- I give myself to you as poetry, knowing that in you my days I want to spend, because I trust that is the reason for the smile of your soul. I want to be an extensive poem in your story, a poem that only you hear in the mornings, that only you feel in the afternoons, and that only you hug at nights. I want to be the light that your eyes reflect, the melody that composes your voice and the spell that your lips provoke me. I want to belong to you without more, provoking the desire to never stop being. I want to be what you long for most after dusk.
Monday, January 16, 2023
From The Path Of Broken Roses. Courtesy Rebeca Barcenas
मैं वह प्रकाश बनना चाहता हूं जिसे तुम्हारी आंखें प्रतिबिम्बित करती हैं, वह माधुर्य जो तुम्हारी आवाज बनाता है और वह मंत्र जो तुम्हारे होंठ मुझे उत्तेजित करते हैं। मैं और अधिक के बिना आपका होना चाहता हूं, कभी न रुकने की इच्छा को भड़काता हूं। मैं वह बनना चाहता हूं जो आप शाम के बाद सबसे ज्यादा चाहते हैं।
Sunday, December 11, 2022
Tuesday, October 25, 2022
Billede: Charles Sprague Pearce - Archetron, The Free Social Encyclopedia
Some days are there when nothing works
Despite the meticulous planning
an unforeseen error has to happen!
The youngest sibling had volunteered
to see through it all and dreamt of a perfect time out
What went wrong? Something missing?
The sisters wait patiently and
let her work it out. "Patience", they seem to say.
But the suspense is writ large on their faces.
I can understand the panic in the sibling's heart.
A moment of Deja vu for me.
I was there some day and seen it all.
Sushama Karnik.
Image charles sprague pearce: solitude
Billede: Charles Sprague Pearce - Archetron, The Free Social Encyclopedia
Monday, September 12, 2022
कितनी दूरियों से कितनी बार
कितनी डगमग नावों में बैठ कर
मैं तुम्हारी ओर आया हूँ
ओ मेरी छोटी-सी ज्योति!
कभी कुहासे में तुम्हें न देखता भी
पर कुहासे की ही छोटी-सी रुपहली झलमल में
पहचानता हुआ तुम्हारा ही प्रभा-मंडल।
कितनी बार मैं,
धीर, आश्वस्त, अक्लांत—
ओ मेरे अनबुझे सत्य! कितनी बार...
और कितनी बार कितने जगमग जहाज़
मुझे खींच कर ले गये हैं कितनी दूर
किन पराए देशों की बेदर्द हवाओं में
जहाँ नंगे अंधेरों को
और भी उघाड़ता रहता है
एक नंगा, तीखा, निर्मम प्रकाश—
जिसमें कोई प्रभा-मंडल नहीं बनते
केवल चौंधियाते हैं तथ्य, तथ्य—तथ्य—
सत्य नहीं, अंतहीन सच्चाइयाँ...
कितनी बार मुझे
खिन्न, विकल, संत्रस्त—
कितनी बार!
How often having covered distances,
in derelict boats
have I travelled to come to you,
There were times when the fog hid you from my view
but within the fog was a shimmering light,
a light that did not dim,
and in that light I would know the aura that was only you.
How often, I, steady, assured, never tired,
O my light, my truth that would never be put out;
And how often, how many tall ships, dazzling me with their lights
lured me far away to the inclement climates of foreign lands
the naked darkness of which was all the more exposed by
a naked, hurting, alien light,
a light that had no place for auras,
a light which displayed only blinding facts,
facts, facts, and nothing but facts, but never the truth!
Never the truth, only endless realities
which dazzled me , o so often!
And made me sad, distraught, restless...
O how often!
Saturday, September 10, 2022
Saturday, September 3, 2022
I opened my window: a voice entered:
Clear, soft, somewhat choppy.
She wanted to stay...
Since then, well established,
She makes the words sing
And captivates my soul...
She addresses the sea,
Knows how to charm the moon,
And dance before my eyes...
O voice, I say to her,
Take me to the land of jasmine!
I would stop there...
I like voices
The ones I know
And the ones I guess...
There is one voice, precious,
Far and so close at the same time,
Wild and tender too...
She is Light,
the daughter of rhythm and image.
Her name is Harmony.
O voice, I say to her,
Take me to the land of jasmine!
I would stop there...
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