SubhashNaik

says

sameer p says

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

- Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Daffodils - William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but gay,
In such a jocund company!
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

The Road Not Taken - Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And look down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Dust Of Snow - Robert Frost

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.

If - Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream and not make dreams your master;
If you can think and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!


Invictus - William Ernest Henley
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate: 15
I am the captain of my soul.
Some Poems from India - Part 1
GRANT ME

Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers but to be
fearless in facing them.
Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain but for the
heart to conquer it.
Let me not look for allies in life's battlefield but to
my own strength.
Let me not crave in anxious fear to be saved but
hope for the patience to win my freedom.
Grant me that I may not be coward, feeling your mercy
in my success alone; but let me find the
grasp of your hand in my failure.
Rabindranath Tagore
LET MY COUNTRY AWAKE
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where the words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action --
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.
Rabindranath Tagore
SONG ON THE CREATION
There was neither non-existence nor existence then;
there was neither the realm of space nor the sky which is beyond.
What stirred? Where? In whose protection?
Was there water, bottomlessly deep?
There was neither death nor immortality then.
There was no distinguishing sign of night nor of day.
That one breathed, windless, by its own impulse.
Other than that there was nothing beyond.
Darkness was hidden by darkness in the beginning;
with no distinguishing sign, all this was water.
The life force that was covered with emptiness,
that one rose through power of heat.
Desire came upon that one in the beginning;
that was the first seed of mind.
Poets seeking in their heart with wisdom found the bond of existence in non-existence.
Their cord was extended across. Was there below? Was there above?
There were seed-placers; there were powers.
There was impulse beneath; there was giving-forth above.
Who really knows? Who will here proclaim it?
Whence was it produced? Whence is this creation?
The gods came afterwards, with the creation of this universe.
Who then knows whence it has arisen?
Whence this creation has risen -- perhaps it formed itself,
or perhaps it did not.
The one who looks down on it, in the highest heaven, only he knows
or perhaps he does not know.
The Rig Veda
TIME
Time is the root of all this earth;
These creatures, who from Time had birth,
Within his bosom at the end
Shall sleep; Time hath nor enemy nor friend.
All we in one long caravan
Are journeying since the world began;
We know not wither, but we know
Time guideth at the front, and all must go.
Like as the wind upon the field
Bows every herb, and all must yield,
So we beneath Time's passing breath
Bow each in turn, -- why tears for birth or death ?
Bhartrihari (translated by Paul Elmer More)
The canal loves to think that rivers exist solely to supply it with water.
Every child comes with the message that God is not yet discouraged by man
The woodcutter's axe begged for its handle from the tree.
The tree gave it.
Life is given to us, we earn it by giving it.
The noise of the moment scoffs at the music of the Eternal.
The dust receives insult and in return offers her flowers.
The roots below the earth claim no rewards for making the branches fruitful.
Rabindranath Tagore
COMPASSION, AN EXAMPLE
Upagupta, the disciple of Buddha, lay sleep in
the dust by the city wall of Mathura.
Lamps were all out, doors were all shut, and
stars were all hidden by the murky sky of August.
Whose feet were those tinkling with anklets,
touching his breast of a sudden?
He woke up startled, and a light from a woman's
lamp fell on his forgiving eyes.
It was dancing girl, starred with jewels,
Wearing a pale blue mantle, drunk with the wine
of her youth.
She lowered her lamp and saw young face
austerely beautiful.
"Forgive me, young ascetic," said the woman,
"Graciously come to my house. The dusty earth
is not fit bed for you."
The young ascetic answered, "Woman,
go on your way;
When the time is ripe I will come to you."
Suddenly the black night showed its teeth
in a flash of lightening.
The storm growled from the corner of the sky, and
The woman trembled in fear of some unknown danger.
* . *
A year has not yet passed.
It was evening of a day in April,
in spring season.
The branches of the way side trees were full of blossom.
Gay notes of a flute came floating in the
warm spring air from a far.
The citizens had gone to the woods for the
festival of flowers.
From the mid sky gazed the full moon on the
shadows of the silent town.
The young ascetic was walking along the lonely street,
While overhead the love-sick koels uttered from the
mango branches their sleepless plaint.
Upagupta passed through the city gates, and
stood at the base of the rampart.
Was that a woman lying at his feet in the
shadow of the mango grove?
Stuck with black prestilence, her body
spotted with sores of small-pox,
She had been hurriedly removed from the town
To avoid her poisonous contagion.
The ascetic sat by her side, took her head
on his knees,
And moistened her lips with water, and
smeared her body with sandal balm.
"Who are you, merciful one?" asked the woman.
"The time, at last, has come to visit you, and
I am here," replied the young ascetic.
Rabindranath Tagore
THE PENALTY OF VITRUE (from Panchatantra)

The fruit-tree's branch by very wealth
of fruit is bended low;
The peacock's feathered pride compels
A sluggish gait and slow;
The blooded horse that wins his race,
Must like cow be led:
The good in goodness often find
An enemy to dread.
(translated by Arthur W. Ryder)

TRUE FRIENDSHIP (from Panchatantra)
'Tis hard to find in life
A friend, a bow, a wife,
Strong, supple to endure
In stock and sinew pure,
In time of danger sure.
False friends are common. Yes, but where
True nature links a friendly pair,
The blessing is as rich as rare.
To bitter ends
You trust true friends,
Not wife nor mother,
Not son nor brother.
No long experience alloys
True friendship's sweet and supple joys;
No evil men can steal the treasure;
'Tis death, death only, sets a measure.
(translated by Arthur W. Ryder)

POVERTY (from Panchatantra)
A beggar to the graveyard hied
And there "Friend corpse, arise," he cried
"One moment lift my heavy weight
Of poverty; for I of late
Grow weary, and desire instead
Your comfort; you are good and dead."
The corpse was silent. He was sure
'Twas better to be dead than poor.
Arthur W. Ryder (translated from Sanskrit)

REALIZATION !
When dark passion wove
a web of ignorance about me,
then a woman seemed
to fill the world's expanse.
But now that I am favored with
keener discernment,
my tranquil sight sees Brahman
throughout the universe.

Bhartrihari (translated by Barbara S. Miller)

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sameer p says

mi kal prabodhankar thakarenche mazi jivangatha pustak vachat hoto. mahatvache sangayache mhanaje tyanchya jivangathet panvel, vashi, khandeshvar asha bhagancha motha itihas dilela aahe. he pustak challyas to tula nakkich avadel, aapan jithe rahato tethil sthanik itihas, bhugol janun ghyayala konala avadnar nahi? milalae pustak tar jarur vach, kinva mala kalav. i will give you--, navin kay vachan activity kalvit raha. keep in touch. sameer

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sameer p says

sir, tell me about new reading.

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Eng'r,poet,writer,editor,SaghierAhmedJafri says

Thanks for your nice note.I am a Tehreek e Pakistan worker.I had participated actively in Pakistan movement period in India in 1946 , 1947 (As student Pakistan Movement Karkun / Worker).These days,I am writing in Udu and English about the important events / happenings in my life starting from 1942 when I had started going to School in Ajmer , India during the Second World War days.
For decades,I am trying to Promote Urdu and other languages all over the World.
Saghier Ahmed Jafri, Editor Urdu Manzil http://www.urdumanzil.com

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rumba says

tumhi ZORPIA ki asach kahi invitation pathhavalay ka?

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Eng'r,poet,writer,editor,SaghierAhmedJafri says

I thank you for the nice note.
I hope that we will continue communicating with each other.Pl. visit my site: http;//www.urdmanzil.com .

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prakash joshi says

i have posted new paintings and sketches on my site
www.yessy.com\pbj2006.hope u get time to see them

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prakash joshi says

still in usa ? Roy Kinikar's Uttarratra prayog at balgandharva in pune at 5.30 pm on october 3 .

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Abhijit Mulye says

Virusmule majhya cellphonemadhale sagale contacts dilit jhalet. Mala tumacha cell no dya na punha ekada...

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Abhijit Mulye says

12 tarkhelaa bhetaycha na?

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rumba says

tumhu pathhavalela invite milala pan mala join hota yet nahiy. mi santosh chya friendlist var aahe, tumhi tithun invite pathhava parat. rumba- ruta

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Amar Habib says

Sadhya mi Bhanu Kale yanche Badalta Bharat hye pustak vachto aahe....

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Abhijit Mulye says

Ya. Sure. Mi 12 la divasbhar Punyat ahe. Ecological Society madhe "Ecology of Technology" ya vishayavar charcha ahe. Tithe asnar ahe mi. Sandhyakali bhetata yeil.

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Abhijit Mulye says

Yetoy tikade pudhachya athavdyat!

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