She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that 's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
--- by Lord Byron. (Long forgotten, but reminded just by chance on reading a eloquent poetry)
12 दिसंबर 2009
5 दिसंबर 2009
सारे जहाँ से अच्छा, हिन्दोस्तां हमारा
सारे जहाँ से अच्छा, हिन्दोस्तां हमारा
हम बुलबुलें हैं इसकी, यह गुलिसतां हमारा
गुरबत में हों अगर हम, रहता है दिल वतन में
समझो वहीं हमें भी, दिल हो जहाँ हमारा
परबत वो सबसे ऊँचा, हमसाया आसमाँ का
वो संतरी हमारा, वो पासवां हमारा
गोदी में खेलती हैं, जिसकी हज़ारों नदियाँ
गुलशन है जिसके दम से, रश्क-ए-जिनां हमारा
ऐ आब-ए-रौंद-ए-गंगा! वो दिन है याद तुझको
उतरा तेरे किनारे, जब कारवां हमारा
मजहब नहीं सिखाता, आपस में बैर रखना
हिन्दी हैं हम वतन हैं, हिन्दोस्तां हमारा
यूनान, मिस्र, रोमां, सब मिट गए जहाँ से ।
अब तक मगर है बाकी, नाम-ओ-निशां हमारा
कुछ बात है कि हस्ती, मिटती नहीं हमारी
सदियों रहा है दुश्मन, दौर-ए-जहाँ हमारा
'इक़बाल' कोई मरहूम, अपना नहीं जहाँ में
मालूम क्या किसी को, दर्द-ए-निहां हमारा
सारे जहाँ से अच्छा, हिन्दोस्तां हमारा
हम बुलबुलें हैं इसकी, यह गुलिसतां हमारा ।
- मुहम्मद इक़बाल (Muhammad Iqbal)
This song is very popular in India - though typically only a subset of the song is sung (with 1st, 3rd, 4th, and 6th stanza).
हम बुलबुलें हैं इसकी, यह गुलिसतां हमारा
गुरबत में हों अगर हम, रहता है दिल वतन में
समझो वहीं हमें भी, दिल हो जहाँ हमारा
परबत वो सबसे ऊँचा, हमसाया आसमाँ का
वो संतरी हमारा, वो पासवां हमारा
गोदी में खेलती हैं, जिसकी हज़ारों नदियाँ
गुलशन है जिसके दम से, रश्क-ए-जिनां हमारा
ऐ आब-ए-रौंद-ए-गंगा! वो दिन है याद तुझको
उतरा तेरे किनारे, जब कारवां हमारा
मजहब नहीं सिखाता, आपस में बैर रखना
हिन्दी हैं हम वतन हैं, हिन्दोस्तां हमारा
यूनान, मिस्र, रोमां, सब मिट गए जहाँ से ।
अब तक मगर है बाकी, नाम-ओ-निशां हमारा
कुछ बात है कि हस्ती, मिटती नहीं हमारी
सदियों रहा है दुश्मन, दौर-ए-जहाँ हमारा
'इक़बाल' कोई मरहूम, अपना नहीं जहाँ में
मालूम क्या किसी को, दर्द-ए-निहां हमारा
सारे जहाँ से अच्छा, हिन्दोस्तां हमारा
हम बुलबुलें हैं इसकी, यह गुलिसतां हमारा ।
- मुहम्मद इक़बाल (Muhammad Iqbal)
This song is very popular in India - though typically only a subset of the song is sung (with 1st, 3rd, 4th, and 6th stanza).
चिंता / भाग १ / कामायनी
हिमगिरि के उत्तुंग शिखर पर,
बैठ शिला की शीतल छाँह
एक पुरुष, भीगे नयनों से
देख रहा था प्रलय प्रवाह
नीचे जल था ऊपर हिम था,
एक तरल था एक सघन,
एक तत्व की ही प्रधानता
कहो उसे जड़ या चेतन
दूर दूर तक विस्तृत था हिम
स्तब्ध उसी के हृदय समान,
नीरवता-सी शिला-चरण से
टकराता फिरता पवमान
तरूण तपस्वी-सा वह बैठा
साधन करता सुर-श्मशान,
नीचे प्रलय सिंधु लहरों का
होता था सकरूण अवसान।
उसी तपस्वी-से लंबे थे
देवदारू दो चार खड़े,
हुए हिम-धवल, जैसे पत्थर
बनकर ठिठुरे रहे अड़े।
अवयव की दृढ मांस-पेशियाँ,
ऊर्जस्वित था वीर्य्य अपार,
स्फीत शिरायें, स्वस्थ रक्त का
होता था जिनमें संचार।
चिंता-कातर वदन हो रहा
पौरूष जिसमें ओत-प्रोत,
उधर उपेक्षामय यौवन का
बहता भीतर मधुमय स्रोत।
बँधी महावट से नौका थी
सूखे में अब पड़ी रही,
उतर चला था वह जल-प्लावन,
और निकलने लगी मही।
निकल रही थी मर्म वेदना
करूणा विकल कहानी सी,
वहाँ अकेली प्रकृति सुन रही,
हँसती-सी पहचानी-सी।
"ओ चिंता की पहली रेखा,
अरी विश्व-वन की व्याली,
ज्वालामुखी स्फोट के भीषण
प्रथम कंप-सी मतवाली।
हे अभाव की चपल बालिके,
री ललाट की खलखेला
हरी-भरी-सी दौड़-धूप,
ओ जल-माया की चल-रेखा।
इस ग्रहकक्षा की हलचल-
री तरल गरल की लघु-लहरी,
जरा अमर-जीवन की,
और न कुछ सुनने वाली, बहरी।
अरी व्याधि की सूत्र-धारिणी-
अरी आधि, मधुमय अभिशाप
हृदय-गगन में धूमकेतु-सी,
पुण्य-सृष्टि में सुंदर पाप।
मनन करावेगी तू कितना?
उस निश्चित जाति का जीव
अमर मरेगा क्या?
तू कितनी गहरी डाल रही है नींव।
आह घिरेगी हृदय-लहलहे
खेतों पर करका-घन-सी,
छिपी रहेगी अंतरतम में
सब के तू निगूढ धन-सी।
बुद्धि, मनीषा, मति, आशा,
चिंता तेरे हैं कितने नाम
अरी पाप है तू, जा, चल जा
यहाँ नहीं कुछ तेरा काम।
विस्मृति आ, अवसाद घेर ले,
नीरवते बस चुप कर दे,
चेतनता चल जा, जड़ता से
आज शून्य मेरा भर दे।"
"चिंता करता हूँ मैं जितनी
उस अतीत की, उस सुख की,
उतनी ही अनंत में बनती जाती
रेखायें दुख की।
आह सर्ग के अग्रदूत
तुम असफल हुए, विलीन हुए,
भक्षक या रक्षक जो समझो,
केवल अपने मीन हुए।
अरी आँधियों ओ बिजली की
दिवा-रात्रि तेरा नतर्न,
उसी वासना की उपासना,
वह तेरा प्रत्यावत्तर्न।
मणि-दीपों के अंधकारमय
अरे निराशा पूर्ण भविष्य
देव-दंभ के महामेध में
सब कुछ ही बन गया हविष्य।
अरे अमरता के चमकीले पुतलो
तेरे ये जयनाद
काँप रहे हैं आज प्रतिध्वनि
बन कर मानो दीन विषाद।
प्रकृति रही दुर्जेय, पराजित
हम सब थे भूले मद में,
भोले थे, हाँ तिरते केवल सब
विलासिता के नद में।
वे सब डूबे, डूबा उनका विभव,
बन गया पारावार
उमड़ रहा था देव-सुखों पर
दुख-जलधि का नाद अपार।"
"वह उन्मुक्त विलास हुआ क्या
स्वप्न रहा या छलना थी
देवसृष्टि की सुख-विभावरी
ताराओं की कलना थी।
चलते थे सुरभित अंचल से
जीवन के मधुमय निश्वास,
कोलाहल में मुखरित होता
देव जाति का सुख-विश्वास।
सुख, केवल सुख का वह संग्रह,
केंद्रीभूत हुआ इतना,
छायापथ में नव तुषार का
सघन मिलन होता जितना।
सब कुछ थे स्वायत्त,विश्व के-बल,
वैभव, आनंद अपार,
उद्वेलित लहरों-सा होता
उस समृद्धि का सुख संचार।
कीर्ति, दीप्ती, शोभा थी नचती
अरूण-किरण-सी चारों ओर,
सप्तसिंधु के तरल कणों में,
द्रुम-दल में, आनन्द-विभोर।
शक्ति रही हाँ शक्ति-प्रकृति थी
पद-तल में विनम्र विश्रांत,
कँपती धरणी उन चरणों से होकर
प्रतिदिन ही आक्रांत।
स्वयं देव थे हम सब,
तो फिर क्यों न विश्रृंखल होती सृष्टि?
अरे अचानक हुई इसी से
कड़ी आपदाओं की वृष्टि।
गया, सभी कुछ गया,मधुर तम
सुर-बालाओं का श्रृंगार,
ऊषा ज्योत्स्ना-सा यौवन-स्मित
मधुप-सदृश निश्चित विहार।
भरी वासना-सरिता का वह
कैसा था मदमत्त प्रवाह,
प्रलय-जलधि में संगम जिसका
देख हृदय था उठा कराह।"
"चिर-किशोर-वय, नित्य विलासी
सुरभित जिससे रहा दिगंत,
आज तिरोहित हुआ कहाँ वह
मधु से पूर्ण अनंत वसंत?
कुसुमित कुंजों में वे पुलकित
प्रेमालिंगन हुए विलीन,
मौन हुई हैं मूर्छित तानें
और न सुन पडती अब बीन।
अब न कपोलों पर छाया-सी
पडती मुख की सुरभित भाप
भुज-मूलों में शिथिल वसन की
व्यस्त न होती है अब माप।
कंकण क्वणित, रणित नूपुर थे,
हिलते थे छाती पर हार,
मुखरित था कलरव,गीतों में
स्वर लय का होता अभिसार।
सौरभ से दिगंत पूरित था,
अंतरिक्ष आलोक-अधीर,
सब में एक अचेतन गति थी,
जिसमें पिछड़ा रहे समीर।
वह अनंग-पीड़ा-अनुभव-सा
अंग-भंगियों का नत्तर्न,
मधुकर के मरंद-उत्सव-सा
मदिर भाव से आवत्तर्न।
--- जयशंकर प्रसाद (Jaishankar Prasad)
बैठ शिला की शीतल छाँह
एक पुरुष, भीगे नयनों से
देख रहा था प्रलय प्रवाह
नीचे जल था ऊपर हिम था,
एक तरल था एक सघन,
एक तत्व की ही प्रधानता
कहो उसे जड़ या चेतन
दूर दूर तक विस्तृत था हिम
स्तब्ध उसी के हृदय समान,
नीरवता-सी शिला-चरण से
टकराता फिरता पवमान
तरूण तपस्वी-सा वह बैठा
साधन करता सुर-श्मशान,
नीचे प्रलय सिंधु लहरों का
होता था सकरूण अवसान।
उसी तपस्वी-से लंबे थे
देवदारू दो चार खड़े,
हुए हिम-धवल, जैसे पत्थर
बनकर ठिठुरे रहे अड़े।
अवयव की दृढ मांस-पेशियाँ,
ऊर्जस्वित था वीर्य्य अपार,
स्फीत शिरायें, स्वस्थ रक्त का
होता था जिनमें संचार।
चिंता-कातर वदन हो रहा
पौरूष जिसमें ओत-प्रोत,
उधर उपेक्षामय यौवन का
बहता भीतर मधुमय स्रोत।
बँधी महावट से नौका थी
सूखे में अब पड़ी रही,
उतर चला था वह जल-प्लावन,
और निकलने लगी मही।
निकल रही थी मर्म वेदना
करूणा विकल कहानी सी,
वहाँ अकेली प्रकृति सुन रही,
हँसती-सी पहचानी-सी।
"ओ चिंता की पहली रेखा,
अरी विश्व-वन की व्याली,
ज्वालामुखी स्फोट के भीषण
प्रथम कंप-सी मतवाली।
हे अभाव की चपल बालिके,
री ललाट की खलखेला
हरी-भरी-सी दौड़-धूप,
ओ जल-माया की चल-रेखा।
इस ग्रहकक्षा की हलचल-
री तरल गरल की लघु-लहरी,
जरा अमर-जीवन की,
और न कुछ सुनने वाली, बहरी।
अरी व्याधि की सूत्र-धारिणी-
अरी आधि, मधुमय अभिशाप
हृदय-गगन में धूमकेतु-सी,
पुण्य-सृष्टि में सुंदर पाप।
मनन करावेगी तू कितना?
उस निश्चित जाति का जीव
अमर मरेगा क्या?
तू कितनी गहरी डाल रही है नींव।
आह घिरेगी हृदय-लहलहे
खेतों पर करका-घन-सी,
छिपी रहेगी अंतरतम में
सब के तू निगूढ धन-सी।
बुद्धि, मनीषा, मति, आशा,
चिंता तेरे हैं कितने नाम
अरी पाप है तू, जा, चल जा
यहाँ नहीं कुछ तेरा काम।
विस्मृति आ, अवसाद घेर ले,
नीरवते बस चुप कर दे,
चेतनता चल जा, जड़ता से
आज शून्य मेरा भर दे।"
"चिंता करता हूँ मैं जितनी
उस अतीत की, उस सुख की,
उतनी ही अनंत में बनती जाती
रेखायें दुख की।
आह सर्ग के अग्रदूत
तुम असफल हुए, विलीन हुए,
भक्षक या रक्षक जो समझो,
केवल अपने मीन हुए।
अरी आँधियों ओ बिजली की
दिवा-रात्रि तेरा नतर्न,
उसी वासना की उपासना,
वह तेरा प्रत्यावत्तर्न।
मणि-दीपों के अंधकारमय
अरे निराशा पूर्ण भविष्य
देव-दंभ के महामेध में
सब कुछ ही बन गया हविष्य।
अरे अमरता के चमकीले पुतलो
तेरे ये जयनाद
काँप रहे हैं आज प्रतिध्वनि
बन कर मानो दीन विषाद।
प्रकृति रही दुर्जेय, पराजित
हम सब थे भूले मद में,
भोले थे, हाँ तिरते केवल सब
विलासिता के नद में।
वे सब डूबे, डूबा उनका विभव,
बन गया पारावार
उमड़ रहा था देव-सुखों पर
दुख-जलधि का नाद अपार।"
"वह उन्मुक्त विलास हुआ क्या
स्वप्न रहा या छलना थी
देवसृष्टि की सुख-विभावरी
ताराओं की कलना थी।
चलते थे सुरभित अंचल से
जीवन के मधुमय निश्वास,
कोलाहल में मुखरित होता
देव जाति का सुख-विश्वास।
सुख, केवल सुख का वह संग्रह,
केंद्रीभूत हुआ इतना,
छायापथ में नव तुषार का
सघन मिलन होता जितना।
सब कुछ थे स्वायत्त,विश्व के-बल,
वैभव, आनंद अपार,
उद्वेलित लहरों-सा होता
उस समृद्धि का सुख संचार।
कीर्ति, दीप्ती, शोभा थी नचती
अरूण-किरण-सी चारों ओर,
सप्तसिंधु के तरल कणों में,
द्रुम-दल में, आनन्द-विभोर।
शक्ति रही हाँ शक्ति-प्रकृति थी
पद-तल में विनम्र विश्रांत,
कँपती धरणी उन चरणों से होकर
प्रतिदिन ही आक्रांत।
स्वयं देव थे हम सब,
तो फिर क्यों न विश्रृंखल होती सृष्टि?
अरे अचानक हुई इसी से
कड़ी आपदाओं की वृष्टि।
गया, सभी कुछ गया,मधुर तम
सुर-बालाओं का श्रृंगार,
ऊषा ज्योत्स्ना-सा यौवन-स्मित
मधुप-सदृश निश्चित विहार।
भरी वासना-सरिता का वह
कैसा था मदमत्त प्रवाह,
प्रलय-जलधि में संगम जिसका
देख हृदय था उठा कराह।"
"चिर-किशोर-वय, नित्य विलासी
सुरभित जिससे रहा दिगंत,
आज तिरोहित हुआ कहाँ वह
मधु से पूर्ण अनंत वसंत?
कुसुमित कुंजों में वे पुलकित
प्रेमालिंगन हुए विलीन,
मौन हुई हैं मूर्छित तानें
और न सुन पडती अब बीन।
अब न कपोलों पर छाया-सी
पडती मुख की सुरभित भाप
भुज-मूलों में शिथिल वसन की
व्यस्त न होती है अब माप।
कंकण क्वणित, रणित नूपुर थे,
हिलते थे छाती पर हार,
मुखरित था कलरव,गीतों में
स्वर लय का होता अभिसार।
सौरभ से दिगंत पूरित था,
अंतरिक्ष आलोक-अधीर,
सब में एक अचेतन गति थी,
जिसमें पिछड़ा रहे समीर।
वह अनंग-पीड़ा-अनुभव-सा
अंग-भंगियों का नत्तर्न,
मधुकर के मरंद-उत्सव-सा
मदिर भाव से आवत्तर्न।
--- जयशंकर प्रसाद (Jaishankar Prasad)
इतने ऊँचे उठो
इतने ऊँचे उठो कि जितना उठा गगन है।
देखो इस सारी दुनिया को एक दृष्टि से
सिंचित करो धरा, समता की भाव वृष्टि से
जाति भेद की, धर्म-वेश की
काले गोरे रंग-द्वेष की
ज्वालाओं से जलते जग में
इतने शीतल बहो कि जितना मलय पवन है॥
नये हाथ से, वर्तमान का रूप सँवारो
नयी तूलिका से चित्रों के रंग उभारो
नये राग को नूतन स्वर दो
भाषा को नूतन अक्षर दो
युग की नयी मूर्ति-रचना में
इतने मौलिक बनो कि जितना स्वयं सृजन है॥
लो अतीत से उतना ही जितना पोषक है
जीर्ण-शीर्ण का मोह मृत्यु का ही द्योतक है
तोड़ो बन्धन, रुके न चिंतन
गति, जीवन का सत्य चिरन्तन
धारा के शाश्वत प्रवाह में
इतने गतिमय बनो कि जितना परिवर्तन है।
चाह रहे हम इस धरती को स्वर्ग बनाना
अगर कहीं हो स्वर्ग, उसे धरती पर लाना
सूरज, चाँद, चाँदनी, तारे
सब हैं प्रतिपल साथ हमारे
दो कुरूप को रूप सलोना
इतने सुन्दर बनो कि जितना आकर्षण है॥
- द्वारिका प्रसाद महेश्वरी (Dwarika Prasad Maheshwari)
देखो इस सारी दुनिया को एक दृष्टि से
सिंचित करो धरा, समता की भाव वृष्टि से
जाति भेद की, धर्म-वेश की
काले गोरे रंग-द्वेष की
ज्वालाओं से जलते जग में
इतने शीतल बहो कि जितना मलय पवन है॥
नये हाथ से, वर्तमान का रूप सँवारो
नयी तूलिका से चित्रों के रंग उभारो
नये राग को नूतन स्वर दो
भाषा को नूतन अक्षर दो
युग की नयी मूर्ति-रचना में
इतने मौलिक बनो कि जितना स्वयं सृजन है॥
लो अतीत से उतना ही जितना पोषक है
जीर्ण-शीर्ण का मोह मृत्यु का ही द्योतक है
तोड़ो बन्धन, रुके न चिंतन
गति, जीवन का सत्य चिरन्तन
धारा के शाश्वत प्रवाह में
इतने गतिमय बनो कि जितना परिवर्तन है।
चाह रहे हम इस धरती को स्वर्ग बनाना
अगर कहीं हो स्वर्ग, उसे धरती पर लाना
सूरज, चाँद, चाँदनी, तारे
सब हैं प्रतिपल साथ हमारे
दो कुरूप को रूप सलोना
इतने सुन्दर बनो कि जितना आकर्षण है॥
- द्वारिका प्रसाद महेश्वरी (Dwarika Prasad Maheshwari)
बढ़े चलो
वीर तुम बढ़े चलो
धीर तुम बढ़े चलो
साथ में ध्वजा रहे
बाल दल सजा रहे
ध्वज कभी झुके नहीं
दल कभी रुके नहीं
सामने पहाड़ हो
सिंह की दहाड़ हो
तुम निडर,हटो नहीं
तुम निडर,डटो वहीं
वीर तुम बढ़े चलो
धीर तुम बढ़े चलो
प्रात हो कि रात हो
संग हो न साथ हो
सूर्य से बढ़े चलो
चन्द्र से बढ़े चलो
वीर तुम बढ़े चलो
धीर तुम बढ़े चलो
-द्वारिकाप्रसाद माहेश्वरी
धीर तुम बढ़े चलो
साथ में ध्वजा रहे
बाल दल सजा रहे
ध्वज कभी झुके नहीं
दल कभी रुके नहीं
सामने पहाड़ हो
सिंह की दहाड़ हो
तुम निडर,हटो नहीं
तुम निडर,डटो वहीं
वीर तुम बढ़े चलो
धीर तुम बढ़े चलो
प्रात हो कि रात हो
संग हो न साथ हो
सूर्य से बढ़े चलो
चन्द्र से बढ़े चलो
वीर तुम बढ़े चलो
धीर तुम बढ़े चलो
-द्वारिकाप्रसाद माहेश्वरी
कोशिश करने वालों की
लहरों से डर कर नौका पार नहीं होती,
कोशिश करने वालों की कभी हार नहीं होती।
नन्हीं चींटी जब दाना लेकर चलती है,
चढ़ती दीवारों पर, सौ बार फिसलती है।
मन का विश्वास रगों में साहस भरता है,
चढ़कर गिरना, गिरकर चढ़ना न अखरता है।
आख़िर उसकी मेहनत बेकार नहीं होती,
कोशिश करने वालों की कभी हार नहीं होती।
डुबकियां सिंधु में गोताखोर लगाता है,
जा जा कर खाली हाथ लौटकर आता है।
मिलते नहीं सहज ही मोती गहरे पानी में,
बढ़ता दुगना उत्साह इसी हैरानी में।
मुट्ठी उसकी खाली हर बार नहीं होती,
कोशिश करने वालों की कभी हार नहीं होती।
असफलता एक चुनौती है, इसे स्वीकार करो,
क्या कमी रह गई, देखो और सुधार करो।
जब तक न सफल हो, नींद चैन को त्यागो तुम,
संघर्ष का मैदान छोड़ कर मत भागो तुम।
कुछ किये बिना ही जय जय कार नहीं होती,
कोशिश करने वालों की कभी हार नहीं होती।
- सोहनलाल_द्विवेदी) (few people think that it is from सूर्यकांत त्रिपाठी "निराला" or हरिवंशराय बच्चन )
कोशिश करने वालों की कभी हार नहीं होती।
नन्हीं चींटी जब दाना लेकर चलती है,
चढ़ती दीवारों पर, सौ बार फिसलती है।
मन का विश्वास रगों में साहस भरता है,
चढ़कर गिरना, गिरकर चढ़ना न अखरता है।
आख़िर उसकी मेहनत बेकार नहीं होती,
कोशिश करने वालों की कभी हार नहीं होती।
डुबकियां सिंधु में गोताखोर लगाता है,
जा जा कर खाली हाथ लौटकर आता है।
मिलते नहीं सहज ही मोती गहरे पानी में,
बढ़ता दुगना उत्साह इसी हैरानी में।
मुट्ठी उसकी खाली हर बार नहीं होती,
कोशिश करने वालों की कभी हार नहीं होती।
असफलता एक चुनौती है, इसे स्वीकार करो,
क्या कमी रह गई, देखो और सुधार करो।
जब तक न सफल हो, नींद चैन को त्यागो तुम,
संघर्ष का मैदान छोड़ कर मत भागो तुम।
कुछ किये बिना ही जय जय कार नहीं होती,
कोशिश करने वालों की कभी हार नहीं होती।
- सोहनलाल_द्विवेदी) (few people think that it is from सूर्यकांत त्रिपाठी "निराला" or हरिवंशराय बच्चन )
पुष्प की अभिलाषा
चाह नहीं मैं सुरबाला के
गहनों में गूँथा जाऊँ
चाह नहीं, प्रेमी-माला में
बिंध प्यारी को ललचाऊँ
चाह नहीं, सम्राटों के शव
पर हे हरि, डाला जाऊँ
चाह नहीं, देवों के सिर पर
चढ़ूँ भाग्य पर इठलाऊँ
मुझे तोड़ लेना वनमाली
उस पथ पर देना तुम फेंक
मातृभूमि पर शीश चढ़ाने
जिस पर जावें वीर अनेक ।।
- माखनलाल चतुर्वेदी (Makhanlal Chaturvedi)
गहनों में गूँथा जाऊँ
चाह नहीं, प्रेमी-माला में
बिंध प्यारी को ललचाऊँ
चाह नहीं, सम्राटों के शव
पर हे हरि, डाला जाऊँ
चाह नहीं, देवों के सिर पर
चढ़ूँ भाग्य पर इठलाऊँ
मुझे तोड़ लेना वनमाली
उस पथ पर देना तुम फेंक
मातृभूमि पर शीश चढ़ाने
जिस पर जावें वीर अनेक ।।
- माखनलाल चतुर्वेदी (Makhanlal Chaturvedi)
आग जलनी चाहिए
हो गई है पीर पर्वत-सी पिघलनी चाहिए
इस हिमालय से कोई गंगा निकलनी चाहिए
आज यह दीवार, परदों की तरह हिलने लगी,
शर्त लेकिन थी कि ये बुनियाद हिलनी चाहिए
हर सड़क पर, हर गली में, हर नगर, हर गाँव में
हाथ लहराते हुए हर लाश चलनी चाहिए
सिर्फ हंगामा खड़ा करना मेरा मकसद नहीं,
सारी कोशिश है कि ये सूरत बदलनी चाहिए
मेरे सीने में नहीं तो तेरे सीने में सही
हो कहीं भी आग, लेकिन आग जलनी चाहिए।
- दुष्यन्त कुमार (Dushyant Kumar)
इस हिमालय से कोई गंगा निकलनी चाहिए
आज यह दीवार, परदों की तरह हिलने लगी,
शर्त लेकिन थी कि ये बुनियाद हिलनी चाहिए
हर सड़क पर, हर गली में, हर नगर, हर गाँव में
हाथ लहराते हुए हर लाश चलनी चाहिए
सिर्फ हंगामा खड़ा करना मेरा मकसद नहीं,
सारी कोशिश है कि ये सूरत बदलनी चाहिए
मेरे सीने में नहीं तो तेरे सीने में सही
हो कहीं भी आग, लेकिन आग जलनी चाहिए।
- दुष्यन्त कुमार (Dushyant Kumar)
Quest for God
O'ver hill and dale and mountain range,
In temple, church, and mosque,
In Vedas, Bible, Al Koran
I had searched for Thee in vain.
Like a child in the wildest forest lost
I have cried and cried alone,
"Where art Thou gone, my God, my love?
The echo answered, "gone."
And days and nights and years then passed
A fire was in the brain,
I knew not when day changed in night
The heart seemed rent in twain.
I laid me down on Ganges's shore,
Exposed to sun and rain;
With burning tears I laid the dust
And wailed with waters' roar.
I called on all the holy names
Of every clime and creed.
"Show me the way, in mercy, ye
Great ones who have reached the goal."
Years then passed in bitter cry,
Each moment seemed an age,
Till one day midst my cries and groans
Some one seemed calling me.
A gentle soft and soothing voice
That said 'my son' 'my son',
That seemed to thrill in unison
With all the chords of my soul.
I stood on my feet and tried to find
The place the voice came from;
I searched and searched and turned to see
Round me, before, behind,
Again, again it seemed to speak
The voice divine to me.
In rapture all my soul was hushed,
Entranced, enthralled in bliss.
A flash illumined all my soul;
The heart of my heart opened wide.
O joy, O bliss, what do I find!
My love, my love you are here
And you are here, my love, my all!
And I was searching thee -
From all eternity you were there
Enthroned in majesty!
From that day forth, wherever I roam,
I feel Him standing by
O'ver hill and dale, high mount and vale,
Far far away and high.
The moon's soft light, the stars so bright,
The glorious orb of day,
He shines in them; His beauty - might -
Reflected lights are they.
The majestic morn, the melting eve,
The boundless billowing sea,
In nature's beauty, songs of birds,
I see through them - it is He.
When dire calamity seizes me,
The heart seems weak and faint,
All nature seems to crush me down,
With laws that never bend.
Meseems I hear Thee whispering sweet
My love, "I am near", "I am near".
My heart gets strong. With thee, my love,
A thousand deaths no fear.
Thou speakest in the mother's lay
Thou shuts the babies eye,
When innocent children laugh and play,
I see Thee standing by.
When holy friendship shakes the hand,
He stands between them too;
He pours the nectar in mother's kiss
And the baby's sweet "mama".
Thou wert my God with prophets old,
All creeds do come from Thee,
The Vedas, Bible, and Koran bold
Sing Thee in Harmony.
"Thou art," Thou art" the Soul of souls
In the rushing stream of life.
"Om tat sat om." Thou art my God,
My love, I am thine, I am thine.
--- Swami Vivekananda
This was part of the letter written by Swamiji on Sep. 4, 1893 to Prof. J.H. Wright of Boston who introduced Swami Vivekananda in the Parliament of Religions.
In temple, church, and mosque,
In Vedas, Bible, Al Koran
I had searched for Thee in vain.
Like a child in the wildest forest lost
I have cried and cried alone,
"Where art Thou gone, my God, my love?
The echo answered, "gone."
And days and nights and years then passed
A fire was in the brain,
I knew not when day changed in night
The heart seemed rent in twain.
I laid me down on Ganges's shore,
Exposed to sun and rain;
With burning tears I laid the dust
And wailed with waters' roar.
I called on all the holy names
Of every clime and creed.
"Show me the way, in mercy, ye
Great ones who have reached the goal."
Years then passed in bitter cry,
Each moment seemed an age,
Till one day midst my cries and groans
Some one seemed calling me.
A gentle soft and soothing voice
That said 'my son' 'my son',
That seemed to thrill in unison
With all the chords of my soul.
I stood on my feet and tried to find
The place the voice came from;
I searched and searched and turned to see
Round me, before, behind,
Again, again it seemed to speak
The voice divine to me.
In rapture all my soul was hushed,
Entranced, enthralled in bliss.
A flash illumined all my soul;
The heart of my heart opened wide.
O joy, O bliss, what do I find!
My love, my love you are here
And you are here, my love, my all!
And I was searching thee -
From all eternity you were there
Enthroned in majesty!
From that day forth, wherever I roam,
I feel Him standing by
O'ver hill and dale, high mount and vale,
Far far away and high.
The moon's soft light, the stars so bright,
The glorious orb of day,
He shines in them; His beauty - might -
Reflected lights are they.
The majestic morn, the melting eve,
The boundless billowing sea,
In nature's beauty, songs of birds,
I see through them - it is He.
When dire calamity seizes me,
The heart seems weak and faint,
All nature seems to crush me down,
With laws that never bend.
Meseems I hear Thee whispering sweet
My love, "I am near", "I am near".
My heart gets strong. With thee, my love,
A thousand deaths no fear.
Thou speakest in the mother's lay
Thou shuts the babies eye,
When innocent children laugh and play,
I see Thee standing by.
When holy friendship shakes the hand,
He stands between them too;
He pours the nectar in mother's kiss
And the baby's sweet "mama".
Thou wert my God with prophets old,
All creeds do come from Thee,
The Vedas, Bible, and Koran bold
Sing Thee in Harmony.
"Thou art," Thou art" the Soul of souls
In the rushing stream of life.
"Om tat sat om." Thou art my God,
My love, I am thine, I am thine.
--- Swami Vivekananda
This was part of the letter written by Swamiji on Sep. 4, 1893 to Prof. J.H. Wright of Boston who introduced Swami Vivekananda in the Parliament of Religions.
The Living God
He who is in you and outside you,
Who works through all hands,
Who walks on all feet,
Whose body are all ye,
Him worship, and break all other idols!
He who is at once the high and low,
The sinner and the saint,
Both God and worm,
Him worship — visible, knowable, real, omnipresent,
Break all other idols!
In whom is neither past life
Nor future birth nor death,
In whom we always have been
And always shall be one,
Him worship. Break all other idols!
Ye fools! who neglect the living God,
And His infinite reflections with which the world is full.
While ye run after imaginary shadows,
That lead alone to fights and quarrels,
Him worship, the only visible!
Break all other idols!
---(Written by Swami Vivekananda to an American friend from Almora, 9th July 1897.)
Who works through all hands,
Who walks on all feet,
Whose body are all ye,
Him worship, and break all other idols!
He who is at once the high and low,
The sinner and the saint,
Both God and worm,
Him worship — visible, knowable, real, omnipresent,
Break all other idols!
In whom is neither past life
Nor future birth nor death,
In whom we always have been
And always shall be one,
Him worship. Break all other idols!
Ye fools! who neglect the living God,
And His infinite reflections with which the world is full.
While ye run after imaginary shadows,
That lead alone to fights and quarrels,
Him worship, the only visible!
Break all other idols!
---(Written by Swami Vivekananda to an American friend from Almora, 9th July 1897.)
The Song Of The Free
The wounded snake its hood unfurls,
The flame stirred up doth blaze,
The desert air resounds the calls
Of heart-struck lion's rage.
The cloud puts forth it deluge strength
When lightning cleaves its breast,
When the soul is stirred to its in most depth
Great ones unfold their best.
Let eyes grow dim and heart grow faint,
And friendship fail and love betray,
Let Fate its hundred horrors send,
And clotted darkness block the way.
All nature wear one angry frown,
To crush you out - still know, my soul,
You are Divine. March on and on,
Nor right nor left but to the goal.
Nor angel I, nor man, nor brute,
Nor body, mind, nor he nor she,
The books do stop in wonder mute
To tell my nature; I am He.
Before the sun, the moon, the earth,
Before the stars or comets free,
Before e'en time has had its birth,
I was, I am, and I will be.
The beauteous earth, the glorious sun,
The calm sweet moon, the spangled sky,
Causation's law do make them run;
They live in bonds, in bonds they die.
And mind its mantle dreamy net
Cast o'er them all and holds them fast.
In warp and woof of thought are set,
Earth, hells, and heavens, or worst or best.
Know these are but the outer crust -
All space and time, all effect, cause.
I am beyond all sense, all thoughts,
The witness of the universe.
Not two nor many, 'tis but one,
And thus in me all me's I have;
I cannot hate, I cannot shun
Myself from me, I can but love.
From dreams awake, from bonds be free,
Be not afraid. This mystery,
My shadow, cannot frighten me,
Know once for all that I am He.
--- - written in 1895 by Swami Vivekananda
The flame stirred up doth blaze,
The desert air resounds the calls
Of heart-struck lion's rage.
The cloud puts forth it deluge strength
When lightning cleaves its breast,
When the soul is stirred to its in most depth
Great ones unfold their best.
Let eyes grow dim and heart grow faint,
And friendship fail and love betray,
Let Fate its hundred horrors send,
And clotted darkness block the way.
All nature wear one angry frown,
To crush you out - still know, my soul,
You are Divine. March on and on,
Nor right nor left but to the goal.
Nor angel I, nor man, nor brute,
Nor body, mind, nor he nor she,
The books do stop in wonder mute
To tell my nature; I am He.
Before the sun, the moon, the earth,
Before the stars or comets free,
Before e'en time has had its birth,
I was, I am, and I will be.
The beauteous earth, the glorious sun,
The calm sweet moon, the spangled sky,
Causation's law do make them run;
They live in bonds, in bonds they die.
And mind its mantle dreamy net
Cast o'er them all and holds them fast.
In warp and woof of thought are set,
Earth, hells, and heavens, or worst or best.
Know these are but the outer crust -
All space and time, all effect, cause.
I am beyond all sense, all thoughts,
The witness of the universe.
Not two nor many, 'tis but one,
And thus in me all me's I have;
I cannot hate, I cannot shun
Myself from me, I can but love.
From dreams awake, from bonds be free,
Be not afraid. This mystery,
My shadow, cannot frighten me,
Know once for all that I am He.
--- - written in 1895 by Swami Vivekananda
नर हो न निराश करो मन को
नर हो न निराश करो मन को
कुछ काम करो कुछ काम करो
जग में रहके निज नाम करो
यह जन्म हुआ किस अर्थ अहो
समझो जिसमें यह व्यर्थ न हो
कुछ तो उपयुक्त करो तन को
नर हो न निराश करो मन को ।
संभलो कि सुयोग न जाए चला
कब व्यर्थ हुआ सदुपाय भला
समझो जग को न निरा सपना
पथ आप प्रशस्त करो अपना
अखिलेश्वर है अवलम्बन को
नर हो न निराश करो मन को ।
जब प्राप्त तुम्हें सब तत्त्व यहाँ
फिर जा सकता वह सत्त्व कहाँ
तुम स्वत्त्व सुधा रस पान करो
उठके अमरत्व विधान करो
दवरूप रहो भव कानन को
नर हो न निराश करो मन को ।
निज गौरव का नित ज्ञान रहे
हम भी कुछ हैं यह ध्यान रहे
सब जाय अभी पर मान रहे
मरणोत्तर गुंजित गान रहे
कुछ हो न तजो निज साधन को
नर हो न निराश करो मन को ।
- मैथिलीशरण गुप्त
कुछ काम करो कुछ काम करो
जग में रहके निज नाम करो
यह जन्म हुआ किस अर्थ अहो
समझो जिसमें यह व्यर्थ न हो
कुछ तो उपयुक्त करो तन को
नर हो न निराश करो मन को ।
संभलो कि सुयोग न जाए चला
कब व्यर्थ हुआ सदुपाय भला
समझो जग को न निरा सपना
पथ आप प्रशस्त करो अपना
अखिलेश्वर है अवलम्बन को
नर हो न निराश करो मन को ।
जब प्राप्त तुम्हें सब तत्त्व यहाँ
फिर जा सकता वह सत्त्व कहाँ
तुम स्वत्त्व सुधा रस पान करो
उठके अमरत्व विधान करो
दवरूप रहो भव कानन को
नर हो न निराश करो मन को ।
निज गौरव का नित ज्ञान रहे
हम भी कुछ हैं यह ध्यान रहे
सब जाय अभी पर मान रहे
मरणोत्तर गुंजित गान रहे
कुछ हो न तजो निज साधन को
नर हो न निराश करो मन को ।
- मैथिलीशरण गुप्त
27 नवंबर 2009
Friday
Quiet Friday
deserted Friday
Friday saddening like old alleys
Friday of lazy ailing thoughts
Friday of noisome sinuous stretches
Friday of no anticipation
Friday of submission.
Empty house
lonesome house
house locked against the onslaught of youth
house of darkness and fantasies of the sun
house of loneliness, augury and indecision
house of curtains, books, cupboards, picture.
Ah, how my life flowed silent and serene
like a deep-running stream
through the heart of such silent, deserted Fridays
through the heart of such empty cheerless houses
ah, how my life flowed silent and serene.
--- By Forugh Farrokhzad
Translated by Ahmad Karimi-Hakkak. Remembering the Flight: A Parallel Text in English and Persian
deserted Friday
Friday saddening like old alleys
Friday of lazy ailing thoughts
Friday of noisome sinuous stretches
Friday of no anticipation
Friday of submission.
Empty house
lonesome house
house locked against the onslaught of youth
house of darkness and fantasies of the sun
house of loneliness, augury and indecision
house of curtains, books, cupboards, picture.
Ah, how my life flowed silent and serene
like a deep-running stream
through the heart of such silent, deserted Fridays
through the heart of such empty cheerless houses
ah, how my life flowed silent and serene.
--- By Forugh Farrokhzad
Translated by Ahmad Karimi-Hakkak. Remembering the Flight: A Parallel Text in English and Persian
The Wind Will Take Us
In my small night, ah
the wind has a date with the leaves of the trees
in my small night there is agony of destruction
listen
do you hear the darkness blowing?
I look upon this bliss as a stranger
I am addicted to my despair.
listen do you hear the darkness blowing?
something is passing in the night
the moon is restless and red
and over this rooftop
where crumbling is a constant fear
clouds, like a procession of mourners
seem to be waiting for the moment of rain.
a moment
and then nothing
night shudders beyond this window
and the earth winds to a halt
beyond this window
something unknown is watching you and me.
O green from head to foot
place your hands like a burning memory
in my loving hands
give your lips to the caresses
of my loving lips
like the warm perception of being
the wind will take us
the wind will take us.
--- By Forugh Farrokhzad
Translated by Ahmad Karimi Hakkak
The Persian Book Review VOLUME III, NO 12 Page 1337
the wind has a date with the leaves of the trees
in my small night there is agony of destruction
listen
do you hear the darkness blowing?
I look upon this bliss as a stranger
I am addicted to my despair.
listen do you hear the darkness blowing?
something is passing in the night
the moon is restless and red
and over this rooftop
where crumbling is a constant fear
clouds, like a procession of mourners
seem to be waiting for the moment of rain.
a moment
and then nothing
night shudders beyond this window
and the earth winds to a halt
beyond this window
something unknown is watching you and me.
O green from head to foot
place your hands like a burning memory
in my loving hands
give your lips to the caresses
of my loving lips
like the warm perception of being
the wind will take us
the wind will take us.
--- By Forugh Farrokhzad
Translated by Ahmad Karimi Hakkak
The Persian Book Review VOLUME III, NO 12 Page 1337
Another Birth
My whole being is a dark chant
which will carry you
perpetuating you
to the dawn of eternal growths and blossoming
in this chant I sighed you sighed
in this chant
I grafted you to the tree to the water to the fire.
Life is perhaps
a long street through which a woman holding
a basket passes every day
Life is perhaps
a rope with which a man hangs himself from a branch
life is perhaps a child returning home from school.
Life is perhaps lighting up a cigarette
in the narcotic repose between two love-makings
or the absent gaze of a passerby
who takes off his hat to another passerby
with a meaningless smile and a good morning .
Life is perhaps that enclosed moment
when my gaze destroys itself in the pupil of your eyes
and it is in the feeling
which I will put into the Moon's impression
and the Night's perception.
In a room as big as loneliness
my heart
which is as big as love
looks at the simple pretexts of its happiness
at the beautiful decay of flowers in the vase
at the sapling you planted in our garden
and the song of canaries
which sing to the size of a window.
Ah
this is my lot
this is my lot
my lot is
a sky which is taken away at the drop of a curtain
my lot is going down a flight of disused stairs
a regain something amid putrefaction and nostalgia
my lot is a sad promenade in the garden of memories
and dying in the grief of a voice which tells me
I love
your hands.
I will plant my hands in the garden
I will grow I know I know I know
and swallows will lay eggs
in the hollow of my ink-stained hands.
I shall wear
a pair of twin cherries as ear-rings
and I shall put dahlia petals on my finger-nails
there is an alley
where the boys who were in love with me
still loiter with the same unkempt hair
thin necks and bony legs
and think of the innocent smiles of a little girl
who was blown away by the wind one night.
There is an alley
which my heart has stolen
from the streets of my childhood.
The journey of a form along the line of time
inseminating the line of time with the form
a form conscious of an image
coming back from a feast in a mirror
And it is in this way
that someone dies
and someone lives on.
No fisherman shall ever find a pearl in a small brook
which empties into a pool.
I know a sad little fairy
who lives in an ocean
and ever so softly
plays her heart into a magic flute
a sad little fairy
who dies with one kiss each night
and is reborn with one kiss each dawn.
--- By Forugh Farrokhzad
Karim Emami Az Past O Bolande Targomeh Page 19-21
which will carry you
perpetuating you
to the dawn of eternal growths and blossoming
in this chant I sighed you sighed
in this chant
I grafted you to the tree to the water to the fire.
Life is perhaps
a long street through which a woman holding
a basket passes every day
Life is perhaps
a rope with which a man hangs himself from a branch
life is perhaps a child returning home from school.
Life is perhaps lighting up a cigarette
in the narcotic repose between two love-makings
or the absent gaze of a passerby
who takes off his hat to another passerby
with a meaningless smile and a good morning .
Life is perhaps that enclosed moment
when my gaze destroys itself in the pupil of your eyes
and it is in the feeling
which I will put into the Moon's impression
and the Night's perception.
In a room as big as loneliness
my heart
which is as big as love
looks at the simple pretexts of its happiness
at the beautiful decay of flowers in the vase
at the sapling you planted in our garden
and the song of canaries
which sing to the size of a window.
Ah
this is my lot
this is my lot
my lot is
a sky which is taken away at the drop of a curtain
my lot is going down a flight of disused stairs
a regain something amid putrefaction and nostalgia
my lot is a sad promenade in the garden of memories
and dying in the grief of a voice which tells me
I love
your hands.
I will plant my hands in the garden
I will grow I know I know I know
and swallows will lay eggs
in the hollow of my ink-stained hands.
I shall wear
a pair of twin cherries as ear-rings
and I shall put dahlia petals on my finger-nails
there is an alley
where the boys who were in love with me
still loiter with the same unkempt hair
thin necks and bony legs
and think of the innocent smiles of a little girl
who was blown away by the wind one night.
There is an alley
which my heart has stolen
from the streets of my childhood.
The journey of a form along the line of time
inseminating the line of time with the form
a form conscious of an image
coming back from a feast in a mirror
And it is in this way
that someone dies
and someone lives on.
No fisherman shall ever find a pearl in a small brook
which empties into a pool.
I know a sad little fairy
who lives in an ocean
and ever so softly
plays her heart into a magic flute
a sad little fairy
who dies with one kiss each night
and is reborn with one kiss each dawn.
--- By Forugh Farrokhzad
Karim Emami Az Past O Bolande Targomeh Page 19-21
Change we believe in
One year ago Hafiz Saeed was free,
One year later Hafiz Saeed is still free.
One year ago RR Patil was the Home Minister of Maharashtra,
One year later RR Patil is still the Home Minister of Maharashtra.
One year ago the News Channels were playing clips from the 26/11 attacks,
One year later the News Channels are still playing clips from the 26/11 attacks.
One year ago Kasab was alive,
One year later Kasab is still alive.
Congratulations everybody!
We simply changed the date and time,
From 26/11/2008 to 26/11/2009!
Cited From this source without permission.
One year later Hafiz Saeed is still free.
One year ago RR Patil was the Home Minister of Maharashtra,
One year later RR Patil is still the Home Minister of Maharashtra.
One year ago the News Channels were playing clips from the 26/11 attacks,
One year later the News Channels are still playing clips from the 26/11 attacks.
One year ago Kasab was alive,
One year later Kasab is still alive.
Congratulations everybody!
We simply changed the date and time,
From 26/11/2008 to 26/11/2009!
Cited From this source without permission.
18 नवंबर 2009
मंत्र कविता
ॐ शब्द ही ब्रह्म है
ॐ शब्द और शब्द और शब्द और शब्द
ॐ प्रणव, ॐ नाद, ॐ मुद्राएँ
ॐ वक्तव्य, ॐ उद्गार, ॐ घोषणाएँ
ॐ भाषण…
ॐ प्रवचन…
ॐ हुंकार, ॐ फटकार, ॐ शीत्कार
ॐ फुस-फुस, ॐ फुत्कार, ॐ चित्कार
ॐ आस्फालन, ॐ इंगित, ॐ इशारे
ॐ नारे और नारे और नारे और नारे
ॐ सब कुछ, सब कुछ, सब कुछ
ॐ कुछ नहीं, कुछ नहीं, कुछ नहीं
ॐ पत्थर पर की दूब, खरगोश के सींग
ॐ नमक-तेल-हल्दी-जीरा-हींग
ॐ मूस की लेंड़ी, कनेर के पात
ॐ डायन की चीख, औघड़ की अटपट बात
ॐ कोयला-इस्पात-पेट्रोल
ॐ हमीं हम ठोस, बाकी सब फूटे ढोल
ॐ इदमन्नं, इमा आप:, इदमाज्यम, इदं हवि
ॐ यजमान, ॐ पुरोहित, ॐ राजा, ॐ कवि:
ॐ क्रांति: क्रांति: क्रांति: सर्वग्वम् क्रांति:
ॐ शांति: शांति: शांति: सर्वग्वम् शांति:
ॐ भ्रांति: भ्रांति: भ्रांति: सर्वग्वम् भ्रांति:
ॐ बचाओ बचाओ बचाओ बचाओ
ॐ हटाओ हटाओ हटाओ हटाओ
ॐ घेराओ घेराओ घेराओ घेराओ
ॐ निभाओ निभाओ निभाओ निभाओ
ॐ दलों में एक दल अपना दल, ॐ
ॐ अंगीकरण, शुद्धीकरण, राष्ट्रीकरण
ॐ मुष्टीकरण, तुष्टीकरण, पुष्टीकरण
ॐ एतराज़, आक्षेप, अनुशासन
ॐ गद्दी पर आजन्म वज्रासन
ॐ ट्रिब्यूनल ॐ आश्वासन
ॐ गुट-निरपेक्ष सत्ता-सापेक्ष जोड़-तोड़
ॐ छल-छंद, ॐ मिथ्या, ॐ होड़महोड़
ॐ बकवास, ॐ उद्घाटन
ॐ मारण-मोहन-उच्चाटन
ॐ काली काली काली महाकाली महाकाली
ॐ मार मार मार, वार न जाए खाली
ॐ अपनी खुशहाली
ॐ दुश्मनों की पामाली
ॐ मार, मार, मार, मार, मार, मार, मार
ॐ अपोजिशन के मुंड बनें तेरे गले का हार
ॐ ऐं हीं वलीं हूँ ॐ
ॐ हम चबाएंगे तिलक और गांधी की टांग
ॐ बूढे की आँख, छोकरी का काजल
ॐ तुलसीदल, बिल्वपत्र, चंदन, रोली, अक्षत, गंगाजल
ॐ शेर के दाँत, भालू के नाखून, मरकत का फोता
ॐ हमेशा हमेशा हमेशा करेगा राज मेरा पोता
ॐ छू: छू: फू: फू: फट फिट फुट
ॐ शत्रुओं की छाती पर लोहा कुट
ॐ भैरो, भैरो, भैरो, ॐ बजरंगबली
ॐ बन्दूक का टोटा, पिस्तौल की नली
ॐ डालर, ॐ रूबल, ॐ
ॐ साउंड, ॐ साउंड, ॐ साउंड
ॐ ॐ ॐ
ॐ धरती, धरती, धरती, व्योम् व्योम् व्योम्
ॐ अष्टधातुओं की ईंटों के भट्ठे
ॐ महामहिम, महामहो, उल्लू के पट्ठे
ॐ दुर्गा दुर्गा तारा तारा तारा
ॐ इसी पेट के अदंर समा जाए सर्वहारा
हरि: ॐ तत्सत् हरि: ॐ तत्सत्
********
नागार्जुन
ॐ शब्द और शब्द और शब्द और शब्द
ॐ प्रणव, ॐ नाद, ॐ मुद्राएँ
ॐ वक्तव्य, ॐ उद्गार, ॐ घोषणाएँ
ॐ भाषण…
ॐ प्रवचन…
ॐ हुंकार, ॐ फटकार, ॐ शीत्कार
ॐ फुस-फुस, ॐ फुत्कार, ॐ चित्कार
ॐ आस्फालन, ॐ इंगित, ॐ इशारे
ॐ नारे और नारे और नारे और नारे
ॐ सब कुछ, सब कुछ, सब कुछ
ॐ कुछ नहीं, कुछ नहीं, कुछ नहीं
ॐ पत्थर पर की दूब, खरगोश के सींग
ॐ नमक-तेल-हल्दी-जीरा-हींग
ॐ मूस की लेंड़ी, कनेर के पात
ॐ डायन की चीख, औघड़ की अटपट बात
ॐ कोयला-इस्पात-पेट्रोल
ॐ हमीं हम ठोस, बाकी सब फूटे ढोल
ॐ इदमन्नं, इमा आप:, इदमाज्यम, इदं हवि
ॐ यजमान, ॐ पुरोहित, ॐ राजा, ॐ कवि:
ॐ क्रांति: क्रांति: क्रांति: सर्वग्वम् क्रांति:
ॐ शांति: शांति: शांति: सर्वग्वम् शांति:
ॐ भ्रांति: भ्रांति: भ्रांति: सर्वग्वम् भ्रांति:
ॐ बचाओ बचाओ बचाओ बचाओ
ॐ हटाओ हटाओ हटाओ हटाओ
ॐ घेराओ घेराओ घेराओ घेराओ
ॐ निभाओ निभाओ निभाओ निभाओ
ॐ दलों में एक दल अपना दल, ॐ
ॐ अंगीकरण, शुद्धीकरण, राष्ट्रीकरण
ॐ मुष्टीकरण, तुष्टीकरण, पुष्टीकरण
ॐ एतराज़, आक्षेप, अनुशासन
ॐ गद्दी पर आजन्म वज्रासन
ॐ ट्रिब्यूनल ॐ आश्वासन
ॐ गुट-निरपेक्ष सत्ता-सापेक्ष जोड़-तोड़
ॐ छल-छंद, ॐ मिथ्या, ॐ होड़महोड़
ॐ बकवास, ॐ उद्घाटन
ॐ मारण-मोहन-उच्चाटन
ॐ काली काली काली महाकाली महाकाली
ॐ मार मार मार, वार न जाए खाली
ॐ अपनी खुशहाली
ॐ दुश्मनों की पामाली
ॐ मार, मार, मार, मार, मार, मार, मार
ॐ अपोजिशन के मुंड बनें तेरे गले का हार
ॐ ऐं हीं वलीं हूँ ॐ
ॐ हम चबाएंगे तिलक और गांधी की टांग
ॐ बूढे की आँख, छोकरी का काजल
ॐ तुलसीदल, बिल्वपत्र, चंदन, रोली, अक्षत, गंगाजल
ॐ शेर के दाँत, भालू के नाखून, मरकत का फोता
ॐ हमेशा हमेशा हमेशा करेगा राज मेरा पोता
ॐ छू: छू: फू: फू: फट फिट फुट
ॐ शत्रुओं की छाती पर लोहा कुट
ॐ भैरो, भैरो, भैरो, ॐ बजरंगबली
ॐ बन्दूक का टोटा, पिस्तौल की नली
ॐ डालर, ॐ रूबल, ॐ
ॐ साउंड, ॐ साउंड, ॐ साउंड
ॐ ॐ ॐ
ॐ धरती, धरती, धरती, व्योम् व्योम् व्योम्
ॐ अष्टधातुओं की ईंटों के भट्ठे
ॐ महामहिम, महामहो, उल्लू के पट्ठे
ॐ दुर्गा दुर्गा तारा तारा तारा
ॐ इसी पेट के अदंर समा जाए सर्वहारा
हरि: ॐ तत्सत् हरि: ॐ तत्सत्
********
नागार्जुन
बादल को घिरते देखा है |
अमल धवल गिरि के शिखरों पर
बादल को घिरते देखा है।
छोटे-छोटे मोती जैसे
उसके शीतल तुहिन कणों को
मानसरोवर के उन स्वर्णिम
कमलों पर गिरते देखा है
बादलों को घिरते देखा है।
तुंग हिमालय के कंधों पर
छोटी-बड़ी कई झीलें हैं
उनके श्यामल-नील सलिल में
समतल देशों से आ-आकर
पावस की ऊमस से आकुल
तिक्त-मधुर बिस-तंतु खोजते
हंसों को तिरते देखा है
बादल को घिरते देखा है।
ऋतु वसंत का सुप्रभात था
मंद-मंद था अनिल बह रहा
बालारुण की मृदु किरणें थीं
अगल-बगल स्वर्णाभ शिखर थे
एक-दूसरे से विरहित हो
अलग-अलग रहकर ही जिनको
सारी रात बितानी होती
निशाकाल से चिर-अभिशापित
बेबस उस चकवा-चकवी का
बंद हुआ क्रंदन; फिर उनमें
उस महान सरवर के तीरे
शैवालों की हरी दरी पर
प्रणय-कलह छिड़ते देखा है
बादल को घिरते देखा है।
दुर्गम बर्फ़ानी घाटी में
शत्-सहस्र फुट ऊँचाई पर
अलख नाभि से उठने वाले
निज के ही उन्मादक परिमल
-के पीछे धावित हो-होकर
तरल तरुण कस्तूरी मृग को
अपने पर चिढ़ते देखा है
बादल को घिरते देखा है।
कहाँ गया धनपति कुबेर वह
कहाँ गई उसकी वह अलका
नहीं ठिकाना कालिदास के
व्योम-प्रवाही गंगाजल का
ढूंढा बहुत परंतु लगा क्या
मेघदूत का पता कहीं पर
कौन बताए वह छायामय
बरस पड़ा होगा न यहीं पर
जाने दो; वह कवि-कल्पित था
मैंने तो भीषण जाड़ों में
नभ-चुंबी कैलाश शीर्ष पर
महामेघ को झंझानिल से
गरज-गरज भिड़ते देखा है
बादल को घिरते देखा है।
शत-शत निर्झर-निर्झरणी कल
मुखरित देवदारु कानन में
शोणित धवल भोज-पत्रों से
छाई हुई कुटी के भीतर
रंग-बिरंगे और सुगंधित
फूलों से कुंतल को साजे
इंद्रनील की माला डाले
शंख-सरीखे सुघड़ गलों में
कानों में कुवलय लटकाए
शतदल लाल कमल वेणी में
रजत-रचित मणि खचित कलामय
पान-पात्र द्राक्षासव पूरित
रखे सामने अपने-अपने
लोहित चंदन की त्रिपुटी पर
नरम निदाग बाल-कस्तूरी
मृगछालों पर पलथी मारे
मदिरारुण आँखों वाले उन
उन्मद किन्नर-किन्नरियों की
मृदुल मनोरम अंगुलियों को
वंशी पर फिरते देखा है
बादल को घिरते देखा है।
********
नागार्जुन
बादल को घिरते देखा है।
छोटे-छोटे मोती जैसे
उसके शीतल तुहिन कणों को
मानसरोवर के उन स्वर्णिम
कमलों पर गिरते देखा है
बादलों को घिरते देखा है।
तुंग हिमालय के कंधों पर
छोटी-बड़ी कई झीलें हैं
उनके श्यामल-नील सलिल में
समतल देशों से आ-आकर
पावस की ऊमस से आकुल
तिक्त-मधुर बिस-तंतु खोजते
हंसों को तिरते देखा है
बादल को घिरते देखा है।
ऋतु वसंत का सुप्रभात था
मंद-मंद था अनिल बह रहा
बालारुण की मृदु किरणें थीं
अगल-बगल स्वर्णाभ शिखर थे
एक-दूसरे से विरहित हो
अलग-अलग रहकर ही जिनको
सारी रात बितानी होती
निशाकाल से चिर-अभिशापित
बेबस उस चकवा-चकवी का
बंद हुआ क्रंदन; फिर उनमें
उस महान सरवर के तीरे
शैवालों की हरी दरी पर
प्रणय-कलह छिड़ते देखा है
बादल को घिरते देखा है।
दुर्गम बर्फ़ानी घाटी में
शत्-सहस्र फुट ऊँचाई पर
अलख नाभि से उठने वाले
निज के ही उन्मादक परिमल
-के पीछे धावित हो-होकर
तरल तरुण कस्तूरी मृग को
अपने पर चिढ़ते देखा है
बादल को घिरते देखा है।
कहाँ गया धनपति कुबेर वह
कहाँ गई उसकी वह अलका
नहीं ठिकाना कालिदास के
व्योम-प्रवाही गंगाजल का
ढूंढा बहुत परंतु लगा क्या
मेघदूत का पता कहीं पर
कौन बताए वह छायामय
बरस पड़ा होगा न यहीं पर
जाने दो; वह कवि-कल्पित था
मैंने तो भीषण जाड़ों में
नभ-चुंबी कैलाश शीर्ष पर
महामेघ को झंझानिल से
गरज-गरज भिड़ते देखा है
बादल को घिरते देखा है।
शत-शत निर्झर-निर्झरणी कल
मुखरित देवदारु कानन में
शोणित धवल भोज-पत्रों से
छाई हुई कुटी के भीतर
रंग-बिरंगे और सुगंधित
फूलों से कुंतल को साजे
इंद्रनील की माला डाले
शंख-सरीखे सुघड़ गलों में
कानों में कुवलय लटकाए
शतदल लाल कमल वेणी में
रजत-रचित मणि खचित कलामय
पान-पात्र द्राक्षासव पूरित
रखे सामने अपने-अपने
लोहित चंदन की त्रिपुटी पर
नरम निदाग बाल-कस्तूरी
मृगछालों पर पलथी मारे
मदिरारुण आँखों वाले उन
उन्मद किन्नर-किन्नरियों की
मृदुल मनोरम अंगुलियों को
वंशी पर फिरते देखा है
बादल को घिरते देखा है।
********
नागार्जुन
वर दे वीणावादिनी
वरदे, वीणावादिनि वर दे।
प्रिय स्वतंत्र रव, अमृत मंत्र नव भारत में भर दे।
काट अंध उर के बंधन स्तर
बहा जननि ज्योतिर्मय निर्झर
कलुष भेद तम हर प्रकाश भर
जगमग जग कर दे।
नव गति नव लय ताल छंद नव
नवल कंठ नव जलद मंद्र रव
नव नभ के नव विहग वृंद को,
नव पर नव स्वर दे।
********
सूर्य कांत त्रिपाठी, निराला
प्रिय स्वतंत्र रव, अमृत मंत्र नव भारत में भर दे।
काट अंध उर के बंधन स्तर
बहा जननि ज्योतिर्मय निर्झर
कलुष भेद तम हर प्रकाश भर
जगमग जग कर दे।
नव गति नव लय ताल छंद नव
नवल कंठ नव जलद मंद्र रव
नव नभ के नव विहग वृंद को,
नव पर नव स्वर दे।
********
सूर्य कांत त्रिपाठी, निराला
वह तोड़ती पत्थर
वह तोड़ती पत्थर
देखा मैंने इलाहाबाद के पथ पर --
वह तोड़ती पत्थर ।
कोई न छायादार
पेड़, वह जिसके तले बैठी हुई स्वीकार;
श्याम तन, भर बँधा यौवन,
गुरु हथौड़ा हाथ
करती बार बार प्रहार;
सामने तरु - मालिका, अट्टालिका, प्राकार ।
चड़ रही थी धूप
गरमियों के दिन
दिवा का तमतमाता रूप;
उठी झुलसाती हुई लू
रुई ज्यों जलती हुई भू
गर्द चिनगी छा गयी
प्रायः हुई दुपहर,
वह तोड़ती पत्थर ।
देखते देखा, मुझे तो एक बार
उस भवन की ओर देखा छिन्न-तार
देखकर कोई नहीं
देखा मुझे उस दृष्टि से
जो मार खा रोयी नहीं
सजा सहज सितार,
सुनी मैंने वह नहीं जो थी सुनी झंकार ।
एक छन के बाद वह काँपी सुघर,
दुलक माथे से गिरे सीकार,
लीन होते कर्म में फिर ज्यों कहा --
"मैं तोड़ती पत्थर"
********
सूर्य कांत त्रिपाठी, निराला
देखा मैंने इलाहाबाद के पथ पर --
वह तोड़ती पत्थर ।
कोई न छायादार
पेड़, वह जिसके तले बैठी हुई स्वीकार;
श्याम तन, भर बँधा यौवन,
गुरु हथौड़ा हाथ
करती बार बार प्रहार;
सामने तरु - मालिका, अट्टालिका, प्राकार ।
चड़ रही थी धूप
गरमियों के दिन
दिवा का तमतमाता रूप;
उठी झुलसाती हुई लू
रुई ज्यों जलती हुई भू
गर्द चिनगी छा गयी
प्रायः हुई दुपहर,
वह तोड़ती पत्थर ।
देखते देखा, मुझे तो एक बार
उस भवन की ओर देखा छिन्न-तार
देखकर कोई नहीं
देखा मुझे उस दृष्टि से
जो मार खा रोयी नहीं
सजा सहज सितार,
सुनी मैंने वह नहीं जो थी सुनी झंकार ।
एक छन के बाद वह काँपी सुघर,
दुलक माथे से गिरे सीकार,
लीन होते कर्म में फिर ज्यों कहा --
"मैं तोड़ती पत्थर"
********
सूर्य कांत त्रिपाठी, निराला
12 नवंबर 2009
नज़्म की चोरी
एक नज़्म मेरी चोरी कर ली कल रात किसी ने
यहीं पड़ी थी बालकनी में
गोल तिपाही के ऊपर थी
व्हिस्की वाले ग्लास के नीचे रखी थी
नज़्म के हल्के हल्के सिप मैं
घोल रहा था होठों में
शायद कोई फोन आया था
अन्दर जाकर लौटा तो फिर नज़्म वहां से गायब थी
अब्र के ऊपर नीचे देखा
सूट शफ़क़ की ज़ेब टटोली
झांक के देखा पार उफ़क़ के
कहीं नज़र ना आयी वो नज़्म मुझे
आधी रात आवाज़ सुनी तो उठ के देखा
टांग पे टांग रख के आकाश में
चांद तरन्नुम में पढ़ पढ़ के
दुनिया भर को अपनी कह के
नज़्म सुनाने बैठा था
---
गुलज़ार
यहीं पड़ी थी बालकनी में
गोल तिपाही के ऊपर थी
व्हिस्की वाले ग्लास के नीचे रखी थी
नज़्म के हल्के हल्के सिप मैं
घोल रहा था होठों में
शायद कोई फोन आया था
अन्दर जाकर लौटा तो फिर नज़्म वहां से गायब थी
अब्र के ऊपर नीचे देखा
सूट शफ़क़ की ज़ेब टटोली
झांक के देखा पार उफ़क़ के
कहीं नज़र ना आयी वो नज़्म मुझे
आधी रात आवाज़ सुनी तो उठ के देखा
टांग पे टांग रख के आकाश में
चांद तरन्नुम में पढ़ पढ़ के
दुनिया भर को अपनी कह के
नज़्म सुनाने बैठा था
---
गुलज़ार
देह की गोलाईयों तक आ गये |
तुम कभी थे सूर्य लेकिन अब दियों तक आ गये
थे कभी मुख्पृष्ठ पर अब हाशियों तक आ गये
यवनिका बदली कि सारा दृष्य बदला मंच का
थे कभी दुल्हा स्वयं बारातियों तक आ गये
वक्त का पहिया किसे कुचले कहां कब क्या पता
थे कभी रथवान अब बैसाखियों तक आ गये
देख ली सत्ता किसी वारांगना से कम नहीं
जो कि अध्यादेश थे खुद अर्जियों तक आ गये
देश के संदर्भ मे तुम बोल लेते खूब हो
बात ध्वज की थी चलाई कुर्सियों तक आ गये
प्रेम के आख्यान मे तुम आत्मा से थे चले
घूम फिर कर देह की गोलाईयों तक आ गये
कुछ बिके आलोचकों की मानकर ही गीत को
तुम ॠचाएं मानते थे गालियों तक आ गये
सभ्यता के पंथ पर यह आदमी की यात्रा
देवताओं से शुरु की वहशियों तक आ गये
-----
चंद्रसेन विराट
थे कभी मुख्पृष्ठ पर अब हाशियों तक आ गये
यवनिका बदली कि सारा दृष्य बदला मंच का
थे कभी दुल्हा स्वयं बारातियों तक आ गये
वक्त का पहिया किसे कुचले कहां कब क्या पता
थे कभी रथवान अब बैसाखियों तक आ गये
देख ली सत्ता किसी वारांगना से कम नहीं
जो कि अध्यादेश थे खुद अर्जियों तक आ गये
देश के संदर्भ मे तुम बोल लेते खूब हो
बात ध्वज की थी चलाई कुर्सियों तक आ गये
प्रेम के आख्यान मे तुम आत्मा से थे चले
घूम फिर कर देह की गोलाईयों तक आ गये
कुछ बिके आलोचकों की मानकर ही गीत को
तुम ॠचाएं मानते थे गालियों तक आ गये
सभ्यता के पंथ पर यह आदमी की यात्रा
देवताओं से शुरु की वहशियों तक आ गये
-----
चंद्रसेन विराट
अजनबी शहर
अजनबी शहर के/में अजनबी रास्ते , मेरी तन्हाईयों पे मुस्कुराते रहे ।
मैं बहुत देर तक यूं ही चलता रहा, तुम बहुत देर तक याद आते रहे ।।
ज़ख्म मिलता रहा, ज़हर पीते रहे, रोज़ मरते रहे रोज़ जीते रहे,
जिंदगी भी हमें आज़माती रही, और हम भी उसे आज़माते रहे ।।
ज़ख्म जब भी कोई ज़हनो दिल पे लगा, तो जिंदगी की तरफ़ एक दरीचा खुला
हम भी किसी साज़ की तरह हैं, चोट खाते रहे और गुनगुनाते रहे ।।
कल कुछ ऐसा हुआ मैं बहुत थक गया, इसलिये सुन के भी अनसुनी कर गया,
इतनी यादों के भटके हुए कारवां, दिल के जख्मों के दर खटखटाते रहे ।।
सख्त हालात के तेज़ तूफानों, गिर गया था हमारा जुनूने वफ़ा
हम चिराग़े-तमन्ना़ जलाते रहे, वो चिराग़े-तमन्ना बुझाते रहे ।।
--- डॉ. राही मासूम रजा़
अशोक खोसला की आवाज़ में सुनिए राही साहब की वो ग़ज़ल, जिसमें अपने शहर को छोड़कर किसी अजनबी शहर में गये एक नौजवान के अहसासात को बयां किया गया है ।
मैं बहुत देर तक यूं ही चलता रहा, तुम बहुत देर तक याद आते रहे ।।
ज़ख्म मिलता रहा, ज़हर पीते रहे, रोज़ मरते रहे रोज़ जीते रहे,
जिंदगी भी हमें आज़माती रही, और हम भी उसे आज़माते रहे ।।
ज़ख्म जब भी कोई ज़हनो दिल पे लगा, तो जिंदगी की तरफ़ एक दरीचा खुला
हम भी किसी साज़ की तरह हैं, चोट खाते रहे और गुनगुनाते रहे ।।
कल कुछ ऐसा हुआ मैं बहुत थक गया, इसलिये सुन के भी अनसुनी कर गया,
इतनी यादों के भटके हुए कारवां, दिल के जख्मों के दर खटखटाते रहे ।।
सख्त हालात के तेज़ तूफानों, गिर गया था हमारा जुनूने वफ़ा
हम चिराग़े-तमन्ना़ जलाते रहे, वो चिराग़े-तमन्ना बुझाते रहे ।।
--- डॉ. राही मासूम रजा़
अशोक खोसला की आवाज़ में सुनिए राही साहब की वो ग़ज़ल, जिसमें अपने शहर को छोड़कर किसी अजनबी शहर में गये एक नौजवान के अहसासात को बयां किया गया है ।
मेरा नाम मुसलमानों जैसा है
मेरा नाम मुसलमानों जैसा है
मुझ को कत्ल करो और मेरे घर में आग लगा दो ।
मेरे उस कमरे को लूटो
जिस में मेरी बयाज़ें जाग रही हैं
और मैं जिस में तुलसी की रामायण से सरगोशी कर के
कालिदास के मेघदूत से ये कहता हूँ
मेरा भी एक सन्देशा है
मेरा नाम मुसलमानों जैसा है
मुझ को कत्ल करो और मेरे घर में आग लगा दो ।
लेकिन मेरी रग रग में गंगा का पानी दौड़ रहा है,
मेरे लहु से चुल्लु भर कर
महादेव के मूँह पर फ़ैंको,
और उस जोगी से ये कह दो
महादेव ! अपनी इस गंगा को वापस ले लो,
ये हम ज़लील तुर्कों के बदन में
गाढा , गर्म लहु बन बन के दौड़ रही है ।
----
राही मासूम रज़ा (मैं एक फ़ेरीवाला से)
मुझ को कत्ल करो और मेरे घर में आग लगा दो ।
मेरे उस कमरे को लूटो
जिस में मेरी बयाज़ें जाग रही हैं
और मैं जिस में तुलसी की रामायण से सरगोशी कर के
कालिदास के मेघदूत से ये कहता हूँ
मेरा भी एक सन्देशा है
मेरा नाम मुसलमानों जैसा है
मुझ को कत्ल करो और मेरे घर में आग लगा दो ।
लेकिन मेरी रग रग में गंगा का पानी दौड़ रहा है,
मेरे लहु से चुल्लु भर कर
महादेव के मूँह पर फ़ैंको,
और उस जोगी से ये कह दो
महादेव ! अपनी इस गंगा को वापस ले लो,
ये हम ज़लील तुर्कों के बदन में
गाढा , गर्म लहु बन बन के दौड़ रही है ।
----
राही मासूम रज़ा (मैं एक फ़ेरीवाला से)
9 नवंबर 2009
A thousand desires such as these
A thousand desires such as these
A thousand moments to set this night on fire
Reach out and you can touch them
You can touch them with your silences
You can reach them with your lust
Rivers mountains rain
Rain against a torrid hill’s cape
A thousand
A thousand desires such as these
I loved rain as a child
As a lost young man
Empty landscapes
Bleached by a tired sun
And then
And then suddenly it came
Like a dark unknown woman
Her eyes scorched my silences
Her body wrapped itself around me
Like a summer without end
Pause me, hold me, reach me,
Where no man has gone
Crossing the seven seas
With the wings of fire
I fly towards nowhere
And you
Rivers mountains rain
Rain against a scorched landscape of pain
A thousand desires such as these
A thousand moments to set this night on fire
Reach out and you can touch them
You can touch them with your silences
You can reach them with your lust
Rivers mountains rain
Rain against a torrid hill’s cape
A thousand
A thousand desires such as these
- From the Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi Soundtrack
A thousand moments to set this night on fire
Reach out and you can touch them
You can touch them with your silences
You can reach them with your lust
Rivers mountains rain
Rain against a torrid hill’s cape
A thousand
A thousand desires such as these
I loved rain as a child
As a lost young man
Empty landscapes
Bleached by a tired sun
And then
And then suddenly it came
Like a dark unknown woman
Her eyes scorched my silences
Her body wrapped itself around me
Like a summer without end
Pause me, hold me, reach me,
Where no man has gone
Crossing the seven seas
With the wings of fire
I fly towards nowhere
And you
Rivers mountains rain
Rain against a scorched landscape of pain
A thousand desires such as these
A thousand moments to set this night on fire
Reach out and you can touch them
You can touch them with your silences
You can reach them with your lust
Rivers mountains rain
Rain against a torrid hill’s cape
A thousand
A thousand desires such as these
- From the Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi Soundtrack
6 नवंबर 2009
Unknown Poem
If I lose the light of the sun,
I will write by candlelight, moonlight, no light
If I lose paper and ink,
I will write in blood on forgotten walls
I will write always
I will capture nights all over the world and bring them to you.
--Dino Corvino, Italian Poet
I will write by candlelight, moonlight, no light
If I lose paper and ink,
I will write in blood on forgotten walls
I will write always
I will capture nights all over the world and bring them to you.
--Dino Corvino, Italian Poet
30 अक्टूबर 2009
A Patriotic Tamil Song
Our eyebrows are lowered, our eyes closed, lips parched, teeth clenched
We walk with our back bent.
We whom you rule over, lock us up in cages, flay us with staves.
Let the skin of our backs fester!
One day our eyebrows will arch. Our closed eyes will open again.
Our puckered lips will throb and our clenched teeth grind.
Rule over us until then. Flaunt your power over us.
It is taken from the movie 'Kannathil Muthamittal' directed by Maniratnam having the background of plight of tamil people in Srilanka.
We walk with our back bent.
We whom you rule over, lock us up in cages, flay us with staves.
Let the skin of our backs fester!
One day our eyebrows will arch. Our closed eyes will open again.
Our puckered lips will throb and our clenched teeth grind.
Rule over us until then. Flaunt your power over us.
It is taken from the movie 'Kannathil Muthamittal' directed by Maniratnam having the background of plight of tamil people in Srilanka.
3 अक्टूबर 2009
Bavra mann dekhne chala ek sapna ..
Sun in the earth.. sunflower
Bird in the air ...rain
Eye within eye... daybreak
Bavra mann dekhne chala ek sapna ..
Streets we have never walked on
Windows we have never opened
Hands we have never held
Dreams we shall never ..never see again
Bavra mann dekhne chala ek sapna ..
Bavrese mann ki dekho bavri hain baatein
Bavrisi dhadkane hain bavri hain saanse
Sun in the earth.. sunflower
Bird in the air ...rain
Eye within eye... daybreak
Lives we have never lived
Hopes ..we have never realized
Fires we have never lit
Loves we shall never .. never make again
Bavra mann dekhne chala ek sapna ..
Sun in the earth sunflower
Bird in the air rain
Eye within eye daybreak
I hear those strange whispers again.....
-As recited by narrartor in the movie, Hazaaron Khwahishein Aisi.
Bird in the air ...rain
Eye within eye... daybreak
Bavra mann dekhne chala ek sapna ..
Streets we have never walked on
Windows we have never opened
Hands we have never held
Dreams we shall never ..never see again
Bavra mann dekhne chala ek sapna ..
Bavrese mann ki dekho bavri hain baatein
Bavrisi dhadkane hain bavri hain saanse
Sun in the earth.. sunflower
Bird in the air ...rain
Eye within eye... daybreak
Lives we have never lived
Hopes ..we have never realized
Fires we have never lit
Loves we shall never .. never make again
Bavra mann dekhne chala ek sapna ..
Sun in the earth sunflower
Bird in the air rain
Eye within eye daybreak
I hear those strange whispers again.....
-As recited by narrartor in the movie, Hazaaron Khwahishein Aisi.
28 सितंबर 2009
Elegy written in a Country Church Yard
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:
Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening care:
No children run to lisp their sire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share,
Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;
How jocund did they drive their team afield!
How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the Poor.
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Awaits alike th' inevitable hour:-
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Nor you, ye Proud, impute to these the fault
If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise,
Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
Can storied urn or animated bust
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust,
Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death?
Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;
Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd,
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre:
But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll;
Chill Penury repress'd their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.
Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast
The little tyrant of his fields withstood,
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood.
Th' applause of list'ning senates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,
And read their history in a nation's eyes,
Their lot forbad: nor circumscribed alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;
Forbad to wade through slaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind,
The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,
To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,
Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray;
Along the cool sequester'd vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.
Yet e'en these bones from insult to protect
Some frail memorial still erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd Muse,
The place of fame and elegy supply:
And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.
For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing lingering look behind?
On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires;
E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.
For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead,
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
If chance, by lonely contemplation led,
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, --
Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,
"Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn
Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn;
"There at the foot of yonder nodding beech
That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high.
His listless length at noontide would he stretch,
And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
"Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove;
Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn,
Or crazed with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.
"One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill,
Along the heath, and near his favourite tree;
Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he;
"The next with dirges due in sad array
Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne,-
Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay
Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn."
The Epitaph
Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth
A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,
And Melacholy marked him for her own.
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heaven did a recompense as largely send:
He gave to Misery all he had, a tear,
He gained from Heaven ('twas all he wish'd) a friend.
No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode
(There they alike in trembling hope repose),
The bosom of his Father and his God.
- By Thomas Gray (1716-71).
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:
Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening care:
No children run to lisp their sire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share,
Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;
How jocund did they drive their team afield!
How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the Poor.
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Awaits alike th' inevitable hour:-
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Nor you, ye Proud, impute to these the fault
If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise,
Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
Can storied urn or animated bust
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust,
Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death?
Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;
Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd,
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre:
But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll;
Chill Penury repress'd their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.
Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast
The little tyrant of his fields withstood,
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood.
Th' applause of list'ning senates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,
And read their history in a nation's eyes,
Their lot forbad: nor circumscribed alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;
Forbad to wade through slaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind,
The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,
To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,
Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray;
Along the cool sequester'd vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.
Yet e'en these bones from insult to protect
Some frail memorial still erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd Muse,
The place of fame and elegy supply:
And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.
For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing lingering look behind?
On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires;
E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.
For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead,
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
If chance, by lonely contemplation led,
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, --
Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,
"Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn
Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn;
"There at the foot of yonder nodding beech
That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high.
His listless length at noontide would he stretch,
And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
"Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove;
Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn,
Or crazed with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.
"One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill,
Along the heath, and near his favourite tree;
Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he;
"The next with dirges due in sad array
Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne,-
Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay
Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn."
The Epitaph
Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth
A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,
And Melacholy marked him for her own.
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heaven did a recompense as largely send:
He gave to Misery all he had, a tear,
He gained from Heaven ('twas all he wish'd) a friend.
No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode
(There they alike in trembling hope repose),
The bosom of his Father and his God.
- By Thomas Gray (1716-71).
Solitude: An Ode
How happy he, who free from care
The rage of courts, and noise of towns;
Contented breathes his native air,
In his own grounds.
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire,
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.
Blest! who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years slide swift away,
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,
Sound sleep by night; study and ease
Together mix'd; sweet recreation,
And innocence, which most does please,
With meditation.
Thus let me live, unheard, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me dye;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lye.
by Alexander Pope (1688 - 1744)
The rage of courts, and noise of towns;
Contented breathes his native air,
In his own grounds.
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire,
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.
Blest! who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years slide swift away,
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,
Sound sleep by night; study and ease
Together mix'd; sweet recreation,
And innocence, which most does please,
With meditation.
Thus let me live, unheard, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me dye;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lye.
by Alexander Pope (1688 - 1744)
17 सितंबर 2009
The Slave's Dream
Beside the ungathered rice he lay,
His sickle in his hand;
His breast was bare, his matted hair
Was buried in the sand.
Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep,
He saw his Native Land.
Wide through the landscape of his dreams
The lordly Niger flowed;
Beneath the palm-trees on the plain
Once more a king he strode;
And heard the tinkling caravans
Descend the mountain-road.
He saw once more his dark-eyed queen
Among her children stand;
They clasped his neck, they kissed his cheeks,
They held him by the hand!--
A tear burst from the sleeper's lids
And fell into the sand.
And then at furious speed he rode
Along the Niger's bank;
His bridle-reins were golden chains,
And, with a martial clank,
At each leap he could feel his scabbard of steel
Smiting his stallion's flank.
Before him, like a blood-red flag,
The bright flamingoes flew;
From morn till night he followed their flight,
O'er plains where the tamarind grew,
Till he saw the roofs of Caffre huts,
And the ocean rose to view.
At night he heard the lion roar,
And the hyena scream,
And the river-horse, as he crushed the reeds
Beside some hidden stream;
And it passed, like a glorious roll of drums,
Through the triumph of his dream.
The forests, with their myriad tongues,
Shouted of liberty;
And the Blast of the Desert cried aloud,
With a voice so wild and free,
That he started in his sleep and smiled
At their tempestuous glee.
He did not feel the driver's whip,
Nor the burning heat of day;
For Death had illumined the Land of Sleep,
And his lifeless body lay
A worn-out fetter, that the soul
Had broken and thrown away!
-- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
His sickle in his hand;
His breast was bare, his matted hair
Was buried in the sand.
Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep,
He saw his Native Land.
Wide through the landscape of his dreams
The lordly Niger flowed;
Beneath the palm-trees on the plain
Once more a king he strode;
And heard the tinkling caravans
Descend the mountain-road.
He saw once more his dark-eyed queen
Among her children stand;
They clasped his neck, they kissed his cheeks,
They held him by the hand!--
A tear burst from the sleeper's lids
And fell into the sand.
And then at furious speed he rode
Along the Niger's bank;
His bridle-reins were golden chains,
And, with a martial clank,
At each leap he could feel his scabbard of steel
Smiting his stallion's flank.
Before him, like a blood-red flag,
The bright flamingoes flew;
From morn till night he followed their flight,
O'er plains where the tamarind grew,
Till he saw the roofs of Caffre huts,
And the ocean rose to view.
At night he heard the lion roar,
And the hyena scream,
And the river-horse, as he crushed the reeds
Beside some hidden stream;
And it passed, like a glorious roll of drums,
Through the triumph of his dream.
The forests, with their myriad tongues,
Shouted of liberty;
And the Blast of the Desert cried aloud,
With a voice so wild and free,
That he started in his sleep and smiled
At their tempestuous glee.
He did not feel the driver's whip,
Nor the burning heat of day;
For Death had illumined the Land of Sleep,
And his lifeless body lay
A worn-out fetter, that the soul
Had broken and thrown away!
-- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
A Psalm of Life
What the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist.
TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream ! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real ! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal ;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way ;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle !
Be a hero in the strife !
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant !
Let the dead Past bury its dead !
Act,— act in the living Present !
Heart within, and God o'erhead !
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time ;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate ;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
--- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)
TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream ! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real ! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal ;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way ;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle !
Be a hero in the strife !
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant !
Let the dead Past bury its dead !
Act,— act in the living Present !
Heart within, and God o'erhead !
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time ;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate ;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
--- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)
9 सितंबर 2009
मैं नीर भरी दुःख की बदली
मैं नीर भरी दुःख की बदली !
स्पंदन में चिर निस्पंद बसा,
क्रंदन में आहत विश्व हँसा,
नयनो में दीपक से जलते,
पलकों में निर्झनी मचली !
मैं नीर भरी दुःख की बदली !
मेरा पग पग संगीत भरा,
श्वांसों में स्वप्न पराग झरा,
नभ के नव रंग बुनते दुकूल,
छाया में मलय बयार पली !
मैं नीर भरी दुःख की बदली !
मैं क्षितिज भृकुटी पर घिर धूमिल,
चिंता का भर बनी अविरल,
रज कण पर जल कण हो बरसी,
नव जीवन अंकुर बन निकली !
मैं नीर भरी दुःख की बदली !
पथ न मलिन करते आना
पद चिन्ह न दे जाते आना
सुधि मेरे आगम की जग में
सुख की सिहरन हो अंत खिली !
मैं नीर भरी दुःख की बदली !
विस्तृत नभ का कोई कोना
मेरा न कभी अपना होना
परिचय इतना इतिहास यही
उमटी कल थी मिट आज चली !
मैं नीर भरी दुःख की बदली !
-- Mahadevi Verma
स्पंदन में चिर निस्पंद बसा,
क्रंदन में आहत विश्व हँसा,
नयनो में दीपक से जलते,
पलकों में निर्झनी मचली !
मैं नीर भरी दुःख की बदली !
मेरा पग पग संगीत भरा,
श्वांसों में स्वप्न पराग झरा,
नभ के नव रंग बुनते दुकूल,
छाया में मलय बयार पली !
मैं नीर भरी दुःख की बदली !
मैं क्षितिज भृकुटी पर घिर धूमिल,
चिंता का भर बनी अविरल,
रज कण पर जल कण हो बरसी,
नव जीवन अंकुर बन निकली !
मैं नीर भरी दुःख की बदली !
पथ न मलिन करते आना
पद चिन्ह न दे जाते आना
सुधि मेरे आगम की जग में
सुख की सिहरन हो अंत खिली !
मैं नीर भरी दुःख की बदली !
विस्तृत नभ का कोई कोना
मेरा न कभी अपना होना
परिचय इतना इतिहास यही
उमटी कल थी मिट आज चली !
मैं नीर भरी दुःख की बदली !
-- Mahadevi Verma
Pity the nation
Pity the nation that is full of beliefs and empty of religion.
Pity the nation that wears a cloth it does not weave, eats a bread it does not harvest, and drinks a wine that flows not from its own wine-press.
Pity the nation that acclaims the bull as hero, and that deems the glittering conqueror bountiful.
Pity the nation that despises a passion in its dream, yet submits in its awakening.
Pity the nation that raises not its voice when it walks in a funeral, boasts not except among its ruins, and will rebel not save when its neck is laid between the sword and the block.
Pity the nation whose statesman is a fox, whose philosopher is a juggler, and whose art is the art of patching and mimicking.
Pity the nation that welcomes its new ruler with trumpetings and farewells him with hootings, only to welcome another with trumpetings again.
Pity the nation whose sages are dumb with years and whose strong men are yet in the cradle.
Pity the nation divided into fragments, each fragment deeming itself a nation.
--Khalil Gibran
The garden of the Prophet (1934)
Pity the nation that wears a cloth it does not weave, eats a bread it does not harvest, and drinks a wine that flows not from its own wine-press.
Pity the nation that acclaims the bull as hero, and that deems the glittering conqueror bountiful.
Pity the nation that despises a passion in its dream, yet submits in its awakening.
Pity the nation that raises not its voice when it walks in a funeral, boasts not except among its ruins, and will rebel not save when its neck is laid between the sword and the block.
Pity the nation whose statesman is a fox, whose philosopher is a juggler, and whose art is the art of patching and mimicking.
Pity the nation that welcomes its new ruler with trumpetings and farewells him with hootings, only to welcome another with trumpetings again.
Pity the nation whose sages are dumb with years and whose strong men are yet in the cradle.
Pity the nation divided into fragments, each fragment deeming itself a nation.
--Khalil Gibran
The garden of the Prophet (1934)
Children
And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, "Speak to us of Children."
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.
The poem is taken from 'The Prophet' a famous scholary work of Kahlil Gibran.
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.
The poem is taken from 'The Prophet' a famous scholary work of Kahlil Gibran.
4 सितंबर 2009
This Is What You Shall Do
This is what you shall do:
Love the earth and sun and the animals,
Despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks,
Stand up for the stupid and crazy,
Devote your income and labors to others,
Hate tyrants, argue not concerning God,
Have patience and indulgence toward the people,
Take off your hat to nothing known or unknown,
Or to any man or number of men,
Go freely with powerful uneducated persons,
And with the young and with the mothers of families,
Read these leaves in the open air,
Every season of every year of your life,
Reexamine all you have been told,
At school at church or in any book,
Dismiss whatever insults your own soul,
And your very flesh shall be a great poem.
-Walt Whitman
Love the earth and sun and the animals,
Despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks,
Stand up for the stupid and crazy,
Devote your income and labors to others,
Hate tyrants, argue not concerning God,
Have patience and indulgence toward the people,
Take off your hat to nothing known or unknown,
Or to any man or number of men,
Go freely with powerful uneducated persons,
And with the young and with the mothers of families,
Read these leaves in the open air,
Every season of every year of your life,
Reexamine all you have been told,
At school at church or in any book,
Dismiss whatever insults your own soul,
And your very flesh shall be a great poem.
-Walt Whitman
Ekla Chalo Re
यदि तोर डाक शुने केऊ न आसे
तबे एकला चलो रे।
एकला चलो, एकला चलो, एकला चलो रे!
यदि केऊ कथा ना कोय, ओरे, ओरे, ओ अभागा,
यदि सबाई थाके मुख फिराय, सबाई करे भय-
तबे परान खुले
ओ, तुई मुख फूटे तोर मनेर कथा एकला बोलो रे!
यदि सबाई फिरे जाय, ओरे, ओरे, ओ अभागा,
यदि गहन पथे जाबार काले केऊ फिरे न जाय-
तबे पथेर काँटा
ओ, तुई रक्तमाला चरन तले एकला दलो रे!
यदि आलो ना घरे, ओरे, ओरे, ओ अभागा-
यदि झड़ बादले आधार राते दुयार देय धरे-
तबे वज्रानले
आपुन बुकेर पांजर जालियेनिये एकला जलो रे!
If none heeds your cry to march together,
just walk alone, no if or whether.
If they answer not to thy call walk alone,
If they are afraid and cower mutely facing the wall,
O thou of evil luck,
open thy mind and speak out alone.
If they turn away, and desert you when crossing the wilderness,
O thou of evil luck,
trample the thorns under thy tread,
and along the blood-lined track travel alone.
If they do not hold up the light when the night is troubled with storm,
O thou of evil luck,
with the thunder flame of pain ignite thy own heart
and let it burn alone.
'Jodi Tor Dak Shune Keu Na Ashe' often shortened to Ekla Cholo Re (Walk Alone) is a song written by Rabindranath Tagore, part of the Rabindra Sangeet canon. It exhorts the listener to continue his or her journey, despite abandonment or lack of support from others. The song is often quoted in the context of political or social change movements;
तबे एकला चलो रे।
एकला चलो, एकला चलो, एकला चलो रे!
यदि केऊ कथा ना कोय, ओरे, ओरे, ओ अभागा,
यदि सबाई थाके मुख फिराय, सबाई करे भय-
तबे परान खुले
ओ, तुई मुख फूटे तोर मनेर कथा एकला बोलो रे!
यदि सबाई फिरे जाय, ओरे, ओरे, ओ अभागा,
यदि गहन पथे जाबार काले केऊ फिरे न जाय-
तबे पथेर काँटा
ओ, तुई रक्तमाला चरन तले एकला दलो रे!
यदि आलो ना घरे, ओरे, ओरे, ओ अभागा-
यदि झड़ बादले आधार राते दुयार देय धरे-
तबे वज्रानले
आपुन बुकेर पांजर जालियेनिये एकला जलो रे!
If none heeds your cry to march together,
just walk alone, no if or whether.
If they answer not to thy call walk alone,
If they are afraid and cower mutely facing the wall,
O thou of evil luck,
open thy mind and speak out alone.
If they turn away, and desert you when crossing the wilderness,
O thou of evil luck,
trample the thorns under thy tread,
and along the blood-lined track travel alone.
If they do not hold up the light when the night is troubled with storm,
O thou of evil luck,
with the thunder flame of pain ignite thy own heart
and let it burn alone.
Singing Across The Borders
We refuse to be enemies.
We refuse to use your words,
claim your politics,
accept your versions of history.
We will wear our anger
like a shroud,
we will hold our defiance
like a shield,
we will carry our compassion
like a sword.
We refuse to be enemies.
We refuse to believe
that hate is justified,
that peace is weak,
that conflict is endless.
We will sing
across the borders,
we will march
across the divisions,
we will fly our peace
like a flag.
We refuse to be enemies.
As a young undergraduate, Anasuya Sengupta famously wrote a poem, Silence, for Hillary Clinton during her 1995 India visit. It came to be quoted across the world by Clinton. A Rhodes scholar, PhD student and feminist, Anasuya continues to write poetry, and contributed this unpublished poem to Outlook's Independence Day issue.
We refuse to use your words,
claim your politics,
accept your versions of history.
We will wear our anger
like a shroud,
we will hold our defiance
like a shield,
we will carry our compassion
like a sword.
We refuse to be enemies.
We refuse to believe
that hate is justified,
that peace is weak,
that conflict is endless.
We will sing
across the borders,
we will march
across the divisions,
we will fly our peace
like a flag.
We refuse to be enemies.
As a young undergraduate, Anasuya Sengupta famously wrote a poem, Silence, for Hillary Clinton during her 1995 India visit. It came to be quoted across the world by Clinton. A Rhodes scholar, PhD student and feminist, Anasuya continues to write poetry, and contributed this unpublished poem to Outlook's Independence Day issue.
20 अगस्त 2009
Muh ki Baat
मुह की बात सुने हर कोई, दिल के दर्द को जाने कौन?
आवाजों के बाज़ारों में खामोशी पहचाने कौन?
मुह की बात..
सदियों-सदियों वही तमाशा, रास्ता रास्ता लम्बी खोज.
लेकिन जब हम मिल जाते है, खो जाता है जाने कौन!!
वो मेरा आइना है और मैं उसकी परछाई हूँ
मेरे ही घर में रहता है, मुझ जैसा ही जाने कौन
किरण किरण अलसता सूरज, पलक पलक खुलती नींदे
धीरे धीरे बिखर रहा है, जर्रा जर्रा जाने कौन?
This song “Muhn Ki baat sune har koi” by Jagjit Singh from the serial “Neem Ka Ped” that was telecasted on Doordarshan few years back. One of the most priced composition of Nida Fazli.
आवाजों के बाज़ारों में खामोशी पहचाने कौन?
मुह की बात..
सदियों-सदियों वही तमाशा, रास्ता रास्ता लम्बी खोज.
लेकिन जब हम मिल जाते है, खो जाता है जाने कौन!!
वो मेरा आइना है और मैं उसकी परछाई हूँ
मेरे ही घर में रहता है, मुझ जैसा ही जाने कौन
किरण किरण अलसता सूरज, पलक पलक खुलती नींदे
धीरे धीरे बिखर रहा है, जर्रा जर्रा जाने कौन?
This song “Muhn Ki baat sune har koi” by Jagjit Singh from the serial “Neem Ka Ped” that was telecasted on Doordarshan few years back. One of the most priced composition of Nida Fazli.
19 अगस्त 2009
As The River Flows
I know
long ago
the river used to speak.
But when he realised
every drop of pain
flows above horizon of words
he surrendered to silence.
People came to his bosom
creating to destroy
and named it civilization.
People came to his bosom
looking for the meaning in destruction
and called it history.
More the time flows
more the time remains still.
More the things change
more the things remain the same.
The drops of pain
mounting on the bank –
will it overflow…
as the River flows?
It is written by Bidyut Kotoky making a movie titled Ekhon Nedekha Nadir Xipare, which literally means “Across an unseen river”. Bidyut has written his thoughts on the idea behind the film quite poetically.The premise of the film: In the India’s state of Assam, during the last 2 decades, over 15,000 lives have been lost to insurgency and an unknown number of people remain traceless till date…
long ago
the river used to speak.
But when he realised
every drop of pain
flows above horizon of words
he surrendered to silence.
People came to his bosom
creating to destroy
and named it civilization.
People came to his bosom
looking for the meaning in destruction
and called it history.
More the time flows
more the time remains still.
More the things change
more the things remain the same.
The drops of pain
mounting on the bank –
will it overflow…
as the River flows?
It is written by Bidyut Kotoky making a movie titled Ekhon Nedekha Nadir Xipare, which literally means “Across an unseen river”. Bidyut has written his thoughts on the idea behind the film quite poetically.The premise of the film: In the India’s state of Assam, during the last 2 decades, over 15,000 lives have been lost to insurgency and an unknown number of people remain traceless till date…
11 अगस्त 2009
Ancient Chinese Proverb
Go to the people
Live among them
Learn from them
Love them
Start with what they have
Build on what they have
But of the best leaders
When their task is accomplished
Their work is done
The people all remark
We have done it ourselves !
- Lao Tze
Live among them
Learn from them
Love them
Start with what they have
Build on what they have
But of the best leaders
When their task is accomplished
Their work is done
The people all remark
We have done it ourselves !
- Lao Tze
29 जुलाई 2009
Prayer
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high
Where knowledge is free
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
By narrow domestic walls
Where words come out from the depth of truth
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit
Where the mind is led forward by thee
Into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.
It is most quoted peom of Rabindranath Tagore. This poem is from Gitanjali, lit. Offering of Songs, published in English in 1910.The last two lines of original Bengali version are harsher. They state:
Where knowledge is free
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
By narrow domestic walls
Where words come out from the depth of truth
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit
Where the mind is led forward by thee
Into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.
It is most quoted peom of Rabindranath Tagore. This poem is from Gitanjali, lit. Offering of Songs, published in English in 1910.The last two lines of original Bengali version are harsher. They state:
"Lord Father, strike {the sleeping} Bharat (India) without mercy,
so that it may awaken into such a heaven."
so that it may awaken into such a heaven."
28 जून 2009
For Iran
If the flames of anger rise any higher in this land
Your name on your tombstone will be covered with dirt.
You have become a babbling loudmouth.
Your insolent ranting, something to joke about.
The lies you have found, you have woven together.
The rope you have crafted, you will find around your neck.
Pride has swollen your head, your faith has grown blind.
The elephant that falls will not rise.
Stop this extravagance, this reckless throwing of my country to the wind.
The grim-faced rising cloud, will grovel at the swamp's feet.
Stop this screaming, mayhem, and blood shed.
Stop doing what makes God's creatures mourn with tears.
My curses will not be upon you, as in their fulfillment.
My enemies' afflictions also cause me pain.
You may wish to have me burned , or decide to stone me.
But in your hand match or stone will lose their power to harm me.
Simin Behbahani, Iran's national poet.
June 2009 Translated by Kaveh Safa and Farzaneh Milani
In this poem, she speaks out against the crackdown of Iranian government on their own people.
Your name on your tombstone will be covered with dirt.
You have become a babbling loudmouth.
Your insolent ranting, something to joke about.
The lies you have found, you have woven together.
The rope you have crafted, you will find around your neck.
Pride has swollen your head, your faith has grown blind.
The elephant that falls will not rise.
Stop this extravagance, this reckless throwing of my country to the wind.
The grim-faced rising cloud, will grovel at the swamp's feet.
Stop this screaming, mayhem, and blood shed.
Stop doing what makes God's creatures mourn with tears.
My curses will not be upon you, as in their fulfillment.
My enemies' afflictions also cause me pain.
You may wish to have me burned , or decide to stone me.
But in your hand match or stone will lose their power to harm me.
Simin Behbahani, Iran's national poet.
June 2009 Translated by Kaveh Safa and Farzaneh Milani
In this poem, she speaks out against the crackdown of Iranian government on their own people.
25 जून 2009
The sun rises
Take heed
My wounded eyes melt
Drop by drop
My rebellion my shadow
Surrenders to the light
Take heed
Everything that I am crumbles
My love’s fire surrenders
Carries me to the end
Crucifies me
Take heed
Stars hail in the night
You came from a far
From fields of scent, of light
To carry me, floating
Through clouds of ivory and crystal
Take me away my solace, my hope
Take me to a city of sonnets and passion
Towards the path of milky way draw me
Higher than every star lift me
Take heed
I’ve been set aflame by this light
Fevered, burnt by this light
Like a goldfish in a pool of night
I gnaw helplessly at the stars
How far-flung is anything
From the earth, from everything
From this crimson ceiling sky
I hear again from a distance
Your voice
The flutter of an angel’s wings
Take heed
How far I’ve come
To the stars
To the endlessness of life
Now that I’ve reached so high above the waves
Immerse me, cleanse me, intoxicate me
Envelope me in a cocoon of kisses
Take me in this night of forever young
Do not let go of my hand
Do not let me fall
Take heed
Our night’s path melts away
Drop by drop
My cup thirsty, empty, black
With you it overflows
With wine with sleep with dreams
Upon this cradle of a poem
Take heed
You utter, and the sun rises.
It is written by famous Iranian Poetess and film director Forough Farrokhzad and translated from persian to english by Ali Sadri.
My wounded eyes melt
Drop by drop
My rebellion my shadow
Surrenders to the light
Take heed
Everything that I am crumbles
My love’s fire surrenders
Carries me to the end
Crucifies me
Take heed
Stars hail in the night
You came from a far
From fields of scent, of light
To carry me, floating
Through clouds of ivory and crystal
Take me away my solace, my hope
Take me to a city of sonnets and passion
Towards the path of milky way draw me
Higher than every star lift me
Take heed
I’ve been set aflame by this light
Fevered, burnt by this light
Like a goldfish in a pool of night
I gnaw helplessly at the stars
How far-flung is anything
From the earth, from everything
From this crimson ceiling sky
I hear again from a distance
Your voice
The flutter of an angel’s wings
Take heed
How far I’ve come
To the stars
To the endlessness of life
Now that I’ve reached so high above the waves
Immerse me, cleanse me, intoxicate me
Envelope me in a cocoon of kisses
Take me in this night of forever young
Do not let go of my hand
Do not let me fall
Take heed
Our night’s path melts away
Drop by drop
My cup thirsty, empty, black
With you it overflows
With wine with sleep with dreams
Upon this cradle of a poem
Take heed
You utter, and the sun rises.
It is written by famous Iranian Poetess and film director Forough Farrokhzad and translated from persian to english by Ali Sadri.
4 जून 2009
Russian Folk Song
1-
In the islands, the hunter
Roams all day long
But no luck for him
And the courses himself
What's he going to do
How is he to serve
He cannot be cheerful
So what
He'll try to aim better
So the hunter goes to warmer waters
Where the fish were frolicking in the beautiful weather
There on the shore.....
2-
You, my eagle with blue-black wings
Where have you been flying
for so Long
I was flying there over the mountains
Where it all was silence.
This song was taken from the movie Dersu Uzala directed by Akira Kurosawa.
In the islands, the hunter
Roams all day long
But no luck for him
And the courses himself
What's he going to do
How is he to serve
He cannot be cheerful
So what
He'll try to aim better
So the hunter goes to warmer waters
Where the fish were frolicking in the beautiful weather
There on the shore.....
2-
You, my eagle with blue-black wings
Where have you been flying
for so Long
I was flying there over the mountains
Where it all was silence.
This song was taken from the movie Dersu Uzala directed by Akira Kurosawa.
1 जून 2009
Ghazal-2
लापता लोग भी मंजिल का पता देते हैं
डूबने वाले ही साहिल का पता देते हैं
ऐसे - ऐसे भी यहाँ कितने ही कातिल है कि,
जो कत्ल करते हैं औ बिस्मिल का पता देते है
कोई जब पूछता है हमसे कहाँ रहते हो
पूछने वाले को हम दिल का पता देते हैं
आपके हंसने - हंसाने के अजब ये तेवर
आने वाली किसी मुश्किल का पता देते हैं
आईने झांकते हैं जब भी मेरी आंखों में
मेरे भीतर छुपे कातिल का पता देते हैं.
Written by Deepak Gupta. Source of this ghazal is traced to 'Sahitya Shilpi'.Weblink.
डूबने वाले ही साहिल का पता देते हैं
ऐसे - ऐसे भी यहाँ कितने ही कातिल है कि,
जो कत्ल करते हैं औ बिस्मिल का पता देते है
कोई जब पूछता है हमसे कहाँ रहते हो
पूछने वाले को हम दिल का पता देते हैं
आपके हंसने - हंसाने के अजब ये तेवर
आने वाली किसी मुश्किल का पता देते हैं
आईने झांकते हैं जब भी मेरी आंखों में
मेरे भीतर छुपे कातिल का पता देते हैं.
Written by Deepak Gupta. Source of this ghazal is traced to 'Sahitya Shilpi'.Weblink.
27 मई 2009
A paragraph from Vaani
वे कहते,
मैं भाव नही, केवल प्रभाव हूँ।
सूझ नही, केवल सूझाव हूँ।
सच यह!
मैं केवल स्वाभाव हूँ।
---Written by Sumitranand Pant in 'Vaani'.
मैं भाव नही, केवल प्रभाव हूँ।
सूझ नही, केवल सूझाव हूँ।
सच यह!
मैं केवल स्वाभाव हूँ।
---Written by Sumitranand Pant in 'Vaani'.
25 मई 2009
Unknown Poem-1
A pound of flesh each, they all claimed
A pound of flesh their very aim
Many pounds lighter now
Happy am no heavy weight
Back to school
Waiting for buddies
At the gate
--- Amol Gupte, the scriptwriterof Taare Zameen Par.
Source : Weblink
23 मई 2009
Ghazal-1
देख पंछी जा रहें अपने बसेरों में
चल, हुई अब शाम, लौटें हम भी डेरों में
सुब्ह की इस दौड़ में ये थक के भूले हम
लुत्फ़ क्या होता है अलसाये सबेरों में
अब न चौबारों पे वो गप्पें-ठहाकें हैं
गुम पड़ोसी हो गयें ऊँची मुँडेरों में
बंदिशें हैं अब से बाजों की उड़ानों पर
सल्तनत आकाश ने बाँटी बटेरों में
देख ली तस्वीर जो तेरी यहाँ इक दिन
खलबली-सी मच गयी सारे चितेरों में
जिसको लूटा था उजालों ने यहाँ पर कल
ढ़ूँढ़ता है आज जाने क्या अँधेरों में
कब पिटारी से निकल दिल्ली गये विषधर
ये सियासत की बहस, अब है सँपेरों में
गज़नियों का खौफ़ कोई हो भला क्यूं कर
जब बँटा हो मुल्क ही सारा लुटेरों में
ग़म नहीं, शिकवा नहीं कोई जमाने से
जिंदगी सिमटी है जब से चंद शेरों में
This work of literature is attributed to Gautam Rajrishi and original work can be traced here.
चल, हुई अब शाम, लौटें हम भी डेरों में
सुब्ह की इस दौड़ में ये थक के भूले हम
लुत्फ़ क्या होता है अलसाये सबेरों में
अब न चौबारों पे वो गप्पें-ठहाकें हैं
गुम पड़ोसी हो गयें ऊँची मुँडेरों में
बंदिशें हैं अब से बाजों की उड़ानों पर
सल्तनत आकाश ने बाँटी बटेरों में
देख ली तस्वीर जो तेरी यहाँ इक दिन
खलबली-सी मच गयी सारे चितेरों में
जिसको लूटा था उजालों ने यहाँ पर कल
ढ़ूँढ़ता है आज जाने क्या अँधेरों में
कब पिटारी से निकल दिल्ली गये विषधर
ये सियासत की बहस, अब है सँपेरों में
गज़नियों का खौफ़ कोई हो भला क्यूं कर
जब बँटा हो मुल्क ही सारा लुटेरों में
ग़म नहीं, शिकवा नहीं कोई जमाने से
जिंदगी सिमटी है जब से चंद शेरों में
This work of literature is attributed to Gautam Rajrishi and original work can be traced here.
Kabir's Bhajan
18
Talk to my inner lover,
and I say, why such rush?
We sense that there is some sort of spirit
that loves birds and animals and the ants -
perhaps the same one
who gave a radiance to you in your mother's womb.
Is it logical you would be walking around entirely orphaned now?
The truth is you turned away yourself,
And decided to go into the dark alone.
Now you are tangled up in others, and have forgotten
what you once knew,
and that's why
everything you do has some weird failure in it.
28
There is nothing but water in the holy pools.
I know, I have been swimming in them.
All the gods sculpted of wood or ivory can't say a word.
I know, I have been crying out to them.
The Sacred Books of the East are nothing but words.
I looked through their covers one day sideways.
What Kabir talks of is only what has lived through.
If you have not lived through something, it is not true.
Source: The Kabir Book. Forty-four of the Ecstatic Poems of Kabir. Versions by Robert Bly. A Seventies Press Book. Beacon Press-Boston.1977.
Talk to my inner lover,
and I say, why such rush?
We sense that there is some sort of spirit
that loves birds and animals and the ants -
perhaps the same one
who gave a radiance to you in your mother's womb.
Is it logical you would be walking around entirely orphaned now?
The truth is you turned away yourself,
And decided to go into the dark alone.
Now you are tangled up in others, and have forgotten
what you once knew,
and that's why
everything you do has some weird failure in it.
28
There is nothing but water in the holy pools.
I know, I have been swimming in them.
All the gods sculpted of wood or ivory can't say a word.
I know, I have been crying out to them.
The Sacred Books of the East are nothing but words.
I looked through their covers one day sideways.
What Kabir talks of is only what has lived through.
If you have not lived through something, it is not true.
Source: The Kabir Book. Forty-four of the Ecstatic Poems of Kabir. Versions by Robert Bly. A Seventies Press Book. Beacon Press-Boston.1977.
16 मई 2009
First they came...
When the Nazis came for the communists,
I remained silent;
I was not a communist.
Then they locked up the social democrats,
I remained silent;
I was not a social democrat.
Then they came for the trade unionists,
I did not speak out;
I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Jews,
I did not speak out;
I was not a Jew.
When they came for me,
there was no one left to speak out for me.
"First they came…" is a poem attributed to Pastor Martin Niemöller (1892–1984) about the inactivity of German intellectuals following the Nazi rise to power and the purging of their chosen targets, group after group.
I remained silent;
I was not a communist.
Then they locked up the social democrats,
I remained silent;
I was not a social democrat.
Then they came for the trade unionists,
I did not speak out;
I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Jews,
I did not speak out;
I was not a Jew.
When they came for me,
there was no one left to speak out for me.
"First they came…" is a poem attributed to Pastor Martin Niemöller (1892–1984) about the inactivity of German intellectuals following the Nazi rise to power and the purging of their chosen targets, group after group.
13 मई 2009
The Earth is a Satellite of the Moon
Apollo 2 cost more than Apollo 1
Apollo 1 cost plenty
Apollo 3 cost more than Apollo 2
Apollo 2 cost more than Apollo 1
Apollo 1 cost plenty
Apollo 4 cost more than Apollo 3
Apollo 3 cost more than Apollo 2
Apollo 2 cost more than Apollo 1
Apollo 1 cost plenty
Apollo 8 cost a fortune, but no one minded
because the astronauts were Protestant
they read the Bible from the moon
astounding and delighting every Christian
and on their return Pope Paul VI gave them his blessing.
Apollo 9 cost more than all these put together
including Apollo 1 which cost plenty.
The great-grandparents of the people of Acahualinca were less
hungry than the grandparents.
The great-grandparents died of hunger.
The grandparents of the people of Acahualinca were less
hungry than the parents.
The grandparents died of hunger.
The parents of the people of Acahualinca were less
hungry than the children of the people there.
The parents died of hunger.
The people of Acahualinca are less hungry then the children
of the people there.
The children of the people of Acahaulinca, because of hunger,
are not born
they hunger to be born, only to die of hunger.
Blessed are the poor for they shall inherit the moon.
---Leonel Rugama
translation: Sara Miles, Richard Schaaf & Nancy Weisberg
from: Poetry Like Bread, Curbstone Press, 1994
Apollo 1 cost plenty
Apollo 3 cost more than Apollo 2
Apollo 2 cost more than Apollo 1
Apollo 1 cost plenty
Apollo 4 cost more than Apollo 3
Apollo 3 cost more than Apollo 2
Apollo 2 cost more than Apollo 1
Apollo 1 cost plenty
Apollo 8 cost a fortune, but no one minded
because the astronauts were Protestant
they read the Bible from the moon
astounding and delighting every Christian
and on their return Pope Paul VI gave them his blessing.
Apollo 9 cost more than all these put together
including Apollo 1 which cost plenty.
The great-grandparents of the people of Acahualinca were less
hungry than the grandparents.
The great-grandparents died of hunger.
The grandparents of the people of Acahualinca were less
hungry than the parents.
The grandparents died of hunger.
The parents of the people of Acahualinca were less
hungry than the children of the people there.
The parents died of hunger.
The people of Acahualinca are less hungry then the children
of the people there.
The children of the people of Acahaulinca, because of hunger,
are not born
they hunger to be born, only to die of hunger.
Blessed are the poor for they shall inherit the moon.
---Leonel Rugama
translation: Sara Miles, Richard Schaaf & Nancy Weisberg
from: Poetry Like Bread, Curbstone Press, 1994
1 मार्च 2009
Ode to the West Wind
I
O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,
Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead
Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,
Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,
Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou,
Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed
The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low,
Each like a corpse within its grave, until
Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow
Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill
(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)
With living hues and odours plain and hill:
Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;
Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh hear!
II
Thou on whose stream, mid the steep sky's commotion,
Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed,
Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean,
Angels of rain and lightning: there are spread
On the blue surface of thine aëry surge,
Like the bright hair uplifted from the head
Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge
Of the horizon to the zenith's height,
The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge
Of the dying year, to which this closing night
Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre,
Vaulted with all thy congregated might
Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere
Black rain, and fire, and hail will burst: oh hear!
III
Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams
The blue Mediterranean, where he lay,
Lull'd by the coil of his crystalline streams,
Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay,
And saw in sleep old palaces and towers
Quivering within the wave's intenser day,
All overgrown with azure moss and flowers
So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou
For whose path the Atlantic's level powers
Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below
The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear
The sapless foliage of the ocean, know
Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear,
And tremble and despoil themselves: oh hear!
IV
If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear;
If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee;
A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share
The impulse of thy strength, only less free
Than thou, O uncontrollable! If even
I were as in my boyhood, and could be
The comrade of thy wanderings over Heaven,
As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed
Scarce seem'd a vision; I would ne'er have striven
As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need.
Oh, lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud!
I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!
A heavy weight of hours has chain'd and bow'd
One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud.
V
Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:
What if my leaves are falling like its own!
The tumult of thy mighty harmonies
Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone,
Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce,
My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!
Drive my dead thoughts over the universe
Like wither'd leaves to quicken a new birth!
And, by the incantation of this verse,
Scatter, as from an unextinguish'd hearth
Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Be through my lips to unawaken'd earth
The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
--- P. B. Shelley
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