Tuesday, April 13, 2010
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 ।।
I remember a school time poem by famous Hindi poet Shri Makhan Lal Chaturvedi. An unforgettable poem about the aspiration of a flower.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
For the joys of the multitude.
And I would not have the tears that sadness makes
To flow from my every part turn into laughter.
Of life's secrets and hidden things.
A smile to draw me nigh to the sons of my kind and
To be a symbol of my glorification of the gods.
A smile to be a sign of my joy in existence.
Depths of my spirit,for I have seen those who are
Satisfied the most wretched of people.
I have heard the sigh of those in yearning and Longing, and it is sweeter than the sweetest melody.
And sleeps, embracingher longing.
At morning's approach she opens her lips to meet
The sun's kiss.
A tear and a smile.
Together and area cloud.
Until it meets the gentle breeze, then falls weeping
To the fields and joins with brooks and rivers to Return to the sea, its home.
A tear and a smile.
The greater spirit to move in the world of matter
And pass as a cloud over the mountain of sorrow
And the plains of joy to meet the breeze of death
And return whence it came.
- Khalil Gibran
Monday, April 5, 2010
Friday, April 2, 2010
Thursday, April 1, 2010
When the lamp is shattered
The light in the dust lies dead -
When the cloud is scattered,
The rainbow's glory is shed.
When the lute is broken,
Sweet tones are remembered not;
When the lips have spoken,
Loved accents are soon forgot.
As music and splendour
Survive not the lamp and the lute,
The heart's echoes render
No song when the spirit is mute -
No song but sad dirges,
Like the wind through a ruined cell,
Or the mournful surges
That ring the dead seaman's knell.
When hearts have once mingled,
Love first leaves the well-built nest;
The weak one is singled
To endure what it once possessed.
O Love! who bewailest
The frailty of all things here,
Why choose you the frailest
For your cradle, your home, and your bier?
Its passions will rock thee,
As the storms rock the ravens on high;
Bright reason will mock thee,
Like the sun from a wintry sky.
From thy nest every rafter
Will rot, and thine eagle home
Leave thee naked to laughter,
When leaves fall and cold winds come.
- P B Shelley