Every morning I wake up with the news of bloodshed.
I feel my body, desperate to know whether I’m still alive.
( 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.
An uneasy rhythm of life is more life like than an easy death.
I wake up with the news
I feel my body,
desperate to know whether
I’m still alive.
I want the fever to grab me forever
and want you to be my fever.
my name isn't in the list of those
who died or were
An uneasy rhythm of life
is more life like than an easy death.
I chose none to ask
why the wind was blowing there
chasing the fogs
I asked none
why life ends in ways uncertain.
The dream too thinks twice,
gets filtered to go soft
to be seated on children's eyes.
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.
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.
Once positioned on their(children's) lips,
even the scariest of words
come out as a melodious lisp.
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.
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.
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.
Not so much be lost as would have
No time to look at myself
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.
Will you please go journeying
for your own sake,
till I come living a moment of life?
Through years of my prime
I walked with a heart
crazy about love.
I wanted my heart to bloom
and shelter a shadow of love
I wanted to paint a picture,
in indelible print, across
the canvass of my heart.
I am tipsy after my
themselves have become wine.
I forget myself, world and all.
I'd ever grown prosperous like Shah Jahan was,
I'd not have waited for my beloved's death
before I erected a Taj Mahal.
I want the fever to grab me forever
and want you
to be my fever
Tonight, may I get so drunk in love that
I do not see any dreams!
you're sure to hear from above
if you're placed down below.
I like desires like children
and their plays
that tease me now and then into
I salute my desires with a bow.,
were it not for them to come and play
mind would be empty just like me.
I believed all along,
everyone would go mad
just to see me sane.
Even after all that, each and every being here believe,
that the heat will be defeated and coolness will prevail.
The experience knows
that the rule of an autocrat cannot last long.
covered behind the curtains of their own leaves
stare at the dark
from the fringe of streets.
in the glow of their defeated light
robbed by the fog
but cannot tell
if the streets
lying by stretching limbs in courtyards
are sleeping face downwards or supine.
Creation does not cease
just because there is darkness!
I would regard meanings given by others so far as refreshing boon,
I would still be enamored of rose or any heartless flower's smell
if tender tides of your affection had not suffused
the pollen of my heart with loving aroma.
I shall not go out at all
given that my love is here
shall always stay attached to these hearts.
I shall never bid farewell to this place!
But I have to send this body
anyhow from here.
What heart touched is what is touched
what heart experienced is what is experienced
where heart lived is what is lived.
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