#Vikram Seth

[mikarchive2]

by li bai, translated by vikram seth

#so many translations of this poem but #i think this one is my favourite #poetry #the moon in her chariot of pearl #vikram seth #li bai #m

[apoemaday]

All You Who Sleep Tonight

by Vikram Seth

All you who sleep tonight Far from the ones you love, No hand to left or right And emptiness above–

Know that you aren’t alone The whole world shares your tears, Some for two nights or one, And some for all their years.

#poetry #vikram seth #all you who sleep tonight

[poem-today]

A poem by Li Po translated by Vikram Seth

Drinking Alone with the Moon

A pot of wine among the flowers. I drink alone, no friend with me. I raise my cup to invite the moon. He and my shadow and I make three.

The moon does not know how to drink; My shadow mimes my capering; But I’ll make merry with them both– And soon enough it will be Spring.

I sing–the moon moves to and fro. I dance–my shadow leaps and sways. Still sober, we exchange our joys. Drunk–and we’ll go our separate ways.

Let’s pledge–beyond human ties–to be friends, And meet where the Silver River ends.

Translated by Vikram Seth

Original Chinese by 李 白 (Li Po) (701-762)

月下獨酌

花間一壺酒， 獨酌無相親； 舉杯邀明月， 對影成三人。 月既不解飲， 影徒隨我身； 暫伴月將影， 行樂須及春。 我歌月徘徊， 我舞影零亂； 醒時同交歡， 醉後各分散。 永結無情遊， 相期邈雲漢。

#vikram seth #indian poet #li po #li bai #drinking #moon #sonnet #chinese poetry

[davidhudson]

Happy 71st, Vikram Seth.

#vikram seth #literature #books #book covers

[thepursuitofunderstanding]

I sometimes seem to myself to wander around the world merely accumulating material for future nostalgias.

Vikram Seth

#Vikram Seth #From Heaven Lake: Travels Through Sinkiang and Tibet #quotes #life #wisdom #philosophy

[anditendshowyoudexpect]

it took me a while into the audiobook and a switch to kindle to stop wondering why on earth Lata Mehra's mother is called Mrs Rupamehra and how a male Agarwal can possibly be an Ellen

#a suitable boy #vikram seth #indian literature #can i blame this on the playback speed #i can and i will #i admit i have no excuse with mrs rupamehra #but ellen agarwal is definitely a victim of my impatient listening #books

[papyrusandpaints]

All You Who Sleep Tonight, Vikram Seth (Poetry, 80 Pages, Paperback, Penguin Random House India)

#books #bookworm #reading #book photography #poetry #vikram seth

[fiction-quotes]

The ifs and buts of history, thought the Nawab Sahib, form an insubstantial if intoxicating diet.

  —  A Suitable Boy (Vikram Seth)

#book quotes #historical fiction #romance fiction #vikram seth #a suitable boy #history #possibilities #regret #time #choices #decisions #wishes

[jem-in-eyee]

All you who sleep tonight

Far from the ones you love, No hand to left or right

And emptiness above -

Know that you aren't alone

The whole world shares your tears,

Some for two nights or one

And some for all their years.

‘All you who sleep tonight’, by Vikram Seth

#art #artists on tumblr #tumblr #poetry #writers #academia #art portrait #portraiture #loneliness #queer literature #south asian poetry collection #the world that belongs to us #vikram seth #indian gods and goddesses #indian aesthetic #indian literature

[lonelygirlincloudycity]

Love me when I am dead And do not let me die.

Vikram Seth

#poems and poetry #spilled poetry #poem #poetic #poetry #poetry collection #vikram seth

[first--lines]

The branches are bare, the sky tonight a milky violet. It is not quiet here, but it is peaceful. The wind ruffles the black water towards me.

  —  An Equal Music (Vikram Seth)

#book quotes #romance fiction #vikram seth #an equal music

[aisherk]

All you who sleep tonight

Far from the ones you love,

No hands to left or right,

And emptiness above -

Know that you aren't alone.

The whole world shares your tears,

Some for two nights or one,

And some for all their years.

_All you who sleep tonight by Vikram Seth

#vikram seth #all you who sleep tonight #books & libraries #writers on tumblr #dark academia #peoms #darkacademism #aisherk #psycology #movie quotes #free write

[dailykami-69]

ようこそ！私のブログへ(Welcome to my Blog)

Hola! 'C' this side. The ME is a bilingual (shall I say trilingual? idk :)). Anyways, I am here just to show the side of mine which I can't really show anybody. Don't worry I don't have an ALTERNATE PERSONALITY! I just wanna let myself out and write down my procrastination stories here. Interestingly this (to write down my procrastinations) was suggested by a complete stranger on instagram whom I met yesterday and then as a friend told me, "tumblr is basically a place to 'dump' all your feelings out". So ya I am doing that. Anyways, I know basic conversational Japanese and love to read ( a very slow reader tho) and since I am in love with Japan and Japanese I mostly read Japanese Literature. I hold Haruki Murakami in a very high position in my life and the other authors too like, Yoko Ogawa, Edogawa Ranpou, Osamu Dazai, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke etc. etc. And when it comes to the other authors, like authors of the west I really know very little about this side except Shakespeare lol...and being of Indian ethinicity I also prefer reading Amitava Ghosh, Vikram Seth and Jhumpa Lahiri. Anyways so as I said earlier, I will be sharing my thoughts and feelings, so there will be several topics starting from Mythology to Explicit ones. So just stick to this account and as every human being on tumblr does for his own benifit I'd like to say, 'if you like my content just give a like' or whatever lol.

So また会いましょう(let's meet again, Idk exactly when, but we are definitely gonna do the same hahah!)

#literature #nostalgia #reading #books #young adult #brain dump #japan #murakami haruki #amitav ghosh #ranpo edogawa #yoko ogawa #akutagawa ryuunosuke #vikram seth #jhumpa lahiri #osamu dazai #japan inspired #日本語の学生 #retro #Japan in 80s

[platitudeurn]

“Think of many things. Never place your happiness in one person's power. Be just to yourself.” -Vikram Seth in "A Suitable Boy"

#quote #excerpt #vikram seth

[anditendshowyoudexpect]

I have not played Schubert for more than a month. My violin misses him more than I do. I tune it, and we enter my soundproof cell. No light, no sound comes in from the world. Electrons along copper, horsehair across acrylic create my impressions of sense. I will play nothing of what we have played in our quartet, nothing that reminds me of my recent music-making with any human being. I will play his songs. The Tononi seems to purr at the suggestion. Something happy, something happy, surely: In a clear brook With joyful haste The whimsical trout Shot past me like an arrow. I play the line of the song, I play the leaps and plunges of the right hand of the piano, I am the trout, the angler, the brook, the observer. I sing the words, bobbing my constricted chin. The Tononi does not object; it resounds. I play it in B, in A, in E flat. Schubert does not object. I am not transposing his string quartets. Where a piano note is too low for the violin, it leaps into a higher octave. As it is, it is playing the songline an octave above its script. Now, if it were a viola . . . but it has been years since I played the viola.

An Equal Music by Vikram Seth

this book, dedicated to Seth's then-partner violinist Philippe Honoré, might be beautiful, but for the life of me i don't know if i'll get the chance to figure out if it's good or not because the only digital copy i could find occasionally does this:

#vikram seth #an equal music #books #classical music

[versey21]

24th March

The Frog and the Nightingale by Vikram Seth

In this long poem, parts of which follow below, Seth tells a story of cynical manipulation and exploitation, disguised as a nature fable.

Source: studybcse.com

The Frog and the Nightingale

Once upon a time a frog

Croaked away in Bingle Bog.

Every night from dusk to dawn

He croaked awn and awn and awn.

Other creatures loathed his voice,

But, alas, they had no choice,

And the crass cacophony

Blared out from the sumac tree

At whose foot the frog each night

Minstrelled on till morning light.

Neither stones nor prayers nor sticks,

Insults or complaints or bricks

Stilled the frog’s determination

To display his heart’s elation.

But one night a nightingale

In the moonlight cold and pale

Perched up on the sumac tree

Casting forth her melody.

Dumbstruck sat the gaping frog

And the whole admiring bog

Stared towards the sumac, rapt,

And, when she had ended, clapped.

…

‘Bravo!’ ‘Too divine!’ ‘Encore!’

So the nightingale once more,

Quite unused to such applause,

Sang till dawn without a pause.

Next night when the nightingale

Shook her head and twitched her tail,

Closed an eye and fluffed a wing,

And had cleared her throat to sing

She was startled by a croak.

…

‘You see,

I’m the frog who owns this tree.

In this bog I’ve long been known

For my splendid baritone

…

‘Did you … did you like my song?’

‘Not too bad - but far too long.

The technique was fine of course,

But it lacked a certain force.’

‘Oh!’ the nightingale confessed,

Greatly flattered and impressed

That a critic of such note

Had discussed her art and throat:

…

‘That’s not much to boast about,’

Said the heartless frog, ‘Without

Proper training such as I

- And few others can supply -

You’ll remain a mere beginner.

But with me you’ll be a winner.’

…

Now the nightingale, inspired,

Flushed with confidence, and fired

With both art and adoration,

Sang - and was a huge sensation.

Animals for miles around

Flocked towards the magic sound,

And the frog with great precision

Counted heads and charged admission.

…

And the sumac tree was bowed

With a breathless titled crowd…

And the frog observed them glitter

With a joy both sweet and bitter.

Every day the frog who’d sold her

Songs for silver tried to scold her:

‘You must practice even longer

Till your voice, like mine, grows stronger.

…

You must make your public happier:

Give them something sharper, snappier.’

…

Day by day the nightingale

Grew more sorrowful and pale.

Night on night her tired song

Zipped and trilled and bounced along,

Till the birds and beasts grew tired

At a voice so uninspired

And the ticket office gross

Crashed and she grew more morose -

For her ears were now addicted

To applause quite unrestricted,

And to sing into the night

All alone gave no delight.

Now the frog puffed up with rage.

‘Brainless bird - you’re on the stage -

Use your wits and follow fashion.

Puff your lungs out with your passion.’

Trembling, terrified to fail,

Blind with tears, the nightingale

Heard him out in silence tried,

Puffed up, burst a vein, and died.

Said the frog: ‘I tried to teach her,

But she was a stupid creature -

Far too nervous, far too tense,

Far too prone to influence.

Well, poor bird - she should have known

That your song must be your own…

And the foghorn of the frog

Blared unrivalled through the bog.

The moral of this sad story is “be yourself” and mistrust the motives of those who try to change you.

#poetry #vikram seth #fables