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Posts Tagged ‘nightingale

aps-martyrs-16-dec-2014

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

 

 

 

images

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

 

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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

sanam_jung_018

 

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

 

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. blue peacock


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