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Aao suraj ko ufaq paar utarta dekhen!

Kuchh naya kaam karen
or sochen
khud ko be-rubt khayalon k hawalay kr den
phir ye dekhen
kahan, kis tarha se kia hota he...
raat aati he kahan se
abhi chal kr dekhen
chaand ko dusri janib se palat kr dekhen
yeh jo rukhsaar-e-falak pr he shafaq...kesi he?
aao dekhen k dhanak rang ki shokhi me neha'n
raaz kia he k jo heraan kiye deta he?
neend wadi me yeh khwabon ka basera he kidhar?
khwab kia cheez hen
chal kr unhen choo kr dekhen
chandni shab ko chanaaron pe bikharta dekhen
aasmanon ko bahaaron me nikharta dekhen
aao suraj ko ufaq paar utarta dekhen! ! !

poem by Shahzia Batool
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Loose Lucy

Loose lucy is my delight, she come runnin and we ball all night,
Round and round and round and round and round and round and round,
Dont take much to get me on the ground.
Shes my yo-yo, Im her string, listen to the birds on the hot wire sing,
Yeh-yeh yeh-yeh yeh-yeh yeh, singing, thank you, for a real good time!
I got jumped coming home last night,
Shadow in the alley turned out all my lights,
Round and round and round and round and round and round and round,
Dont take much to get me on the ground.
Loose lucy, she was sore, says I know you dont want my love no more,
Yeh-yeh yeh-yeh yeh-yeh yeh, singing, thank you, for a real good time!
Be-bop baby how can this be? I know you been out a cheating on me,
Round and round and round and round and round and round and round,
Dont take much to get the word around.
Cross my heart and hope to die, I was just hanging out with the other guys,
Yeh-yeh yeh-yeh yeh-yeh yeh, singing, thank you, for a real good time!
Went back home with two black eyes, you know Ill love ya till the day I die,
Round and round and round and round and round and round and round,
Dont take much to get the word around.
I like your smile but I aint your type,
Dont shake the tree when its fruit aint ripe,
Yeh-yeh yeh-yeh yeh-yeh yeh, singing yeh-yeh yeh-yeh yeh-yeh yeh,
Singing yeh-yeh yeh-yeh yeh-yeh yeh,
Singing, thank you, for a real good time!

song performed by Grateful Dead
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Call

Don't yeh hear them callin, to yeh, callin' to yeh, lad?
Where the skyline's smeared an' grey with cannon smoke,
There's a crowd o' chaps that knew yeh;
Don't yeh hear them callin' to yeh
Mates o' yours with 'oom yeh used to drink an' joke?
An' they trust yeh, lad; they trust yeh for the friendship that yeh had.
Don't yeh bear them callin',
Callin' to yeh, lad?

Can't you see them beck'nin' to yeh, beck'nin' to yeh, boy ?
There's a pal o' yours that fell at Sari Bair;
An' yeh cheered 'im when yeh parted,
An' yeh felt a bit down-'earted;
Now 'e's passed the game to you, to do yer share.
Oh, the job is reel dead earnest, an' a gun is not a toy;
Can't yeh see them beck'nin',
Beck'nin' to yeh, boy?

Don't yeh know they're waitin' for yeh, waltin' for yeh, mate,
Hopin', prayin' that their countrymen are game;
All that brave an' battlin' crowd of
Men that In yer 'eart yer proud of -
Mates o' yours that 'elped to make yer country's name?
Do yeh mean to dodge the trouble till the foe is at the gate?
'Oh, it's weary waltin',
Waitin' for yeh, mate!'

Can't yeh see them lookin' at yeh, lookin' at yeh, lad
Women-folk of mates o' yours that fought and fell?
Are yeh grumblin' an' protestin'?
Will yer mateship stand the testin'?
Have yeh read the message that those wide eyes tell?
Have yeh heard grey mothers weepin'? Have yeh seen young wives grow sad?....
Won't yeh have them prayin',
Prayin' for yeh, lad?

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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November

'Tredje Reeb ind! - - Op at beslaae Mersseilet! -
Ha, alle Djævle, hvilken Nat! -'

*
Nøgent, øde Sted paa Jyllands Vestkyst.
(Det er Nat og Maaneskin; Skyerne jage hen over det oprørte Hav).

En Skare onde Natur-Aander mødes, de leire sig i Sandet.

Den Første.
Her November har sin Throne,
Hvilken deilig Dandseplads!
Storm og Hav er vort Orchester.
Hør dog, hvilket lystigt Stykke!
Mine Been er Hvirvel-Vinde;
Kom, imens de Andre sladdre
Om de natlige Bedrifter.

Den Anden.
Dette Sted især jeg ynder.
Om en herlig Spas det minder!
See I [rettet fra: i] der det løse Qviksand?
Det er flere Aar nu siden,
Men som nu, just i November,
Kom en lystig Brudeskare;
Klarinet og Violiner
Klang heel lysteligt fra Vognen,
Hvor med Silkebaand om [rettet fra: um] Haaret,
Bruden sad, saa ung og deilig.
Med en Taage jeg dem blænded',
I et Nu de svandt i Sandet.

Den Tredie.
Det er kun i forgaars siden,
Jeg mit Eventyr har prøvet.
Nyligt havde Stormen lagt sig,
Havet hvilte som et Klæde.
Stille laae et Vrag derude,
Alt dets Mandskab længst var borte,
Kun en Mand og tvende Qvinder
Endnu stode der forladte,
Men der laae en Baad paa Dækket,
Stor og bred; de der dem satte.
Manden bortskar [rettet fra: bortskjar] alle Touge,
Undersøgte Alting nøie,
Haabede, naar Vraget sank,
Baaden, frelst fra Dybets Hvirvler,
Let dem bar paa Havets Flade.*
Men eet Toug sig for ham skjulte,
Livet hang ved dette ene.

[...] Read more

poem by Hans Christian Andersen
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Boom - The Official Song Of 2002 Fifa World Cup

Complicated
Understanding what you can achieve
Under-rated
The one to win
One who believes
If I go away
Would you follow me
To that special place of tranquility
Where the..
River flows
And the fields are golden
Come on, come on
Yeah
Boom
Here to rock ya
Boom
Never stop, no
Boom
Raise up high
Boom
Oh, im
Boom boom boom boom
Here to rock ya
Boom
Never stop, no
Boom
Raise up high
Boom boom boom boom
Oo yeh yeh yi yeh ya oo yeh yeh yi yeh ya oo yeh yeh yi yeh ya oo yeh yeh yi
Yeh ya oo yeh yeh yi yeh ya oo yeh yeh yi yeh ya oo yeh yeh yi yeh ya oo yeh
Yeh yi yeh ya...
Take no
Prisoners
Fight to win
And you will survive
Falling
Reason
Just be the flame and spirit come alive
If I go away
Would you follow me
To that special place of tranquility
Where the..
River flows
And the fields are golden
Oooh
Coooome on
Boom
Here to rock ya
Boom
Never stop, no

[...] Read more

song performed by Anastacia
Added by Lucian Velea
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December! ! !

Ab k phir December hay
khirkiyon k pardon say
jhaank kr zara dekho
kesa sard mosum hay
bheega bheega manzar hay
soi soi shaamen hen
hum hen or yaden hen
kyun na apni yadon say
gard jharr kr dekhen
soey soey jazbon ko
phir ubhaar kr dekhen
sath sath ye puchhen
zakam zakhm yadon se
khoon to nahi rista?
dilfigaar sapnon ko
chot to nahi lagti?
Phir jab in sawaalon ka
jo jawab bhi aey
uss ko maan lena hay
kyun k ye to hona hay
kyun k phir December hay.
Aasman pe kia dekhen?
dhund ki hukoomat hay
kuchh nazar nahi aata
urr chukay parinday bhi
sard sard podon se
phool bhi to ghaiyb hen
aik wo jo gulshan mein
khush gulu si koyal thi
wo bhi ab nahi gaati
kyun kharray darakhton pr
chhai ye udaasi hay
zard zard pattay hen
kis qadar khamoshi hay
aik sard mehri hay
Ghaur se zara dekho
doobta hua suraj
apni be-zubani mein
keh raha hay dunia say
iss gulab manzar say
doobnay ka ye lamha
kisqadar sitamgar hay
kia kahen December hay
zeest ki kahani ko
sochh ki rawani ko
rokna hi behtar hay
khirkiyon k pardon say
jhaank kr zara dekho
bheega bheega manzar hay
ab k phir udaasi he

[...] Read more

poem by Shahzia Batool
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Humanity Poem- Manavta Ki Khatir

Rog laga hai har manav ko, main bada hoon tumse pyare
Tu tu may may ki issi aag me, jal rahen hain ye sare
Pyar nahi hai dilon me apne, Lagate Vishva-bandhutva ken are
Seekhen zara prakriti se bhi, jo milkar rahte chand sitare
Gar ghukaden apne aapko to, mit jayenge ghagde sare
Gair nahi koi vair nahi hai, sab hain apne mit hamare

Manav me manavta na ho, to insaan ki kaam ka
Aisa manav chalti phirti lash hai, aur lash hai kis kaam ka
Dhairya, kashma, karuna nahi to, vidya ka gyan kis kaam ka
Bistar hai par neend nahi, wo saaman hai kis kaam ka
Dhan se hai bharpur par shanti nahi, aisa dhan kis kaam ka
Duniya jise such kahti hai, wo such hai kis kaam ka

Tarraki kar li insano ne, gyan aur vigyaan se
Vhed dala antrikash ko bhi, roket wayun se
Much pe baten badi badi, par dil abhi pashan se
Haasil sab kuch kar liya par, bach na sake abhiman se
Manav me manavta hogi to sirf guru ke gyan se
“Deep” milegi mukti to bas, rab ki hi pahchan se

poem by Deepak Kumar deep
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Shaam K Baad! (Urdu)

Hum jhatak detay hen ehsas tera shaam k baad
phir bhi kyun lgti he be-aas nigah shaam k baad

dil sar-e-shaam hi iss tarha sulag uthhta he
jis tarha taaq pe jalti he shama shaam k baad

yeh to naadan say bachhay ki tarha rota hay
mangta rehta he subho ki faza shaam k baad

jaanay kis khass khilonay ki talab hay iss ko
dil ko bhaati nhi taaron ki zia shaam k baad

koi sa'yil ya farishta he khuda hi janay
dard lehjay me jo deta he sada shaam k baad

mujhko charhtay huay suraj ki tarha kafi hay
jalta rehne do koi ek dia shaam k baad

seh peher tk to zamaanay say mila kartay hen
khud say hoti hay mulaaqat sada shaam k baad

in hi lamhon me ibaadat ka maza milta hay
kyun k milta he haqeeqat me khuda shaam k baad

khol kr arsh k taalon ko khuda betha hay
kese lotay gi bhala maa ki dua shaam k baad

dekh kr teray charaaghon ko palat jaati hun
mujh se kehti hay meri dost hawa shaam k baad

abr barsa nhi dil khol k shayad uss ko
ghairat-e nafs ne ronay na dia shaam k baad

itni heraan Batool aj hay khud pr kyun k
aaj hr giz na ussay yaad kia shaam k baad...

poem by Shahzia Batool
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Bring It On Home To Me/send Me Some Lovin

F you ever change your mind,
About leaving, leaving me behind,
Oh, you'd better bring it to me,
Bring your sweet lovin',
Bring it on home to me.
Yeh, (yeh) yeh, (yeh) yeh.
You know i laughed,
Laughed when you left.
But now i know, i've only hurt myself.
Oh, you'd better bring it to me,
Bring your sweet lovin',
Bring it on home to me.
Yeh, (yeh) yeh, (yeh) yeh, yeh, yeh.
Oh, you'd better bring it to me,
Bring your sweet lovin',
Bring it on home to me.
Yeh, (yeh) yeh, (yeh) yeh.
You know i'll always be your slave,
Until i'm dead and buried in my grave.
Oh, you'd better bring it to me,
Bring your sweet lovin',
Bring it on home to me.
Yeh, (yeh) yeh, yeh.
Send me some lovin',
Send it i pray.
How can i love you
When you're so far away?
Send me your picture,
Send it, my dear.
So i can hold it
And pretend you are here.
Send me your kisses,
I can feel your touch.
I need you, i need you so badly,
Don't you know i miss you so much?
My days are so lonely,
My nights are so blue.
I'm here and i'm lonely,
Just waitin' for you.

song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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Bring It On Home To Me/send Me Some Lovin

F you ever change your mind,
About leaving, leaving me behind,
Oh, you'd better bring it to me,
Bring your sweet lovin',
Bring it on home to me.
Yeh, (yeh) yeh, (yeh) yeh.
You know i laughed,
Laughed when you left.
But now i know, i've only hurt myself.
Oh, you'd better bring it to me,
Bring your sweet lovin',
Bring it on home to me.
Yeh, (yeh) yeh, (yeh) yeh, yeh, yeh.
Oh, you'd better bring it to me,
Bring your sweet lovin',
Bring it on home to me.
Yeh, (yeh) yeh, (yeh) yeh.
You know i'll always be your slave,
Until i'm dead and buried in my grave.
Oh, you'd better bring it to me,
Bring your sweet lovin',
Bring it on home to me.
Yeh, (yeh) yeh, yeh.
Send me some lovin',
Send it i pray.
How can i love you
When you're so far away?
Send me your picture,
Send it, my dear.
So i can hold it
And pretend you are here.
Send me your kisses,
I can feel your touch.
I need you, i need you so badly,
Don't you know i miss you so much?
My days are so lonely,
My nights are so blue.
I'm here and i'm lonely,
Just waitin' for you.

song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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Januar

'- Nyfødt Aaret er vorden!
Stolt, med den flagrende Lok, i Storm og i Blæst,
Paa sin vingede Hest
Jager Tiden hen over Jorden - !'
*
Vandringsmanden.
Et Hjem for Samojed og Pescheræ
Viser den frosne Jord med sin Snee;
Men her, som i et Feeland at see,
Staaer det riimfrosne Træ
Og løfter mod Solen sin glimrende Green
Mod en Luft, som Italiens, sortblaa, men reen.
Det er deiligt at see,
Hvor over den hvide Snee
Den sorte Rovfugl svæver,
Og Hytterne hist, hvor Røgen sig hæver,
Hvor Pigen strøer Korn af sin lille Kurv
For den qviddrende Spurv.
- Ja, nyfødt Aaret er vorden!
Stolt med den flagrende Lok, i Storm og i Blæst,
Paa sin vingede Hest
Jager Tiden hen over Jorden,
Trykker med faderlig Arm
Sine Børn, de kommende Aar, til sin Barm.
Er Maanen i Næ tolv Gange vorden,
Svæver et Barn fra hans Bryst til Jorden,
Hvorfra den ventende Broder vil stige
Igjen til sit evige Rige.
Thi Himmelens mægtige Blaa er det Hav,
Hvor Aaret forsvinder,
Hvorfra det nye oprinder
For vor Jord, denne altid blomstrende Grav.
Tiden
(paa sin vingede Hest).
Min Jord, Du er saa skjøn at see
I Sommer-Grønt, i Vinter-Snee!
Din Kamp, Din Færdsel, Død og Liv,
Alt peger til et Guddoms-Bliv!

Du Hvilepunkt for Tanken gav;
Først saae jeg kun et Taage-Hav,
Det maatte snart for Lyset døe,
Og Du fremstod, men alt var Sø!
Da voxte frem den første Ø,
Med Skov og Frugt og Blomster smaae,
Og Mennesket sin Skaber saae.

Hvert Aar et Barn jeg sendte ned,
Og gjennem Had og Kjærlighed
Det atter sig til Himlen svang,

[...] Read more

poem by Hans Christian Andersen
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The Last Ride Together!

Dur hona he naa guzeer magar
hey jo janay me thori der agar

aao kuchh dur mil k sath chalen
aao kuchh der tk to sath chalen

chaand ko, kehkashan ko, taaron ko
or khilti hui baharon ko

or khud apne dil ko dhoka den
mil k tanhayyon ko dhoka den

un ko ehsas bhi na ho paey
raaz afsha kaheen na ho jaey

hum me pehle si dosti na rahi
raastay hen alag magar phir bhi

koi herat, qalaq, malaal nhi
mere dil me tera khayal nhi

iss lye khud fareb khanay se
sir ta paa dukh me doob janay se

laakh bahtar he in ko dhoka den
apni tanhayyon ko dhoka den

aao kuchh der mil k sath chalen
aao kuchh dur tk to sath chalen

asma'n se barastay baadal ko
mouj ko, kashtiyon ko, saahil ko

apnay hi aansuo'on ko dhoka den
sub ko hum muskura k dhoka den

aakhri pal hen hans k sath chalen
akhri baar mil k sath chalen! ! !

poem by Shahzia Batool
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A Letter to the Front

I 'ave written Mick a letter in reply to one uv 'is,
Where 'e arsts 'ow things is goin' where the gums an' wattles is -
So I tries to buck 'im up a bit; to go fer Abdul's fez;
An' I ain't no nob at litrachure; but this is wot I sez:

I suppose you fellers dream, Mick, in between the scraps out them
Uv the land yeh left be'ind yeh when yeh sailed to do yer share:
Uv Collins Street, or Rundle Street, or Pitt, or George, or Hay,
Uv the land beyond the Murray or along the Castlereagh.
An' I guess yeh dream of old days an' the things yeh used to do,
An' yeh wonder 'ow 'twill strike yeh when yeh've seen this business thro';
An' yeh try to count yer chances when yeh've finished wiv the Turk
An' swap the gaudy war game fer a spell o' plain, drab work.

Well, Mick, yeh know jist 'ow it is these early days o' Spring,
When the gildin' o' the wattle chucks a glow on everything.
Them olden days, the golden days that you remember well,
In spite o' war an' worry, Mick, are wiv us fer a spell.
Fer the green is on the paddicks, an' the sap is in the trees,
An' the bush birds in the gullies sing the ole, sweet melerdies;
An' we're 'opin', as we 'ear 'em, that, when next the Springtime comes,
You'll be wiv us 'ere to listen to that bird tork in the gums.

It's much the same ole Springtime, Mick, yeh reckerlect uv yore;
Boronier an' dafferdils and wattle blooms once more
Sling sweetness over city streets, an' seem to put to shame
The rotten greed an' butchery that got you on this game -
The same ole sweet September days, an' much the same ole place;
Yet, there's a sort o' somethin', Mick, upon each passin' face,
A sort o' look that's got me beat; a look that you put there,
The day yeh lobbed upon the beach an' charged at Sari Bair.

It isn't that we're boastin', lad; we've done wiv most o' that -
The froth, the cheers, the flappin' flags, the giddy wavin' 'at.
Sich things is childish memories; we blush to 'ave 'em told,
Fer we 'ave seen our wounded, Mick, an' it 'as made us old.
We ain't growed soggy wiv regret, we ain't swelled out wiv pride;
But we 'ave seen it's up to us to lay our toys aside.
An' it wus you that taught us, Mick, we've growed too old fer play,
An' everlastin' picter shows, an' going' down the Bay.

An', as grown man dreams at times uv boy'ood days gone by,
So, when we're feelin' crook, I s'pose, we'll sometimes sit an' sigh.
But as a clean lad takes the ring wiv mind an' 'eart serene,
So I am 'opin' we will fight to make our man'ood clean.

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Amma k naam...! ! ! (Urdu)

Janay kiskis tarha mushkil se sambhala mujh ko!
Meri maa tu ne boht pyar se paala mujh ko......!

Apne kirdar se, guftaar se taaleem kia
Neik seerat bharay afkaar se taaleem kia
kia sahi, kia he ghalat, nok palak batlai
Ye namaz or dua tu ne hamay sikhlai

Tu ne kundan ki tarha se he ujaala mujh ko!
Meri maa tu ne boht pyar se paala mujh ko!

Tarbiat din ki aulad ko aamaal se di
Roshni tu ne sahi raah ki afa'al se di
Zer e taameer sahi, me teri taameer to hun
Aaj me jo hun teri zaat ki tasveer to hun

Tu ne suraj ki tarha shab se nikala mujh ko!
Meri maa tu ne boht pyar se paala mujh ko!

Kese pehchaanay teri zeest ka unwaan koi
Bistar e marg tha ya jang ka maidaan koi
Itni takleef sahi dil se magar sabr kia
lub se shikva na dia, sham o sahar shukr kia

Kon mushkil me bhala de ga sambhaala mujh ko!
Meri maa tu ne boht pyar se paala mujh ko!

Akhri baar kalejay se mujhe liptana
Kese bhoolay ga kalaavon ka hamay pehnana
Mere naa cheez se haathon ko lagaya lub se
Dil Batool ab bhi yehi bol raha he tub se

Meri maa tu ne boht pyar se paala mujh ko!
Meri maa tu ne boht pyar se paala mujh ko!

poem by Shahzia Batool
Added by Poetry Lover
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Den fremmede Fugl

Seer Du Huset med de røde Bjelker i den hvide Muur?
Rundt om kneise stolte Bøge i den store frie Natur.
Seer Du hist, bag Brombærhækken, Drengen med det aabne Blik?
Ene tumler han sig, lystig efter muntre Drenge-Skik;
Men nu standser han og lytter, thi høit oppe paa en Green,
Sidder der en Fugl og synger, o en lille, deilig een!
Ret som Guld og skjønne Perler skinner Hoved jo og Krop,
Og den selv er ikke større end en fyldig Rosenknop.
Drengen og den lille Sanger blive snart fortrolig her,
Og de skiftes til at synge i det røde Aftenskjær.
Men i Drengens Hoved spøger mange rare Eventyr,
Dem han alle vil fortælle for det lille smukke Dyr;
Men see, Fuglen kan dem alle, selv han saae det paa sin Flugt,
Ingen kan som han fortælle, nei, det er dog alt for smukt!
Men det er ei nok med dette, den kan ogsaa hexe lidt;
Tusind Mile kan den flyve, mens den siger „qvirrevit!"
See den flyver, og den kommer, Drengen er saa sjæleglad,
Sjældne Frøkorn bringer Fuglen, indsvøbt i et Rosenblad.
I hvert Frø er skjulte Kræfter, knap er et i Jorden lagt,
Før et Trylleslot der voxer i sin hele, stolte Pragt.
Taget er af Morgenrøde, Søilerne er Bjergets Snee,
Og igjennem Slots-Portalet kan man ind i Himlen see!
Men et andet Frøkorn svulmer til en deilig Sommersky,
Og med Dreng og Fugl den svæver over Skov og Mark og By,
Seiler ind i Aftensolen, o den er saa rød og stor!
Stiger derpaa ind i Himlen, hvor den gode Gud jo boer;
Seer de mange, mange Stjerner, der som hvide Blomster staae,
Jesubarnet og Guds Engle med de store Vinger paa.
Skyen daler atter med dem, bringer dem til Skovens Krat,
Hvor de smukke Alfer lege i den lyse Sommer-Nat,
Og hvor Aanden af hvert Blomster, der henvisner Aar for Aar,
Atter nu i Midnats-Timen duftende for Øiet staaer.
Fra et Frøkorn stiger hurtigt frem en Palme, høi og stor,
Drengen der med Fuglen sidder, Træet meer og mere groer;
Høit det voxer over Skoven, over Skyen mod sin Gud,
Breder stolt sin grønne Krone over hele Jorden ud.
Fjerne Lande, fjerne Have, seer han dybt dernede staae,
Dog imellem Jord og Himmel underlig han længes maae.
Over Skyen, høit deroppe, Hjertet vil mod Jorden ned,
Og fra Jorden vil det atter søge hist — hvad det ei veed.
Saadan svinder Aar og Dage, Barnets søde Sorg og Lyst,
Øiet bliver da til Flamme, thi det brænder i hans Bryst.
Fuglen flyver, Fuglen kommer, og den flyver bort igjen;
See, da sidder han ved Stranden, stirrer over Fladen hen;
Øiet seer kun Hav og Himmel; Alt er det umaalte Blaae;
Ingen Ø og ingen Skyer, for det trætte Øie staae.
Men see hist, en sneehvid Svane nærmer sig mod Kysten her,
Og sin kjære Fugl han kjender i den stolte Svane der.
See, en Blomsterbaad den trækker, bunden ved sit Vinge-Par!
Og en underdeilig Pige den jo med i Baaden har.

[...] Read more

poem by Hans Christian Andersen
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Inner Smile

Inner smile
(one, two, three, four)
Yeh, yeh
Yeh, yeh
Yeh, yeh
Yeh, yeh
Yeh, yeh
Yeh, yeh
Oh yeh
You gave me something
Like loving
And took me in so soon
You took my feelings
From nothing
Came back at noon
Just meet me
Im ready
To show myself to you
So if I lose my patience
You must try to understand
(try to understand)
If I lose my patience
Oh yeh
Cause you make me feel
Cause you make me feel wild
You touch my inner smile
You got me in the mood
So come on and make your rule
And free me
You make my wishes
As much as
Your kisses make me blue
Youve found my river
Now will you
Escape away too
But baby
Im ready
Im falling into you
So if I lose my patience
You must try to understand
(try to understand)
If I lose my patience
Oh yeh
Cause you make me feel
Cause you make me feel wild
You touch my inner smile
You got me in the mood
So come on and make your rule
And free me
Free me

[...] Read more

song performed by Texas
Added by Lucian Velea
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Inner Smile

Inner smile
(one, two, three, four)
Yeh, yeh
Yeh, yeh
Yeh, yeh
Yeh, yeh
Yeh, yeh
Yeh, yeh
Oh yeh
You gave me something
Like loving
And took me in so soon
You took my feelings
From nothing
Came back at noon
Just meet me
Im ready
To show myself to you
So if I lose my patience
You must try to understand
(try to understand)
If I lose my patience
Oh yeh
Cause you make me feel
Cause you make me feel wild
You touch my inner smile
You got me in the mood
So come on and make your rule
And free me
You make my wishes
As much as
Your kisses make me blue
Youve found my river
Now will you
Escape away too
But baby
Im ready
Im falling into you
So if I lose my patience
You must try to understand
(try to understand)
If I lose my patience
Oh yeh
Cause you make me feel
Cause you make me feel wild
You touch my inner smile
You got me in the mood
So come on and make your rule
And free me
Free me

[...] Read more

song performed by Texas
Added by Lucian Velea
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Marts

'Livets Frihed, Jordens Baand,
Kamp imellem Form og Aand.'

*
Mægtigt Vaarens Pulse banke,
Dog er det saa kold en Tid;
See, imellem Form og Tanke
Viser sig den store Strid;
Aaret giver i det Mindre,
Hvad i Secler Verden gav,
Hvad du seer, hvor Stjerner tindre,
Og i Oldtids sjunkne Grav,
Livets Frihed, Jordens Baand,
Kamp imellem Form og Aand.
*
Jorden.
Ton høit i Tidens Kamp mit stolte Qvad!
En Verden være mig mit Nodeblad,
Urbjergene, som dybt grundfæsted' staae,
De er' de sorte Streger, sat' derpaa,

Og hver Forstening, hvert et Lag deri,
Er Noden til den stolte Melodie.
Hvert Mammuthsdyr, hver Blomst i Stenen bundet
Os synger om et Liv, som er forsvundet,
Om Tidens Stræben, Tidens snevre Baand,
Om Kampen mellem Formerne og Aand.

Hvo sprængte Himlen med sit Stjernetal,
Den vidtudstrakte Ymers Pandeskal,
Den høie Himmelhvælving i sin Skranke -
Hvo, uden Aanden med sin Flamme-Tanke?
Copernikus gav Jorden Liv og Gang,
Stolt alle Sphærerne i Rummet sang,
De gamle Former bort som Avner fløi,
Og Verden blev saa navnløs stor og høi.

Den vilde Søgang bryder stolt hver Skranke,
Og Klippen brister, som den skjøre Planke,
Sø bliver Land og Landet atter Sø,
Men dobbelt skjøn sig reiser Ø ved Ø,
Det indre Liv sig lader ei betvinge.
See! Skovene fra Jordens Muld fremspringe,
Fixstjernens Skjær naaer ned til Jordens Bugt,
Skjøndt Secler svinde i dens snare Flugt,
Men Rummet ei kan Kraftens Straale dæmpe,
Forgjæves Titans Børn mod Himlen kjæmpe.
Brænd Byer af, riv ned med Tiger-Kloe,
Strøe Salt i Gruset, at ei Græs skal groe! -
Dog reiser Aanden atter Steen ved Steen,

[...] Read more

poem by Hans Christian Andersen
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Ghazal! (Urdu)

(prize-winner in poetry competition
HIKC Lhr 2007)

Sitam ka baar uthaanay me kuchh kami na rahi
Bujhi he pyas kuchh esi k tashnagi na rahi

Nigah e naz ki jumbish pe jal uthhay taaray
'Phir us k baad charaghon me roshni na rahi'

Ajeeb silsila e ishq ki yeh manzil he
Mila Khuda to tamanna e bandagi na rahi

kuchh ese pal thay k mehfil ki jan thay hm bhi
Or ab yeh haal k khud se bhi dosti na rahi

Kahan kahan pe hukoomat he uss ki yadon ki
Wo kia gaya k gulon pe bhi taazgi na rahi

Guzar sakay to nhi jaan se pr tumharay baad
Rahi zaroor, , , mgr wesi zindagi naa rahi! ! !

poem by Shahzia Batool
Added by Poetry Lover
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Bruden i Rørvig Kirke

Klart skinner Maanen paa den nøgne Kyst.
I Præstegaarden er nu Alt saa tyst;
Dog, tyst og stille er det stedse der,
Thi i den øde Egn den ligger her
Paa Tangen, som gaaer langt hist ud i Havet,
Hvor Kirken staaer i Sandflugt halv begravet.
Hvem nærmer sig? — Med stærke Skridt de gaae.
Det er en Skare Mænd med Kapper paa!
Men under Kappen blinker Staalet frem;
Den gamle Præst de gjæste i hans Hjem. -
Alt ryster Porten ved de stærke Slag;
Selv Spurven vækkes under Husets Tag
Og flagrer, bange, fra sin lille Rede,
Til Lyngen paa den sorte Hede.

II
Med Fader-Blik og sølvgraat Haar,
Den gamle Præst nu hos dem staaer;
Men taus som Aander er hver Mand;
De pege mod den nøgne Strand,
Hvor Kirken hæver sin røde Muur,
I den døde Natur.
Han kjender i dem et fremmed Folk;
De vise ham Guld og den skarpe Dolk,
De bede og true — nu drage de bort,
Og Præsten følger i Kjortel sort.
Fast holder han Bibelen under sin Arm,
Men Hjertet banker i Oldingens Barm;
De bane sig Vei gjennem Sandet,
Til Kirken ved Vandet.

III
Rundtom er alt saa øde, man seer kun den nøgne Strand,
Hvor Tangen flagrer i Vinden, henad det hvide Sand.
Saa underligt Bølgerne synge og over Dybet gaae,
De svulme, som Hjertet der længes, derfor de briste maae.
I Maanskinnet stiger Skummet, det hvide Bølge-Liig;
Den hvidgraa Maage flygter med bange, hæse Skrig,
Og slaaer mod Kirke-Ruden sit stærke Vinge-Par.
See Kirken den er oplyst, som aldrig før den var,
Og huult og dæmpet stiger derinde Sangen frem,
Det er, som Tone-Bølgen kom fra de Dødes Hjem.

IV
Af fremmede Mænd er hele Kirken fuld,
De straale sært i Vaaben og i Guld;
Kun tyndt er Skjægget om den brune Kind,
De hylle sig i deres Kapper ind;
Med Raslen Sværdene mod Gulvet slaae;
Man seer en Qvinde ene blandt dem staae,

[...] Read more

poem by Hans Christian Andersen
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Chal Chale Kahi Door

chal chale kahi door, tu ho paas jahaa ho dooor..
chal chale kahi door.......

samne koi ho muskil, ho ya koi dushman.
chal chale kahi door.......

aaj koi aye toofan, ya koi moAut..
chal chale kahi door.......

tu jo hey saath balama mere, to dhaye koi lakho sitam...
bus tu mere jindgi ka bus tu hi sahil hey...
tere kadam chum luoo....tere daman odha looooo...
chal chale kahi door.......

mera mandir bhi tu mere majjid bhi tu...
mera sahil bhi tu mera kinara bhi tu,..
chal chale kahi door.......

chal chale kahi door, tu ho paas jahaa ho dooor..
chal chale kahi door.....

poem by Sandeep Jahaal
Added by Poetry Lover
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