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Suman Pokhrel Poem
Standing on some non-life fringe of life
embracing non-existent shape
like winds that stopped blowing,
I would be living in illusions
with fossils of life’s zest.
I would regard meanings
given by others so far
as refreshing boon,
I would still be enamoured of rose
or any heartless flower's smell
if tender tides of your affection
had not suffused
the pollens of my heart
with loving aroma.
modulations of my song,
images of my poetry,
my life story,
all would be making
a tedious dumb run
with no destination
sans beauty like
sultry gusts of drought
that flow over leafless treetops.
Sunrays would not descend
to lift my spirit
each morning
bringing life.
birds that fly singing for me
would not know
how to sing
filling their throats with love
welling up from heart.
My pleasures would escape
by climbing up empty times
thinking that is life
though not knowing
even half the mystery of love
not knowing
how melodious life is
if you had not demolished
shape of life’s rhythm sometimes
by gripping my heart
tender like love
so fragile that
even your softest words
could break it.
if you had not created
the scenography of life
with countless colourful plays
of your wishes
my desires would wither away
by making false explanations
of the beauty of Creation.
If you were not
what you are
shaped by my life’s melodies,
one who is standing
before you
overflowing with energy
carrying myriad desires
that would not be me.
---
(Translated from Nepali by Prof. Abhi Subedi)
Copyright © Suman Pokhrel | Year Posted 2014
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Suman Pokhrel Poem
Standing on top of each morning briefly
stopping by each evening shortly
unmindful, my eyes are chasing,
my eyelids are sweeping with light the sky
splattered with colours pilled out
after hitting horizon’s last shore.
I am thinking
what is this crimson,
colour of lovers’ hearts
torn from each other and
taking on to opposite paths,
or the reddish glow of minds
come together after
dark moments of separation?
Half of my life is soaked in colour
watching these red glows
spilled over the side-door that admits the day
and the bamboo portals
that shut out the day,
but could not understand
whether this earth and sky
part in the evening
and meet in the morning
or part in the morning
and meet in the evening!
--
Translated from Nepali by Prof. Abhi Subedi
Copyright © Suman Pokhrel | Year Posted 2014
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Suman Pokhrel Poem
Even if they try to pluck it,
the flower submits itself onto their hands.
If it happens to prick their heels,
the thorn scorns itself all its life.
The dream too thinks twice, gets filtered to go soft
to be seated on their eyes.
Once positioned on their lips,
even the scariest of words
come out as a melodious lisp.
The hill river rushing downhill, mocking at birds,
having heard their clean laughter
repents for its pride
and flows quietly to Madhes.
Even If they fall during their play,
the nature, having come
under the spell of their creative sports,
doesn’t know when they again start to play so full of jest.
Believing that they fall unknowingly
the ground, mostly, does not even hurt them.
Even after the ages of exercise, not any flower could adopt
the innocence of their smile.
Instruments of music, after their company
with music maestros for centuries,
failed to acquire the sonority of their voice.
If they smash, the flower vase assumes a smile
while turning into pieces.
For a chance to be spilled by their hands,
anything they hold gets spilled itself full of happiness.
For a chance to play with them,
water forgets about its own colourlessness.
I wonder –
didn’t the creator really do injustice?
With a power to defeat everyone without any battle,
children are busy at play with the most beautiful moments of their life.
Once they grow conscious of it,
those moments will have gone away
never to return to them.
(Translated from original Nepali by Mukul Dahal)
Copyright © Suman Pokhrel | Year Posted 2014
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Suman Pokhrel Poem
Flowers climb the branches
exhibit their full blossom
flowers visit drawing rooms
They visit temples
and then they vanish.
defying fixed shapes
rivers hasten to no destination.
carrying countless goals
roads get lost in a maze.
Unceasingly
I stand
holding the selfsame earth.
Many couples came under my shade
and rose to ecstatic heights
of imagination,
tired porters
put down their baskets
by my side
and slept out dreams
like lives of longings.
children who hopped branches,
left as they grew
carrying mementos
to remind childhood.
Wild winds’ whirling clusters
whispered a while
perching on my leaves
and raced towards horizons
chasing sky,
chicks hatched on my branches
grew wings and flew out
carrying tiny lives,
travelers who arrived
passed out from exhaustion
but they came round under my shade
and carried themselves away.
Many a time
slogging me through the day
the sun sought to chase me away
from my standing position,
rain battered me into water
threatening to wash me down,
storm nearly blew me by force
by melting me into air
somewhere like itself.
Rays carrying rainbows
could not stay with me
sounds of Naumati band and
monotonous conch-shell drones
rose in sky by turns
and faded somewhere.
Traveler living in a distance
four days from here
before leaving home
thinks of relaxing under my shade
and catching up with his journey,
birds herald the spring
resolved to hatch on my branches,
roads part to meet here
in case they got lost,
dusts and shriveled leaves
take a breather behind my leaves
escaping chasing hurricane.
soil a muddy flow hit by rain
turns to its essence holding my roots.
lightning dancing with winking eyes
continued to tempt
thunderbolts played threat games
clouds acted as though
they were splashing water
to wake me up.
Never did I feel like
leaving this place
and walk.
---
Translated from Nepali by Prof. Abhi Subedi
Copyright © Suman Pokhrel | Year Posted 2014
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Details |
Suman Pokhrel Poem
Desires
play perpetually
I am gazing--
desires
unaware of destiny
frisk about my mindscape
like children.
While playing children
break my mind’s toys
lacerate its walls
peel away mind’s layers
pulverise them and
throw around.
Desires stay unaware
of man’s fragile existence
authored by scarcity
They are not demolished
because it’s said they should not--
to be declared standing
on hope’s ruins.
Desires unopposed, undaunted
romp around mind’s cliff
swing fast on mind’s branch
gallop on its broken piece
jump shaking mind’s foundations,
sometimes they break mind’s bell jar
spilling feelings.
It’s fun assembling
mind’s jigsaw pieces
scattered by desires
like assembling
my small daughter’s toys
strewn about in her play.
I like desires like children
and their plays
that tease me now and then into
knowing life.
I salute my desires with a bow.
were it not for them to come and play
mind would be empty just like me.
Life would flee
from my eyes
without telling me when.
(Translated from Nepali by Prof. Abhi Subedi)
Copyright © Suman Pokhrel | Year Posted 2014
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Details |
Suman Pokhrel Poem
Let me not so much be lost in involvements
as would make me incapable of
recognizing the fragrance of the flower
beaming in my own yard; as would
divest me of time
for the merry sports of children
glee with the total joy of creation
radiant in their midst.
As would render me oblivious of my time
for the wind carrying the scents of love,
for the birds chanting the notes of life,
for sparkling waterfalls falling yet gay
and, too, for the stars fireflies carry
through the immensity of darkness.
Let me not so much be swept by haste.
Let me not lose the sight of myself
in the rush of life’s vicious circles.
Let me not go spiraling towards a peak
where vision would be blinded with
tears, washing down life’s rubles.
Not so much be lost as would have
no time to look at myself
ever. Not so much, so much be lost, just
to see the hue, grace, glory gone
off the face of my beloved
as I’d wake and be conscious.
How long would I run after the
time,
my mind just a cosmos of void?
Will you please go journeying
for your own sake,
till I come living a moment of life?
(Translated from Nepali by Manu Manjil)
Copyright © Suman Pokhrel | Year Posted 2014
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