"marne" poems
Jo wahan hai wo yahan hai
Jo yahan hai wo wahan hai
Par-e-dil gumshuda
Na Jane kahan hai
Ek chota sa to ye jahan hai
Hum to isse bhi bant chale
Dil to ek chota sa makam hai
A us ***** ko bhi sath le chalein
Jispe uska kudha mehrban hai
Ye to ek aeine ki zaban hai
Jane teri ankhein kahan hai
apne ko hi kyu karta hai khafa
Tujse zada insan to asman hai
Koi lakeer zisko na bant sake
Usse bant diya tune jahan hai
ab to diwaron me hi tu fanaa hai
agar ek dusre ke liye hi marna hai
to pyar me marne me kya gunha hai ?
rok na sake koi usse
jisko khaboien ki panaa hai
Jo pyar me bana hai
lakeeron ke uss par bhi to ek sapna hai
udhar bhi to koi shayad apna hai
agar ek dusre ke liye hi marna hai
to pyar me marne me kya gunha hai ?
ye jo rasta tumne chuna hai
akele pad jaoge tum beete kal
ye jo hai tumhari addat
ki ab to ibadat bhi gunha hai
kya tumne kabhi dheere se suna hai
wo ek muskaan ki shararat
jiska arth bhi tumko mana hai
dekh le us fakeer ki nazakat
jo tere mere khoon ki milawat
us lakeer ki ahat pe kurban hai
agar ek dusre ke liye hi marna hai
to pyar me marne me kya gunha hai ?
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 6:32 AM UTC
EK BHEED SI LAGI THI SHAYAD MAR GAYA THA KOI,
ZANAZA UTHANE KO KI TAIYAR NA THA ,
KYONKI US MASUM KA PARIWAR NA THA,
DEKHA THA MAINE USE KAI DOSTO KE SATH,
SOCHA THA ZANAZA TO UTHAYENGE WE HI HATH,
JAB KOI NA AAYA TO YAH AAWAZ AAYI,
CHALO NIKAL CHALO KE KANHI UTHANA NA PADE,
WO DOST THWE JO CHUPE SE BAHAR NIKAL PADE,
KAFAN GEELA HUA AANKHO SE MURDA RO RAKA THA,
MURDA KHADA HUA KAFAN ME LIPTE HUE ,
PANHUCHA DOSTO TAK JO JA RAHE THE SIMTE HUE,
KANDHE PER RAKHA HATH TO YARO KA DIL DOLA,
KAFAN HATA DIYA MURDE NE WO RO ROKAR BOLA,
"MARNE PAR NA DOGE KANDHA YE DEKH SARMINDA HU,
MAINE TO NATAK KIYA THA YARO ABHI TO MAIN ZINDA HU"...
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 9:20 AM UTC
Romantic Hindi poem of my creation inspired obviously by love. English translation follows the Hindi lyrics.
Jeene ki vajah tum **
Na marne ki vajah tum **
Hansne vajah tum **
Pyaar karne ki vajah tum **
Tum ** tum **
Tum ** tum **
Aage badhne ki vajah tum **
Mehnat karne ki vajah tum **
Ab sudharne ki vajah tum **
Masti karne ki vajah tum **
Tum ** tum **
Tum ** tum **
Aashique ki vajah tum **
Deewaane ki vajah tum **
Na darne ki vajah tum **
Saans lene ki vajah tum **
English
You are the reason of my life,
You are the reason I survived.
You are the reason that I laugh,
You are the reason I love you.
You are, you are...
You are, you are...
You are the reason I succeed,
You are the reason I prepare,
You are the reason I improve,
You are the reason I enjoy.
You are, you are...
You are, you are...
You are the reason of my romance,
You are the reason of my craziness,
You are the reason I am not scared,
You are the reason I am breathing.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 9:31 AM UTC
Kethte hai log pyar aur jung me sab jayas hai...
To kyu do dilo ko milne par itni jhanjhat hai...
Kehte hai log pyar aur jung me sb jayas hai...
To kyu majhab ke naam par pyar ko alag krne ki Ibadat hai....
Kehte hai log pyar aur jung me sb jayas hai...
To kyu do **** ek jaan hone par sabko sikayat hai...
Kehte hai log pyar aur jung me sb jayas hai...
To kyu pyar krne walo ko milne par itni siyasat hai...
Kehte hai log pyar aur jung me sab jayas hai...
To kyu do dilo ko dur karne ki sabko ijjazat hai...
Kehte hai log pyar jung me sab jayas hai...
To kyu pyar krne walo ko saadi ki itni tension hai...
Kehte hai log pyar aur jung me sab jayas hai...
To kyu jamane me pyar krna galat hai...
Kehte hai log pyar aur jung me sab jayas hai..
To kyu pyar karne wale itne badnaam hai...
Kehte hai log pyar aur jung me sb jayas hai...
To kyu do dilo ko alag kiy jate hai...
Kyu pyar karne wale sath jeene ke bajae marne ko chunte hai...
Log kehte hai pyar aur jung me sab jayas hai...
To pyar ko majhab ke naam par, jaat ke naam par, alag karna kahan ki insaniyat hai...
Log kehte hai pyar aur jung me sab jayas hai...
Sahab pyar karne walo ko alag karna jayas nahi...unhe milana milne dena jayas hai...
Ajj se mat kahiy ki pyar aur jung me sb jayas hai...sb Jayas hai
Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 8:44 AM UTC
Here, and over here -
The fortunate sons
Those who made it home
To fields and hills of native tongue
In the soil their people toiled
- They listen quietly when we come
There, and over there -
Beneath crossed lines too many
Still - they man the trenches
Along the Marne and Somme
Below the woods of Belleau
And the forest of Argonne
No sonnets in a foreign language
Rendered where they languish -
The distant rest far and away
In a cold November grave
We should remember
Here and there
The old lie -
And the young.
r ~ 11/11/14
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 12:34 AM UTC
Haq Meri mohabbat ka Ada kyun nahi karti
Tum dard to deti ** dawa kyun nahi karti
Kyun baithi ** is terha khamosh mere paas akar
Tum mere Marne ki Dua kyun nahi karti
Pholon ki terha **** hay pathar ki terha Dil
Jaane tum mujhse Wafa kyun nahi karti
Aankhon ki adaalat se Bari Kar tou Diya hay
Zulfon se Meri jaan reha kyun nahi karti !??
Dec 11, 2017
Dec 11, 2017 at 11:59 AM UTC
she brings him tea,
a piece of cheese late morn
for he has been toiling since dawn
his plane shaving the wood reverently
the old oak speaking, though not complaining,
in a language the man does not understand
a coughing code for loss, forbearance, acceptance,
redemption, he hopes, for the boys keep coming…
first from Ypres, the Verdun,
now the Marne
before, he heaved hewn planks
for the hopeful homes, built their pantries
to be filled with the bread, the kind milk
now the sawn boards are for those who once
watched his labors, but no longer hear the simple
sounds of sanding, sawing
or anything at all
most of the lads do not come home,
their souls and bodies left to rot on the blood sullied grass
or buried shallow, naked in the French soil, but all get a fine coffin
thanks to the carpenter’s wife, whose babe was the first to fall,
who demands for them all, a holy horizontal home to be built
and, empty or not, placed gently in Anglican ground
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 2:30 PM UTC
On a cold, grey Bronx September day, an old man stood on the Courthouse plaza.
His palsied hand reached out to touch the monument to his life’s sole drama.
He’d just turned nineteen when the A.E.F. had been ordered to assist the French.
Near Chateau-Thierry He helped hold the bridge without the safety of a trench.
“We Marines fought like devil Dogs” He whispered softly to the rain.
“The Germans came, wave after wave, but only the stars and stripes remained.”
“Paris was spared and the foe was impressed by our Marine’s defiant dogged defense.”
“My best friends died, but I survived to keep them in remembrance.”
“We stopped the Germans at the Marne.” He felt an old familiar pain.
Some might say that the old man cried, but he would say it was just the rain.
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 11:20 AM UTC
in the sky, I don’t see him, the Big Guy,
the “G” man, but I found someone who did,
posing the query, “What is God?”
he answered his own question
with twenty words, plus one--no mention of the sun,
the stars, or how HE ignited the Big Bang
but many
wispy words about love, glory
justice and joy
I can't claim to comprehend you,
wedded to agnosticism I seem to be
though I truly would like to see:
something behind the
sunken eyes, bloated bellies of babies
covered with impatient flies
something in the blood trails
of San Bernardino, Paris, Beirut
Khe Sanh, Iwo Jima, the Marne
Antietam, ad infinitum
who can read those red riddles
and help me understand--maybe more
than 21 words are required
though I am hardly inspired
when the words to describe HIM/HER/IT
don’t mention milk except as human kindness
or do nothing to explain our blissful blindness
to blood dripping from stakes driven
so long after Calvary’s crosses
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 8:44 PM UTC
Un hombre dijo:
-El momento más grave de mi vida estuvo en la batalla del Marne cuando fui herido en el pecho.
Otro hombre dijo:
-El momento más grave de mi vida, ocurrió en un maremoto de Yokohama, del cual salvé milagrosamente, refugiado bajo el alero de una tienda de lacas.
Y otro hombre dijo:
-El momento más grave de mi vida acontece cuando duermo de día.
Y otro dijo:
-El momento más grave de mi vida ha estado en mi mayor soledad.
Y otro dijo:
-El momento más grave de mi vida fue mi prisión en una cárcel del Perú.
Y otro dijo:
-El momento más grave de mi vida es el haber sorprendido de perfil a mi padre.
Y el ultimo hombre dijo:
-El momento más grave de mi vida no ha llegado todavía.
1.4k
We look on the shoulders filling the stage of the Chicago Auditorium.
A fat mayor has spoken much English and the mud of his speech is crossed with quicksilver hisses elusive and rapid from floor and gallery.
A neat governor speaks English and the listeners ring chimes to his clear thoughts.
Joffre speaks a few words in French; this is a voice of the long firing line that runs from the salt sea dunes of Flanders to the white spear crags of the Swiss mountains.
This is the man on whose yes and no has hung the death of battalions and brigades; this man speaks of the tricolor of his country now melted in a great resolve with the starred bunting of Lincoln and Washington.
This is the hero of the Marne, massive, irreckonable; he lets tears roll down his cheek; they trickle a wet salt off his chin onto the blue coat.
There is a play of American hands and voices equal to sea-breakers and a lift of white sun on a stony beach.
1.2k
Are ye to batao tum chahte ** kya?
Alag thalag bhi kar doge, jo pana chahte **
vo pa loge ham bhi bhul jaenge
magar itihaas nahin bhulega.
Dange bhi karaaoge, khedh bhi jataoge
ek baat yaad rakhna tum bada pachtaoge.
Namak wali rotiya khilaoge, pani wali chai banaoge
Bin karan lathiya chalvaoge
Aazad desh bolkar media ko zukaoge
Dhayan bhatkakar chai va biskut bhi tum khaoge
Per ek na ek din apne aap ko katghare may paoge.
CAA ke naam par humay daraoge
betu ke kazag makang kar
bahar ka rasta dikhaoge
kapdo ka rang dekh kar
chronology tum samjhoge
antinational bolkar har prashn ko tum dabaoge
Jo aag tumnay lagai vo kesay bujaoge
Aaesi hi lagaygi us maa ki k phut phut kar marjaoge.
Bus mann ki baat tak simit rahakar
kaam ki baat bhul jaoge.
Ek press conference to hoti nahin tumse
tum kya aatmnirbhar banaoge
Saal dar saal shrif aarakshan ko hi tum badaoge,
China ko jhutha bolkar, detention camp banvaoge.
Marne ke bad shidha tum narak mein hi jaaoge.
Ek baat yaad rakhna dost
tum bada pachtaoge,
TUM BADA PACHTAOGE.
Oct 10, 2020
Oct 10, 2020 at 4:31 AM UTC
There before me stands the cenotaph
of Master Sergent Wilfred Niles
He died of his wounds received
in the battle of Belleau .
He is buried in the soil
near the River Marne , in France
He left behind his mother Maggie
Her only child gone , she's now so bereft
She would die in a few short months
Of a broken heart from grief
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC
Profesor de sollozo -he dicho a un árbol-
palo de azogue, tilo
rumoreante, a la orilla del Mame, un buen alumno
leyendo va en tu naipe, en tu hojarasca,
entre el agua evidente y el sol falso,
su tres de copas, su caballo de oros.
Rector de los capítulos del cielo,
de la mosca ardiente, de la calma manual que hay en los asnos;
rector de honda ignorancia, un mal alumno
leyendo va en tu naipe, en tu hojarasca,
el hambre de razón que le enloquece
y la sed de demencia que le aloca.
Técnico en gritos, árbol consciente, fuerte,
fluvial, doble, solar, doble, fanático,
conocedor de rosas cardinales, totalmente
metido, hasta hacer sangre, en aguijones, un alumno
leyendo va en tu naipe, en tu hojarasca,
su rey precoz, telúrico, volcánico, de espadas.
¡Oh profesor, de haber tánto ignorado!
¡oh rector, de temblar tánto en el aire!
¡oh técnico, de tánto que te inclinas!
¡Oh tilo! ¡oh palo rumoroso junto al Marne!
670
Les pitons des sierras, les dunes du désert,
Où ne pousse jamais un seul brin d'herbe vert ;
Les monts aux flancs zébrés de tuf, d'ocre et de marne,
Et que l'éboulement de jour en jour décharne,
Le grès plein de micas papillotant aux yeux,
Le sable sans profit buvant les pleurs des cieux,
Le rocher renfrogné dans sa barbe de ronce ;
L'ardente solfatare avec la pierre-ponce,
Sont moins secs et moins morts aux végétations
Que le roc de mon coeur ne l'est aux passions.
Le soleil de midi, sur le sommet aride,
Répand à flots plombés sa lumière livide,
Et rien n'est plus lugubre et désolant à voir
Que ce grand jour frappant sur ce grand désespoir.
Le lézard pâmé bâille, et parmi l'herbe cuite
On entend résonner les vipères en fuite.
Là, point de marguerite au coeur étoilé d'or,
Point de muguet prodigue égrenant son trésor ;
Là point de violette ignorée et charmante,
Dans l'ombre se cachant comme une pâle amante ;
Mais la broussaille rousse et le tronc d'arbre mort,
Que le genou du vent comme un arc plie et tord :
Là, pas d'oiseau chanteur, ni d'abeille en voyage,
Pas de ramier plaintif déplorant son veuvage ;
Mais bien quelque vautour, quelque aigle montagnard,
Sur le disque enflammé fixant son oeil hagard,
Et qui, du haut du pic où son pied prend racine,
Dans l'or fauve du soir durement se dessine.
Tel était le rocher que Moïse, au désert,
Toucha de sa baguette, et dont le flanc ouvert,
Tressaillant tout à coup, fit jaillir en arcade
Sur les lèvres du peuple une fraîche cascade.
Ah ! s'il venait à moi, dans mon aridité,
Quelque reine des coeurs, quelque divinité,
Une magicienne, un Moïse femelle,
Traînant dam le désert les peuples après elle,
Qui frappât le rocher de mon coeur endurci,
Comme de l'autre roche, on en verrait aussi
Sortir en jets d'argent des eaux étincelantes,
Où viendraient s'abreuver les racines des plantes ;
Où les pâtres errants conduiraient leurs troupeaux,
Pour se coucher à l'ombre et prendre le repos,
Où, comme en un vivier les cigognes fidèles
Plongeraient leurs grands becs et laveraient leurs ailes.
595
Kehna hai tumse kuch
Bas kuch vakt mil jaye
Bas kuch din our ruk
Ki Tere karib aa Jaye
Vaade bahut kiye tumse
Khwayis hai mere Marne se pahle puri ** jaye
Yaad hai mujhe sab bas
Intzaar hai ki mujhe, Meri duniya mil jaye
Apr 12, 2020
Apr 12, 2020 at 3:09 PM UTC