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In this trouble torn. Grief stricken world
Only music  embalm my aching soul
When corruption and bribery are the order of the day
Goons and rowdies show me the real way
Even the judges succumb to dishonesty
Morals and ethics have lost their identity
The veena, the flute, the clarinet, the drums
And the guitar make a soothing effect to my ears
When there is   incredible symphony
The distinction between East
And west is totally lost
Only peace and harmony forever last

Music is more intoxicating than vine
It is undoubtedly divine
There is music in the blowing wind,
Flowing stream, chirping of birds,
The hissing of  snakes,
The bleating of a goat
And the beating of a heart
And the passing of blood to each human part
But understanding the synchronization is a difficult art
Shiv Pratap Pal Sep 2019
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This poem is self translated version of my Hindi language poem titled "गीत का जन्म" published in Hindi Literary Magazine 'Veena' in June 2013
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Whe­n the wounds given by you gave much pain
Lightening occurred and cloud thundered
Downpour started, Poetry sprouted
It consoled and fed ambrosia
Relieved wounds, brought relief

Brick should be answered with stone
The poet also knows this
And also believes somehow
But throwing Brick is beyond his nature

In response to the brick and stone
He recites poetry
He sings a new song
On hearing his song

The one who wounded him, barks first
Then loudly bursts
Throws brick and stone again and again
The poet again recites a song

Keeps Smiling and Smiling
Creates a new poem
This proves beyond any doubt
Brick and stones give birth to Poetry.

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गीत का जन्म
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तुम्हारे ज़ख्मों ने जब दर्द बख्शा
बिजली चमकी और बादल गरजा
कविता फूटी और जल बरसा
उसने मुझे संभाला, अमृत पिलाया
घावों को राहत दी, आराम पहुंचाया

ईंट का जवाब पत्थर से देना चाहिए
कवि भी यह जानता है
पूरी तरह से मानता है
पर ईंट चलाना उसके बस की बात नहीं

ईंट और पत्थर के जवाब में
वह कविता सुनाता है
गीत नया गाता है
जिसे सुन सुनकर

पहले तो मारनेवाला भुनभुनाता है
फिर जोर से फनफनाता है
पुनः ईंट और पत्थर चलाता है
कवि फिर गीत सुनाता है

खड़ा खड़ा मुस्कुराता है
नयी कविता बनाता है
इससे यह सिद्ध होता है
ईंट पत्थर कविता को जन्म देते है|
Peoetry and Song are born this way also. Do you Agree with me???
The lute of my heart
Sways to sweet tunes
Come,o come
Glorious conscience
The song filled
Lotus garden
Of my heart awaits you
O one who stays
In realms unknown
Holding the lute(veena)
Of my conscience
In her hand
Under her control
Not only is she the
Manifestation of
Ambrosia filled
Goodness
But the sacred
Goddess of the word
By whose divine touch
What surrounds her
Is blessed with such goodness!
Her very image
Is like the glory
Of light
Of a diamond
The beauty
Of the dreaming
Eyes of a deer
O somewhere
That radiance
Does reside
In my heart's place
By the presence of whom
This day and this night
Are sweet to enchant
To their heart's glory
O the fragrant enchanting
Directions
Touched by the honey
Of the cuckoo's song
O show yourself
O goddess
In this radiant glory
Let my eyes
Be blessed
Once by
Your divine grace
O do not
Reside anymore
In the realm
Unknown
Of my mind
Under the veil of
Shadowy illusion
Manifest yourself,o Devi
Let your grace enlighten me!!
To one who is fair
Like the kunda flowers adorning her
Who is adorned by white clothes
Whose hands are always
In a posture of benevolent grace
Who sits on the white lotus

— The End —