Suman Pokhrel



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


Should I continue to hop
like drops
that jump up
after water
flowing from spout
hits the ground,
or remain transfixed
like stone under the selfsame spout
that despite being lashed
by incessant flow
does not even budge?

Which eyes should I look for
to find the ultimate
unreasoned answer?
should i ask everyone the question
that should not have been asked?
or should i
turning up to the sky
be answering the question
thatís not been asked?

In this atmosphere
where you have to go
perennially crazy
only to survive,
which auspicious moment
should I choose to become mad?

I didnít ask any head
like core of lapsi fruit
hiding no seed inside,
didnít ask for auspicious moment
to a judgement like leaves of taanki tree.

Dew drop as always
was revelling all night with flower
taking taste of alcohol,
naked morning sunray too
was making worship
after diving in the river.

That effervescence
finished after a short while
like cotton fleece ultimately
turning into cloud.

Without asking anybodyís advice
I turned myself insane
sitting under the same sun
and the same clouds.

I believed all along
one day
everyone would go mad
just to see me sane.

Translated from Nepali by Abhi Subedi



I'm searching a heart
inside me--

A heart
That's ebullient by swallowing
The entire pain of the creation,
A heart jubilant by accepting
The entire tears of the world,
A heart aglow by merging
The entire dark within itself
A heart that's smooth, effervescent and clean.

May I be able to
Share with all a heart
Like the earth and the sky
Never exhausted by giving,
Give it to each bud, each life and each dream,
To each joy, silence and pain.

Searching inside me a heart
That perennially gives light.

(Translated from Nepali by Abhi Subedi)


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

Living a fraction of time somehow
from the fringes of life
I realised some dreams
have lodged in these eyes
some hearts have entered the heart.

Well, didnít find life as anything special!

What heart touched is what is touched
what heart experienced is what is experienced
where heart lived is what is lived.

When will this time come up again?
where will these faces be seen again?
where will these hearts be met again?
when will these flowers of affection
bloom forth again
within such proximity of a garland?

which lake will these loves cross again?
where will these cool rivers of goodwill flow again?
where will these hills of faith stand again!

How far will such warm retreats give shelters
to hide troubled hearts unnoticed
without breaking,
like bird hiding eggs in nest?

I shall not go anywhere from here,
leaving these loves more than hearts.
I shall not cross these watercourses!
I cannot go away
leaving these hearts
that accommodate me entirely.

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.

Translated from Nepali by Abhi Subedi

Suman Pokhrel is a poet, writer, and translator. He was awarded the SAARC Literary Award in 2013 and 2015, and his work has appeared in notable journals worldwide. Suman Pokhrel is also a lyricist, playwright, and artist. His poems have been translated into Arabic, Bengali, French, Georgian, German, Hindi, Italian, Maithili, Oria, Persian, Russian, Sanskrit, Spanish and Urdu. His poetry is included in the syllabus of Language and Literature Studies at Tribhuvan University and Purwanchal University in Nepal.


My Voice | Poetry At Our Time | In The Name Of Poetry | Editor's Choice | Our Masters
Who We Are | Back Issues | Submission | Contact Us | Home