For the nectar of love it acts like yeast,
I dislike fermentation of a juice so neat.
If slow it’s ardent, cute and mild,
We start dreaming of a fairy in dance,
And love is blended with rimes of romance,
I like this blending like a flower’s sweat.
Fast music is a noise so badly shrilled,
Slow music brings peace to the restless mind,
A peaceful mind is never unkind,
Sing and dance on a slow sweet beat.
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رستہ ڈھونڈھنے نکلا تھا میں گھر کا رستہ بھول گیا
میں تخت سے اترا دھرتی پر ہر بندھن سے آزاد ہوااب عشق کا اندھا قیدی ہوں وہ بند گرفتہ بھول گیاجسم تو میرا سالم تھا پر روح تھی ٹکڑہ ٹکڑہ میرییہ روح مکمل جب سے ہؤی میں جسم سرشتہ بھول گیاسچ بولنا کتنا مشکل ہے اور جھوٹ ہے کتناآساں یہاںاب دار پہ لٹکاسوچتا ہوں میں…
What of Hindustan and what of Pakistan,
What of Russia and what of Englistan,What of China and what of Japan,O God! Keep breathing man, animal and the bird,Long live earth and long live the whole world.White Europe or brown yellow Asia,Milky Australia or chocolaty Africa,North or South rainbow America,Though far away but lovely Antarctica,Give all of them billion centuries of love,Long live…
The rivals met in the city of gardens,
coldness decreased to a certain extent,but the true love story is still awaited.Welcoming promises from the parting year,I am hopeful for a happy friendly New Year.Coexistence and friendship are really dear,why to pass our lives in hate and fear.So what if careers are at the stake,ignore reservations of the radical rots,historians have removed the dust…
Open and exposed to all the humans,
What of Muslims and what of Brahmans,Some real parts and a few may be illusions,The beautiful boy hunter plays with the toys,Dear, I confess I am one of her kept boys.The ancient lady who is deaf and dumb and blind,Sometimes she is kind enough sometimes too unkind,The motor in me she burns, again it’s she…
Is it kindness? Still the nature feeds one,
To listen to the beats of a broken heartNobody is there with one except one’s past!How alone and sad is that frustrated oneThe song of breaths telling there is someoneFor whom one is still important and helpfulIn the thoughts of someone who comes to lullStill the nature is giving one a relieving sleepWhat a pain…
Indeed they were very good twins,
One who was elder, a couple of hours only, but mightier,when he became a poetthe youngera philosopher,didn’t like it.The first poem, breathing, reproducing and growing poem,was badly criticized by the philosopher.‘Your poem will reproduce many other poemsReligious extremism,In your name poems of bloodshed,poems onkillings and rapes,poems on imperialism and terror,poems on child abuse,poems on homosexual…