Tulasi Acharya

BIO

Tulasi Acharya is a Nepali Poet. Born and raised in Nepal, he moved to the United States in 2008 to pursue a master’s degree in creative writing. His interests are poetry writing and translation.He has published a number of short stories, poems and articles. In 2014, he published a novel “Running from the Dreamland” that explores the experiences of a Nepali migrant in the United States. He is currently working on his memoir “A Thatched House.”
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Aging

I am a bare tree
With a parched trunk and no branches.
No birds come to build their nests;
Nor any wind ruffles a stem,
Nor a drizzle plants a buss on it,
Nor the ray of the sun seeps into it.
Neither does nature love me,
Nor hates me.
Today, I am abandoned to despair.
Today, I am forlorn.

A passerby does not take a siesta,
Nor lovers come to kiss hiding behind me.
My roots are unable to grip the soil,
Nor the soil can hold me.
Today, I need someone to hate me,
So I can feel what love is.
Today, I need someone to love me,
So I can feel what hate is.
For God’s sake, I must confess,
That love and hate do exist, like an apparition.
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Rumor

The rumor that I’m in love with you
Is limited only to a windy leaf on a tree.
Hope you will see my love in the air someday.
But, do not forget:
The leaf sways, when the breeze sweeps over it.

A pile of love for you in my heart
Is taller than the pile of articles
Sitting on the editor’s desk.
Hope it will be published someday.
But, do not forget:
This pile of love continues to rise.

The mountain of my love for you
Is taller than the snow-clad mountains of Nepal.
Hope they will sparkle some day.
But, do not forget:
When the sun will rise
The first ray will fall
On the mountain of our love.

The color of my love for you
Is ruddier than the red rose
Hope, it will bloom some day.
But do not forget:
When the fresh bud will open,
The rose itself will fade away.

The meditation on my love for you
Is deeper than the meditation of Vishwamitra.*
Hope, it will end someday.
But do not forget:
When I will rise,
you will only be falling in the arms of
my realization.

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Vishwamitra.* – An Indian Saint