The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T S Eliot

S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s'i'odo il vero,
Senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

[ Epigraph Translation- If I thought my answer were given
to anyone who would ever return to the world,
this flame would stand still without moving any further.
But since never from this abyss
has anyone ever returned alive, if what I hear is true,
without fear of infamy I answer you]

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question…
Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?"
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—
[They will say: "How his hair is growing thin!"]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!"]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?

. . . . .

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? …

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

. . . . .

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep… tired… or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"—
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: "That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all."

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
"That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all."

. . . . .

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old… I grow old…
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.


References :

1) The above text has been retrieved from http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Love_Song_of_J._Alfred_Prufrock

2)Listen to a lovely recital at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A2khDhfwsoE&feature=related

3)Learn more about the poem at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Love_Song_of_J._Alfred_Prufrock

Aaj janey kee zidd naa karo..

Morning Yearning by TahoeSunsets
( see image information below)

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Aaj jaane ki zid na karo (3)
Yunhi pehloo mein baithe raho (2)
Aaj jaane ki zid na karo
Haay mar jaayenge, hum to lut jaayenge
Aisi baatein kiya na karo
Aaj jaane ki zid na karo (2)
Haay mar jaayenge, hum to lut jaayenge
Aisi baatein kiya na karo
Aaj jaane ki zid na karo

Tum hi socho zara, kyun na roke tumhe
Jaan jaati hai jab uth ke jaate ho tum (2)
Tumko apni qasam jaan-e-jaan
Baat itni meri maan lo
Aaj jaane ki zid na karo
Yunhi pehloo mein baithe raho (2)
Aaj jaane ki zid na karo
Haay mar jaayenge, hum to lut jaayenge
Aisi baatein kiya na karo
Aaj jaane ki zid na karo

Waqt ki qaid mein zindagi hai magar (2)
Chand ghadiyan yehi hain jo aazad hain (2)
Inko khokar mere jaan-e-jaan
Umr bhar na taraste raho
Aaj jaane ki zid na karo
Haay mar jaayenge, hum to lut jaayenge
Aisi baatein kiya na karo
Aaj jaane ki zid na karo

Kitna maasoom rangeen hai yeh sama
Husn aur ishq ki aaj mein raaj hai (2)
Kal ki kisko khabar jaan-e-jaan
Rok lo aaj ki raat ko
Aaj jaane ki zid na karo
Yunhi pehloo mein baithe raho (2)
Aaj jaane ki zid na karo
Haay mar jaayenge, hum to lut jaayenge
Aisi baatein kiya na karo
Aaj jaane ki zid na karo

About this Ghazal: This beautiful ghazal has been sung by Farida Khanun who has been quite rightly titled as the "queen of ghazals". Farida Khanun was born in Calcutta and raised in Amritsar. She moved to Pakistan after 1947. In 2005, she received Pakistan's highest civilian honor. This Ghazal is one of her most well known performances.

References :

1) Read more about Farida Khanun at wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Farida_Khanum

2) Listen to this ghazal at You Tube : http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=-J4jgctq8h8&feature=related . I also love the following clip of her live performance , though it is not complete : http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=XUVS91UGNO8&feature=related

3) Read excerpts from Farida Khanun's interview at http://www.hinduonnet.com/thehindu/mp/2006/11/09/stories/2006110900550100.htm

Image Information : This image is from http://flickr.com/photos/raparker/291255885/

Badey Achey..

Bade Acchee lagte hai
Yeh Dharti ,yeh nadiyaa, yeh rainaa aur! tum

Hum tum kitane paas hai, kitane duur hain chaand sitaare
Sach poochho to man ko jhoothe lagate hain yeh saare
Magar saccche lagate hai, yeh dharti...

Tum in sab ko chood ke kaise kal subah jaaogi
Mere saath inhe bhi to tum yaad bahut aaogi
Bade achchhe lagate hain ...

- Sung by Amit Kumar in Balika Vadhu (1976)

Ranjish Hi Sahi..

Ranjish hi sahi dil hi dukhaanay kay liyay aaDespite the anguish, come to touch my heartaa phir say mujhay chhorr kay jaanay kay liyay aaCome, even if to leave me again
pehlay say maraasim na sahi phir bhi kabhi toIf not for our past relationship
rasm-o-rahay duniya hi nibhaanay kay liyay aaCome to fulfill the rituals of the world

kis kis ko bataayengay judaai kaa sabab hamWhom all must I give the explanation of (this) separation
tu mujh se khafaa hai to zamaanay kay liyay aaIf not for me then come for the worldly courtesy

kuchh to meri pindaar-e-mohabbat ka bharam rakhRespect a little the depth of my love for youtu bhi to kabhi mujh ko manaanay kay liyay aaCome someday to placate me as well (as I do)

ek umr say hun lazzat-e-giryaa se bhi mehruumToo long have I been deprived of the longing for your loveaye raahat-e-jaan mujh ko rulaanay kay liyay aaCome love, if only to make me cry again
maana ke mohhabbat ka chupana hai mohhabat

Agreed that hiding love is (also) sign of love

chupkey se kisi roz jataney keliye Aa

(Nevertheless) someday secretly come to express your love 

jaisey tujey aatey hain na aaney ke bahaney

Just like you know excuses to not come

aisey he kisi roz na janey keliye Aaaa-

Some day make an excuse to come

ab tak dil-e-khush_feham ko tujh say hain ummeedainEven now, my silly heart has some expectations from you
ye aakhari shammain bhi bujhaanay kay liyay aaCome to blow these last candles of hope if you like

Ranjish hi sahi dil hi dukhaanay kay liyay aaDespite the anguish, come to touch my heart..

References:

1) Part of this Translation ( with some changes to reflect my understanding) is from http://www.egothemag.com/urdupoetry/archives/2005/10/ranjish_hi_sahi.html . Urdu poetry ( like any poetry ) can be a bit lost in translation but meaning ( without being literal) can help understand the poetry with or without rhyme

2) Listen to Ranjish Hi Sahi at You Tube ..I dig both versions!

a) By Runa Laila : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lUtUqD-9Yf4

b) By Mehdi Hassan: http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=cgKDqh2ccuU&feature=related

Jinhen main dhoondtaa thaa ..

Blue sky above Lagos by Patrick Mayon
(see image information below)

Jinhen main dhoondtaa thaa aasmaanon mein zameeno mein
vo nikale mere zulmat-e-Khaanaa-e-dil ke makiino mein

mahiine vasl ke ghadiyon kee soorat udatey jaatein hain
magar ghadiyaan judaaee kee guzaratee hain mahino mein

mujhe rokegaa tu ai naaKhudaa kyaa garq hone se
ki jin ko doobna hai doob jaate hain safiino.n mein

jalaa sakatii hai sham-e-kushtaa ko mauj-e-nafas un kee
ilaahii kyaa chhupaa hotaa hai ahal-e-dil ke seeno mein

tamannaa dard-e-dil kii ho to kar Khidamat faqeero.n kee
nahee milataa ye gauhar baadshaaho.n ke Khazeeno mein

muhabbat ke liye dil dhoondh koi Tootnevaalaa
ye vo mai hai jise rakhate hain naazuk aab_giino mein

buraa samajhoon unhein mujh se to aisaa ho nahee saktaa
ki main Khud bhii to hoon "Iqbal" apane nuktaachiino mein

Allama Iqbal

Key to Urdu Words: zulmat-e-Khaanaa-e-dil = darkened house that is (my) heart, makiin = resident, vasl = to come together, naaKhudaa = boatsman; garq = drowning; safiinaa = boat, sham-e-kushtaa = extinguished candle/flame, mauj-e-nafas = waves of (one's) breath,gauhar = pearl; Khaziino.n = riches/treasure, aab_giinaa = delicate decanter (wine container) made of glass,nuktaachii.n = critic

Image Information: This image is from http://flickr.com/photo_zoom.gne?id=436989640&context=photostream&size=o

Parichay (Identity)

Finger print by esti-

( see image information below)

Salil kann hun ya paravaar hun main?Am I a water drop, or an ocean?
Svayam chaya, svayam aadhar hun main; The self, the shadow, I am both;
bandha hun, svapna hun, laghu vrut main hun; tied down, a dream, shrunken,
nahin to vyom ka vistar hun main. else, an elaboration of empty space.

Samaana chahti hai jo been ur mein; A crippled clamor of emptiness,
vikal us shunya ki jhankaar hun main.seeking to fill the silence in my heart.
Bhatakta khojta hun, jyoti tam mein; I wander, searching for light in darkness,
suna hai jyoti ka aagaar hun main. I am, I hear, a treasury of light.

Jisse nishi khojti tare jalakar;Night seeks her dawn, burning candles of stars,
usi ka kar raha abhisaar hun main.I too, await my dawn.
Janam kar sau baar mar chuka lekin A hundred times, I lived and died,
agam ka paa saka kya paar hun main?Have I found yet, the bridge across the Unknown?

Kali ki pankhdi par os kann mein, In the dew-drop on flower petal,
rangeele svapna ka sansaar hun main.I am a world of multi-hued dreams.
Mujhe kya aaj hi ya kal jharu mein,What care I, sooner or later, I will wilt
suman hun ek laghu upahaar hun main.For I am a flower, a modest offering,

Jalan hun, dard hun, dil ki kasak hun;A burning, a pain, a heartache
kisi ka haay, khoya pyaar hun main.Oh woe! I am someone's lost love.
Gira hun bhoomi par nandan vipin se,Fallen to earth, from the flower-garden,
amar-taru ka suman sukumar hun main .beloved son of the evergreen tree

Madhur jeevan hua kuch praan! Jab se, Shouldering my burden of sorrow,
laga dhone vyatha ka bhaar hun main. my life is a little sweeter now.
Rudann anmol dhan kavi ka, issise With anguish, precious wealth of poets,
pirota aasuon ka haar hun main.I string together my tears in verse.

Mujhe kya garv ho apni vibha ka? Why pride in my own light,
Chita ka dhulikann hun, kshaar hun main. I am but the dust from the pyre, the ash
Pata mera tujhe mitti kahegi, Where I am, the earth will tell you,
sama jisme chuka sau baar hun main. She who has consumed me a hundred times
.
Na dekhe vishva par mujhko ghrina se;Yet the world looks not with hatred upon me,
manuj hun srishti ka shringaar hun main. For I am a man, a wonder of creation
Pujarin! Dhuli se mujhko utha le, Oh Devotee, lift me from the dust where I lie!
tumhare devtaa ka haar hun main.I am a garland for your beloved God.

Sunnu kya sindhu, main garjan tumhara?Oh mighty ocean, what shall I make of your roar?
Svayam yudh dharma ki hunnkaar hun main.I am a voice, loud, of this age and its mores
Kathin nirgosh hun bheeshan ashani ka;A hard fearsome voice of lightning,
pralay gaandeev ka tankaar hun main.I am the twang of catastrophe's bow,

Dabi si aag hun bheeshan kshuddha ki; The suppressed fire of a ravenous hunger,
dalit ka maun hahakaar hun main.I am the wordless wail of the suffering.
Sajag sansaar tu nij ko samhaale;Oh vigilant world, take care, beware!
pralay ka ksubdh paravaar hun main. I am the tumultuous ocean of catastrophe.

Bandha toofan hun, chalna mana hai,A captive storm, forbidden motion,
bandhi uddaam nirjhar-dhaar hun main; I am a waterfall dammed.
kahun kya kaun hun, kya aag meri?Who am I, what is my desire,
Bandhi hai lekhni, laachaar hun main I am helpless, a pen constrained.

by Ramdhari Singh Dinkar

******************************************************

About the Poet: Ramdhari Singh Dinkar ( 1908-1974) is considered one of the most important modern hindi poets. His poetry inspired thousands during India's struggle for freedom. During his lifetime Dinkar received several awards and honors for his work , including , Jnanpith award, Padmabhushan and Sahitya Academy Award. Parichay is one of Dinkars best loved poems with each and every line beautiful and profound .

References:

1. The translation is from http://vgr.sulekha.com/blog/post/1999/11/i-parichay-by-dinkar-i-a-translation.htm

2.Read more about Dinkar's life at wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ramdhari_Singh

3. Read Parichay in Hindi script at http://www.prayogshala.com/poems/dinkar-parichay

Image Information: This image is from http://www.flickr.com/photos/esti/317841450/

Ye jo hum hijr mein...

Drawn Away by Dandelions by It'sGreg

(See image information below)

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ye jo ham hijr mein diivaar-o-dar ko dekhate haiin

kabhii sabaa ko kabhii naamaabar ko dekhate hain

.
vo aaye ghar mein hamaare Khudaa kii kudarat hai

kabhii ham un ko kabhii apane ghar ko dekhate hain

.
nazar lage na kaheen usake dast-o-baazuu ko

ye log kyon mere zaKhm-e-jigar ko dekhate hain
.
tere javaahiir-e-tarf-e-kulah ko kyaa dekhein

ham auj-e-taalaa-e-laal-o-guhar ko dekhate hain

.

Mirza Ghalib

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Key to Urdu Words: Hijr= separation, dar=door, saba= wind, naamaadar = messenger, dast-o-baazuu=hands & shoulders, javaahiir=jewels, tarf=golden belt, kulah=crown, auj=height/position ,taalaa=luck, laal-o-guhar=diamonds & pearls

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Image information: This image is from http://www.flickr.com/photos/itsgreg/480005669/

Tonight I Can Write The Saddest Lines...

Photo by creativity+

( see image information below)

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Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

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Write, for example : "The night is full of stars,

and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

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The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

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Tonight I can write the saddest lines

I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.

I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

.

She loved me sometimes , and I loved her too.

How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

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Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

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To hear the immense night, more immense without her.

And the verse falls to the soul as dew to the pasture.

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What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.

The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.

My soul is lost without her.

.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.

My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

.

The same night that whitens the same trees.

We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.

My voice searched the wind to touch her hearing.

.

Another's. She will be another's. As she once

belonged to my kisses.

Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but perhaps I love her.

Love is so short , forgetting is so long.

.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,

my soul is lost without her.

.

Though this be the last pain she makes me suffer,

and these the last verses that I write for her.

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Pablo Neruda

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About the poet : Pablo Neruda ( July 12,1904 - September 23, 1973) was a Chilean writer and a communist leader. Neruda , who won Nobel Prize for literature in 1971, is considered one of the greatest and most influential poets of the 20th century.

This poem is one of my favorite poems of all times. It's absolutely moving and almost makes me cry everytime I read it. I read this comment on the poem - " Any single woman who can understand this poem and it's meaning; please marry me! ! " What a great poem..love, pain, joy and everything in between...." Which is what the poem is precisely about...love, pain, joy and everything in between .

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Resources:

[1] Read more about Pablo Neruda at Wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pablo_Neruda

[2] Read about Pablo Neruda on Nobel website http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/laureates/1971/neruda-bio.html

[3] Listen to this lovely recitations of this moving poem by Andy Garcia at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zXHPk-ctoYY

Image Information : This image is from http://flickr.com/photos/bestrated1/210012508/

A word is dead

words by Feuillu

( see image information below)

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A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say
.

I say it just
Begins to live
That day

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Emily Dickinson

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Image Information: This Image is from http://flickr.com/photos/feuilllu/739173692/

Chal Merey Saath hee chal..

keysofvirtue

( see image information below)

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chal mere saath hi chal ae meri jaan-e-ghazal
in samajon ke baneye huey bandhan se nikal, chal...
.

hum vahan jayen jahan pyar pe pehere na lagey
dil ki daulat pe jahan koi lutere na lagey
kab hai badla ye zamana, tu zamane ko badal, chal…
.

pyar sachcha ho to rahen bhi nikal aateen hain
bijliyan arsh se khud rasta dikhlati hai
tu bhi bijli ki tarah gam ke andheron se nikal, chal...
.

apne milne pe jahan koi bhi ungli na utthey
apni chahat pe jahan koi bhi dushman na hanse
chhed de pyar se tu sazey, mohabbat pey ghazal, chal...
.

peechey mat dekh na shamil ho gunahgaron mein
samne dekhke, manzil hai teri taaron mein
baat banti hai agar dil mey, iradey ho atal, chal…
.

Hasrat Jaipuri
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About : This ghazal was written by the Urdu poet Hasrat Jaipuri who is also a renowned lyricist for Hindi cinema. The ghazal is about perseverence , compassion & never never saying die and is one of my absolute favorites for two reasons. One , because I love the lyrics and all the more because it is one of the songs I grew up listening to from my mother's amazing collection.The song has been beautifuly rendered by the brothers’ duo Ahmed Hussain and Mohd Hussain.
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Resources:

1) Listen to this amazing ghazal on musicindia online at the following link: http://www.musicindiaonline.com/p/x/dJ3pCwAeht.As1NMvHdW/?done_detect
2) Read more about Hasrat Jaipuri at wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hasrat_Jaipuri

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Image Information: This image is from http://www.flickr.com/photos/keysofvirtue/87850379/

Na tha kuch to....

the in-side by dandasights
( See image information below)

Na tha kuch to Khuda tha, kuch na hota to Khuda hota
Duboya mujhko hone ne, na hota main to kya hota ?

.

Huaa jab gham se yoon behis to gham kya sar ke katne ka
Na hota gar juda tan se to zaanoon par dhara hota

.

Huee muddat ke 'Ghalib' mar gaya par yaad aata hai
Wo har ek baat pe kehana, ke yoon hota to kya hota ?

.

Mirza Ghalib

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Key to Urdu words: doboya = to drown, behis = shocked/stunned, zaanooN = knee , muddat = a long period

.

Resources:

1) For a very good source of Tashree ( in depth interpretation ) of Ghalib's poetry see http://www.geocities.com/ziestnmot/

2) Listen to Jagjit Singh singing Na Kuch tha on You Tube : http://youtube.com/watch?v=3PXVUIdmeLo
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Image Information :This image is from http://www.flickr.com/photos/dandasights/1228509303/in/photostream/

Auguries of Innocence..

Photo by That Broken Girl

( See image information below)

To see a world in a grain of sand,

And a heaven in a wild flower,

Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,

And eternity in an hour.
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A robin redbreast in a cage

Puts all heaven in a rage.

A dove-house fill'd with doves and pigeons

Shudders hell thro' all its regions.

A dog starv'd at his master's gate

Predicts the ruin of the state.

A horse misused upon the road

Calls to heaven for human blood.

Each outcry of the hunted hare

A fibre from the brain does tear.

A skylark wounded in the wing,

A cherubim does cease to sing.

The game-cock clipt and arm'd for fight

Does the rising sun affright.

Every wolf's and lion's howl

Raises from hell a human soul.

The wild deer, wand'ring here and there,

Keeps the human soul from care.

The lamb misus'd breeds public strife,

And yet forgives the butcher's knife.

The bat that flits at close of eve

Has left the brain that won't believe.

The owl that calls upon the night

Speaks the unbeliever's fright.

He who shall hurt the little wren

Shall never be belov'd by men.

He who the ox to wrath has mov'd

Shall never be by woman lov'd.

The wanton boy that kills the fly

Shall feel the spider's enmity.

He who torments the chafer's sprite

Weaves a bower in endless night.

The caterpillar on the leaf

Repeats to thee thy mother's grief.

Kill not the moth nor butterfly,

For the last judgement draweth nigh.

He who shall train the horse to war

Shall never pass the polar bar.

The beggar's dog and widow's cat,

Feed them and thou wilt grow fat.

The gnat that sings his summer's song

Poison gets from slander's tongue.

The poison of the snake and newt

Is the sweat of envy's foot.

The poison of the honey bee

Is the artist's jealousy.

The prince's robes and beggar's rags

Are toadstools on the miser's bags.

A truth that's told with bad intent

Beats all the lies you can invent.

It is right it should be so;

Man was made for joy and woe;

And when this we rightly know,

Thro' the world we safely go.

Joy and woe are woven fine,

A clothing for the soul divine.

Under every grief and pine

Runs a joy with silken twine.

The babe is more than swaddling bands,

Throughout all these human lands;

Tools were made and born were hands,

Every farmer understands.

Every tear from every eye

Becomes a babe in eternity;

This is caught by females bright,

And return'd to its own delight.

The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar,

Are waves that beat on heaven's shore.

The babe that weeps the rod beneath

Writes revenge in realms of death.

The beggar's rags, fluttering in air,

Does to rags the heavens tear.

The soldier, arm'd with sword and gun,

Palsied strikes the summer's sun.

The poor man's farthing is worth more

Than all the gold on Afric's shore.

One mite wrung from the lab'rer's hands

Shall buy and sell the miser's lands;

Or, if protected from on high,

Does that whole nation sell and buy.

He who mocks the infant's faith

Shall be mock'd in age and death.

He who shall teach the child to doubt

The rotting grave shall ne'er get out.

He who respects the infant's faith

Triumphs over hell and death.

The child's toys and the old man's reasons

Are the fruits of the two seasons.

The questioner, who sits so sly,

Shall never know how to reply.

He who replies to words of doubt

Doth put the light of knowledge out.

The strongest poison ever known

Came from Caesar's laurel crown.

Nought can deform the human race

Like to the armour's iron brace.

When gold and gems adorn the plow,

To peaceful arts shall envy bow.

A riddle, or the cricket's cry,

Is to doubt a fit reply.

The emmet's inch and eagle's mile

Make lame philosophy to smile.

He who doubts from what he sees

Will ne'er believe, do what you please.

If the sun and moon should doubt,

They'd immediately go out.

To be in a passion you good may do,

But no good if a passion is in you.

The whore and gambler, by the state

Licensed, build that nation's fate.

The harlot's cry from street to street

Shall weave old England's winding-sheet.

The winner's shout, the loser's curse,

Dance before dead England's hearse.

Every night and every morn

Some to misery are born,

Every morn and every night

Some are born to sweet delight.

Some are born to sweet delight,

Some are born to endless night.

We are led to believe a lie

When we see not thro' the eye,

Which was born in a night to perish in a night,

When the soul slept in beams of light.

God appears, and God is light,

To those poor souls who dwell in night;

But does a human form display

To those who dwell in realms of day.
.

William Blake
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About the Poem: Auguries of Innocence, written by William Blake is a poem of paradoxes in life and the beauty in their irony. I have put my favorite lines from the poem in bold. The opening lines are absolutely enchanting and I love them. Priceless wisdom is packed in each line of the poem .Everytime you read it a new layer emerges!
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About the Poet: William Blake (1757 - 1827) was an English poet, visionary , painter and printmaker. Largely unrecognized during his lifetime, Blake's work is today considered great and significant in the history of both poetry and the visual arts. [1]
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In 1782, William Blake married an illiterate woman named Catherine Boucher. Blake taught her to read and to write, and also instructed her in draftsmanship. Later, she helped him print the illuminated poetry for which he is remembered today. Blake believed that his poetry could be read and understood by common people, but he was determined not to sacrifice his vision in order to become popular. [2]
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References :
[1] Read more about William Blake at Wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_blake

[2] Read William Blake's Biography as well his other works at poets.org http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/116
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Image information : This image is from http://www.flickr.com/photo_zoom.gne?id=174098243&size=o

Lagta nahee hai...

(see image information below)

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lagata nahee hai jee mera ujadey dayaar mein

kis kee banee hai aalam-e-naa-paayedaar mein

.

[ My heart is not happy in this barren land

Who has ever felt fulfilled In this temporary world]

.

keh do in hasaraton se kahee aur jaa basen

itnee jagah kahaan hai dil-e-daaGadaar mein

.

[Please tell my desires * to go away somewhere else

there is not enough room for them in my sad heart]

.

bulabul ko baagabaan se na saiyyaad se gilaa

qismat mein qaid thee likhee fasal-e-bahaar mein

.

[The nighthingale laments neither to the gardnerer nor to the hunter

Imprisonment was written in fate in the season of spring]

.

umr-e-daraaz maang ke laaye the chaar din

do aarazu mein kat gaye, do intzaar mein

.

[I had requested for a long life a life of four days

Two were spent in wishing* and two were spent in waiting]

.

hai kitna badnaseeb zafar dafn ke liye

do gaz zameen bhee na milee ku-e-yaar mein

.

[ How unlucky Zafar is !For his burial

he could'nt get even two yards of earth in my beloved country]

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- Bahadur Shah Zafar

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About the Poet: Bahadur Shah Zafar was the last Mughal King of India and is regarded as one of the greatest Urdu Poets in Indian history. The British exiled Zafar to Rangoon ( now Yangon, Myanmar ) where he lived the last few years of his years yearning to return to his homeland. He died in Rangoon in 1862 and is buried there. The above poem was written by Zafar as his epitaph

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References:

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1) Read more about Bahadur Shah Zafar at wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bahadur_Shah_II

2) For a good collection of Zafar's poetry see http://www.urdupoetry.com/zafar.html

3) The English translation is from http://www.cs.colostate.edu/~malaiya/zafar.html and wikipedia ( except words marked by * , which I find more closer to the intended meaning)

Image Information: This image if from http://www.flickr.com/photos/jzakariya/191481747/

Khusrau darya prem ka..

The edge of the storm by slack12

( see image information below)

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Khusrau darya prem ka, ulti wa ki dhaar,

Jo utra so doob gaya, jo dooba so paar

.

[Oh Khusrau, the river of love Runs in strange directions.

One who jumps into it drowns, And one who drowns, gets across.]

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-Amir Khusrau

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About the Poet: Amir Khusro Dehlavi (1253-1325 AD) was a poet, musician, inventor, philosopher and linguist. Khusro was musician in the court of seven kings in Delhi Sultanat.He wrote poetry in Persian as well as what he called Hindvi ... a combination of local Bhojpuri and Persian, which later evolved into Hindi and Urdu languages.[1] Khusrau has been termed as the "father of qawwali" (the devotional music of the Sufis). He is also credited with enriching the Hindustani classical music by introducing Persian and Arabic elements in it, and was the originator of the tarana style of music. [2]

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Khusrau was a disciple of the Sufi saint Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya who was his spiritual mentor. There is a legend about Khusrau's first meeting with Nizamuddin Aulia [3] .It is said that Khusrau, at the age of eight years, was coerced by his mother to visit the saint's khaneqah (monastary) for the first time . When he reached there, he didn't enter at once - he wanted to test him out. He sat down at the gate and composed the following lines in his heart :

Tu aan shahi ke ber aiwan-e qasrat Kabutar gar nasheenad, baaz gardad

Ghareeb-e mustamand-e ber der aamedBe-yaayad andaroon, ya baaz gardad

.
(You are a king at the gate of whose palace / even a pigeon becomes a hawk. / A poor traveller has come to your gate, / should he enter, or should he return?)

It is said that Nizamuddin Aulia at once asked one of his servants to go out at the gate and narrate the following lines to a boy who is sitting there :

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Be-yaayad andaroon mard-e haqeeqatKe ba ma yek nafas hamraaz gardad

Agar abla buvad aan mard-e naadanAzaan raah-e ke aamad baaz gardad

.
(Oh you the man of reality, come inside / so you become for a while my confidant /but if the one who enters is foolish / then he should return the way he came.)

Hearing this Khusrau decided that he has come to the right place and entered.

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References :

[1] See http://www.musicalnirvana.com/composers/amir_khusro.html

[2] Read about Amir Khusrau on Wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amir_Khusro

[3] (a) A very informative and good source for Amir Khusrau's work http://www.alif-india.com/

[3] (b) For more legends about Amir Khusrau see : http://www.alif-india.com/legend.html

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Image Information : This image is from http://www.flickr.com/photos/slack12/1087014722/

It's all I have to bring today....

Yellowjackets in the Clover by CaptPiper

( See image information below)

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It's all I have to bring today –

This, and my heart beside –

This, and my heart, and all the fields –

And all the meadows wide –

Be sure you count – should I forget

Some one the sum could tell –

This, and my heart, and all the Bees

Which in the Clover dwell

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Emily Dickinson

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Image Information : This image is from http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/164120360/in/photostream/

I'm Nobody! Who Are You

Two birds by kjhads

( see image information below)

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I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us--don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!

Emily Dickinson

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About the Poet : Emily Dickinson is one of most well regarded American poets of all times. As is the case with many a well known writers and artists, Emily was virtually unknown during her lifetime and published a handful of poems while she was alive. Today, Emily is known to have written more than 1700 poems in her lifetime!

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Resources:

1. Emily Dickinson museum http://www.emilydickinsonmuseum.org/index.html

2. Read about Emily on wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emily_dickinson

3. Check out Dickinson electronic archive http://www.emilydickinson.org/

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Image Information : This image is from http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadders/378725691/

Aah ko Chaahiye....

Source: Evening fire by lynnieb

( See image information below)

aah ko chaahiye ek umr asar hone tak
kaun jeetaa hai teri zulf ke sar hone tak

.
daam har mauj mein hai halqaa-e-sad _kaam-e-nahang
dekhen kyaa guzare hai qatare pe gauhar hone tak

.
aashiqi sabr-talab aur tamanna betaab
dil kaa kyaa rang karun Khuun-e-jigar hone tak

.
ham ne manaa ke taGaaful na karoge lekin
Khaak ho jaayenge hum tum ko Khabar hone tak

.
partav-e-Khuur se hai shabanam ko fanaa kii taaliim
main bhii hoon ek inaayat kii nazar hone tak

.
yak nazar besh nahii.n fursat-e-hastii Gaafil
garmi-e-bazm hai ik raqs-e-sharar hone tak

.

Gam-e-hastii kaa 'Asad' kis se ho juz marg ilaaj
shammaa har rang mein jalati hai sahar hone tak

.

Mirza Ghalib

Key to Urdu Words: aah = a sign of cry/ grief / yearning , daam = net/trap; mauj = wave; halqaa = ring/circle, sad = hundred; nahang = crocodile; sad_kaam-e-nahang = crocodile with hundred jaws, gauhar = pearl, sabr-talab=patient,partav-e-Khuur = sun's rays; shabanam=dew,fanaa = perish; inaayat = favour, tagaaful=neglect/ignore, yak = one , besh = excess; Gaafil = ignorant, raqs = dance; sharar = flash/fire, juz = other than; marg = death

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References:

1) For a good collection of Ghalib's poetry see http://www.urdupoetry.com/

2) For reading Ghalib's poetry in Hindi font see Ghalib at Kavita Kosh

3) Listen to Begum Akhtar singing "Aah koo chaahiye ek umra " at YouTube http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=ih6BTkJ1Ujc

4) Listen to Jagjit Singh singing " Aah ko chaahiye ek umra.." at YouTube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lUlyOEhnGg4

5) Read the meaning of lines from"Aah ko chahiye.." at ebazm..http://www.ebazm.com/discus/messages/6/2035.html?1115823378

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Image Information: This image is from http://www.flickr.com/photos/lynnieb/1129684204/

Where the mind is without fear....

Source: Bird of Paradise by Audi speed

( See image information below)

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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.

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Rabindranath Tagore

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Image Information : This image is from http://www.flickr.com/photo_zoom.gne?id=446730983&size=m

Cavafy's Ithaca....

The Lighthouse of Alexandria

( see image information below)

Constantin Cavafy is one of the most prominent Greek Poets. Cavafy was born to Greek parents on April 29, 1863 and died on the same day in Alexandria, Egypt .His father was a prosperous importer-exporter who had lived in England in earlier years and acquired British nationality. After his father died in 1870, Cavafy and his family settled, for a while, in liverpool, UK ; he moved back to Alexandria in 1877 after the financial problems the family had faced in the crash of 1876. [1] Subsequently, due to problems in Alexandria , the family moved to Constantinople in 1882 . It was here that young Cavafy met his Greek relatives and became acquainted with the legendary Queen City of the Greeks, the seat and capital of Greekness. [2] In 1885 Cavafy moved back to Alexandria where he spent rest of his life. He first worked as a journalist and then as a civil servant.

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Cavafy's poetry [1][2] : In his poetry , Cavafy drew inspiration from his own experiences as well as from his tremendous knowledge of history.Cavafy was unique in his method for publishing the poems he wrote. He never published a collection in book form, and refused at least two such offers (one for a Greek edition and one for an English). He opted to publish his poems in newspapers, periodicals and annuals, then printing them privately in broadsheets, which he would collate in makeshift collections for any interested party.

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My Ithaca : One of my all time favorite poems is Cavafy's Ithaca.The poem , written in 1911 , is based on the voyage to return to the famous island that was depicted in Homer's Odyssey. To me Ithaca is symbolic for life itself .Its central theme is the importance of relishing the journey over the destination and exploring the beauty and priceless wisdom this journey has to offer. Here is to Ithaca...mine, your's , anybodies...

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Ithaca

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When you set out on your journey to Ithaca,

pray that the road is long,

full of adventure, full of knowledge.

The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,

the angry Poseidon -- do not fear them:

You will never find such as these on your path,

if your thoughts remain lofty,

if a fine emotion touches your spirit and your body.

The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,

the fierce Poseidon you will never encounter,

if you do not carry them within your soul,

if your soul does not set them up before you.

*

Pray that the road is long.

That the summer mornings are many,

when,with such pleasure, with such joy

you will enter ports seen for the first time;

stop at Phoenician markets,

and purchase fine merchandise,

mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and ebony,

and sensual perfumes of all kinds,

as many sensual perfumes as you can;

visit many Egyptian cities,

to learn and learn from scholars.

*

Always keep Ithaca in your mind.

To arrive there is your ultimate goal.

But do not hurry the voyage at all.

It is better to let it last for many years;

and to anchor at the island when you are old,

rich with all you have gained on the way,

not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches.

*

Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage.

Without her you would have never set out on the road.

She has nothing more to give you.

*

And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you.

Wise as you have become, with so much experience,

you must already have understood what Ithacas mean.

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Constantine P. Cavafy (1911)

Resources :

1. For more about the life and times of Cavafy see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Constantine_P._Cavafy

2.The official website of Cavafy Archive : http://www.cavafy.com/

3.One of my favorite resources for Cavafy's work : http://users.hol.gr/~barbanis/cavafy/

4. Read about Cavafy Museum in Alexandria : http://www.greece.org/alexandria/cavafy/cavafy2.htm

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Image Information : This image is of lighthouse of Alexandria. Sometimes called the "Pharos of Alexandria" (Pharos or Φάρος in Greek means lighthouse), the Lighthouse of Alexandria was built in the 3rd century BC and is traditionally considered one of the Seven Wonders of the World. To read more about the lighthouse see http://fixedreference.org/2006-Wikipedia-CD-Selection/wp/l/Lighthouse_of_Alexandria.htm

Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam...

Source:http://www.okonlife.com/poems/

Rubaiyat , written by Omar Khayyam , is one of the masterpieces of Persian poetry and has been translated into several languages. Omar Khayyam lived from approximately 1048 to 1131 AD. Khayyam means tentmaker and Omar was famous in his lifetime as an astronomer and mathematician. He lived under Turkish rule but his language and culture were Persian. [1]Rubaiyat" (derived from the Arabic root word for 4) means "Quatrains": verses of four lines. One of the most famous translations of the Rubaiyat from Farsi into English was undertaken in 1859 by Edward J. Fitzgerald". I am putting together few of my favorite rubai's in their literal / Fitzgerald versions ..... [2]

*

(Literal )

I resolve daily that at dusk I shall repent
For a night with a cup full of wine spent.
In the presence of flowers, my resolve simply went
In such company, I only regret that I ever resolved to repent.

*
(Literal)

The secrets eternal neither you know nor I
And answers to the riddle neither you know nor I
Behind the veil there is much talk about us, why
When the veil falls, neither you remain nor I.

*
(Literal)

Some in deep thought spirit seek
Some lost in awe, of doubt reek
I fear the voice, hidden but not weak
Cry out "awake! Both ways are oblique.

*
( Fitzgerald's Translation)

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.

*
( Literal)

The grass that grows by every stream
Like angelic smiles faintly gleam
Step gently, cause it not to scream
For it has grown from a lover’s dream.

*
( Fitzgerald's Translation)

And strange to tell, among that Earthen Lot
Some could articulate, while others not:
And suddenly one more impatient cried--
"Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?"

*

References :

[1]Read about Omar Khayyam and his love for gardens at http://www.gardenvisit.com/garden_history/west_asia/samarkand-bukhara/omar-khayyam.htm

[2] I have taken these lines from Rubaiyat from http://www.okonlife.com/poems/index.htm - a wonderful collection of rubaiyat that are almost universally believed to be authentic: in Persian, accompanied by several translations into English as well as German.

[3]Read more about Omar Khayyam at : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Omar_Khayyam

[4]Read more about Rubaiyat at: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rubaiyat_of_Omar_Khayyam

[5] Another good source for Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam is : http://www.omar-khayyam.org/