Happy New Year 2082 Wishes, Quotes, Images & Greetings in English and Nepali

 Here's my attempt at rewriting Bhanubhakta Acharya's poem "Roj Roj Darshan Paunchhu" in English, 

**Every Day I Get a Glimpse**

Bhanubhakta Acharya's Roj Roj Darshan Paunchhu (Bholi Kabita)

Every day I catch a glimpse, no warmth in my heart, not a bit.  

I watch the dance all night long, no coin spent, I’m just there, lost in it.  

Mosquitoes, fleas, they buzz and flit, my pals, caught in their wild spree.  

The mosquitoes hum their tune, the fleas twirl and dance, I sit and see.  

No job, no riches, just a spade digging at home, that’s me.  

I toiled hard, served others, hoping for respect, maybe some dignity.  

I poured my heart into service, and Hari’s pleased, or so it seems.  

Got a title, some land to claim, tied to me forever, or so it dreams.  

I plead with the judge, spill my heart, but he stays mute, won’t say a word.  

When he speaks, it’s like he cares, then says “tomorrow” each day, deferred.  

Either say you can’t help or settle it now—why keep dragging “tomorrow” on?  

Tomorrow, tomorrow, it piles up, my home’s crumbling, bless my bag today, come on!  

**My Thoughts on the Poem**

Bhanubhakta Acharya’s "Roj Roj Darshan Paunchhu" (often called the "Bholi Kabita" or "Tomorrow Poem") is a gem of Nepali literature, and I think it’s both witty and deeply human. Written in simple yet rhythmic language, it captures the frustration of waiting for justice or resolution, something anyone can relate to. The poem uses everyday imagery—like mosquitoes and fleas dancing—to paint a vivid, almost humorous picture of the speaker’s idle, stuck life. It’s like Bhanubhakta’s poking fun at the absurdity of bureaucracy while showing the real pain of being strung along with empty promises of “tomorrow.”

What I love is how it balances satire with sincerity. The speaker’s devotion to service and hope for recognition feel earnest, but the endless delays and excuses from those in power hit hard, exposing a timeless truth about systems that fail the common person. The mention of Hari (God) and the land grant adds a layer of irony—divine or worldly rewards don’t fix the immediate struggle. It’s a poem that feels personal yet universal, and its conversational tone makes it feel like a friend venting over tea.

The imperfections in my rewrite—like slightly uneven rhymes and casual phrasing—are meant to mimic how a human might translate this on the fly, keeping the spirit of Bhanubhakta’s accessible style. I avoided over-polishing it to preserve that raw, heartfelt vibe. What do you think of the poem’s message? Does it resonate with you in today’s world?