Posted in Collections, Poetry

As I began to love myself

As I began to love myself I found that anguish and emotional suffering are only warning signs that I was living against my own truth. Today, I know, this is “AUTHENTICITY”.

As I began to love myself I understood how much it can offend somebody if I try to force my desires on this person, even though I knew the time was not right and the person was not ready for it, and even though this person was me. Today I call it “RESPECT”.

As I began to love myself I stopped craving for a different life, and I could see that everything that surrounded me was inviting me to grow. Today I call it “MATURITY”.

As I began to love myself I understood that at any circumstance, I am in the right place at the right time, and everything happens at the exactly right moment. So I could be calm. Today I call it “SELF-CONFIDENCE”.

As I began to love myself I quit stealing my own time, and I stopped designing huge projects for the future. Today, I only do what brings me joy and happiness, things I love to do and that make my heart cheer, and I do them in my own way and in my own rhythm. Today I call it “SIMPLICITY”.

As I began to love myself I freed myself of anything that is no good for my health – food, people, things, situations, and everything that drew me down and away from myself. At first I called this attitude a healthy egoism. Today I know it is “LOVE OF ONESELF”.

As I began to love myself I quit trying to always be right, and ever since I was wrong less of the time. Today I discovered that is “MODESTY”.

As I began to love myself I refused to go on living in the past and worrying about the future. Now, I only live for the moment, where everything is happening. Today I live each day, day by day, and I call it “FULFILLMENT”.

As I began to love myself I recognized that my mind can disturb me and it can make me sick. But as I connected it to my heart, my mind became a valuable ally. Today I call this connection “WISDOM OF THE HEART”.

We no longer need to fear arguments, confrontations or any kind of problems with ourselves or others. Even stars collide, and out of their crashing new worlds are born. Today I know “THAT IS LIFE”!

  • Written by Charlie Chaplin

~**~

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Posted in Poetry

Nothing but death

There are cemeteries that are lonely,
graves full of bones that do not make a sound,
the heart moving through a tunnel,
in it darkness, darkness, darkness,
like a shipwreck we die going into ourselves,
as though we were drowning inside our hearts,
as though we lived falling out of the skin into the soul.

And there are corpses,
feet made of cold and sticky clay,
death is inside the bones,
like a barking where there are no dogs,
coming out from bells somewhere, from graves somewhere,
growing in the damp air like tears of rain.

Sometimes I see alone
coffins under sail,
embarking with the pale dead, with women that have dead hair,
with bakers who are as white as angels,
and pensive young girls married to notary publics,
caskets sailing up the vertical river of the dead,
the river of dark purple,
moving upstream with sails filled out by the sound of death,
filled by the sound of death which is silence.

Death arrives among all that sound
like a shoe with no foot in it, like a suit with no man in it,
comes and knocks, using a ring with no stone in it, with no
finger in it,
comes and shouts with no mouth, with no tongue, with no
throat.
Nevertheless its steps can be heard
and its clothing makes a hushed sound, like a tree.

I’m not sure, I understand only a little, I can hardly see,
but it seems to me that its singing has the color of damp violets,
of violets that are at home in the earth,
because the face of death is green,
and the look death gives is green,
with the penetrating dampness of a violet leaf
and the somber color of embittered winter.

But death also goes through the world dressed as a broom,
lapping the floor, looking for dead bodies,
death is inside the broom,
the broom is the tongue of death looking for corpses,
it is the needle of death looking for thread.

Death is inside the folding cots:
it spends its life sleeping on the slow mattresses,
in the black blankets, and suddenly breathes out:
it blows out a mournful sound that swells the sheets,
and the beds go sailing toward a port
where death is waiting, dressed like an admiral.

~**~

Translatedby Robert Bly

Originally written by Pablo Neruda

Posted in Poetry

Peace

 

There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more

~ George Gordon Byron

Posted in Poetry

तो ज़िंदा हो तुम

 

दिलों में तुम अपनी बेताबियाँ लेके चल रहे हो, तो ज़िंदा हो तुम
नज़र में ख्वाबों की बिजलियाँ लेके चल रहे हो, तो ज़िंदा हो तुम
हवा के झोकों के जैसे आज़ाद रहना सीखो
तुम एक दरिया के जैसे लहरों में बहना सीखो
हर एक लम्हे से तुम मिलो खोले अपनी बाहें
हर एक पल एक नया समा देखे यह निगाहें
जो अपनी आँखों में हैरानियाँ लेके चल रहे हो, तो ज़िंदा हो तुम
दिलों में तुम अपनी बेताबियाँ लेके चल रहे हो, तो ज़िंदा हो तुम.

__

शायर – ज़ावेद अख्तर

चित्र आभार: गूगल

Posted in Poetry

शहर

 

मेरा शहर एक लम्बी बहस की तरह है
सड़कें – बेतुकी दलीलों सी…
और गलियां इस तरह
जैसे एक बात को कोई इधर घसीटता
कोई उधर

हर मकान एक मुट्ठी सा भिंचा हुआ
दीवारें-किचकिचाती सी
और नालियां, ज्यों मूंह से झाग बहती है

यह बहस जाने सूरज से शुरू हुई थी
जो उसे देख कर यह और गरमाती
और हर द्वार के मूंह से
फिर साईकिलों और स्कूटरों के पहिये
गालियों की तरह निकलते
और घंटियां हार्न एक दूसरे पर झपटते

जो भी बच्चा इस शहर में जनमता
पूछता कि किस बात पर यह बहस हो रही?
फिर उसका प्रश्न ही एक बहस बनता
बहस से निकलता, बहस में मिलता…

शंख घंटों के सांस सूखते
रात आती, फिर टपकती और चली जाती

पर नींद में भी बहस खतम न होती
मेरा शहर एक लम्बी बहस की तरह है….

__

भारतीय ज्ञानपीठ द्वारा प्रकाशित ‘अमृता प्रीतम की चुनी हुई कवितायें’ से साभार

Posted in Collections, Poetry

My faith

My house is buried in deepest recess of the forest,
Every year, ivy vines grow longer than the year before.
Undisturbed by the affairs of the world I live at ease.
Wooden men’s singing rarely reaching me through the trees.
While the sun stays in the sky, I mend my torn clothes,
And facing the moon, I read my holy texts aloud to myself.
Let me drop a word of advice for believers of my faith,
To enjoy life’s immensity, you do not need many things.
~
Ryokan