Suman Pokhrel Quotes

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.

Human being is the most complicated chapter of existence.

Having been ripped open and drained by the crowd
When I enter my home,
Many homes seem to be waiting for me
to give a shape to this life
which is about to perish.

Love is a feeling and its expression is an art.

If
I'd ever grown prosperous like ShahJahan was,
I'd not have waited for my beloved's death
before I erected a Taj Mahal.

May life remain enamored of its own charm.

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

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.

Some people are so stiff-necked that they cannot think any other way than their own preconceived ideas.

I asked none
why life ends in ways uncertain.

I have offered
many of my selves to you
to feel a single you.

Do not think; I've reached where I am now, by slipping like a landslide or evaporating like a cloud.

Silence is the best language to speak in when you have lots of things to say.

I felt I was getting enraged
and losing my speech
like them losing their dreams.

I shall bestow you my love, and you give me yours.

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.

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.

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

Desires stay unaware
of man's fragile existence
authored by scarcity

Without asking anybody's advice
I turned myself insane
sitting under the same sun
and the same clouds.

I like desires like children
and their plays
that tease me now and then into
knowing life.

Can't tell what was liked
and where; but
something was just liked unwittingly.

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.

Eyes that obstruct the road can be removed, but what happens when hearts block the passage?

Wishing to grab the life with nothingness
wanting to erase the sigh of tiredness
forgetting myself completely from my being
why do I seek embrace of yours
do not ask me, I know not,
I am in oblivion.

I dread to think of a society devoid of love, compassion and humanity.

Life's mystery continued to trouble me
A question came to my mind,
is freedom dearer than life?
or does it become easier to live
when life becomes difficult?

May the dead body of agony remain asleep
resting its head on a pillow of flowers.

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

Every morning
I wake up with the news
of bloodshed.
I feel my body,
desperate to know whether
I'm still alive.

Shah Jahan who proved
an emperor to be shorter than a lover,
who turned a grave into a temple
who gave his beloved a place of God
and converted love into a prayer.

I am stark sane, but my mind is erratically crazy.

Let us be honest
we have praised Angulimala,
will make no difference
If you convey my salute to Amrapali.

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

Thank God,
my name isn't in the list of those
who died or were
killed yesterday!

Unaware about my surrounding, unconscious I live, for I am in oblivion.

Neither my acts have wiped the woes of
any sufferer out, nor have I cured
pains of wounded ones;
with the faith pompous mercenary,
O' Glorious! O 'Lord Almighty!
how can I bow my head in your adulation?

I want to love the self that you say is you.

No matter how happy you are; start assuming, suspecting and doubting; and make yourself the most unhappy person on the universe.

I found the Taj Mahal as the most appropriate example of artistically expressed love.

When this flood blocks the road
I am worried more
by my soil getting washed,
than by getting late
to reach my destination.

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.

Does the beauty of life remain alive without making a comparison?

I want the fever to grab me forever
and want you
to be my fever.

I had read on the face of surroundings; some broken, some disconnected, some cracked expectations.

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.

May I free myself from the labyrinth of knowledge.

The dream too thinks twice, gets filtered to go soft
to be seated on children's eyes.

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

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.

May I pack all inventions in burlap and hide them in corners of Einsteins' brains.

May I free myself from the ever-pressing chest and enter the garden of imagination by leisurely hiding brain on hill summits.

I implore, make it clear to me
Just once -
Should you be only
mind, intellect, and soul
where should I go
if I wanted
to merge with you?

Every moment age is creeping up stealthily,
but life, life is melting down
like a candle that is flickering around.

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.

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

Am I living myself? I often wonder.

I know you'll speak no truth at this time.
I've to be guided
solely by your silence, your eyes and
the inaudible appeals of your heart.

Love is the cruelest event.

This ME
made whole by
combining countless fragments
could not live in any one part
with complete ease.

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

I chose none to ask
why the wind was blowing there
chasing the fogs.

In how many minds
should I go crazy?
Whom should I ask?

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

Water surging bestowing life on us entered the city and left by tearing gardens of life, even one who looked like human in meetings outside, sold a no-man inside the city and dissolved into that act.

In the midst of this screaming era
desires break constantly
longings cracks persistently
and countless dreams keep spilling around.

May this night come
wearing drunk cloak of love,
carrying passionate desires,
and intoxication of love!
Tonight, may I get so drunk in love that
I do not see any dreams!

Whether anybody comes to convince me or not
a part of my life does always ache
arresting my chest.

These heads sheltered by umbrellas
be they of Zeb-un-Nisa, or Catherine
of Cleopatra or Fenichka
live with their own stories

I liked you everywhere on you.

All trees and birds
sky and stars
bosoms and bangles
were seeing everything.