Poetry is a mirror to our day to day life, we all know. As a part of the ongoing 5th birthday celebration I have been sharing poems on five basic emotions we all feel frequently; pain, love, and joy/happiness; I have already posted in the last 15 days. Today I am sharing a poem on…
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The world is so full of a number of things, I’m sure we should all be as happy as kings. – Robert Louis Stevenson ……….. ખુશી, સુખ, આનંદ…કાંઈ કેટલાય નામ આપો, ખરીદી નથી શકાતું. આખી દુનિયા એને શોધે છે. કોઈ પદ-પ્રતિષ્ઠામાં, કોઈ ધન-સંપત્તિમાં, કોઈ યુવાનીમાં, કોઈ ધર્મ-સંપ્રદાયની પ્રવૃત્તિઓમાં, કોઈ સંતાનોની પ્રગતિમાં તો સભા-મેળાવડાઓની વાહવાહીમાં. પણ…
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દુઃખ, પીડા પછી બીજી સર્વવ્યાપી લાગણી છે… પ્રેમની. પ્રેમ જ સમગ્ર સૃષ્ટિની રચનાનો પાયો છે. સૃષ્ટિના ઉદ્ભવમાં આ અગમ્ય, અદમ્ય ખેંચાણ રહેલું છે. એકકોષી જીવથી અનેક-કોષી જીવ બનવાની ઘટનામાં પણ આ સર્જક બળ રહેલું છે. પ્રેમ કરનાર અને પામનાર બંને એક અદ્ ભૂત સર્જનનું કારણ, એક અનન્ય સર્જનના ભાગ બને છે પ્રેમમાં સંપૂર્ણ સમર્પણ કર્યા…
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My dear readers, As part of ongoing celebrations on completing five years, I posted poems written by famous writers of three different languages which were read by all of you in maximum numbers. Now for the second part of celebrations, I am posting poems written by me in all three languages (Gujarati, English, Hindi). Though…
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Completing my formative years here! It’s still unbelievable when I look at the number! I pinch my self, is it true? really? I want to thank you all for providing a continuous flow of views, likes, love, support, follow, comments,… making my journey a wonderful experience. Please let me know what do you think about…
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The Last Toast Whether we like it or not, We have only three choices: Yesterday, today and tomorrow. And not even three Because as the philosopher says Yesterday is yesterday It belongs to us only in memory: From the rose already plucked No more petals can be drawn. The cards to play Are only two:…
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Without knowing my number, enclosed by walls and borders, I walk around with a prisoner’s moon and perpetual shadow chained to my ankle. Living frontiers arise a step beyond my footsteps. There is neither north nor south, east or west, only a multiplied loneliness exists, a loneliness divided by a cipher of men. Time’s race…
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To Madame Curie Oft have I thrilled at deeds of high emprise, And yearned to venture into realms unknown, Thrice blessed she, I deemed, whom God had shown How to achieve great deeds in woman’s guise. Yet what discov’ry by expectant eyes Of foreign shores, could vision half the throne Full gained by her, whose…
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The Sunflower Bring me the sunflower here and let me set it in the parched briny soil of my own place to turn all day to the heavens that reflect it the broad gaze of its yellow yearning face. Things of the dark aspire to all that’s bright, their forms dissolving into a cascade of…
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Knowing Robs Us Knowing robs us of wonder. Had it not ripped apart the fearful robes of primordial Night to steal the design that crafted horns on doghead and sowed insurrection overnight in the homely beak of a hen; had reason not given us assurance that day will daily break and the sun’s array return…
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Silent Mark another day is here and my hands are still covered with a mantle of stoic ink words scribbled on a hesitant paper wishing to be read now not later. i want you to see this point-like light from an abyss growing tongues tasting the wind feel like the knife scraping soft butter and…
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Every night I sneak out Into the world, The world of clones. My body turns into a figure I barely recognize; face doesn’t reflect mine My mouth speaks a different language Only my soul sees it’s twin! I almost fly And do things which I have not imagined Even in my wildest of dreams. I…
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I go through the snow. I closed My eyes, but the light can still get through My porous eyelids, and I perceive That in my words it’s still the snow That swirls, thickens, bursts. Snow, A letter that we find and unfold, And the ink on it has faded and in the marks The clumsiness…
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Walking, snow falling, it is possible to focus at various distances in turn on separate flakes, sharply engage the attention at several spatial points: the nearer cold and more uncomfortable, the farther distanced and almost pleasing. Living, time passing, it is preferable to focus the memory in turn upon the more distant retrospects in order…
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O Lord, Let It Rain Drench the Desert dunes Let the green grass sprout If only my sweet beloved would return My city’s desolate without him Let him return! Let dark clouds gather Let them thunder and shower May cool winds blow If only my sweet beloved would return I live in just this hope…
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તમે જીવવા માટે શું કરો છો એ જાણવામાં મને રસ નથી મારે જાણવું છે કે તમારા હૃદયમાં ઊંડી કોઈ આરત છે કે કેમ? અને એ ફળીભૂત થવાનું સ્વપ્ન જોવાની હામ છે કે નહિ. તમારી ઉંમરમાં પણ મને રસ નથી. પ્રેમ, સ્વપ્ન અને જીવંત રહેવાના સાહસ ખાતર ગાંડા દેખાવાનું જોખમ તો ખેડી શકો છો ને? મારે…
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So You Want To Be A Writer if it doesn’t come bursting out of you in spite of everything, don’t do it. unless it comes unasked out of your heart and your mind and your mouth and your gut, don’t do it. if you have to sit for hours staring at your computer screen or…
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हलकी नीली यादें ओ विस्मृति के पहाड़ों में निर्वासित मेरे लोगो ! ओ मेरे रत्नों और जवाहरातो ! क्यों ख़ामोशी के कीचड़ में सोए हुए हो तुम ? ओ मेरे आवाम ! गुम हो चुकी हैं तुम्हारी यादें तुम्हारी हलकी नीली, वो आसमानी यादें । हमारे दिमागों में गाद भर चुकी है और विस्मरण के…
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RIVERS This mutilated tree gives Me support, left in this pot-hole It has the bitterness of a circus Before or after the show. I watch The quiet passage of Clouds over the moon. This morning I stretched Myself in an urn of water, Like a relic, and rested. The Isonzo scoured Me like One of…
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हमारे ऊपर एक बार फिर जलती हैं कपोल-कथाएँ हवा के पहले झोंके में ही झर जाएँगी पत्तियों के साथ किन्तु अगली साँस के साथ वापस लौट आएगी एक नई झिलमिलाहट – उंगारेत्ती (8 फ़रवरी 1888- 2 जून 1970) अँग्रेज़ी से अनुवाद : सुरेश सलिल ……………….. Stars They come back high to burn the tales. They…
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