“The Musician played the violin…” To I. Shwartz The musician played the violin — I was gazing at his eyes. It was not like I was prying — I was flying in the skies. It was not from merely boredom – but I yearned to understand how such sounds could be conjured by such simple…
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Choices if i can’t dowhat i want to dothen my job is to notdo what i don’t wantto do it’s not the same thingbut it’s the best i cando if i can’t havewhat i want thenmy job is to wantwhat i’ve gotand be satisfiedthat at least thereis something moreto want since i can’t gowhere i…
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Stationery The moon did not become the sun. It just fell on the desert in great sheets, reams of silver handmade by you. The night is your cottage industry now, the day is your brisk emporium. The world is full of paper. Write to me. ~Agha Shahid Ali ( From The Veiled Suite The Collected…
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All my lifeI have been in search ofAn eternal beauty.Why should I seek it imperishable??Waves of the sea spread theirFrills and lace on the shoreEvery time they rush out and in….Foot steps on the desert sandCreate a beautiful patternOnly to be taken awayBy the wind the next moment.Drops of rain on the window paneThey sing,…
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I Love this poem so much that I wish to write it on one of the walls of my study room. I have lost the count how many times I have read it and every time I have found new meanings in it. Path of Light Where have you come from?From the other world.And…
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I killed a spider Not a murderous brown recluse Not even a black widow And if the truth were told this Was only a small sort of papery spider Who should have run When I picked up the book But she didn’t And she scared me And I smashed her I don’t think I am…
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I Am Waiting I am waiting for my case to come up and I am waitingfor a rebirth of wonderand I am waiting for someoneto really discover Americaand wailand I am waiting for the discoveryof a new symbolic western frontier and I am waiting for the American Eagleto really spread its wingsand straighten up and fly rightand I am…
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Self Portrait It doesn’t interest me if there is one Godor many gods.I want to know if you belong or feelabandoned.If you know despair or can see it in others.I want to knowif you are prepared to live in the worldwith its harsh needto change you. If you can look backwith firm eyessaying this is…
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The Stolen Branch In the night we shall go into steala flowering branch. We shall climb over the wallin the darkness of the alien garden,two shadows in the shadow. Winter is not yet gone,and the apple tree appearssuddenly changedinto a cascade of fragrant stars. In the night we shall go inup to its trembling firmament,and…
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सिर्फ तुम्हारे लिए… सिमोन (4) जानती हो सिमोन, मैं अकसर सोचती हूँसोचती क्या, चाहती हूँ पहुँचाऊँकुछ प्रतियाँ ‘द सेकंड सेक्स’ की उन तक नहींजो अपना ब्लॉग अपडेट कर रही हैं मीटिंग की जल्दी में हैंबहस में मशगूल हैं ‘सोचनेवाली औरतों’ तक नहीं उन तक जो एक अदद दूल्हा खरीदे जाने के इंतजारमें बैठी हैंकई साल…
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A Sea of Foliage Girds our Garden round Sonnet.- Baugmaree A sea of foliage girds our garden round, But not a sea of dull unvaried green, Sharp contrasts of all colors here are seen; The light-green graceful tamarinds abound Amid the mango clumps of green profound, And palms arise, like pillars gray, between; And o’er…
Read Moresource : Where I Live : New & Selected Poems
Read MoreTranslator’s Note: Padmanabha: Lord Vishnu from whose navel the lotus flower is believed to emerge source : poetryinternational.org
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source : thenagarepublic.com Image source : google images
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उषा प्रात: नभ था बहुत नीला शंख जैसे भोर का नभ; राख से लीपा हुआ चौका; अभी गीला पड़ा है बहुत काली सिल ज़रा से लाल केसर से कि जैसे धुल गई हो स्लेट पर या लाल खड़िया चाक मल दी हो किसी ने नील जल में या किसी की गौर झिलमिल देह जैसे हिल…
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Gift O my love, what gift of mine Shall I give you this dawn? A morning song? But morning does not last long – The heat of the sun Wilts it like a flower And songs that tire Are done. O friend, when you come to my gate At dusk What is it you ask?…
Read MoreDigital artwork by Nehal
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Megan Married Herself She arrived at the country mansion in a silver limousine.She’d sent out invitations and everything:her name written twice with “&” in the middle,the calligraphy of coupling.She strode down the aisle to “At Last” by Etta James,faced the celebrant like a keen soldier reporting for duty,her voice shaky yet sure. I do. I…
Read MoreWhat The Mapmaker Ought To Know On this island things fidget.Even history.The landscape does not sitwillinglyas if behind an easelholding posewaiting onsomeoneto pencilits lines, composeits best featuresor unruly contours.Landmarks shift,become unfixedby earthquakeby landslideby utter spite.Whole places will slipout from your grip. ~ Kei Miller © 2015, Kei MillerFrom: The Cartographer Tries to Map a Way to ZionPublisher:…
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Excerpts from the Poem : IIINarrator Well, so that is that. Now we must dismantle the tree,Putting the decorations back into their cardboard boxes —Some have got broken — and carrying them up to the attic.The holly and the mistletoe must be taken down and burnt,And the children got ready for school. There are enoughLeft-overs…
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Wish you all A Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! ~ Nehal In Memoriam, [Ring out, wild bells] Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light: The year is dying in the night;Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the…
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Infinite Stars The infinite stars are twinkling—The dark blue sky,Why have I never heard their whispers?In the tranquility,And in the eclipsed light,They express their encomiums sincerely … Human beings!Learn to love each other,We are all travelers on the long voyageTo the same destination. … My friends!Why do you think me taciturn?There is something in the…
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Stones I bring them from the mountains,from the sea, from the edgeof streams and look at them,heft them, hold them hardwhile they keep holding themselvesharder. Is it becausethey haven’t had to changetheir surfaces in our timethough, in theirs, they’ve sufferedthe blunt demands of iceand water and wind and godknows fire, been cracked and frozen,thawed, made…
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AUTUMN SUMMARY In evening’s dome each bird is a point of memory.It’s amazing sometimes how the years’ fervorreturns, returns without a body, returns for no reason at all,how beauty, so brief in its violent love,saves us an echo as night falls. And so, what can you do but stand there slack-armed,your heart overloaded and that…
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Woman with Eyes Wide Open life plays in the plaza with the self I never was and here I am my thoughts dance on the tightrope of my smile and everyone says this happened and is happening happening my heart opens the window life here I am my life my lone numbed blood resonates in…
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The Snail sets . what it knows of this . inelegant world, outside . and quietly folds . …
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A Prayer at the Bridge between the Centuries War is consigned to history Disaster to memory The scars and tears form a natural screen In a drizzle A rainbow appears like a bridge between the centuries At the end and the beginning of time Separating past and future Now it is Dusk at century’s end…
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“Tell me, what else should I have done?” – (This line is from a poem by Mary Oliver). “Tell me, what else should I have done?” Not come that day? Phone up and say ‘I am not well?’ And lie – not speak my truth that way? But I did come! . . . Though feeling…
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MUSIC Let me go where’er I will,I hear a sky-born music still:It sounds from all things old,It sounds from all things young,From all that’s fair, from all that’s foul,Peals out a cheerful song. It is not only in the rose,It is not only in the bird,Not only where the rainbow glows,Nor in the song of…
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Middle Class Blues We can’t complain.We’re not out of work.We don’t go hungry.We eat.The grass grows,the social product,the fingernail,the past.The streets are empty.The deals are closed.The sirens are silent.All that will pass.The dead have made their wills.The rain’s become a drizzle.The war’s not yet been declared.There’s no hurry for that.We eat the grass.We eat the…
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Everything Is Going To Be All Right How should I not be glad to contemplate the clouds clearing beyond the dormer window and a high tide reflected on the ceiling? There will be dying, there will be dying, but there is no need to go into that. The lines flow from the hand unbidden and…
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A Song For Those Who Know Something must be done right awaythat much we knowbut of course it’s too soon to actbut of course it’s too late in the dayoh we knowwe know that we’re really rather well offand that we’ll go on like thisand that it’s not much use anywayoh we knowwe know that…
Read Moreતમારા સૌનો ખૂૂબ ખૂબ આભાર, આ સફરમાં સાથે રહેવા માટે. વિઝીટ, વ્યૂ, લાઈક, કમેન્ટ…બધ્ધું જ આવકાર્ય છે, અહીં આવતા રહેજો, લખતા રહેજો. 🙂 ❤ હું જે વાંચું છું, ઑનલાઈન, પુસ્તકોમાં, બીજા બ્લૉગ્સ પર એ બધું મારા મનમાં જાતજાતની અસર ઊભી કરે છે અને કોઈ નવા જ સ્વરૂપે મારા હ્રદયમાંથી ઉદભવે છે. આ બ્લૉગ એ બધી…
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Wind-Up Doll Even more, oh yes,one can remain silent even more. Inside eternal hoursone can fix lifeless eyeson the smoke of a cigarette,on a cup’s form,the carpet’s faded flowers,or on imaginary writings on the wall. With stiff claws one can whisk the curtains aside, look outside. It’s streaming rain. A child with a balloon bouquet cowers beneath a canopy.…
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I am hereIn me, sometimes.I speakmyself, sometimes.I see in the mirrorMy face, sometimes.I walk on the grassOf this planet, sometimes.I breath – in this earthIn my dreams, sometimes.I float I flyI rainI sprout I growI fallLike a star, sometimes.I come I goI touch the shores of life,Sometimes.The words that I write I singI read I…
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I Will Greet The Sun Again I am sending-my warmest greetings to the sun,and to the tender rivers that streamed in my veins,and to the raining clouds that forever carried- my endless dreams-to the other side. Also,my greetings go-to the poplar trees in the yard-and their sore but graceful aging-under the comes and goes of…
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How you lost yourself Hey, you.yes you.Wake up! Where have you been, all this while?Staring away at screens, your conscience turning fragileDo you even remember the last time whensomeone looked into your eyes and gave you a genuine, warm smile?Amidst the endless shooting colors and the lightpixels flashing from the device you hold so tightyou’re…
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The Passionate Sword Temper my spirit, oh Lord, Burn out its alloy, And make it a pliant steel for thy wielding, Not a clumsy toy, A blunt, iron thing in my hands That blunder and destroy. Temper my spirit, oh Lord, Keep it long in the fire; Make it one with the flame. Let it share That up-reaching desire. Grasp it thyself, oh…
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On the Passage of Days Events follow events In close succession Time is A heavily knotted string, Swift and dangerous, It moves, hurting me And scarring my grand Memories for the future. Events follow events In close succession. They are Pebbles on the sea shore, Driven to and fro, Roaring and grating And tearing the…
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Parable Some fishermen pulled a bottle from the deep. It held a piece of paper, with these words: “Somebody save me! I’m here. The ocean cast me on this desert island. I am standing on the shore waiting for help. Hurry! I’m here!”“There’s no date. I bet it’s already too late anyway. It could have…
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Back from a Walk Murdered by the sky.Among the forms that move toward the snakeand the forms searching for crystalI will let my hair grow.With the limbless tree that cannot singand the boy with the white egg face.With the broken-headed animalsand the ragged water of dry feet. With all that is tired, deaf-mute,and a butterfly…
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Over the angular lily that adorns the cadaverous pillow; over the hardened bachelor pain of lying like a beardless congregationist while the cats erect their clamour and forge a bristling race; over the hunger never sated of the lime that wears light minds away and the professional disenchantment with which courtesans spring out of bed;…
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When It Is Given You to Find a Smile When It Is Given You to Find a Smile in the tenuous drop of moisture by the porous stone distilled, in the mist, in the sun, in the bird and in the wind; when nothing to your eyes remains inert, or formless, or colourless, or remote,…
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A Fool For Evergreen A little bit of fool in meHides behind my inmost treeAnd pops into the narrow pathI walk blindfolded by my wrathOr shrunken by some twist of pain,Some hope that will not wind again.He ogles with his antic eyesand somersaults a you’re-not-wiseUntil the patches in his pantsGo colorwheeling through my glanceSo fast…
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Early Spring Once more the Heavenly PowerMakes all things new,And domes the red-plowed hillsWith loving blue;The blackbirds have their wills,The throstles too. Opens a door in Heaven;From skies of glassA Jacob’s ladder fallsOn greening grass,And o’er the mountain-wallsYoung angels pass. Before them fleets the shower,And burst the buds,And shine the level lands,And flash the floods;The…
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Anushka, she is a medical student and young, upcoming poet. There is depth, sensitivity and philosophical undertones in her expressions. There is innocence and honesty in her writings.I wish her continuing journey on creative path and success in her future endeavours. Blue and Green One gloomy day I took To cleaning up my room. I…
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Jasmines Your scent is in the room. Swiftly it overwhelms and conquers me! Jasmines, night jasmines, perfect of perfume, Heavy with dew before the dawn of day! Your face was in the mirror. I could see You smile and vanish suddenly away, Leaving behind the vestige of a tear. Sad suffering face, from parting grown…
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Poet As Fisherman I fish for words to say what I fish for, half-catch sometimes. I have caught little pan fish flashing sunlight (yellow perch, crappies, blue-gills), lighthearted reeled them in, filed them on stringers on the shore. A nice mess, we called them, and ate with our fingers, laughing. Once, dreaming of fish in…
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Enslaved Oh when I think of my long-suffering race, For weary centuries despised, oppressed, Enslaved and lynched, denied a human place In the great life line of the Christian West; And in the Black Land disinherited, Robbed in the ancient country of its birth, My heart grows sick with hate, becomes as lead, For this…
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I Live, I Die, I Burn, I Drown I live, I die, I burn, I drown I endure at once chill and cold Life is at once too soft and too hard I have sore troubles mingled with joys Suddenly I laugh and at the same time cry And in pleasure many a grief endure…
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When You Are Old When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love…
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Come thou, thou last one, whom I recognize, unbearable pain throughout this body’s fabric: as I in my spirit burned, see, I now burn in thee: the wood that long resisted the advancing flames which thou kept flaring, I now am nourishinig and burn in thee. My gentle and mild being through thy ruthless fury…
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Asleep and awake Asleep and awake, I wake. Never having written What I have to say. No poem offers of me My central meaning, I have danced to my naming And danced away. Now I move past my dreams: They yield processions of Changing images. I want to speak the clear The intricate meeting-place Of…
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Here is a poem, written by my daughter for a competition. I would like to share it with you all. Hope you enjoy it like I did. … * … * … What would be the best poem ever written, you might ask For such a thing as competitions exist For an overthinker like me,…
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A Moment Of Happiness A moment of happiness, you and I sitting on the verandah, apparently two, but one in soul, you and I. We feel the flowing water of life here, you and I, with the garden’s beauty and the birds singing. The stars will be watching us, and we will show them what…
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Tonight No Poetry Will Serve Saw you walking barefoot taking a long look at the new moon’s eyelid later spread sleep-fallen, naked in your dark hair asleep but not oblivious of the unslept unsleeping elsewhere Tonight I think no poetry will serve Syntax of rendition: verb pilots the plane adverb modifies action verb force-feeds noun…
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The Tule Fog Just as the sun rises and disappearsBehind the tall city landmarksThey live and hide, out in the openIn this provincial city of San Francisco.No, they do not own homesBut they claim the streets of this cityJust as the tule fog settles low to the ground. Some days you only get to…
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Still I Rise You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise. Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? ’Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells Pumping in my living room. Just like…
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Like winds of seas, you toss the shutters, Like winds of deserts, you sing: ‘Behold! You’re mine forever! I’m ancient Clutter, Your old, good fellow, – unlock your hold!’ I dare not open, I hold the shutters, I hold the shutters and hide my fright. I keep and cherish, I keep with flutter My love…
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THE GRASS IS REALLY LIKE ME The grass is also like me it has to unfurl underfoot to fulfill itself but what does its wetness manifest: a scorching sense of shame or the heat of emotion? The grass is also like me As soon as it can raise its head the lawnmower obsessed with flattening…
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We Wear the Mask We wear the mask that grins and lies, It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,— This debt we pay to human guile; With torn and bleeding hearts we smile, And mouth with myriad subtleties. Why should the world be over-wise, In counting all our tears and sighs? Nay, let them…
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– Paul Éluard Born: 14 December 1895, Saint-Denis, France Died: 18 November 1952, Charenton-le-Pont, France (The British Royal Air Force dropped copies of his poem “Liberté” into Europe as part of its anti-Nazi propaganda campaign, and other poems were broadcast clandestinely on pro-Allies radio stations. source: poetryfoundation.org) …………………………………………… Liberté On my school notebooks On my…
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A poem slumbers in my heart, at the centre of my being, and a dim mirror tries to shape it a ghazal a line a word. Day and night it pulls me toward itself, no music, no sound, even silence seems to intrude. What poem is this that sleeps in me and does not let…
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“Poetry,” she explained, “is my understanding of the universe, my way of relating to things, my participation in reality, my encounter with voices and images. This is why the poem speaks not of an ideal life but of a concrete one: the angle of a window, the resonance of streets, cities and rooms, the shadow…
Read MoreOriginally posted on only coffee is real:
Sophia de Mello Poem translated by Ana Silva, original poem by Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen. Do read the beautiful original poem below. Commentary One of the most compelling elements of Sophia’s poetry is her belief in the power of the four primordial elements – air, fire, earth…
Autumn Landscape Drop by drop rain slaps the banana leaves. Praise whoever sketched this desolate scene: the lush, dark canopies of the gnarled trees, the long river, sliding smooth and white. I lift my wine flask, drunk with rivers and hills. My backpack, breathing moonlight, sags with poems. Look, and love everyone. Whoever sees this…
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The Sparrow A little bird, with plumage brown, Beside my window flutters down, A moment chirps its little strain, Ten taps upon my windowpane, And chirps again, and hops along, To call my notice to its song; But I work on, nor heed its lay, Till, in neglect, it flies away. So birds of peace…
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Thou Art My Lute Thou art my lute, by thee I sing,— My being is attuned to thee. Thou settest all my words a-wing, And meltest me to melody. Thou art my life, by thee I live, From thee proceed the joys I know; Sweetheart, thy hand has power to give The meed of love—the…
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Lovely And Lifelike A face at the end of the day A cradle in day’s dead leaves A bouquet of naked rain Every ray of sun hidden Every fount of founts in the depths of the water Every mirror of mirrors broken A face in the scales of silence A pebble among other pebbles For…
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I Only Wish To Love You I only wish to love you A storm fills the valley A fish the river I have made you the size of my solitude The whole world to hide in Days and nights to understand To see no more in your eyes Than what I think of you And…
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Before I go I’m supposed to get a last wish: Generous reader burn this book It’s not at all what I wanted to say Though it was written in blood It’s not what I wanted to say. No lot could be sadder than mine I was defeated by my own shadow: My words took vengeance…
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Merry Christmas to all of you! What I love about Christmas is a wonderful feeling of festivities and cheer in the air, the joy of giving, the Happiness of being together. The joys of sharing, caring and celebrating little things of holiday season, gives us hope to continue, rejunuvates us for the coming New Year.…
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I loved you; and perhaps I love you still, The flame, perhaps, is not extinguished; yet It burns so quietly within my soul, No longer should you feel distressed by it. Silently and hopelessly I loved you, At times too jealous and at times too shy. God grant you find another who will love you…
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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 dreams. I meet…
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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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Every Song Every song is the remains of love. Every light the remains of time. A knot of time. And every sigh the remains of a cry. Federico García Lorca Translated by A. S. Kline © Copyright 2007 All Rights Reserved ……………….. हर गीत चुप्पी है प्रेम की हर तारा चुप्पी है समय की समय…
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My Two Daughters In the cool dusk, enchanting evening drawing on, One like the dove, the other like the swan, Lovely, and joyful both of them, and, ah, so sweet, Big sister and little sister make their seat, Look, at the threshold of the garden; over them, A spray of white carnations, long, fragile of…
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What Survives Who says that all must vanish? Who knows, perhaps the flight of the bird you wound remains, and perhaps flowers survive caresses in us, in their ground. It isn’t the gesture that lasts, but it dresses you again in gold armor- from breast to knees- and the battle was so pure an Angel…
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Song of the Universal Come said the Muse, Sing me a song no poet has chanted, Sing me the universal. In this broad earth of ours, Amid the measureless grossness and the slag, Enclosed and safe within its central heart, Nestles the seed perfection. By every life a share or more or less, None born…
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The Journey One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice— though the whole house began to tremble and you felt the old tug at your ankles. “Mend my life!” each voice cried. But you didn’t stop. You knew what you had…
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After crossing fifty I have come to realize… Dreams are What we live every day And not something that we will achieve someday in the future. There is no timeline for happiness, It surprises you when you’re expecting it the least Same is true for success. Love, I no longer chase you I feel your…
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When Death Comes When death comes like the hungry bear in autumn; when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse to buy me, and snaps the purse shut; when death comes like the measle-pox; when death comes like an iceberg between the shoulder blades, I want to step through the door…
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Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep I am Not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousands winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in…
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keeping a day ahead when space occupied by those preceding still reeks of waste is deemed vagrancy and planning non-events because your life depends on it does not explain why no demand exists in any case living in expectancy of a life-changing phone-call doesn’t bring order to the chaos surrounding you, so unleash suspense, be…
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Woodcutter. Cut out my shadow. Free me from the torture of seeing myself fruitless. Why was I born among mirrors? The daylight revolves around me. And the night herself repeats me in all her constellations. I want to live not seeing self. I shall dream the husks and insects change inside my dreaming into my…
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The Idler An idle lingerer on the wayside’s road, He gathers up his work and yawns away; A little longer, ere the tiresome load Shall be reduced to ashes or to clay. No matter if the world has marched along, And scorned his slowness as it quickly passed; No matter, if amid the busy throng,…
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A Man In His Life A man doesn’t have time in his life to have time for everything. He doesn’t have seasons enough to have a season for every purpose. Ecclesiastes Was wrong about that. A man needs to love and to hate at the same moment, to laugh and cry with the same eyes,…
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Open the window, and let the air Freshly blow upon face and hair, And fill the room, as it fills the night, With the breath of the rain’s sweet might. Hark! the burthen, swift and prone! And how the odorous limes are blown! Stormy Love’s abroad, and keeps Hopeful coil for gentle sleeps. Not a…
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Tools for life Has life ever dumped you in a heap? Perhaps you’ve found self belief so strongly reinforcing that doubt never enters it, nor divorces you from your own reality. While I admire conviction I see it an affliction of the blessed, sign of the righteously possessed and indeed, a decent place to serve…
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‘Green Rain’ I remember long veils of green rain Feathered like the shawl of my grandmother – Green from the half-green of the spring trees Waving in the valley. I remember the road Like the one which leads to my grandmother’s house, A warm house, with green carpets, Geraniums, a trilling canary And shining horse-hair…
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I am a child and free I have no place or dwelling how vast the sky is when the whole world is a poem it’s broad daylight on earth night has not yet been created I have a foothold in all of time – Amina Saïd j’eus dix ans le ciel en têtej’empruntai ses ailes…
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Those Bells Are Driving Me Crazy Those bells are driving me crazy How can I sleep? Ten times a day I pine for him I’ll wear the chains of his love Till death Standing at the edge They cry out, ‘My love!’ But they love only their lives Some claim, ‘I’m all yours’ But wet…
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FOR THE NEW YEAR Stamped in the throat bird song biologists say is inevitable as that beak that eye that red wing is not learned is born with the bird. Perhaps then there’s another dimension behind our learned word patterns … perhaps an infinite song sways in our throats yet to be heard? .. ……
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INSOMNIA The province of my Insomnia Is like the expanse of An arid river Quite often I come here barefooted Accepting its call I walk through And collide with The brambles of Old dreams And unsolved truths The entire stretch is Full of prolific roots Impossible to Pull out And the sun, the moon and…
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O, Were I Loved As I Desire To Be! O, were I loved as I desire to be! What is there in the great sphere of the earth, Or range of evil between death and birth, That I should fear, – if I were loved by thee! All the inner, all the outer world of…
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I stumbled across a grain of truth, In the suns last drops of light, As I stood out in my garden, And watched the fruit bats daily flight, They moved as though united, Their flapping wings a silent dance, And as they flew above me, I stood frozen in a trance, Their flight conveyed such…
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Dunya Mikhail was born in Iraq (Baghdad) in 1965 and came to the United States thirty years later. She’s renowned for her subversive, innovative, and satirical poetry. After graduation from the University of Baghdad, she worked as a journalist and translator for the Baghdad Observer. Facing censorship and interrogation, she left Iraq, first to Jordan…
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बग़दाद के अपने बग़ीचे में मैं अक्सर भागा करता था उसके पीछे मगर वह उड़कर दूर चली जाती थी हमेश। आज तीन दशकों बाद एक दूसरे महाद्वीप में वह आकर बैठ गई मेरे कन्धे पर। नीली समन्दर के ख़यालों या आख़िरी साँसें लेती किसी परी के आँसुओं की तर॥ उसके पर स्वर्ग से गिरती दो…
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What is our innocence, what is our guilt? All are naked, none is safe. And whence is courage: the unanswered question, the resolute doubt, — dumbly calling, deafly listening—that in misfortune, even death, encourage others and in its defeat, stirs the soul to be strong? He sees deep and is glad, who accedes to mortality…
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Where the Sidewalk Ends There is a place where the sidewalk ends And before the street begins, And there the grass grows soft and white, And there the sun burns crimson bright, And there the moon-bird rests from his flight To cool in the peppermint wind. Let us leave this place where the smoke blows…
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Do not give me only perfect For there is beauty in what lacks, The things that are most true Are filled with flaws, covered in cracks. So stumble on your sentences, Forget the words you need, To those parading as perfection I must say; pay them no heed. For it is you and your surroundings,…
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દસ વરસની ગણતરીઓ અને મથામણ પછી મારી પાસે છે ત્રણ ઓરડાવાળું ખોરડું એક ઓરડો મારો, ઉજ્જવળ ચન્દ્રનો બીજો ને ત્રીજો, સ્વચ્છ પવનનો. નદીઓ અને પર્વતો માટે તો જગા જ રહી નથી. એમને તો મારે બહાર જ રાખવાં પડશે. મારા નિસાસા બની જાય પવન ને મારાં આંસુઓ, છાંટણાં વર્ષાનાં જે ફૂંકાય ને છંટાય, મારી મરજી મુજબ…
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I remember you as you were that final autumn. You were a gray beret and the whole being at peace. In your eyes the fires of the evening dusk were battling, and the leaves were falling in the waters of your soul. As attached to my arms as a morning glory, Your sad, slow voice…
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Now I out walking The world desert, And my shoe and my stocking Do me no hurt. I leave behind Good friends in town, Let them get well-wined And go lie down. Don’t think I leave For the outer dark Like Adam and Eve Put out of the Park. Forget the myth. There is no…
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The wind is blowing no more The fallen leaves are resting After landing now They’re making a crunchy sound as I walk on them The naked tree is coming to terms With its bare-all look. No longer trying to hide from the nearby bench exchanging glances with the flowing creek The trail is blazing bright…
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What though thy bed be frozen earth, Thy cloak the chilling blast; What though no mate to cheer thy path, Thy sky with gloom o’ercast- What though if love itself doth fail, Thy fragrance strewed in vain; What though if bad o’er good prevail’ And vice o’er virtue reign- Change not thy nature, gentle bloom,…
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Informational Decay I heard an echo in a hollow place. No sound of blowing wind or drifting sand, some ancient voice was this, a captive trace of gone-by speech, of argument, demand, of plea or question, comfort or command. Long years this message had remained unheard in empty halls, in untenanted lands, a letter lost,…
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