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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
judy smith Dec 2016
Amid the flood of horror stories about demonetisation comes a heart-warming incident from Bulandshahr district where the groom’s father asked the bride’s father to welcome the baraatis (wedding guests from the groom’s side) with a simple cup of tea to avoid an expensive marriage in light of the note ban.Traditionally the baraatis are given many gifts from the bride’s family, but seeing how stressed the bride’s father was about trying to arrange cash for the marriage, the groom’s family told him that a ‘simple ceremony’ would do just as well.“The marriage was fixed before demonetisation. We faced a cash crunch like everyone else. After queuing up for 10 days, we got Rs.2,000 only. We told the bank officials that there was a marriage in our house. We got a letter of approval but even after that we did not get any cash,” the groom’s father Vijender Singh told The Hindu.

Thoughtful gestureMr. Singh said that he then spoke to the bride’s father Kali Charan, who was also facing a cash crunch.“When I spoke to Mr. Charan, he was sounding down as he could not arrange funds for the ceremony. I proposed to him a simple marriage ceremony. He initially hesitated as he was feeling bad. But I managed to convince him and finally we decided to hold a simple ceremony,” Mr. Singh said.The marriage between Dinesh and Veena took place on Sunday.Dinesh hails from Jaleelpur village in Jahangirabad in Bulandshahr district while the girl is from Jaypee Nagar.“We, along with the baraatis, reached Bulandshahr on Sunday. After completing all rituals, a cup of tea was offered to the baraatis,” Mr. Singh said.Mr. Charan said that he initially “hesitated” to do a simple ceremony due to social stigma.‘Initially hesitant’“Even on the day of marriage we were feeling bad about how the baratis and locals in our village will react. But everybody encouraged the step and appreciated us. I am thankful to God that I have chosen a good family for my daughter,” said Mr. Charan.The district administration also appreciated the thoughtful gesture of the groom’s family.Setting an example“During demonetisation, we have experienced that rural areas have suffered the most. But decisions like holding simple marriages shows that our nature is to help each other. This example must go on to serve humanity. The State government will facilitate the family for setting an example,” said Bulandshahr district magistrate Aunjaneya Kumar Singh.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/princess-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-formal-dresses
O my Veena(lute) arises
Playing which tune?
In which new
Playful verse
O my heart vibrates
Today
In the beats
Of the
All encompassing
O come which youth
So devoid of calm

Flying across the vastness
Of the enchanted area
Of the region
O in the dance of light
The ends of the forests
Are joyous
In playful glee!
O in the premises
Of the sky!
O the mighty cymbals
Echo!
O in that flow of beats
Unheard
O applause
In the abundance
Of leaves!

O in the touch
Of house feet
Hope in the
Strands of grass
O the overflowing
Language!
O the wind
Without any boundaries
Is so pepped
In which fragrance
Of the forest!
O house dweller!
Open the doors...o open the doors
Waters ,lands the vast woods
Are swayed by spring
Open the doors!
O house dweller
O the coloured smiles
In amounts so paramount
In the ashoka ,palasha(flowers)
O the colorful addiction
Mixed in the clouds
In the dawn sky!
O in the new leaves
Reigns a new swing!
Open the doors
O house dweller!
O the flute is heard
In the jungles
Gently swaying to the
Southerly winds!
O the butterfly
Swings on the grasses!
O honeybees go about
Taking flowers gifts!
O in its wings
It plays
A beggar's veena(lute)
O in the jungles
Of the madhavi flowers
The air is heavy
With such scent
Open the doors...
O house dweller!
The beggar ...roaming nomad
Gets a song on his heart
For the nature
Without the wit
Of human
Welcomes
Heralds the coming
Of
O spring!
I have to but give everything
That I do know
All my wealth ,O God, all my words!
Through my eyes what ever
I've seen
Whatever has been heard
Through these ears
The diligent service of my hands
Everything else of mine
I have to but give everything!
O my mornings,my evenings
On the leaf of my heart
From anonymity
Holding your hand
Will I blossom
O now my lute(veena) is being
Stringed and tuned
O when it will play
It will
Be tuned to your tunes!
I have to but give everything!
Your joy fills
My pleasures and sorrows
O taking me do you
Make them surely your's!
Whatever mine have I got
By my powers
In the auspicious moments!
O when I will make them yours
Will they be mine!
I have to but give everything!
Willow Silvera Feb 2020
She emerges like
A willowy swan
Onyx butterflies
Resting on her widened
Striking bronze eyes,
Wearing an Ivory sari
An ersatz Taj Mahal
Draped in intricate gold trim
Her long braid flings
Through the fragrant air
As her identity
Dissolves into the rhythm
And she surrenders
To the beating of the drum
Jasmine crowns her head
Jewels clinking, jangling
As her toes skim the ground
And her henna tipped fingers
Dance with the flow of the veena
Rosy cheeks as she pushes through
On this stage,
She is free.

— The End —