Bullet train hai,
Bullet train hai,
Chad ke to dekho magar
Phir kahana?
Big Brother,
Which train is it,
Bullet train is it,
Bullet train is it,
Have a ride first
Then say you something about it?
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A poet of broken self and bleeding heart am I,
You do not ask,As have seen my face in so many images of mineWith a sadness,A starnge sadness of mine,Singing the song in memory,Going on the untrodden paths of life.I don’t think if you have the same as is mine,Growing up young, falling in love,Giving heart to another,Love at first sight,Love letters written and destroyed…
Stealing the moon,
My fair and full moonCombined with the sweet laughter of yours,My love,Stealing the moonface of yours,Want I to see you in full,My own moonIn the courtyard of mine.
One dances
Gestured orally,Sounds muted in,But performed throughThe gestures.
The feet beneath my legs slipping
Dancing and saying,Happy, happy new yearTo you, to you,I in the hatWith a flowerInto the handsSmelling,Smelling and dancingAll alone,Rollicking,Rocking and gliding,Gliding and dancingIn rhythmAt the beat of,Pace of musicAnd its beatsIn a shayarana andazThrilling and rockingThe stage,I rollicking and rocking,A disco dancer,A disco dancer,A shayarA shayarIn a shayarana andaz.The balloons hanging,Hanging by,Firecrackers burstingMildly,The music loudAnd…
I do not smoke
Their cigarsMake me smoke,The trails of smokeTwirling up above,The cigar held in betweenThe fingers,Puffed with style,Embers blazing,Ashes shaken off.On seeing themI too want to smoke,Smoke a cigar.