आता है याद मुझको

आता है याद मुझको गुज़रा हुआ ज़माना
वोह बाग़ की बहारें वोह साब का चह-चहाना
memories of days gone by come back to me
that garden in spring, all that chitter chatter

आज़ादियाँ कहाँ वोह अब अपने घोंसले की
अपनी खुशी से आना अपनी ख़ुशी से जाना
where is that freedom of my nest now
that coming and going as one pleased

लगती हैं चोट दिल पर, आता है याद जिस दम
शबनम के आंसुओं पर कलियों का मुस्कुराना
it hurts my heart when i so recall
the petals glowing with those tears of dew

वो प्यारी प्यारी सूरत, वोह कामीनी सी मूरत
आबाद जिस के दम से था मेरा आशियाना
that lovely face, that idol
by which my whole world was alive

- इकबाल

बोल के लब आजाद हैं तेरे

बोल के लब आजाद हैं तेरे

बोल ज़बान अब तक तेरी है

तेरा सुतवां जिस्म है तेरा

बोल के जान अब तक तेरी है

देख के आहंगर की दूकान में

तुंद हैं शोले सुर्ख है आहन

खुलने लगे कुफ्लों के दहाने

फैला हर एक ज़ंजीर का दामन

बोल ये थोरा वक़्त बहुत है

जिस्म-ओ-जुबां की मौत से पहले

बोल के सच ज़िंदा है अब तक

बोल जो कुछ कहना है कह ले


सुतवां - well built आहंगर - blacksmith
आहन - iron कुफ्लों - locks

Irresistible Faiz... did I say how much I like his poetry?

मोगरा फुलला

मोगरा फुलला मोगरा फुलला ।

इवलेंसे रोप लाविलें द्वारी ।
त्याचा वेलु गेला गगनावेरी ॥१॥

मोगरा फुलला मोगरा फुलला ।
फुलें वेंचितां बहरू कळियांसी आला ॥२॥

मनाचिये गुंती गुंइफियेला शेला ।
बाप रखुमादेविवरू विठ्ठलीं अर्पिला ॥३॥

- संत ज्ञानेश्वर

Mogra bloomed, Mogra bloomed (Mogra is a very sweet smelling flower)

A small sapling planted at my doorstep
It's vine grew up to reach the sky

Mogra bloomed, Mogra bloomed.
As the flowers were plucked, it bloomed into completeness (approx)

On mind's loom, I wove a rich cloth
And offered it to my father-like god Vitthal



Marathi poetry has a rich collenction of bhakti sangeet. There were many poet saints who wove beautiful poetry of devotion to Vitthal or inspiration found among daily doings of people, and in nature. I don't know much about the origin of Vitthal, but he has inspired some really beautiful poetry.
Many times though, the Marathi used is arcane, and not easily comprehendible. But isn't it the case with a lot of Indian literature that the language is the biggest barrier?

Living

I knew only these words of the poem:

The thing that is called living isn't gold or fame at all
It is laughter and contentment and the struggle for a goal
It is everything that's needful in the shaping of a soul

A google search gave the entire poem:

The miser thinks he's living when he's hoarding up his gold;
The soldier calls it living when he's doing something bold;
The sailor thinks it living to be tossed upon the sea,
And upon this vital subject no two of us agree.

But I hold to the opinion, as I walk my way along,
That living's made of laughter and good-fellowship and song.
I wouldn't call it living always to be seeking gold,
To bank all the present gladness for the days when I'll be old.
I wouldn't call it living to spend all my strength for fame,
And forego the many pleasures which to-day are mine to claim.
I wouldn't for the splendor of the world set out to roam,
And forsake my laughing children and the peace I know at home.

Oh, the thing that I call living isn't gold or fame at all!
It's good-fellowship and sunshine, and it's roses by the wall;
It's evenings glad with music and a hearth fire that's ablaze,
And the joys which come to mortals in a thousand different ways.
It is laughter and contentment and the struggle for a goal;
It is everything that's needful in the shaping of a soul.

- Edgar Guest

The Yukon Song

My tiger friend has got the sled,
And I have packed a snack.
We're all set for the trip ahead.
We're never coming back!

We're abandoing this life we've led!
So long, Mom and Pop!
We're sick of doing what youve said,
And now it's going to stop!

We're going where it snows all year,
Where life can have real meaning.
A place where we wont have to hear,
"Your room could stand some cleaning."

The Yukon is the place for us!
That's where we want to live.
Up there we'll ge to yell and cuss
And act real primitive.

We'll never have to go to school,
Forced into submission,
By monst, crabby teachers who'll
Make us learn addition.

We'll never have to clean a plate,
Of veggie glops and goos.
Messily we'll masticate,
Using any fork we choose!

The timber wolves will be our friends.
Well stay up late and howl,
At the moon, till nightmare ends,
Before going on the prowl.

Oh, what a life! we cannot wait,
To be in that arctic land,
Where we'll be masters of our fate,
And lead a life that's grand!

No more of parental rules!
We're heading for some snow!
Good riddance to those grown-up-ghouls!
We're leaving! Yukon Ho!

- Bill Waterson

Vagabond

Give to me the life I love,
Let the lave go by me,
Give the jolly heaven above
And the byway nigh me.
Bed in the bush with stars to see,
Bread I dip in the river -
There's the life for a man like me,
There's the life for ever.

Let the blow fall soon or late,
Let what will be o'er me;
Give the face of earth around
And the road before me.
Wealth I seek not, hope nor love,
Nor a friend to know me;
All I seek, the heaven above
And the road below me.

Or let autumn fall on me
Where afield I linger,
Silencing the bird on tree,
Biting the blue finger.
White as meal the frosty field -
Warm the fireside haven -
Not to autumn will I yield,
Not to winter even!

Let the blow fall soon or late,
Let what will be o'er me;
Give the face of earth around,
And the road before me.
Wealth I ask not, hope nor love,
Nor a friend to know me;
All I ask, the heaven above
And the road below me.

- R. L. Stevenson

Togetherness

Khalil Gibran's poetry, though not very beautiful, is very thought provoking.


You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.
Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.

Love one another, but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.

Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.

- Khalil Gibran

Goodbye Blue Sky

Did you see the frightened ones?
Did you hear the falling bombs?
Did you ever wonder why we
Had to run for shelter when the
Promise of a brave, new world
Unfurled beneath the clear blue sky?
Did you see the frightened ones?
Did you hear the falling bombs?
The flames are all long gone, but the pain lingers on.
Goodbye, blue sky
Goodbye, blue sky.
Goodbye. Goodbye.

- Pink Floyd

Just before the song starts there is a child's voice saying "Look, Mummy. There's an airplane up in the sky."
Just my frustration with so many broken things... and myself.

Young man's death

Lots of wishes and longings and laments... now for some real thing!
Enjoy! :-))

Let me die a young man's death
not a clean and inbetween
the sheets holywater death
not a famous-last-words
peaceful out of breath death

When I'm 73
and in constant good humour
may I be mown down at dawn
by a bright red sports car
on my way home
from an allnight party

Or when I'm 91
with silver hair
and sitting in a barber's chair
may rival gangsters
with hamfisted tommyguns
burst in and give me a short back and insides

Or when I'm 104
and banned from the Cavern
may my mistress
catching me in bed with her daughter
and fearing for her son
cut me up into little pieces
and throw away every piece but one

Let me die a young man's death
not a free from sin tiptoe in
candle wax and waning death
not a curtains drawn by angels borne
'what a nice way to go' death

- Roger McGough

दश्त-ऐ-तन्हाई

Another Faiz Ahmed Faiz jewel sung by Tina Sani

दश्त-ऐ-तन्हाई में, ऐ जान-ऐ-जहाँ, लर्जां हैं
तेरी आवाज़ के साए, तेरे होंठों के सराब

In the desert of my solitude, oh love of my life, quiver
the shadows of your voice, the mirage of your lips

दश्त-ऐ-तन्हाई में, दुरी के खास-ओ-ख़ाक तले
खिल रहे हैं तेरे पहलु के सामान और गुलाब

In the desert of my solitude, beneath the dust and ashes of distance
bloom the jasmines and roses of your proximity

उहत रही है कहीं कुर्बत से तेरी साँस कि आंच
अपनी खुश्बू में सुलगती हुई मद्धम मद्धम

From somewhere very close, rises the warmth of your breath
smouldering in its own aroma, slowly, bit by bit.

दूर उफक पार चमकती हुई कतरा कतरा
गिर रही है तेरी दिल दार नज़र की शबनम

far away, across the horizon, glistens
drop by drop the falling dew of your beguiling glance

इस कदर प्यार से ऐ जान-ऐ-जहान रक्खा है
दिल के रुखसार पे इस वक़्त teri याद ने हाथ

With such tenderness, O love of my life,
on the cheek of my heart, has your memory placed its hand right now

यूँ गुमान होता है गरचे है अभी सुबह-ऐ-फिराक
ढल गया हिज्र का दिन आ भी गए वस्ल की रात

though it's still the dawn of adieu
the sun of separation has set, and the night of union has arrived.

Stand and stare

Pretty much sums a life with a kid... doesn't it?


What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

- William Davies



I must add that I had decided to post an english poem today, and was surprised when I had to rake my head real hard for an english poem I liked. It could be just an affinity for my daily languages, or a greater ability to appreciate the intricacies of my own language. Don't know which, but I always have faced considerable difficulty in enjoying an English poem.

मुझ से पहली सी मोहब्बत

A lovely nazm by Faiz sung in the haunting voice of Noor Jehan. The song is from a movie but this picturization was more interesting.



मुझ से पहेली सी मुहब्बत मेरे महबूब न मांग
Don't ask me for the love I once gave you, my love


मैंने समझा था के तू है तो दरख्शां है हयात
I had thought if I had you, life would shine eternally on me

तेरा ग़म है तो ग़म-ऐ-दहर का झगडा क्या है
If I had your sorrows, those of the universe would mean nothing

तेरी सूरत से है आलम में बहारों को सबात
Your face would bring permanence to every spring

तेरी आखों के सिवा दुनिया में रक्खा क्या है
What is there but your eyes to see in the world anyway

तू जो मिल जाए तो तकदीर निगूँ हो जाए
If I found you, my fate would bow down to me

यूँ न था मैंने फ़क़त चाहा था यूँ हो जाए
This was not how it was, it was merely how I wished it to be


अनगिनत सदियों की तारिक बहिमाना तलिस्म
The dreadful magic of uncountable dark years

रेशम-ओ-अतलस-ओ-कमख्वाब में बुनवाये हुए
Woven in silk, satin and brocade

जा-बा-जा बिकते हुए कूचा-ओ-बाज़ार में जिस्म
In every corner are bodies sold in the market

ख़ाक में लिथडे हुए खून में नहलाये हुए
Covered in dust, bathed in blood

लौट जाती है उधर को भी नज़र क्या कीजिए
Still returns my gaze in that direction, what can be done

अब भी दिलकश है तेरा हुस्न मगर क्या कीजे
Even now your beauty is tantalizing, but what can be done

और भी दुःख हैं ज़माने में मोहब्बत के सिवा
There are other heartaches in the world than those of love

रहते और भी है वस्ल की राहत के सिवा
There is happiness other than the joy of union