Posts Tagged ‘nightingale’
in memory of Army Public School’s students and teachers brutally martyred two years back on 16th December
WHICH SKY DOES GOD LIVE!
Often in news papers
When I see the blood tinges dancing in words
Early in the morning——-can’t resist to ponder
Which sky does God Live?
I ask myself
I ask everyone
A deep silence
Mocks me
But today——
Seeing so many flowers laid in coffins
I realized dripping of blood’s worth —–
Blossoming roses and their dearth
A nightingale’s melancholy chant
A cuckoo’s disheartening chant
I realized then———
Which sky the God lives
Now I don’t ask any one
Which sky does God live
Wished to bring you and flower face to face
Nervy Nightingale and I would talk face to face
It’s acceptable no interpreter was available to us
What could we ask the stranger to explain to us?
The sun and the moon are wanderers like me
They are also in search of their dear one, as me
Had they ever seen your long silky hair locks
They’d wished to remain entangled in thy locks
If my beloved isn’t coming then death may come
How long could I hold my heart for her to come?
Don’t ask me of the regressing world Aatish
Wished passion to drizzle like the rainstorm
…………………………………
HAIDER ALI AATISH
ye aarzū thī tujhe gul ke rū-ba-rū karte
ham aur bulbul-e-betāb guftugū karte
payām-bar na mayassar huā to ḳhuub huā
zabān-e-ġhair se kyā sharh-e-ārzū karte
mirī tarah se mah-o-mahr bhī haiñ āvāra
kisī habīb kī ye bhī haiñ justujū karte
jo dekhte tirī zanjīr-e-zulf kā aalam
asiir hone kī āzād aarzū karte
vo jān-e-jāñ nahīñ aatā to maut hī aatī
dil-o-jigar ko kahāñ tak bhalā lahū karte
na pūchh ālam-e-bargashta-tāla.ī ‘ātish’
barastī aag jo bārāñ kī aarzū karte
- In: Poetry
- 2 Comments
Don’t ask of agony I went by waiting
Don’t ask of passion I went waiting
Don’t ask of glory of blossoming spring
Don’t ask of restive sore heart beating
Don’t ask of nightingale’s sad singing
Don’t ask of spring’s tetchy ending
Strangers been entertained lavishly
Don’t ask me of depressing feeling
Given anguish in return of my love
Don’t ask of her being so upsetting
Again I desired for wine drinking
Don’t ask of jolly spring fascinating
I’m much queried of bed’s firmness
Don’t ask of stylish body’s assuring
I’ve no awareness of union adoring
Don’t ask of union bliss and alluring
Posted on: May 31, 2016
- In: Poetry
- 5 Comments
Lightning and storm raided since
The Nightingale collected two twigs
Youth is adornment for its loveliness
Simplicity add more glow to loveliness
Who’ll see in deserted part its loveliness
When flowers blossom in deserted land
Except for me, he’s cares for entire world
Its’ me, who left for him, the entire world
The up-and-coming buds be of pastel color
For they are to be sent to a blooming girl
Meeting beloved for such a short while?
Such sweet moments were so longed for
Would sleep more cherishing the union
If muezzin hadn’t waken me up at dawn
جب سے بُلبُل نے ہیں دو تِنکے لئے
ٹوٹتی ہیں بِجلیاں اِن کے لئے
ہے جوانی خود جوانی کا سنگھار
سادگی گہنہ ہے اس سِن کے لئے
کون ویرانے میں دیکھے گا بہار
پھول جنگل میں کِھلے کن کے لئے
ساری دنیا کے ہیں وہ، میرے سوا
میں نے دُنیا چھوڑدی جن کے لئے
باغباں کلیاں ہوں ہلکے رنگ کی
بھیجنی ہے ایک کمسِن کے لئے
وصْل کا دن اور اِتنا مُختصر
دن گِنے جاتے تھے اِس دن کے لئے
صبح کا سونا، جو ہاتھ آتا امیر
بھیجتے تحفہ مُؤذّن کے لئے
امیرمینائی
The Peacock’s Complain
Posted on: February 24, 2013
The Peacock’s Complain
One summer night Grandpa was telling bed time story to his grandchildren. It was his most favorite daily routine. He always began his story by praising God.
Grandpa said; “All praise to almighty God who is supreme and perfect, otherwise all that exists has some beauty and some defect.
The moon is so beautiful but has dark patches on its surface. The donkey is very hard working but its voice is worst of all. Thus one should live cheerfully with what ever is bestowed upon him and never complain.”
Aliza interrupted and said; “Like my peacock who is always crying.” “Yes, said grandpa, like your peacock. Though it has most beautiful feathers and dances so gracefully. But having ugly feet and voice make him moans. Grandpa said that; “Each one has its special gift. You have such beauty, the nightingale has his song, the owl has his eyes the eagle his strength, the lion is so powerful
So if one is lacking something he should not complain.”
Mother called every one to be in their bed so with good night hugs they all went to their rooms.
Moral : Don’t complain, be contented with what you have !
A wise man is he who does not grieve for the thing which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has. 
blessings for all
