Suman Pokhrel Quotes

Nepalese poet, lyricist, playwright, translator and artist

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Suman Pokhrel (September 21, 1967) is a Nepali poet, lyricist, translator and artist. He is noted for creating impressionable images across his poems that revolve around the nuances of life.
Universities in Nepal and India have included his poetry in their syllabi. Pokhrel is the only writer to have received the SAARC Literary Award twice. He received this award in 2013 and 2015. He is recipient of several other national and international literary awards including Shaluk International Literature Award and Asia's Inspiring Poet Award.

From: Wikiquote (CC BY-SA 4.0)

Native Name: सुमन पोखरेल

Alternative Names: Suman Pokharel • Sumana Pokharela

From Wikidata (CC0)

I am tipsy after my
own feelings themselves have become wine.
I forget myself, world and all.

I wanted to paint a picture,
in indelible print, across
the canvass of my heart.

I wanted my heart to bloom
and shelter a shadow of love

Through years of my prime
I walked with a heart
crazy about love.

Will you please go journeying
for your own sake, till I come living a moment of life?

May I 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.

May I not so much be lost as would have No time to look at myself Ever.

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.

If they (children) 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.

Even If they (children) 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.

Once positioned on their(children's) lips,
even the scariest of words
come out as a melodious lisp.

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.

Even if they (Children) 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 children's eyes.

I asked none
why life ends in ways uncertain.