Poetry:
Subash Sajal
The Journey of the River
They carve through the hearts of mountains,
leaping from dizzying heights,
flowing in silence across the plains,
moving without pause.
They carry with them
stones and sands of countless dreams,
patiently dragging
the weight of delusions
along the way.
Like a wanderer searching for the self,
like a lover chasing a distant call,
the rivers move
with a quiet thirst,
as if ready to raise civilizations
from their own ribs.
Scorched by the sun,
they rise as vapor,
vanish like bubbles of water-
only to return,
colliding once more with the mountains,
playing unknowingly
a game of chance,
a game of joy.
But today,
I see another kind of river.
It wears a passport around its neck,
its strength stamped on its chest.
It quenches the thirst of restless cities,
makes flowers bloom in deserts-
and keeps moving.
Yet we never truly understood these rivers.
They dissolved into the salty tears of the sea
to carry our dreams.
They were ready
to erase themselves,
to sink into the ocean’s depths
and return
with pearls of sweat.
Now I wonder
if the journey has grown too long.
If it is time
to change the course.
If we can gather these rivers
here,
in our own land,
and build
an ocean
brimming
with our own labor.
Translation: Anmol Kandel (America)
