Aur mein tere yaadon ke sang
Kahin jaataa huya,
Sapno sanjoye huye,
Chandni raat hain
Pyarbhare swapno ke sang.
It’s a moonlit night,
Stand you somewhere distant
And I with your sweet memories
Going somewhere,
Adorning my dreams,
It’s a moonlit night
Full of love dreams.
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Writing poems,
A sculptor of the bustAnd the torso of the unknown citizen, am I!Stand I fossilizedWith a handful of mushrooms of dead emotion and feeling.
I visited the temple,
Where the non-Brahmin priestessOf the scheduled casteWorshipped HerWith love and devotionAnd the skull thereinSaw IAnd what I prayed for, sought forFelt it too later onAs prayers heard,Blessings bestowed upon.Do not think it that the BrahminsOnly worship Her,She is of allAnd can be found anywhereIf called humblyWith feeling and devotionAnd feeling for Her in heart.
The woodpecker pecking into
Just like a carpenterWorking with its tools,The woodpeckerMaking a shrill callAnd peckingWith its beak,Long beakDrilling intoTo bore in a holeTo live in.
I said to you the story of my life
I want to hear from you remaining silent,All about your house, family, place and surroundings,Will you not tell me?Now-a-days who talks to whom, who has got the time to talk to,All the big talkers, I mean the gosip-masters of yesteryearsAre almost gone now,Is it not the truth?
Do not compare them
To talk of literatureAnd science at the same timeIf the former a litterateurThe latter an atomic scientist.
You may call her, but I cannot call her a bad woman
May be good for youAs who knowsWhen will one come to one’s helpWhen all turn their faces away from you,Think of that time, situation and circumstance.I cannot call her a bad woman as she is not what you think aboutAs whom call we bad are not,Whom think we good are notBut the adverse ofWhat we…