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Parichay

Poochu kisse parichay aapna
Mei khud se aanjaan
Barso se parkha hai khud ko
Baanker ke vidwan.
Har baras
dar baras
Badle hai pehchan mere
Herat mei hai jaan.

Har pal badalta
Ek ek pal mei machalta
Kabhi dhalta, kabhi nikharta
Paraspar badalta
Mera aastitwa
meri pehchan

kabhi dhoondha hai
kisi ki aakho ke pratibimb mei
to
kabhi paya hai
kisi ki ajnabi se muskan mei.

Mei ek
aur mujhme
na jane
kitne anek.
Ek ko jaanu to
Dooja ho jaye
Pal hi mei mehman.

Sthirta ki moorat mei
Kan kan aasthirta se bhara
Meri shinakt.
Poochu kisse parichay aapna
Mei khud se aanjaan
-anjali

poem by Anjali Kakati
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Dar-Thula

ARGUMENT.

It may not be improper here to give the story which is the foundation of this poem, as it is handed down by tradition. Usnoth, lord of Etha, which is probably that part of Argyleshire which is near Loch Eta, an arm of the sea in Lorn, had three sons, Nathos, Althos, and Ardan, by Slissáma, the daughter of Semo, and sister to the celebrated Cuthullin. The three brothers, when very young, were sent over to Ireland by their father, to learn the use of arms under their uncle Cuthullin, who made a great figure in that kingdom. They were just landed in Ulster, when the news of Cuthullin's death arrived. Nathos, though very young, took the command of Cuthullin's army, made head against Cairbar the usurper, and defeated him in several battles. Cairbar at last, having found means to murder Cormac, the lawful king, the army of Nathos shifted sides, and he himself was obliged to return into Ulster, in order to pass over into Scotland.

Dar-thula, the daughter of Colla, with whom Cairbar was in love, resided at that time in Seláma, a castle in Ulster. She saw, fell in love, and fled with Nathos; but a storm rising at sea, they were unfortunately driven back on that part of the coast of Ulster, where Cairbar was encamped with his army. The three brothers, after having defended themselves for some time with great bravery, were overpowered and slain, and the unfortunate Dar-thula killed herself upon the body of her beloved Nathos.

The poem opens, on the night preceding the death of the sons of Usnoth, and brings in, by way of episode, what passed before. it relates the death of Dar-thula differently from the common tradition. This account, is the most probable, as suicide seems to have been unknown in those early times, for no traces of it are found in the old poetry.

DAUGHTER of heaven, fair art thou! the silence of thy face is pleasant! Thou comest forth in loveliness. The stars attend thy blue course in the east. The clouds rejoice in thy presence, O moon! They brighten their dark-brown sides. Who is like thee in heaven, light of the silent night? The stars are shamed in thy presence. They turn away their sparkling eyes. Whither dost thou retire from thy course when the darkness of thy countenance grows? Hast thou thy hall, like Ossian? Dwellest thou in the shadow of grief? Have thy sisters fallen from heaven? Are they who rejoiced with thee, at night, no more? Yes, they have fallen, fair light! and thou dost often retire to mourn. But thou thyself shalt fail one night and leave thy blue path in heaven. The stars will then lift their heads: they who were ashamed in thy presence, will rejoice. Thou art now clothed with thy brightness. Look from thy gates in the sky. Burst the cloud, O wind! that the daughters of night may look forth; that the shaggy mountains may brighten, and the ocean roll its white waves in light!

Nathos is on the deep, and Althos, that beam of youth! Ardan is near his brothers. They move in the gloom of their course. The sons of Usnoth move in darkness, from the wrath of Cairbar of Erin. Who is that, dim by their side? The night has covered her beauty! Her hair sighs on ocean's wind. Her robe streams in dusky wreaths. She is like the fair spirit of heaven in the midst of the shadowy mist. Who is it but Dar-thula, the first of Erin's maids? She has fled from the love of Cairbar, with blue-shielded Nathos. But the winds deceive thee, O Dar-thula! They deny the woody Etha to thy sails. These are not the mountains of Nathos; nor is that the roar of his climbing waves. The halls of Cairbar are near: the towers of the foe lift their heads! Erin stretches its green head into the sea. Tura's bay receives the ship. Where have ye been, ye southern Winds, when the sons of my love were deceived? But ye have been sporting on the plains, pursuing the thistle's beard. O that ye had been rustling in the sails of Nathos, till the hills of Etha arose! till they arose in their clouds, and saw their returning chief! Long hast thou been absent, Nathos! the day of thy return is past!

But the land of strangers saw thee lovely! thou wast lovely in the eyes of Dar-thula. Thy face was like the light of the morning. Thy hair like the raven's wing. Thy soul was generous and mild, like tho hour of the setting sun. Thy words were the gale of the reeds; the gliding stream of Lora! But when the rage of battle rose, thou wast a sea in a storm. The clang of thy arms was terrible: the host vanished at the sound of thy course. It was then Dar-thula beheld thee, from the top of her mossy tower; from the tower of Seláma, where her fathers dwelt.

"Lovely art thou, O stranger!" she said, for her trembling soul arose. "Fair art thou in thy battles, friend of the fallen Cormac! Why dost thou rush on in thy valor, youth of the ruddy look? Few are thy hands in fight against the dark-brown Cairbar! O that I might be freed from his love, that I might rejoice in the presence of Nathos! Blest are the rocks of Etha! they will behold his steps at the chase; they will see his white bosom, when the winds lift his flowing hair!" Such were thy words, Dar-thula, in Seláma's mossy towers. But now the night is around thee. The winds have deceived thy sails- — the winds have deceived thy sails, Dar-thula! Their blustering sound is high. Cease a little while, O north wind! Let me hear the voice of the lovely. Thy voice is lovely, Dar-thula, between the rustling blasts!

"Are these the rocks of Nathos?" she said, "this the roaring of his mountain streams? Comes that beam of light from Usnoth's nightly hall? The mist spreads around; the beam is feeble and distant far. But the light of Dar-thula's soul dwells in the chief of Etha! Son of the generous Usnoth, why that broken sigh? Are we in the land of strangers, chief of echoing Etha?"

"These are not the rocks of Nathos," he replied, "nor this the roar of his stream. No light comes from Etha's hall, for they are distant far. We are in the land of strangers, in the land of cruel Cairbar. The winds have deceived us, Dar-thula. Erin lifts here her hills. Go towards the north, Althos: be thy steps, Ardan, along the coast; that the foe may not come in darkness, and our hopes of Etha fail. I will go towards that mossy tower, to see who dwells about the beam. Rest, Dar-thula, on the shore! rest in peace, thou lovely light! the sword of Nathos is around thee, like the lightning of heaven!"

He went. She sat alone: she heard the roiling of the wave. The big tear is in her eye. She looks for returning Nathos. Her soul trembles at the bast. She turns her ear towards the tread of his feet. The tread of his feet is not heard. "Where art thou, son of my love! The roar of the blast is around me. Dark is the cloudy night. But Nathos does not return. What detains thee, chief of Etha? Have the foes met the hero in the strife of the night?"

He returned; but his face was dark. He had seen his departed friend! it was the wall of Tura. The ghost of Cuthullin stalked there alone; the sighing of his breast was frequent. The decayed flame of his eyes was terrible! His spear was a column of mist. The stars looked dim through his form. His voice was like hollow wind in a cave: his eye a light seen afar. He told the tale of grief. The soul of Nathos was sad, like the sun in the day of mist, when his face watery and dim.

"Why art thou sad, O Nathos!" said the lovely daughter of Colla. "Thou art a pillow of light to Dar-thula. The joy of her eyes is in Etha's chief. Where is my friend, but Nathos? My father, my brother is fallen! Silence dwells on Seláma. Sadness spreads on the blue streams of my land. My friends have fallen with Cormac. The mighty were slain in the battles of Erin. Hear, son of Usnoth! hear, O Nathos! my tale of grief.

"Evening darkened on the plain. The blue streams failed before mine eyes. The unfrequent blast came rustling in the tops of Seláma's groves. My seat was beneath a tree, on the walls of my fathers. Truthil past before my soul; the brother of my love: he that was absent in battle against the haughty Cairbar! Bending on his spear, the gray-haired Colla came. His downcast face is dark, and sorrow dwells in his soul. His sword is on the side of the hero; the helmet of his fathers on his head. The battle grows in his breast. He strives to hide the tear.

"'Dar-thula, my daughter,' he said, 'thou art the last of Colla's race! Truthil is fallen in battle. The chief of Seláma is no more! Cairbar comes, with his thousands, towards Seláma's walls. Colla will meet his pride, and revenge his son. But where shall I find thy safety, Dar-thula with the dark-brown hair! thou art lovely as the sunbeam of heaven, and thy friends are low!' 'Is the son of battle fallen?' I said, with a bursting sigh. 'Ceased the generous soul of Truthil to lighten through the field? My safety, Colla, is in that bow. I have learned to pierce the deer. Is not Cairbar like the hart of the desert, father of fallen Truthil?'

"The face of age brightened with joy. The crowded tears of his eyes poured down. The lips of Colla trembled. His gray beard whistled in the blast. 'Thou art the sister of Truthil,' he said; 'thou burnest in the fire of his soul. Take, Dar-thula, take that spear, that brazen shield, that burnished helm; they are the spoils of a warrior, a son of early youth! When the light rises on Seláma, we go to meet the car-borne Cairbar. But keep thou near the arm of Colla, beneath the shadow of my shield. Thy father, Dar-thula, could once defend thee; but age is trembling On his hand. The strength of his arm has failed. His soul is darkened with grief.'

"We passed the night in sorrow. The light of morning rose. I shone in the arms of battle. The gray haired hero moved before. The sons of Seláma convened around the sounding shield of Colla. But few were they in the plain, and their locks were gray. The youths had fallen with Truthil, in the battle of car-borne Cormac. 'Friends of my youth,' said Colla, 'it was not thus you have seen me in arms. It was not thus I strode to battle when the great Confaden fell. But ye are laden with grief. The darkness of age comes like the mist of the desert. My shield is worn with years! my sword is fixed in its place! I said to my soul, Thy evening shall be calm; thy departure like a fading light. But the storm has returned. I bend like an aged oak. My boughs are fallen on Seláma. I tremble in my place. Where art thou, with thy fallen heroes, O my beloved Truthil! Thou answerest not from thy rushing blast. The soul of thy father is sad. But I will be sad no more! Cairbar or Colla must fall! I feel the returning strength of my arm. My heart leaps at the sound of war.'

"The hero drew his sword. The gleaming blades of his people rose. They moved along the plain. Their gray hair streamed in the wind. Cairbar sat at the feast, in the silent plain of Lena. He saw the coming of the heroes. He called his chiefs to war. Why should I tell to Nathos how the strife of battle grew? I have seen thee in the midst of thousands, like the beam of heaven's fire: it is beautiful, but terrible; the people fall in its dreadful course. The spear of Colla flew. He remembered the battles of his youth. An arrow came with its sound. It pierced the hero's side. He fell on his echoing shield. My soul started with fear. I stretched my buckler over him: but my heaving breast was seen! Cairbar came with his spear. He beheld Seláma's maid. Joy rose on his dark-brown Taco. He stayed his lifted steel. He raised the tomb of Colla. He brought me weeping to Seláma. He spoke the words of love, but my soul was sad. I saw the shields of my fathers; the sword of car-borne Truthil. I saw the arms of the dead; the tear was on my cheek! Then thou didst come, O Nathos! and gloomy Cairbar fled. He fled like the ghost of the desert before the morning's beam. His host was not near; and feeble was his arm against thy steel! Why art thou sad, O Nathos?" said the lovely daughter of Colla.

"I have met," replied the hero, "the battle in my youth. My arm could not lift the spear when danger first arose. My soul brightened in the presence of war, as the green narrow vale, when the sun pours his streamy beams, before he hides his head in a storm. The lonely traveller feels a mournful joy. He sees the darkness that slowly comes. My soul brightened in danger before I saw Seláma's fair; before I saw thee, like a star that shines on the hill at night; the cloud advances, and threatens the lovely light! We are in the land of foes. The winds have deceived us, Dar-thula! The strength of our friends is not near, nor the mountains of Etha. Where shall I find thy peace, daughter of mighty Colla! The brothers of Nathos are brave, and his own sword has shone in fight. But what are the sons of Usnoth to the host of dark-brown Cairbar! O that the winds had brought thy sails, Oscar king of men! Thou didst promise to come to the battles of fallen Cormac! Then would my hand be strong as the flaming arm of death. Cairbar would tremble in his halls, and peace dwell round the lovely Dar-thula. But why dost thou fall, my soul? The sons of Usnoth may prevail!"

"And they will prevail, O Nathos!" said the rising soul of the maid. "Never shall Dar-thula behold the halls of gloomy Cairbar. Give me those arms of brass, that glitter to the passing meteor. I see them dimly in the dark-bosomed ship. Dar-thula will enter the battles of steel. Ghost of the noble Colla! do I behold thee on that cloud! Who is that dim beside thee? Is it the car-borne Truthil? Shall I behold the halls of him that slew Seláma's chief? No: I will not behold them, spirits of my love!"

Joy rose in the face of Nathos when he heard the white-bosomed maid. "Daughter of Seláma! thou shinest along my soul. Come, with thy thousands, Cairbar! the strength of Nathos is returned! Thou O aged Usnoth! shalt not hear that thy son has fled. I remembered thy words on Etha, when my sails began to rise: when I spread them towards Erin, towards the mossy walls of Tura! 'Thou goest,' he said, 'O Nathos, to the king of shields! Thou goest to Cuthullin, chief of men, who never fled from danger. Let not thine arm be feeble: neither be thy thoughts of flight; lest the son of Semo should say that Etha's race are weak. His words may come to Usnoth, and sadden his soul in the hall.' The tear was on my father's cheek. He gave this shining sword!

"I came to Tura's bay; but the halls of Tara were silent. I looked around, and there was none to tell of the son of generous Semo. I went to the hall of shells, where the arms of his fathers hung. But the arms were gone, and aged Lamhor sat in tears. 'Whence are the arms of steel?' said the rising Lamhor. 'The light of the spear has long been absent from Tura's dusky walls. Come ye from the rolling sea? or from Temora's mournful halls?'

"'We come from the sea,' I said, 'from Usnoth's rising towers. We are the sons of Slissáma, the daughter of car-borne Semo. Where is Tura's chief, son of the silent hall? But why should Nathos ask? for I behold thy tears. How did the mighty fall, son of the lonely Tura?' 'He fell not,' Lamhor replied, 'like the silent star of night, when it flies through darkness and is no more. But he was like a meteor that shoots into a distant land. Death attends its dreary course. Itself is the sign of wars. Mournful are the banks of Lego; and the roar of streamy Lara! There the hero fell, son of the noble Usnoth!' 'The hero fell in the midst of slaughter,' I said with a bursting sigh. 'His hand was strong in war. Death dimly sat behind his sword.'

"We came to Lego's sounding banks. We found his rising tomb. His friends in battle are there: his bards of many songs. Three days we mourned over the hero: on the fourth I struck the shield of Caithbat. The heroes gathered around with joy, and shook their beamy spears. Corlath was near with his host, the friend of car-borne Cairbar. We came like a stream by night. His heroes fell before us. When the people of the valley rose, they saw their blood with morning's light. But we rolled away, like wreaths of mist, to Cormac's echoing hall. Our swords rose to defend the king. But Temora's halls were empty. Cormac had fallen in his youth. The king of Erin was no more!

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poem by James Macpherson
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Tiriel

1

And Aged Tiriel. stood before the Gates of his beautiful palace
With Myratana. once the Queen of all the western plains
But now his eyes were darkned. & his wife fading in death
They stood before their once delightful palace. & thus the Voice
Of aged Tiriel. arose. that his sons might hear in their gates
Accursed race of Tiriel. behold your father
Come forth & look on her that bore you. come you accursed sons.
In my weak arms. I here have borne your dying mother
Come forth sons of the Curse come forth. see the death of Myratana
His sons ran from their gates. & saw their aged parents stand
And thus the eldest son of Tiriel raisd his mighty voice
Old man unworthy to be calld. the father of Tiriels race
For evry one of those thy wrinkles. each of those grey hairs
Are cruel as death. & as obdurate as the devouring pit
Why should thy sons care for thy curses thou accursed man
Were we not slaves till we rebeld. Who cares for Tiriels curse
His blessing was a cruel curse. His curse may be a blessing
He ceast the aged man raisd up his right hand to the heavens
His left supported Myratana shrinking in pangs of death
The orbs of his large eyes he opend. & thus his voice went forth
Serpents not sons. wreathing around the bones of Tiriel
Ye worms of death feasting upon your aged parents flesh
Listen & hear your mothers groans. No more accursed Sons
She bears. she groans not at the birth of Heuxos or Yuva
These are the groans of death ye serpents These are the groans of death
Nourishd with milk ye serpents. nourishd with mothers tears & cares
Look at my eyes blind as the orbless scull among the stones
Look at my bald head. Hark listen ye serpents listen
What Myratana. What my wife. O Soul O Spirit O fire
What Myratana. art thou dead. Look here ye serpents look
The serpents sprung from her own bowels have draind her dry as this[.]
Curse on your ruthless heads. for I will bury her even here
So saying he began to dig a grave with his aged hands
But Heuxos calld a son of Zazel. to dig their mother a grave
Old cruelty desist & let us dig a grave for thee
Thou hast refusd our charity thou hast refusd our food
Thou hast refusd our clothes our beds our houses for thy dwelling
Chusing to wander like a Son of Zazel in the rocks
Why dost thou curse. is not the curse now come upon your head
Was it not you enslavd the sons of Zazel. & they have cursd
And now you feel it. Dig a grave & let us bury our mother
There take the body. cursed sons. & may the heavens rain wrath
As thick as northern fogs. around your gates. to choke you up
That you may lie as now your mother lies. like dogs. cast out
The stink. of your dead carcases. annoying man & beast
Till your white bones are bleachd with age for a memorial.
No your remembrance shall perish. for when your carcases
Lie stinking on the earth. the buriers shall arise from the east

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poem by William Blake (1789)
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Maa

Maa to meri jaan hai.
dundle andhere me bhi vo, meri pehchan hai
Sehti rahi jo hr pal,
Marti rahi har pal jiske liye vo,
Kuch or nahi bs vo meri muskaan hai,
Har gaya har lamha jiske samne,
Jhuk gaya har dard jiske samne
Vo koi or nahi meri maa mera bhagwan hai.muskurati rahi har dard me vo tumhe hsane k liye,
khud jalti hai vo har pal, sirf tumhe roshni dikhane k liye, rehti hai andhero me tumhe chand dikhane k liye,
Aaj bhi intzaar krti hai vo tumhe chamkta dekhne k liye,
Tadapti hai vo bs ek bar tumhe seene se lagane k liye.
Dedo use itni khushi ki gham bhi na use chu paye is zamane me...
Bna do uske har aasun ko moti,
Chamka to uski zindagi kuch is kadar,
Ki heera bhi feeka parh jaye is zamane me,
Bs ye hi jaan lo, maa hi sabkuch hai,
Har zamane me...

poem by Neha Poemlover
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Gazal Badi Ajeeb hai ye Zindagi in hindi by deepak kumar deep

Badi ajeeb hai ye zindagi,
khushi ek pal ke liye
dukh verson baras ke liye
koi sukh chahta hai is jeevan me
to usse dukhon ki bhari bori hi mil jati hai
jahan foolon ke milne ki aaasha hai
wahan katon ki sej bich jati hai
Badi ajeeb hai ye zindagi.....................

Kuch satya kuch ghooth
Kabhi aasha kabhi nirasha
kabhi sawpno ko pane ki lalasa
inhi me ulagh kar rah gayi hai zindagi
Badi ajeeb hai hai ye zindagi................

Kabhi jati kabhi varn
Kabhi bhasha kabhi dharm
viwadoke ghere me hai aaj ki sanskriti
kaise kahen, kya yahi hai zindagi?
badi ajeeb hai ye zindagi...........

Pyar doge pyar milega
satkar doge samman milega
mehanat se har chij hai sambhav
kam se chori hai dukh ka anubhav
ham jaisa hain sochte nahi hai aisi zindagi?
fier bhi log kahte hain,
badi ajeeb hai ye zindagi.............

Manav jeevan ek baar hai mita
nahi milta hai barambar
har manav se pyar karen
nafrat ko de dutkar
Krodha chod dhairya apnayen
paap chod punya kamayen
ye dharti hai dharam ki
jitni marji fasal ugayen
Ek baar yatan kar dekhen-
Hai khusnasheeb ye zindagi
nahi hai ajeeb ye zindagifir bhi log kahte hai,
badi ajeeb hai ye zindagi.........

poem by Deepak Kumar deep
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Halke Halke se

Ye hume halke halke se
Kya hone laga hai?
Kora kagaz humara
Rangoo se bharne laga hai,
Ya humari nazre hi rangeen ho chali hai?

Hum badal rahe hai,
Ya aaina badal gaya hai,
Kuch din huai
Bada raas aane laga hai.

Dekhte hai, nayano me
Kajal khoob bhane laga hai,
Ye humare nayan badal gaye hai
Ya phir kajal hi badal chala hai.

Tum sang,
Choori ke chand lamho mei
Jee lete hai aapni,
Aarso ki jindagi,
Ye lamhe jindagi ban chale hai,
Ya jindagi lamho mei simat chalee hai.

Tum me hum me hai janmoo ka phasla
Tum parayee,
Hum ek doosri duniya me base basayee.
Ye kya hone laga hai?
Janmoo ka phasla kam ho raha hai,
Ya, tamam janm ise janam me mil gaya hai.

Tum parayee hokar bhi,
Aapne se lag rahe ho.
Ye parayee aapne ho gaye hai,
Ya hum khud se parayee ho chale hai.

Ye hume halke halke se
Kya hoone laga hai…..?

poem by Anjali Kakati
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Mann Toh Mann Hai

Mann to mann hai
Ek sawachand panchi
Kaun use kisi bandhan
me bandh paya hai.

Lakh talo me rah kar bhi
uuse kon bandi bana paya hai.
Dekho to uuadan uski
Chand lamho mei
Vo to kitne brahmand
Bhraman kar aaya hai.

Mann to mann hai
Ek sawachand panchi
Kaun use kisi bandhan
me bandh paya hai.

Tan ko to bandh liya
kadiyo se.
Kabhi diwaroo mein
Kabhi dooriyo mein
Mann ke aashwo ki
Doowd kaun, kaha,
rok paya hai

Mann to mann hai
Ek sawachand panchi
Kaun use kisi bandhan
me bandh paya hai.

mann doodaye
mann hasaye
mann roolaye
mann ki mahima
kya kabhi kooie jaan paya hai.

Mann to mann hai
Ek sawachand panchi
Kaun use kisi bandhan
me bandh paya hai

mann chanchal hai,
jharno sa
baadlo mein chamakti bijjliyo sa.
mann paavan hai
pooja mein chadhe puspo sa.
mann pischash hai
khoon mooh lage narbhakshi sa.

par phir,

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poem by Anjali Kakati
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Kyon?

Kabhi hum aapko dhundhte hai.
Kabhi aap humko dhundhte ho.
Bheed me jamane ki
Khoye hai,
Shayad dono kahi.
Ya bandhe huai hai,
Baediyoo se,
Khud ko yo hi.
Phir bhi
Dhundhte hai
Nain aapko
Nirantar
Yo hi.

Kuch hai jo joode rakhta hai
Humko,
Samay ki parato ke pare.
Kuch hai jo bandhe rakhta hai
Aap ke mann se mujhe.
Tamam swachand hone ki
Koshishso se pare.

Hum bhid me kho kar dekh liye.
Bhag kar samay se pehle nikalne
Ki koshish kar liye.
Chip kar tammam pardo ke
Peeche ho liye.
Auur har baar
Khud ko,
Aapko dekhte paya humne.
Har baar
Paya aapko bhi
Yo hi
Khojte huai.
Bheed ko pyyasi aakho se takte huai.
Phir dekh kar humko
Oot me chipte huai.

Kis se chip rahe hai?
Khud se,
kab tak yo hi chipte phirengee?
Dard ke selab me
Yo hi doobte rahenge?

mana,
Ye galat hai,
Aapka mera yo
Benam rishton me joodna.
Ye galat hai,
Beboonyaad se dhadhkano ko

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poem by Anjali Kakati
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I want to be your dream-boy

I want to be your dream-boy, my jaan
You can fill my life with joy, my jaan

I don't want to live like this, my jaan
Now you are the one I miss, my jaan

As if you are my full moon, my jaan
You are like Almighty's boon, my jaan

I love you right from the start, my jaan
I want to live in your heart, my jaan

I want to keep you happy, my jaan
Without you I am floppy, my jaan

poem by Asif Andalib
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Dil Ka Khalipan! ! ! !

Na ujjalo me jalta hai
Na aandhero se bharta hai
Dil ka khalipan
Na jaane kya chahta hai..

Jal mei bhi pyasa hai
Poora hokar bhi aadhoora hai..

Ye begana aakhir kya chahta hai..

Ghar ki chat ke neeche hokar
Bhi hai beghar..
Manzil pakar bhi bemanzil..

Aakhir banzara yeh mann,
Kyun galiyon me bhatakta hai..

Bhara bhara sa har waqt,
Phir bhi hai khali..
Jhake har manzar manzar
Gali gali..

Aakhir ye mann kya dhoondhta hai?

Kyun har lamha hai
Raste me nazaree gadhaye..
Kiske intezar mei
Palke beechayee?

Dil ka khalipan
Aakhir kya chahta hai?
Na ujjalo me jalta hai
Na aandhero se bharta hai

poem by Anjali Kakati
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June

'Glemt er nu Vaarens Kamp og Vinter-Sorgen,
Til Glæde sig forvandler hvert et Suk.
Skjøn som en Brud, den anden Bryllups-Morgen,
Ei længer Barn, og dog saa ung og smuk,
Den skjønne Junimaaned til os kommer;
Det er Skærsommer! -

*
De høie Popler hæve sig saa slanke,
I Hyldetræet qviddrer Fuglen smukt.
Paa Gjærdet groer den grønne Humle-Ranke,
Og Æble-Blomstret former sig til Frugt.
Den varme Sommerluft fra Skyen strømmer,
Sødt Hjertet drømmer!

Paa Engen slaae de Græs; hør, Leen klinger.
Paa Himlen smukke Sommerskyer staae.
Og Kløvermarken Røgelse os svinger,
Mens høit i Choret alle Lærker slaae.
- Med Vandringsstav hist Ungersvenden kommer
Hjem i Skærsommer.

Ungersvenden.
Alt jeg Kirketaarnet øiner,
Spiret kneiser stolt derpaa.
Og hvor Marken hist sig høiner,
End de fire Pile staae.
Her er Skoven. Store Rødder
Før af Træerne der laae.
Her, som Dreng, jeg plukked' Nødder,
Og trak Jordbær paa et Straa!
- Barndoms Minder mig besjæle!
Jeg vil flyve, jeg vil dvæle!
Grønne Skov, min Barndoms Ven,
Kan Du kjende mig igjen?
Grønne Hæk, du brune Stamme,
Jeg, som før, er end den samme,
Har vel seet og hørt lidt meer,
Ellers Du den Samme seer! -
Her er Pladsen end med Vedet,
Godt jeg kjender Parken der!
Her er Stenten tæt ved Ledet,
Gud, hvor lille den dog er!
Alt jeg kjender her saa godt,
Men det er saa nært, saa smaat -
Det var stort, da jeg var liden,
Jeg er bleven større siden! -
- Lille Fugl paa grønne Qvist,
Saae Du mig derude hist,

[...] Read more

poem by Hans Christian Andersen
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Nunca Te Hare Llorar

Nunca te harllorar
Spoken:
Mi vida, yo sque te han herido
Sque en este momento sietes que no podras volver a amar
An asdame una oportunidad
De mostrarte que te amo
Cuando vi
Tu sonrisa supe que
Estara junto a ti,
Juntos por siempre
Ooh cuando me acerqu
A salir yo te invit
Me dijiste que jams
Volveras a amar
l te hizo dao y tambin te enga
Pero deja mostrarte que ese no soy yo
Es difcil volver a confiar
Hazlo y te enseara amar
Coro:
Nunca te harllorar
Nunca te he de engaar
Prefiero morir que vivir sin ti
Te darmi ser
Siempre serfiel
[2x]
Corazn
Todo se ve un poco mejor
Podras quererme
Como yo te quiero a ti [nana, nena]
Se que sientes [sientes] un gran temor [gran temor]
De mostrar tus sentimientos [sentimientos]
El dolor y sufrimiento [sufrimiento]
Marcaron tu corazn
[marcaron tu corazn]
l te hizo dao [dao]
Y tambin te enga [te enga]
Pero deja mostrarte [mostrarte] que ese no soy yo [no soy yo]
Es difcil volver a confiar [a confiar]
Hazlo y te enseara amar
Yo te harfeliz
Coro -repite [x2]
Yo no te harllorar [no te harllorar]
[nunca] no, no
Nena no te harllorar [nunca..]
Jams llorar [..te harllorar]
Oh no, no, no [mi amor] har
[nena yo...] no te harllorar [nunca]
[he de...] nena no te harllorar [nunca]
Jams llorar [ahhh...]
Nunca te harllorar [no te harllorar]

[...] Read more

song performed by Backstreet Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Nunca Te Hare Llorar (Spanish Version)

nunca te harllorar"
Spoken:
Mi vida, yo sque te han herido
Sque en este momento sietes que no podras volver a amar
An asdame una oportunidad
De mostrarte que te amo
Cuando vi
Tu sonrisa supe que
Estara junto a ti,
Juntos por siempre
Ooh cuando me acerqu
A salir yo te invit
Me dijiste que jams
Volveras a amar
l te hizo dao y tambin te enga
Pero deja mostrarte que ese no soy yo
Es difcil volver a confiar
Hazlo y te enseara amar
Coro:
Nunca te harllorar
Nunca te he de engaar
Prefiero morir que vivir sin ti
Te darmi ser
Siempre serfiel
[2x]
Corazn
Todo se ve un poco mejor
Podras quererme
Como yo te quiero a ti [nana, nena]
Se que sientes [sientes] un gran temor [gran temor]
De mostrar tus sentimientos [sentimientos]
El dolor y sufrimiento [sufrimiento]
Marcaron tu corazn
[marcaron tu corazn]
l te hizo dao [dao]
Y tambin te enga [te enga]
Pero deja mostrarte [mostrarte] que ese no soy yo [no soy yo]
Es difcil volver a confiar [a confiar]
Hazlo y te enseara amar
Yo te harfeliz
Coro -repite [x2]
Yo no te harllorar [no te harllorar]
[nunca] no, no
Nena no te harllorar [nunca..]
Jams llorar [..te harllorar]
Oh no, no, no [mi amor] har
[nena yo...] no te harllorar [nunca]
[he de...] nena no te harllorar [nunca]
Jams llorar [ahhh...]
Nunca te harllorar [no te harllorar]

[...] Read more

song performed by Backstreet Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ye Kaisa Rishta Hai

Ye kaisa rishta hai

Ye kaisa rishta hai
jise na nibha paate hai
Na tood paate hai.
Phir bhi janmo tak
Salamat rahe
Yeh dua karte hai.

Ye kaisa bandhan hai
Jise na yaad karte hai
Na bhul paate hai
Saapno me hi sahi
Sang raho
Yeh tammanna rakhte hai.

Ye kaise lou hai
Jise na jala sakte hai
Na bujha paate hai
Sulagti rahe
Dil me sada
Ye saja lete hai.

Ye kaisa rog hai
Jise na dikha paate hai
Na chiipa paate hai
Dard ko gale se laga
Mann me basaye phirte hai.

Ye kaisa rishta hai

poem by Anjali Kakati
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New Year Poem- Saal Naya Ho Deepak Kumar Deep

Is duniyan ki reet purani
baad subah ke hoti shaam
rang birangi is duniyan ka
hona ek din kam tamam.

Suraj chanda sabhi hain badle
badle dharti aur aasman
Jisam hain badle rab na badla
issi ko kahte hain bhagwan.

Prabhu amar aur avinashi
Iska kabhi bhi nash na hota
Issi se raushan duniyan sari
Bin iske prakash na hota.

karwat li hai waqut ne jab jab
Satyug, treta dwapar aaya
har yug me ye rup badlta
jaisa jab bhi samay hai aaya.

ho laddu kitna bhi tedda
par hum aam usse na kahte hain
jab raam ek hai is duniya ka
fir bhram me hum kyon rahte hain.

Apne bhi badal hain jaate
jab saya dukh ka aata hai
nirasha, dukh, takleef me
bas ye hi sath nibhata hai.

failao daman issi ke aage
sab issi ke mang ke khate hain
par murakh aur agyani log
kha ke iska isko aankh dikhte hain.

satguru pura rab dikhlata
har yug me ye aata hai
aaj bhi aaya ban hardev
aur gyan uzzala failata hai.

Aao satguru ke charnon me
ye hi rab dikhlayega
bhed tughe jo raam khuda me
uska bharam mitayega.

saal naya ho sabkikhatir
uzzawal aur mangalkari
bhukh garibi na ho kahi pe
deep, sukhi ho duniya sari.

[...] Read more

poem by Deepak Kumar deep
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Phagoon Ki Raasta Khoi Hawa

Kya dhoondhte hai?
Kyoun dhoondhte hai?
Kise dhoondhte hai?

Sara jahan hai..
Kabi mutthi me,
To kabhi
Kadmo tale,
Phir bhi jaane kya chahte hai?
Na jaane kis ki khoj me rehta hai,
dil bechara.

Kyon aasthir hai?
Itna asantust,
Itna vyakul ye mann mera?
Peeneko toh puri dariya hai
Na jaane phir kyoun lout aate hai
Pyase he kinare se
Lekar koi naam anjana.

Kyoun nahi chal paate hai
Un raasto par
Jis par chalta hai jag sara?
Na jaane kyoun bhatakte phirte hai
Pagdandi, pagdandi
Jangal, khalihan sara?

Shayad phagoon ki
Rasta khoyee hawa hain,
Kabhi ek tinke se jala dete hai
tamam umar ki kamaiee,
Kabhi usi tinke koi bana lete hai
Doobte ki parchyee.

Kya dhoondhte hai?
Kyoun dhoondhte hai?
Kise dhoondhte hai?

poem by Anjali Kakati
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Salmacis and Hermaphroditus.

MY wanton lines doe treate of amorous loue,
Such as would bow the hearts of gods aboue:
Then Venus, thou great Citherean Queene,
That hourely tript on the Idalian greene,
Thou laughing Erycina, daygne to see
The verses wholly consecrate to thee;
Temper them so within thy Paphian shrine,
That euery Louers eye may melt a line;
Commaund the god of Loue that little King,
To giue each verse a sleight touch with his wing,
That as I write, one line may draw the tother,
And euery word skip nimbly o're another.
There was a louely boy the Nymphs had kept,
That on the Idane mountains oft had slept,
Begot and borne by powers that dwelt aboue,
By learned Mercury of the Queene of loue:
A face he had that shew'd his parents fame,
And from them both conioynd, he drew his name:
So wondrous fayre he was that (as they say)
Diana being hunting on a day,
Shee saw the boy vpon a greene banke lay him,
And there the virgin-huntresse meant to slay him,
Because no Nymphes did now pursue the chase:
For all were strooke blind with the wanton's face.
But when that beauteous face Diana saw,
Her armes were nummed, & shee could not draw;
Yet she did striue to shoot, but all in vaine,
Shee bent her bow, and loos'd it streight againe.
Then she began to chide her wanton eye,
And fayne would shoot, but durst not see him die,
She turnd and shot, and did of purpose misse him,
Shee turnd againe, and did of purpose kisse him.
Then the boy ran: for (some say) had he stayd,
Diana had no longer bene a mayd.
Phoebus so doted on this rosiat face,
That he hath oft stole closely from his place,
When he did lie by fayre Leucothoes side,
To dally with him in the vales of Ide:
And euer since this louely boy did die,
Phoebus each day about the world doth flie,
And on the earth he seekes him all the day,
And euery night he seekes him in the sea:
His cheeke was sanguine, and his lip as red
As are the blushing leaues of the Rose spred:
And I haue heard, that till this boy was borne,
Rose grew white vpon the virgin thorne,
Till one day walking to a pleasant spring,
To heare how cunningly the birds could sing,
Laying him downe vpon a flowry bed,
The Roses blush'd and turn'd themselues to red.

[...] Read more

poem by Francis Beaumont
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Confessio Amantis. Explicit Liber Tercius

Incipit Liber Quartus

Dicunt accidiam fore nutricem viciorum,
Torpet et in cunctis tarda que lenta bonis:
Que fieri possent hodie transfert piger in cras,
Furatoque prius ostia claudit equo.
Poscenti tardo negat emolumenta Cupido,
Set Venus in celeri ludit amore viri.

Upon the vices to procede
After the cause of mannes dede,
The ferste point of Slowthe I calle
Lachesce, and is the chief of alle,
And hath this propreliche of kinde,
To leven alle thing behinde.
Of that he mihte do now hier
He tarieth al the longe yer,
And everemore he seith, 'Tomorwe';
And so he wol his time borwe,
And wissheth after 'God me sende,'
That whan he weneth have an ende,
Thanne is he ferthest to beginne.
Thus bringth he many a meschief inne
Unwar, til that he be meschieved,
And may noght thanne be relieved.
And riht so nowther mor ne lesse
It stant of love and of lachesce:
Som time he slowtheth in a day
That he nevere after gete mai.
Now, Sone, as of this ilke thing,
If thou have eny knowleching,
That thou to love hast don er this,
Tell on. Mi goode fader, yis.
As of lachesce I am beknowe
That I mai stonde upon his rowe,
As I that am clad of his suite:
For whanne I thoghte mi poursuite
To make, and therto sette a day
To speke unto the swete May,
Lachesce bad abide yit,
And bar on hond it was no wit
Ne time forto speke as tho.
Thus with his tales to and fro
Mi time in tariinge he drowh:
Whan ther was time good ynowh,
He seide, 'An other time is bettre;
Thou schalt mowe senden hire a lettre,
And per cas wryte more plein
Than thou be Mowthe durstest sein.'

[...] Read more

poem by John Gower
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Bhage Jaa Rahe Hai

Bhage ja rahe hai,
Na jane dur kis se.
Sochte hai,
janmoo ka ho
Tum me
Hum me
Phasla.
Na tum meri
Har saans mei
Dard banker basoo,
Na hum tumhari
Nazaroo mei khatke
Beaabroo dastan banker.
Yo meelo meel
Bhagte rahe
Aur
Har baar,
Har raah
Le jaati rahi
Tum tak.
Hum phaslee badhate rahe
Aur
Har phasla kareeb lata gaya
Tum tak.
Nahi jante hai,
Kyun har raah
Tum par youn
ruke?
Kyun har phasla
Tumhe aur kareeb laye?
Nahi jante hai,
Kya baandhe rakhta hai
Meri saanso ko
Tumhare dard ke saath.
Par hum phir bhi
Bhagee ja rahe hai
Na jaane duur kis se.-anjali

poem by Anjali Kakati
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Woh Sawan Tha, Yeh bhadon Hai. [ Poem in Hindi]

Woh sawan tha jo beet gaya
Tab paydon par jhuley jholti thi
Allhad masst jawani
Ik pal barasta tha paani
Dujey pal dhoop nikalti thi
Ik pal hum mil kar hanstey thay
Dujey pal virha mein jaltey thay
Woh sawan tha jo beet gaya.
Yeh bhadon hai
Iss ki vyatha main kis se kahoon
Na tum ho priyey
Na koi humdum
Ab jab bhi barkha hoti hai
Toa bas barkha hi hoti hai
Umeed ab tere aane ki
Iss pal kabhi sehlati nahien
Be- bass yeh jeevan lagta hai
Vyarth yeh duniya lagti hai
Yeh bhadon hai
Iss ki vyatha main kis se kahon
Yaadon ke athah samunder main
Jab lehren hilorey layti hain
Aakash main badal garajte jab
Mann par bijli si girti hai
Aur pass nahien tum hoti jab
Nainon se paani barasta hai
Ab jab bhi barkha hoti hai
Toa bas barkha hi hoti hai. [1973]

poem by Om Chawla
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Awareness poem in Hindi by Deepak kumar deep

Sadiyon se khamosh ye dharti
Pata dhoondh rahi hai insanon ka
Kash! Kahin koi mil jaye
Kya shahar hai ye veerano ka?

Dhadhak rahen hai dil par hoth hain band
Iltaza hai kuch kahne ki
Par! sari nakam koshish
Mai chala gaya tha mudon ke shahar me
The naam wahan gude huwe sunhare patthron par

Wo bebas the, chilla rahe the,
Ro rahe the apni lachari par
Zuban na thepaas unke, kuch kahne ko
Kyonki wo bebas the lachar the……
Jane laga jab wahan se main
Pukar rahi thi wo sari lashen mughe
Chilla chilla kar kar kah rahi thi-
Mat banna aise, jaise the mere karm
Yaad kar un baton ko, aati mughe abs harm
Banna tha jab narm mughe, huwa main narm
Andhvishwashon me ghira tha mera apna dharm….

Jao jakar bata do unko
Meri tarah hi unka hoga haal
Maine ta umernahi ki bhakti, sirf kiya dikhawa
Jo bana aaj ka sawal
Maine apna waqut gawaya, duniyawi such ko pane me
Shareer ko sajane me,
Imarte banana me,
Danga fasad karne karane me
Par zara bhi na diya dhyan
Manav jeevan sawarne me.

Murakhta aur pagalpan ki bhi had hoti hai
Maine samay ke satguru ko nahi pahchana
Sirf libas dekha, shaklon par dhokha khakar
Har yug me maine mara taana.

Main bhi kitna badnaseeb tha
Manjeel mere karib tha
Phir bhi daud raha tha paglon ki tarah
Wo waqut bhi kaisa ajeeb tha.
Khair! Min to apne kiye ki bhugat raha hoon
Par jao jakar kahna un ghamandi, ahankari, papai,
durachari, anachari, Vyabhichari, atyachari logon se

Kyon kar raha hai apne aap se gaddaari.
Kar le apne aapki pahchan
Kaun hai tu? Kya hai tera asthan?

[...] Read more

poem by Deepak Kumar deep
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