Black Maps

Not the attendance of stones, 

nor the applauding wind, 

shall let you know 

you have arrived, 

not the sea that celebrates 

only departures, 

nor the mountains, 

nor the dying cities. 

Nothing will tell you 

where you are. 

Each moment is a place 

you’ve never been. 

You can walk believing 

you cast 

a light around you. 

But how will you know? 

The present is always dark.

Its maps are black, 

rising from nothing, 

describing, 

in their slow ascent 

into themselves, 

their own voyage, 

its emptiness, 

the bleak, 

temperate necessity of its completion. 

As they rise into being 

they are like breath. 

And if they are studied at all it is only to find, 

too late, 

what you thought were 

concerns of yours do not exist. 

Your house is not marked on any of them, 

nor are your friends, 

waiting for you to appear, 

nor are your enemies, listing your faults. 

Only you are there, 

saying hello to what you will be, 

and the black grass is holding 

up the black stars.

--- Mark Strand

Let July be July

Even here, you are growing.
When August is approaching
and you feel a little restless
thinking about how
this month might end
and how
this year might end
and how you are supposed to
start again,
you are growing,
you are growing,
in grace
courage
strength.

And it is okay
if it does not feel like it.
It is okay if there are moments
where you cannot see
the way you have grown,
because far beneath the surface
the seeds have still been sown.
The ground beneath your feet
is still a bed for new beginnings.

So much is changing around you
but you are changing, too.

You are so much more than the brokenness
that you were certain would define you.

It has not been easy for you.
You have worked so hard
to be the positive one.
You have given your best
in areas of your life
where the effort was not returned.
And this has made it so hard
for you to keep going,
and there have been days
where you were not sure
if it was even possible.
But after everything,
here you are,
just a little stronger,
holding on a little longer,
and you still found room for hope.

So take heart
breathe deep
you are still becoming
who you were meant to be.

Let July be July.
Let August be August.
And let yourself

just be
even in
the uncertainty.
You don’t have to fix
everything.
You don’t have solve
everything.
And you can still
find peace
and grow
in the wild
of changing things.

--- Morgan Harper Nichols

उन्होंने कहा हम न्याय करेंगे

उन्होंने कहा हम न्याय करेंगे

हम न्याय के लिए जाँच करेंगे

मैं जानता था वे क्या करेंगे

तो मैं हँसा 

हँसना ऐसी अँधेरी रात में 

अपराध है

मैं गिरफ़्तार कर लिया गया।

--- उदय प्रकाश

Of Human Knowledge

If aught can teach us aught, Affliction’s looks,
Making us look into ourselves so near,
Teach us to know ourselves beyond all books,
Or all the learned schools that ever were.

This mistress lately plucked me by the ear,
And many a golden lesson hath me taught;
Hath made my senses quick, and reason clear,
Reformed my will and rectified my thought.

So do the winds and thunders cleanse the air;
So working lees settle and purge the wine;
So lopped and pruned trees do flourish fair;
So doth the fire the drossy gold refine.

Neither Minerva nor the learned Muse
Nor rules of art, nor precepts of the wise,
Could in my brain those beams of skill infuse,
As but the glance of this dame’s angry eyes.

She within lists my ranging mind hath brought,
That now beyond myself I list not go;
Myself am centre of my circling thought,
Only myself I study, learn, and know.

I know my body’s of so frail a kind
As force without, fevers within, can kill;
I know the heavenly nature of my mind,
But ’tis corrupted both in wit and will;

I know my soul hath power to know all things,
Yet is she blind and ignorant in all;
I know I am one of nature’s little kings,
Yet to the least and vilest things am thrall.

I know my life’s a pain and but a span,
I know my sense is mocked with everything;
And to conclude, I know myself a man,
Which is a proud, and yet a wretched thing.

---  Sir John Davies (1569-1626)

Notes: Minerva - Roman Goddess of Wisdom ( The learned Muse - probably Clio, the Muse of History and founder of historical and heroic poetry.)

15 बेहतरीन शेर - 7 !!!

1. जनाबे शेख़ का फ़लसफ़ा, है अजीब सारे जहान से, जो वहाँ पियो तो हलाल है, जो यहाँ पियो तो हराम है - जिगर मुरादाबादी

2. दुश्मनी जम कर करो लेकिन ये गुंजाइश रहे. जब कभी हम दोस्त हो जाएँ तो शर्मिंदा न हों ... बशीर बद्र

3. देख रफ़्तार-ए-इंक़लाब 'फ़िराक़', कितनी आहिस्ता और कितनी तेज़ - फ़िराक़ गोरखपुरी

4. "पलकों पे कच्ची नींदों का रस फैलता हो जब, ऐसे में आँख धूप के रुख़ कैसे खोलिए" -परवीन शाकिर

5. इल्म में झिंगुर से बढ़ कर कामरां कोई नहीं, चाट जाता है किताबें, इम्तिहां कोई नहीं...!!! - ज़रीफ़ लखनवी

6. वक़्त करता है परवरिश बरसों, हादिसा एक दम नहीं होता - क़ाबिल अजमेरी

7. हम ने माना कि तग़ाफ़ुल न करोगे लेकिन , ख़ाक हो जाएँगे हम तुम को ख़बर होते तक --- मिर्ज़ा ग़ालिब

8. जनाज़ा रोक कर मेरा वो इस अंदाज़ से बोले, गली हम ने कही थी तुम तो दुनिया छोड़े जाते हो ~ सफ़ी लखनवी

9. क़सम जनाज़े पे आने की मेरे खाते हैं ग़ालिब, हमेशा खाते थे जो मेरी जान की क़सम आगे - ग़ालिब

10. वो गलियाँ याद आती हैं जवानी जिन में खोई बड़ी हसरत से लब पर ज़िक्र ए गोरखपुर आता है - रियाज़ ख़ैराबादी

11. बस कि दुश्वार है हर काम का आसां होना. आदमी को भी मय्यसर नहीं इंसां होना - ग़ालिब.

12. पेट के तक़ाज़ों ने कर दिया है नाबीना, दाना याद रहता है, दाम भूल जाता हूं ...!!! - क़तील शिफ़ाई

13. कोई जन्नत का तालिब है, कोई ग़म से परेशां है, ज़रूरत करवाती है सजदे, वर्ना इबादत यहां कौन करता है - महशर आबिदी

14. तैयार थे नमाज़ पे, हम सुन के ज़िक्र-ए-हूर, जलवा बुतों का देख के नीयत बदल गई ! - अकबर इलाहाबादी

15. “मैं भी बहुत अजीब हूँ इतना अजीब हूँ कि बस, ख़ुद को तबाह कर लिया और मलाल भी नहीं” - जौन एलिया

War Poetry

write me

a poem

in which

all birds

are prisoners

of love

and the only bloody war

is between

my fingers

and the thorns

of the rose

i’m offering

to my beloved

---Nooshin Azadi

One Art

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

--- Elizabeth Bishop