कबीर बानी-Poems of Kabir

मुरली बजत अखंड सदा से, तहाँ प्रेम झनकारा है।
प्रेम-हद तजी जब भाई, सत लोक की हद पुनि आई।
उठत सुगंध महा अधिकाई, जाको वार न पारा है।
कोटि भान राग को रूपा, बीन सत-धुन बजै अनूपा ।।

यह मुरली सदा से निरंतर बज रही है, और प्रेम इसकी ध्वनी है। जब मनुष्य प्रेम की सीमाओं से पार निकल जाता है तो सत्यलोक की सीमा आती है। वहाँ सुगंध का अपार विस्तार है। यह राग करोड़ों सूर्यो का रूप धारण कर रहा है। वीणा पर सत्य की अनुपम धुन बज रही है।

कबीर बानी
अली सरदार जाफ़री

The Flute of the infinite is played without ceasing, and its sound is love:
When love renounces all limits, it reaches truth.
How widely the fragrance spreads! It has no end, nothing stands in its way.
The form of this melody is bright like a million suns:
incomparably sounds the veena, the veena of the notes of truth.

by Rabindranath Tagore

b80c44414ea2951f1529e74571959e08

Down by the Salley Gardens

When I first read this poem, I instantly fell in love with simplicity of this lyrical beauty!

.     .     .    .     .

Down by the salley gardens my love and I did meet;
She passed the salley gardens with little snow-white feet.
She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree;
But I, being young and foolish, with her would not agree.

In a field by the river my love and I did stand,
And on my leaning shoulder she laid her snow-white hand.
She bid me take life easy, as the grass grows on the weirs;
But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears.
From Crossways
Selected Poems of W. B. Yeats

[ Yeats said that this very early poem attempted to fill out some lines he remembered an old peasant woman singing in Sligo. His original title was an Old Song Re-sung.He was pleased when it entered popular culture and was treated as an authentic folksong. The inter-play between poetry and popular culture was a feature of Irish life.]

Salley = willow

the-pride-of-dijon

ગઝલ – કવિ કલાપી

કવિ કલાપીની આ ગઝલ એમના વ્યક્તિત્ત્વનું એક અલગ જ પાસું પ્રગટ કરે છે. છલોછલ ખુમારી, મસ્ત ફકીરીથી ભરી આ ગઝલ આપ સૌને પણ ગમશે.
.. .. .. .. ..

હમે જોગી બધા વરવા સ્મશાનો ઢૂંઢનારાઓ!
તહીંનાં ભૂતને ગાઈ જગાવી ખેલનારાઓ!

જહાં જેને મરી મુર્દુ કબરમાં મોકલી દેતી,
હમે એ કાનમાં જાદૂ હમારું ફૂંકનારાઓ!

જહાંથી જે થયું બાતલ, અહીં તે છે થયું શામિલ!
હમે તો ખાખની મૂઠી ભરી રાજી થનારાઓ!

જહીં જખમો તહીં બોસા તણો મરહમ હમે દેતા,
બધાંનાં ઈશ્કનાં દર્દો બધાં એ વ્હોરનારાઓ!

હમે જાહેરખબરો સૌ જિગરની છે લખી નાંખી,
ન વાંચે કોઈ યા વાંચે : ન પરવા રાખનારાઓ!

ગરજ જો ઈશ્કબાજીની, હમોને પૂછતા આવો,
બધાં ખાલી ફિતૂરથી તો સદા એ નાસનારાઓ!

જહીં સ્પર્ધા તણી જગની દખલ ના પ્હોંચતી ત્યાં ત્યાં,
જમીં ને આસમાનોના દડા ઉડાવનારાઓ!

ગમે તે બેહયાઈને દઈ માથું ધરી ખોળે,
હમે આરામમાં ક્યાંયે સુખેથી ઊંઘનારાઓ!

સનમની બેવફાઈથી નથી સુખ કાંઈ એ ડરતાં,
હમે જાણ્યું, હમે માણ્યું, ફિકરને ફેંકનારાઓ!

જખમથી જે ડરી રહેતાં, વગર જખમે જખમ સ્હેતાં;
હમે તો ખાઈને જખમો, ખૂબી ત્યાં માનનારાઓ!

બની ઉસ્તાદ આવો તો થશો આંહીં તમે ચેલા,
મગર મુરશિદ કરો તો તો હમે ચેલા થનારાઓ!

હમારાં આંસુથી આંસુ મિલાવો; આપશું ચાવી;
પછી ખંજર ભલે દેતાં; નહીં ગણકારનારાઓ!
– કવિ કલાપી

sursinhji_gohil_kalapi

मुसाफ़िर – बशीर बद्र

सदियों की गठरी सर पर ले जाती है
दुनिया बच्ची बन कर वापस आती है

मैं दुनिया की हद से बाहर रहता हूँ
घर मेरा छोटा है लेकिन जाती है

दुनिया भर के शहरों का कल्चर यक्साँ
आबादी, तनहाई बनती जाती है

मैं शीशे के घर में पत्थर की मछली
दरिया की खुश्बू, मुझमें क्यों आती है

पत्थर बदला, पानी बदला, बदला क्या
इन्साँ तो जज़्बाती था, जज़्बाती है

काग़ज़ की कश्ती, जुग्नू झिलमिल-झिलमिल
शोहरत क्या है, इक नदिया बरसाती है
बशीर बद्र ( मुसाफ़िर ) 1998

3-paper-boat

By the Sea

seaside

Its morning
the sea in front of me
roaring; keeps rushing to the shore.
like a child; restless and energetic!
Now in the afternoon
it starts to calm down,
now a tired child; getting quiet on its own!
And finally in the evening
it starts receding back
again like a child hiding away; head down
after playing a mischief!
Nehal

તૃપ્તિ પાછળની તરસ

તૃપ્તિ પાછળની તરસ

સાવ સાચું તો તમસ બાકી છે,
અંધ જન્મેલો દિવસ બાકી છે.

સૂર્યમાં તેજ ભર્યું છે જેણે,
એ જ અગ્નિની હવસ બાકી છે.

ઘર બળ્યે વારતા પૂરી ન થઈ,
મૂળ પાયાની કણસ બાકી છે.

આંખમાં હોય ભલે અંધારું,
સ્વપ્નમાં કૈંક સરસ બાકી છે.

એ પછી કામ કશું નહિ આવે
તૃપ્તિ પાછળની તરસ બાકી છે.

જવાહર બક્ષી
(પરપોટાના કિલ્લા)

mirage

Swans

Swans

Washed in Arctic
Return to their ballroom of glass
Still in the grip of the wizard,

With the jewel stuck in their throats.

Each one still condemned
To meditate all day on her mirror
Hypnotised with awe.

Each swan glued in her reflection
Airy
As the water-caught plume of a swan.

Each snowdrop lyrical daughter possessed
By the coil
Of a black and scowling serpent-
Dipping her eyes into subzero darkness,
Searching the dregs of old lakes
For her lost music.

Then they all writhe up the air,
A hard-hooved onset of cavalry –
Harp the iceberg walls with soft fingers.

Or drift, at evening, far out
Beyond islands, where the burning levels
Spill into the sun

And the snowflake of their enchantment melts.

Ted Hughes
From A Primer of Birds(1981)
Ted Hughes Collected Poems

ted-hughes-001

A drifting Log

images

Life

Like a drifting log

Flows forward, downstream

Rocks and stones on the shore

Push it, detour it, force it to pause

Make it whirl and dance in the

Gushing currents!

Why call it a journey!

Why contemplate destination!

Many such drifting logs

Flow along the way

Clashing, chasing, parting away

Carrying

The baggage that the river loads them

With

and the same river unloads it all!

A singing bird may enjoy a ride or two

But it doesn’t dream of nests on a log.

Change is the moving force.

Though the sky sets up mornings and evenings,

spring, summer and autumn along the way

For a Log

flow is the time

and current is the season.

Ocean; may be an end to the journey

for a river,

But not for a log!!

Nehal

Coole Park, 1929-W.B.Yeats

Coole Park, 1929

I meditate upon a swallow’s flight,
Upon an aged woman and her house,
A sycamore and lime-tree lost in night
Although that western cloud is luminous,
Great works constructed there in nature’s spite
For scholars and for poets after us,
Thoughts long knitted into a single thought,
A dance-like glory that those walls begot.

There Hyde before he had beaten into prose
That noble blade the Muses buckled on,
There one that ruffled in a manly pose
For all his timid heart, there that slow man,
That meditative man, John Synge, and those
Impetuous men, Shawe-Taylor and Hugh Lane,
Found pride established in humility,
A scene well set and excellent company.

They came like swallows and like swallows went,
And yet a woman’s powerful character
Could keep a swallow to its first intent;
And half a dozen in formation there,
That seemed to whirl upon a compass-point,
Found certainly upon the dreaming air,
The intellectual sweetness of those lines
That cut through time or cross it withershins.

Here, traveller, scholar, poet, take your stand
When all those rooms and passages are gone,
When nettles wave upon a shapeless mound
And saplings root among the broken stone,
And dedicate- eyes bent upon the ground,
Back turned upon the brightness of the sun
And all the sensuality of the shade-
A moment’s memory to that laurelled head.
W. B. Yeats
Selected Poems

yeats

ख़ुदी वो बहर है जिस का कोई किनारा नहीं

ख़ुदी वो बहर है जिस का कोई किनारा नहीं
तू आबजू इसे समझा अगर तो चारा नहीं

तिलिस्म-ए-गुंबद-ए-गर्दूं को तोड़ सकते हैं
ज़ुजाज की ये इमारत है संग-ए-ख़ारा नहीं

ख़ुदी में डूबते हैं फिर उभर भी आते हैं
मगर ये हौसला-ए-मर्द-ए-हेच-कारा नहीं

तिरे मक़ाम को अंजुम-शनास क्या जाने
कि ख़ाक-ए-ज़िदा है तू ताबा-ए-सितारा नहीं

यहीं बहिश्त भी है हूर ओ जिबरईल भी है
तिरी निगह में अभी शोख़ी-ए-नज़ारा नहीं

मिरे जुनूँ ने ज़माने को ख़ूब पहचाना
वो पैरहन मुझे बख़्शा कि पारा पारा नहीं

ग़ज़ब है ऐन-ए-करम में बख़ील है फ़ितरत
कि लाल-ए-नाब में आतिश तो है शरारा नहीं
अल्लामा इक़बाल (1877-1938)

ख़ुदी- egotism,self-respect, pride, ego; बहर- meter of poetry, a verse, a sea
आबजू- a stream, rivulet, brook; तिलिस्म-ए-गुंबद-ए-गर्दूं- the magic of dome of sky;
ज़ुजाज- glass; संग-ए-ख़ारा- a hard stone, flint; हौसला-ए-मर्द-ए-हेच-कारा- courage of a useless fellow; अंजुम-शनास- astrologer; ख़ाक-ए-ज़िदा- live dust; ताबा-ए-सितारा- obedient to stars; बहिश्त- heaven; जिबरईल- Gabriel, archangel; शोख़ी-ए-नज़ारा- cheerfulness of the spectacle; पारा- a piece, a bit, a fragment, Mercury; 
ऐन-ए-करम- the real favour; 
बख़ील- miser;फ़ितरत- creation, nature; लाल-ए-नाब-clear ruby; 
शरारा- spark of fire, a flash, a gleam

iqbal