle of grief pokes,

The country hurts throughout the chest.

Now, when a new morning has removed her hood,

The virgin ray of the sun has touched the earth,

Playing the Sarangee of change

Let's call on the youth of the country who's like vast pillars

And weave with the needle of unity

In order that this land may never fall apart.

As the traveller travels thousands of miles without any fatigue

As the firefly sprinkles brilliance burning the torch of dream

As the porter writes the song of sweat

Similarly, let's create a beautiful world for all times,

Where in the same manner

Birds will fly in the sky freely

Labours will bloom all over the field terraces;

In the exact manner, the smiles will dance

In the pure, playful lips of the children.