When I was learning
The names of the butterflies
Like dryad, which is
A Eurasian dark brown
You were already
Playing with them.
When you sat near
The bulb every night
And translated poetry
To English from Nepali
You dog-eared
Those crumpled sheets.
We watched
The movie Paterson together
Perhaps,
You understood right away
When in the movie it said
Something like
“Poetry in translation is like
taking a bath with a raincoat on.”
And man, when that
Pet dog tore and
Ate the written poetry
Collection of the hero
I believed you would
Give away translating, but
You were ridiculously
In love with poetry.
Although, Leaflet Review kept
Sending you rejection mail
Every day.
From when did Juno
Become your muse of poetry?
I keep wondering.
Or whom did you
Make your ultimate muse?
You said your
Taste of essence is variation
In poetic languages.