Suman Pokhrel

Thank God,

— Suman Pokhrel

This moment

— Suman Pokhrel

जीवनका प्रत्येक पल मृत्युको सँघार टेक्दछु ।

— Suman Pokhrel

Poetry that emerges from a poet’s mind becomes complete only when it enters into the reader’s sphere of comprehension.

— Suman Pokhrel

A reader takes poetry deep within him or her by accommodating it within his/her range of consciousness. So there is a possibility that the poems are received and understood differently when they enter into readers’ sphere.

— Suman Pokhrel

Before getting translated, a poem already gets shrunk or expanded within the ‘sphere of intellect’ of the translator in the original language, and it again gets shrunk or expanded within the ‘sphere of intellect’ of the translator in the target language.

— Suman Pokhrel

Before getting translated, a poem already gets shrunk or expanded within the ‘sphere of intellect’ of the translator in the original language, and it again gets shrunk or expanded within the ‘sphere of intellect’ of the translator in the target language. Thus, in translation of poetry; there exists a possibility of components like imagination, art of wordplay, skill of constructing internal rhythm and expand of knowledge of the poet getting affected by the constraint and differentia of the translator.

— Suman Pokhrel

A reader takes poetry deep within him or her by accommodating it within his/her range of consciousness.

— Suman Pokhrel

Poetry emerging from a poet enters into the reader only when it comes within the readers’ 'sphere of intellect. A reader cannot take poetry by expanding it beyond his/her consciousness, rather can take by shrinking it within. Thus, there exists a chance of every poem getting changed while reaching every reader. This ‘getting changed’ is a form of ‘getting translated’, in a way. So, every assimilation of any poem is a translation.

— Suman Pokhrel

Every morning I’m still alive.

— Suman Pokhrel

An uneasy rhythm of life is more life like than an easy death.

— Suman Pokhrel

I chose none to askchasing the fogs

— Suman Pokhrel

I asked nonewhy life ends in ways uncertain.

— Suman Pokhrel

The dream too thinks twice, to be seated on children's eyes.

— Suman Pokhrel

Even if they (Children) try to pluck it,the thorn scorns itself all its life.

— Suman Pokhrel

I wonder–never to return to them.

— Suman Pokhrel

Once positioned on their(children's) lips,come out as a melodious lisp.

— Suman Pokhrel

Even If they (children) fall during their play,the ground, mostly, does not even hurt them.

— Suman Pokhrel

If they (children) smash, the flower vase assumes a smilewater forgets about its own colourlessness.

— Suman Pokhrel

Let me not so much be lost in involvementsbeaming in my own yard.

— Suman Pokhrel

Not so much be lost as would have Ever.

— Suman Pokhrel

Not so much, so much be lost, just As I’d wake and be conscious.

— Suman Pokhrel

Will you please go journeying till I come living a moment of life?

— Suman Pokhrel

I'm bereft of poetry

— Suman Pokhrel

Through years of my primecrazy about love.

— Suman Pokhrel

How could it be wished

— Suman Pokhrel

I wanted my heart to bloomand shelter a shadow of love

— Suman Pokhrel

But I want to write poetry

— Suman Pokhrel

I wanted to paint a picture,the canvass of my heart.

— Suman Pokhrel

I might just end up writing again

— Suman Pokhrel

I am tipsy after myI forget myself, world and all.

— Suman Pokhrel

Ifbefore I erected a Taj Mahal.

— Suman Pokhrel

May I discard the outer cover of time from the layers of poetry by immersing the poet in its entirety within me

— Suman Pokhrel

I want the fever to grab me forever to be my fever

— Suman Pokhrel

Poetry emerging from a poet enters into the reader only when it comes within the readers’ 'sphere of intellect.

— Suman Pokhrel

Tonight, may I get so drunk in love thatI do not see any dreams!

— Suman Pokhrel

How could it be wished

— Suman Pokhrel

I am quite sure that poetry will live long with our generations to come.

— Suman Pokhrel

Commands-if you're placed down below.

— Suman Pokhrel

It's not as easy

— Suman Pokhrel

In this vagueness,

— Suman Pokhrel

I like desires like childrenknowing life.

— Suman Pokhrel

What was wafting in the smoke of burning tires?

— Suman Pokhrel

There exists a chance of every poem getting changed while reaching every reader. This ‘getting changed’ is a form of ‘getting translated’, in a way. So, every assimilation of any poem is a translation.

— Suman Pokhrel

I salute my desires with a bow., mind would be empty just like me.

— Suman Pokhrel

I've climbed up here holding the hilt of time's sword by driving it into my tender heart.

— Suman Pokhrel

I am in no mood to write

— Suman Pokhrel

I believed all along, just to see me sane.

— Suman Pokhrel

May I discard the outer cover of time from the layers of poetry by immersing the poet in its entirety within me

— Suman Pokhrel

Even after all that, each and every being here believe, that the rule of an autocrat cannot last long.

— Suman Pokhrel

Haunted trees from the fringe of streets.

— Suman Pokhrel

Lampposts look are sleeping face downwards or supine.

— Suman Pokhrel

Creation does not cease just because there is darkness!

— Suman Pokhrel

I would regard meanings given by others so far as refreshing boon,the pollen of my heart with loving aroma.

— Suman Pokhrel

I shall not go out at all anyhow from here.

— Suman Pokhrel

What heart touched is what is touchedwhere heart lived is what is lived.

— Suman Pokhrel

I could not saythat supported their shacks.

— Suman Pokhrel

I felt I was getting enragedlike them losing their dreams.

— Suman Pokhrel

I was feeling like madtheir own destinations

— Suman Pokhrel

Is freedom dearer than life? when life becomes difficult?

— Suman Pokhrel

I asked my lifechose to escape me.

— Suman Pokhrel

Still enveloped in a blanket of dreamsit was in a deep slumber.

— Suman Pokhrel

The road kept coming, andcontinued going somewhere alone.

— Suman Pokhrel

This evening, toohankering after his light.

— Suman Pokhrel

May I exchange T.S. Eliot’s The Wasteland

— Suman Pokhrel

Let us be honestif you convey my salute to Amrapali.

— Suman Pokhrel

This momentglued to myths, history and stories.

— Suman Pokhrel

When this flood blocks the roadto reach my destination.

— Suman Pokhrel

Should I complete this poemmy room’s light out?

— Suman Pokhrel

In how many mindswhom should I ask?

— Suman Pokhrel

Which eyes should I look forunreasoned answer?

— Suman Pokhrel

Without asking anybody’s adviceI turned myself insane.

— Suman Pokhrel

You who are sitting before meor anything else!

— Suman Pokhrel

I know you'll speak no truth at this time. the inaudible appeals of your heart.

— Suman Pokhrel

The walls are releasingheat , and about to run away getting stuck to the man.

— Suman Pokhrel

The experience knowsthat the rule of an autocrat cannot last long.

— Suman Pokhrel

The lovers feel that they are contentis more powerful than all cravings for love and lust.

— Suman Pokhrel

Having been ripped open and drained by the crowdwhich is about to perish.

— Suman Pokhrel

I'm searching a hearta heart that's smooth, effervescent and clean.

— Suman Pokhrel

I shall not go out at allanyhow from here.

— Suman Pokhrel

This market speaking lifeof all people speaking together.

— Suman Pokhrel

Man and woman cease to be humansonce they get lost into crowds.

— Suman Pokhrel

Are people like market when they’re in groups?

— Suman Pokhrel

all trees and birdswere seeing everything.

— Suman Pokhrel

I had also readsome cracked expectations.

— Suman Pokhrel

I’ve touched some sentencesand have kissed some words.

— Suman Pokhrel

Eyes that obstruct the road can be removedbut what happens when hearts block the passage?

— Suman Pokhrel

Do not thinkor evaporating like a cloud.

— Suman Pokhrel

I’ve climbed up hereinto my tender heart.

— Suman Pokhrel

Whether anybody comes to convince me or notarresting my chest.

— Suman Pokhrel

May I splinter away from myselflive in each with perfection!

— Suman Pokhrel

This MEwith complete ease.

— Suman Pokhrel

May I discard the outer cover of timewithin me

— Suman Pokhrel

May life remain enamored of its own charm

— Suman Pokhrel

May the river of love always flow from its own lap

— Suman Pokhrel

May my pain remain drunk singing its own love songs

— Suman Pokhrel

(May) the dead body of agony remain asleepresting its head on a pillow of flowers.

— Suman Pokhrel

May I free myself from the labyrinth of knowledge

— Suman Pokhrel

May I pack all inventions in burlapsand hide them in corners of Einsteins’ brains.

— Suman Pokhrel

May I free myself from the ever-pressing chestby leisurely hiding brain on hill summits.

— Suman Pokhrel

May I take off clothes covering shame at the borderand run by wearing the rays of the sun.

— Suman Pokhrel

May I create plain fields by collecting cloudsand bedeck them with arching rainbows.

— Suman Pokhrel

Playing ball of windfacing the world.

— Suman Pokhrel

May I exchange T.S. Eliot’s The Wastelandby tilling with the pen of desire.

— Suman Pokhrel

Fell in love with these hearts and this soilthese houses, these walls and streets.

— Suman Pokhrel

Every moment age is creeping up stealthily,like a candle that is flickering around.

— Suman Pokhrel

Life is withering awaylike a candle that is melting down.

— Suman Pokhrel

Life incinerates incessantly trying to smilepretending to be alive.

— Suman Pokhrel

Death is shaping up slowly and quietlylike a candle that is flickering all night.

— Suman Pokhrel

Neither my acts have wiped the woes ofhow can I bow my head in your adulation?

— Suman Pokhrel

Neither my deeds contain any essencehow can I come close to you?

— Suman Pokhrel

Tonight, let us exchange every part of our bodies and every space of our souls to each other.

— Suman Pokhrel

The eyes hold tears for so long, let us fill it with love and passion.

— Suman Pokhrel

I shall give you a song, and you fill melody in it.

— Suman Pokhrel

Let us convert this night we are breathing together, to a bright morning.

— Suman Pokhrel

Unaware about my surrounding, unconscious I live.

— Suman Pokhrel

It’s not my wish to walk intoxicated; to live for never is not my choice.

— Suman Pokhrel

A portion of life, every moment gets torn out of me hurting, and flees away.

— Suman Pokhrel

Wishing to grab the life with nothingnessI am in oblivion.

— Suman Pokhrel

Let my pains remain with me.

— Suman Pokhrel

Let my pains remain with me, I won't utter, I express it not.

— Suman Pokhrel

My heart itself is a wound,and hurts more if touched.

— Suman Pokhrel

This ambiance of candlelight reminds of nights that traveled its way, in entangled embrace of yours and mine.

— Suman Pokhrel

May I get melted in closeness and get blazed in embrace.

— Suman Pokhrel

I wish me to cry for no reason in excess of love.

— Suman Pokhrel

I wish me to vanish somewhere around here.

— Suman Pokhrel

The feeling I groped assuming love was nothing but a fire.

— Suman Pokhrel

Keep some fires burning in your heart; I would extinguish it if I could, or get myself engulfed with it.

— Suman Pokhrel

I shall give you a song, and you fill melody in it.

— Suman Pokhrel

I want to be everywhere of you.

— Suman Pokhrel

“Strength of creative writing lies in the skill of handling words and articulating artistic expression of feelings.”

— Suman Pokhrel

“In influencing write-ups, words seem to move despite residing still on paper.”

— Suman Pokhrel

“In many a situation, the images that words hide while walking forth are the desired meaning of particular words rather than the word itself. Those words sing and dance by coming out of the paper.”

— Suman Pokhrel

“Language is texture of images and music. We speak in images and rhythm, by taking help of words.”

— Suman Pokhrel

“In literary translations, it is this very articulation of expressions that matters the most to bring home to the readers the full essence of the original text in question."

— Suman Pokhrel

“Chance of source language influencing the target language and that of the translator intervening onto the style of original writer are major challenges in literary translation.”

— Suman Pokhrel

“On translating text into the new language as it is in source language, there is a chance of it being emerged as an absurd sentence in the target language making no sense at all. In the attempt to make the translation meaningful to the target language, there exists a risk of the original work getting meddled by the translator’s style.”

— Suman Pokhrel

“Literary translation is not merely an act of picking words from one language and keeping it by dipping in the vessel of another language. Those words need to be rinsed, washed, carved and decorated as much as possible.”

— Suman Pokhrel

Poetry emerging from a poet enters into the reader only when it comes within the readers’ 'sphere of intellect.

— Suman Pokhrel

A reader cannot take poetry by expanding it beyond his/her consciousness, rather can take by shrinking it within.

— Suman Pokhrel

There exists a chance of every poem getting changed while reaching every reader. This ‘getting changed’ is a form of ‘getting translated’, in a way. So, every assimilation of any poem is a translation.

— Suman Pokhrel

Before getting translated, a poem already gets shrunk or expanded within the ‘sphere of intellect’ of the translator in the original language, and it again gets shrunk or expanded within the ‘sphere of intellect’ of the translator in the target language.

— Suman Pokhrel

In translation of poetry; there exists a possibility of components like imagination, art of wordplay, skill of constructing internal rhythm and expand of knowledge of the poet getting affected by the constraint and differentia of the translator.

— Suman Pokhrel