Tag Archives: love

मैं और मेरी तनहाई अक्सर ये बातें करते है



मैं और मेरी तनहाई अक्सर ये बातें करते है
तुम होती तो कैसा होता
तुम ये कहती तुम वो कहती
तुम इस बात पे हैरां होती
तुम उस बात पे कितनी हँसती
तुम होती तो ऐसा होता
तुम होती तो वैसा होता
मैं और मेरी तनहाई अक्सर ये बातें करते है
ये रात है या जुल्फ़े तुम्हारी खुली हुई
है चांदनी या तुम्हारी नज़रों से मेरी रातें धुली हुई
ये चाँद है या तुम्हारा कंगन
सितारें है या तुम्हारा आँचल
हवा का झोका है या तुम्हारे बदन की खुशबू
ये पत्तों की है सरसराहट
या तुमने चुपके से कुछ कहा है
ये सोचता हूँ मैं कबसे गुमसुम
की जबकि मुझको भी ये खबर है तुम नहीं हो……कही नहीं हो
मगर ये दिल है की कह रहा है
तुम यही हो यही कही हो
मजबूर ये हालत इधर भी है उधर भी है
तनहाई की एक रात इधर भी है उधर भी है
कहने को बहुत कुछ है मगर किस से कहे हम
कब तक यूँही खामूश रहे है और सहे हम
दिल कहता है दुनिया की हर एक रसम को उठा दे
दीवार जो हम दोनों में है गिरा दे
क्यूँ दिल मैं सुलगते रहे लोगों को बता दें
हाँ हम को मोहब्बत है मोहब्बत है मोहब्बत
अब दिल में ये बात इधर भी है उधर भी है
जाँवेद अख्तर

English Translation:
Me and my loneliness often have this conversation
how would it be to have you, you would say this, you would say that
you would be shocked to hear this, you would laugh to hear that
it would be like this if you would be here, it would’ve been like that if you would be here
Me and my loneliness often have this conversation

Is is the night or is your hair open
Is it the moonlight or your eyesight in which my night’s set
Is it the moon or your bangle
Are they stars or your shawl
Is it the breeze or the aroma of your body
Is it the sound of the leaves
Or you have quietly said something
I have been thinking quietly
Though I am well aware
That you are not around, not there at all
But this heart which is telling me
That you are here, somewhere around her
Difficult situation is present in this place too and there too
Lonely night is present here also, there also
There are so many things to be said
But, to whom shall i say
Till when can i stay silent and tolerate
Heart says that i should cross every tradition present in this world
Break the walls between the both of us today
Why should we leave it in our hearts
Lets tell the people
Yes, we are in love, we are in love, love
Now the same thoughts present in my heart are here also, there also

IMDB Link: Silsila 1981

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एक चेहरा साथ-साथ


एक चेहरा साथ-साथ रहा जो मिला नहीं
किसको तलाश करते रहे कुछ पता नहीं

शिद्दत की धूप तेज़ हवाओं के बावजूद
मैं शाख़ से गिरा हूँ नज़र से गिरा नहीं

आख़िर ग़ज़ल का ताजमहल भी है मकबरा
हम ज़िन्दगी थे हमको किसी ने जिया नहीं

जिसकी मुखालफ़त हुई मशहूर हो गया
इन पत्थरों से कोई परिंदा गिरा नहीं

तारीकियों में और चमकती है दिल की धूप
सूरज तमाम रात यहाँ डूबता नहीं

किसने जलाई बस्तियाँ बाज़ार क्यों लुटे
मैं चाँद पर गया था मुझे कुछ पता नहीं

-बशीर बद्र

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दिखाई दिए यूँ – with just a glimpse


फकीराना आये सदा कर चले,
मियाँ खुश रहो हम दुआ कर चले

जो तुझ बिन जीने को कहते थे हम,
सो इस अह्द को अब वफ़ा कर चले

कोई ना-उम्मीदाना करते निगाह,
सो तुम हम से भी मुंह छिपा कर चले

बहुत आरजू थी गली की तेरी,
सो यहाँ से लहू में नहा कर चले

दिखाई दिए यूँ के बेखुद किया,
हमें आप से भी जुदा कर चले

जबीं सिजदा करते ही करते गयी,
हक-ऐ-बंदगी हम अदा कर चले

परस्तश की यान taeen ke ai but तुझे, (issues with devnagri)
नज़र में शबों की खुदा कर चले

-मीर तकी मीर (खुदा-ऐ-सुखन)

An english translation of the same

Mendicant like i came and part,
Praying that you be blessed

Without you i will not live,
Behold, this pledge i now redeem

An unhopeful glance i could have cast,
But you hid your face walking me past

To visit your street, i deeply wished,
I leave it bathed in blood

with just a glimpse, you left me entranced,
estranged from self, i have been since

A long obeisance was my life,
My debt of homage i have paid

I adored you,love, so deep and true,
That people took you for god

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बस इक लम्हे का झगड़ा था


गुलज़ार

 
बस इक लम्हे का झगड़ा था –
दरो-दीवार पे ऐसे छनाके से गिरी आवाज़ जैसे काँच गिरता है –
हर इक शै में गयीं उडती हुई, जलती हुई किरचें!
नज़र में, बात में, लहजे में, सोच और साँस के अन्दर |
लहू होना था इक रिश्ते का, सो वह हो गया उस दिन
उसी आवाज़ के टुकड़े उठा के फ़र्श से उस शब,
किसी ने काट ली नब्ज़ें – 
न की आवाज़ तक कुछ भी,

कि कोई जाग न जाये

 

An English Translation

A mere one-moment tiff –
And the voice crashed on the walls like a glass shatters –
The splinters, stinging, flew into everything
In our eyes, in our conversation and its tone, in our thoughts and breaths even |
A relation was to be murdered, and that happened eventually –

Using a fragment of that very voice, that night,
Someone slit their veins –
Not making the slightest noise,
Lest someone wakes up

 

The same was recited by Dia Mirza for “Dus Kahaniyaan(2007)” album.

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Taj Mahal


The Taj, mayhap, to you may seem, a mark of love supreme
You may hold this beauteous vale in great esteem;
Yet, my love, meet me hence at some other place!

How odd for the poor folk to frequent royal resorts;
‘Tis strange that the amorous souls should tread the regal paths
Trodden once by mighty kings and their proud consorts.
Behind the facade of love my dear, you had better seen,
The marks of imperial might that herein lie screen
You who take delight in tombs of kings deceased,
Should have seen the hutments dark where you and I did wean.
Countless men in this world must have loved and gone,
Who would say their loves weren’t truthful or strong?
But in the name of their loves, no memorial is raised
For they too, like you and me, belonged to the common throng.

These structures and sepulchres, these ramparts and forts,
These relics of the mighty dead are, in fact, no more
Than the cancerous tumours on the face of earth,
Fattened on our ancestor’s very blood and bones.
They too must have loved, my love, whose hands had made,
This marble monument, nicely chiselled and shaped
But their dear ones lived and died, unhonoured, unknown,
None burnt even a taper on their lowly graves.

This bank of Jamuna, this edifice, these groves and lawns,
These carved walls and doors, arches and alcoves,
An emperor on the strength of wealth, Has played with us a cruel joke.
Meet me hence, my love, at some other place.

Translation by K.C. Kanda, appeared in Masterpieces of Urdu Nazm published by Sterling Publishers Pvt. Ltd.

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ताजमहल – ये चमनज़ार यह जमुना का किनारा ये महल


ताज तेरे लिए इक मजहर-ऐ-उल्फत ही सही
तुझ को इस वादी-ऐ-रंगीन से अकीदत ही सही

मेर्री मेहबूब कहीं और मिला कर मुझ से

बज़्म-ऐ-शाही में ग़रीबों का गुज़र क्या मा’अनी
सब्त जिस राज पे हों सतवत-ऐ-शाही के निशाँ
उस पे उल्फत भरी रूहों का सफ़र क्या मा’अनी

मेरी महबूब पास-ऐ-पर्दा-ऐ-ताश-हीर-ऐ-वफ़ा
तू ने सतवत के निशानों को तो देखा होता
मुर्दा शाहों के मकाबिर से बहलने वाली
अपने तारीक मकानों को तो देखा होता

अनगिनत लोगों ने दुनिया में मुहब्बत की है
कौन कहता है की सादिक न थे जज्बे उन के
लेकिन उन के लिए ताश-हीर का सामान नहीं
क्यूँ के वो लोग भी अपनी ही तरह मुफलिस थे

ये इमारात-ओ-मकाबिर ये फ़सीलें,ये हिसार
मुतला-कुल्हुक्म शहंशाहों की अजमत के सुतून
दामन-ऐ-दहर पे उस रंग की गुलकारी है
जिस में सामिल है तेरे और मेरे अजदाद का खून

मेरी महबूब! उन्हें भी तो मुहब्बत होगी
जिनकी सन्ना-ई ने बख्शी है इसे शक्ल-जमील
उन के प्यारों के मकाबिर रहे बेनाम-ओ-नमूद
आज तक उन पे जल्ला-ई न किसी ने कंदील

ये चमनज़ार यह जमुना का किनारा ये महल
ये मुनक्क़श दर-ओ-दीवार, यह मेहराब ये ताक
इक शहंशाह ने दौलत का सहारा ले कर
हम ग़रीबों की मुहब्बत का उराया है मजाक

मेरी महबूब कहीं और मिला कर मुझ से!

–साहिर लुधियानवी(Sahir Ludhianvi 1921-1980)

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the indian to his love


W.B. Yeats (1865-1939)

The island dreams under the dawn
And great boughs drop tranquillity;
The peahens dance on a smooth lawn,
A parrot sways upon a tree,
Raging at his own image in the enamelled sea.

Here we will moor our lonely ship
And wander ever with woven hands,
Murmuring softly lip to lip,
Along the grass, along the sands,
Murmuring how far away are the unquiet lands:

How we alone of mortals are
Hid under quiet boughs apart,
While our love grows an Indian star,
A meteor of the burning heart,
One with the tide that gleams, the wings that gleam and dart,

The heavy boughs, the burnished dove
That moans and sighs a hundred days:
How when we die our shades will rove,
When eve has hushed the feathered ways,
With vapoury footsole by the water’s drowsy blaze.

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Sonnet


Elizabeth Bishop
Buy Books By Elizabeth Bishop Poems

I am in need of music that would flow
Over my fretful, feeling finger-tips,
Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips,
With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow.
Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low,
Of some song sung to rest the tired dead,
A song to fall like water on my head,
And over quivering limbs, dream flushed to glow!

There is a magic made by melody:
A spell of rest, and quiet breath, and cool
Heart, that sinks through fading colors deep
To the subaqueous stillness of the sea,
And floats forever in a moon-green pool,
Held in the arms of rhythm and of sleep.

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Riding the Red Line


Eric Nixon
Buy Book – Anything but Dreams: Selected Poems

On the subway
On a hot summer night
Riding the Red Line
Outbound to Alewife
So is everyone else
Standing in the packed car
Staring blankly at the
Reflections in the window
Stealing looks every so often
At the pretty mid-20-something
Sitting on the seat near me
Noticing that she is
Glancing sideways
At the paper the person
Next to her is reading
Well not so much reading
Since he’s got his eyes
Looking to the side at
Someone else behind me
Everyone is pretending
To look somewhere neutral
Everyone is experiencing
Ulterior motives checking out
Everyone else around them
Trying to be all sneaky about it
With each stop
The people change
The dynamics change
Keeps the subway car
Fresh and interesting
Just as long as she doesn’t leave
I’ll be happy standing here
Packed among strangers
With wandering eyes
And stealing glances
Alongside them
On this hot, hot night.

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A Thing of Beauty is Joy Forever


John Keats(1795-1821)

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o’er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old, and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
‘Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven’s brink.

Nor do we merely feel these essences
For one short hour; no, even as the trees
That whisper round a temple become soon
Dear as the temple’s self, so does the moon,
The passion poesy, glories infinite,
Haunt us till they become a cheering light
Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast
That, whether there be shine or gloom o’ercast,
They always must be with us, or we die.

Therefore, ’tis with full happiness that I
Will trace the story of Endymion.
The very music of the name has gone
Into my being, and each pleasant scene
Is growing fresh before me as the green
Of our own valleys: so I will begin
Now while I cannot hear the city’s din;
Now while the early budders are just new,
And run in mazes of the youngest hue
About old forests; while the willow trails
Its delicate amber; and the dairy pails
Bring home increase of milk. And, as the year
Grows lush in juicy stalks, I’ll smoothly steer
My little boat, for many quiet hours,
With streams that deepen freshly into bowers.
Many and many a verse I hope to write,
Before the daisies, vermeil rimmed and white,
Hide in deep herbage; and ere yet the bees
Hum about globes of clover and sweet peas,
I must be near the middle of my story.
O may no wintry season, bare and hoary,
See it half finished: but let Autumn bold,
With universal tinge of sober gold,
Be all about me when I make an end!
And now at once, adventuresome, I send
My herald thought into a wilderness:
There let its trumpet blow, and quickly dress
My uncertain path with green, that I may speed
Easily onward, thorough flowers and weed.

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