Aesa Kabhi Na karna

Aesa Kabhi Na karna


Tum roth jao mujh se aesa kabhi na karna
Main ik nazar ko tarson aesa kabhi na karna

                       Me Poch poch haron so so swal kar k
                      Tum Kuch Jawab na do aesa kabhi na karna

Mujh Se hi mill k hansna mujh se hi mill kar rona
Mujh se bichar k je lo aesa kabhi na karna

                       Tum Chand ban k Rehna Me dekhta rahon ga
                       Kisi roz tum na niklo aesa kabhi na karna

Tum Chaly jao jab bhi dekhon tumhara rasta
Tum Lot k na ao aesa kabhi na karna

Sub se juda lagti ho

Sub se juda lagti ho


Sub me shamil ho magar sub se juda lagti ho
Sirf hum se nahi khud se bhi khafa lagti ho

Aankh uthti he na Jpakti he kisi ki khatir
Sans charhti he na rukti he kisi ki khatir

Jo kisi dar pe na thry wo hawa lagti ho
Zulf lhray to aanchal me chupa leti ho

Hont thrtray to danton main dab leti ho
Jo kabhi khul kar na barsy wo ghata lagti ho

Jagi jagi nazar aati ho na soi soi
Tum jo ho apny khyalat me khoi khoi

Kisi mayus mswair ki dua lagti ho
Sub me shamil ho magar sub se juda lagti ho

Tum se bichar kar pehron sochta hon

Tum se bichar kar pehron sochta hon


Tum se bichar kar pehron sochta hon
Ab main ku or kis ki khater zinda hon

Ae khamosh khala k malik teri qasam
Bazm jaha main tujh se ziyada tanha hon

Jeeti jagti dunya k hangamon me
Yon lagta he jesy me ik saya hon

khoya he wo jesy hath lekiron me
Aesy apny hath ko takta rhta hon

Reza reza toot chuka hon andar se
Ghar se bahr gardan tan k chalta hon

Jany jis ka nam he amjid kon he wo
Such pocho to main ik jhota chehra hon

Wafa ki talash to be wafaon ko hoti he

Wafa ki talash to be wafaon ko hoti he


Wafa ki talash to bewafaon ko hoti he FARAZ
Hum ne to dunya hi chor di kisi ki wafa k liye

Malum hota he bhul gye ho shayed

Malum hota he bhul gye ho shayed


Malum hota he bhul gye ho shayed
Ya phir kamal ka sabar rakhty ho

Kon Thy wo log Jinho ne pa liya

Kon Thy wo log Jinho ne pa liya


Kon Thy wo log Jinho ne pa liya Tujhy ya Rab
Humain to mushkil ho gya ik insan ka hasil hona

Mery Dill main koi masum bacha he shayed

Mery Dill main koi masum bacha he shayed

Mery Dill main koi masum bacha he shayed

Jo tujhy sochta rehta he kisi shararat ki trha

Achy Lagy Jo tum so hum ne bata diya

Achy Lagy Jo tum so hum ne bata diya


Achy Lagy Jo tum so hum ne bata diya
Nuqsan ye hoa k Tum Magrur ho gye

Bright Star, Would I Were Steadfast as Thou Art

Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient sleepless eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors;
No yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever or else swoon to death.

Bride Song

Too late for love, too late for joy,
Too late, too late!
You loitered on the road too long,
You trifled at the gate:
The enchanted dove upon her branch
Died without a mate;
The enchanted princess in her tower
Slept, died, behind the grate;
Her heart was starving all this while
You made it wait.

Ten years ago, five years ago,
One year ago,
Even then you had arrived in time,
Though somewhat slow;
Then you had known her living face
Which now you cannot know:
The frozen fountain would have leaped,
The buds gone on to blow,
The warm south wind would have awaked
To melt the snow.

Is she fair now as she lies?
Once she was fair;
Meet queen for any kingly king,
With gold-dust on her hair,
Now these are poppies in her locks,
White poppies she must wear;
Must wear a veil to shroud her face
And the want graven there:
Or is the hunger fed at length,
Cast off the care?

We never saw her with a smile
Or with a frown;
Her bed seemed never soft to her,
Though tossed of down;
She little heeded what she wore,
Kirtle, or wreath, or gown;
We think her white brows often ached
Beneath her crown,
Till silvery hairs showed in her locks
That used to be so brown.

We never heard her speak in haste;
Her tones were sweet,
And modulated just so much
As it was meet:
Her heart sat silent through the noise
And concourse of the street.
There was no hurry in her hands,
No hurry in her feet;
There was no bliss drew nigh to her,
That she might run to greet.

You should have wept her yesterday,
Wasting upon her bed:
But wherefore should you weep today
That she is dead?
Lo we who love weep not today,
But crown her royal head.
Let be these poppies that we strew,
Your roses are too red:
Let be these poppies, not for you
Cut down and spread.

Because She Would Ask Me Why I Loved Her

If questioning would make us wise
No eyes would ever gaze in eyes;
If all our tale were told in speech
No mouths would wander each to each.

Were spirits free from mortal mesh
And love not bound in hearts of flesh
No aching breasts would yearn to meet
And find their ecstasy complete.

For who is there that lives and knows
The secret powers by which he grows?
Were knowledge all, what were our need
To thrill and faint and sweetly bleed?.

Then seek not, sweet, the "If" and "Why"
I love you now until I die.
For I must love because I live
And life in me is what you give.

Annabel Lee

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Always for the first time

Always for the first time
Hardly do I know you by sight
You return at some hour of the night to a house at an angle to my window
A wholly imaginary house
It is there that from one second to the next
In the inviolate darkness
I anticipate once more the fascinating rift occuring
The one and only rift
In the facade and in my heart
The closer I come to you
In reality
The more the key sings at the door of the unknown room
Where you appear alone before me
At first you coalesce entierly with the brightness
The elusive angle of a curtain
It's a field of jasmine I gazed upon at dawn on a road in the vicinity of Grasse
With the diagonal slant of its girls picking
Behind them the dark falling wing of the plants stripped bare
Before them a T-square of dazzling light
The curtain invisibly raised
In a frenzy all the flowers swarm back in
It is you at grips with that too long hour never dim enough until sleep
You as though you could be
The same except that I shall perhaps never meet you
You pretend not to know I am watching you
Marvelously I am no longer sure you know
You idleness brings tears to my eyes
A swarm of interpretations surrounds each of your gestures
It's a honeydew hunt
There are rocking chairs on a deck there are branches that may well scratch you in the forest
There are in a shop window in the rue Notre-Dame-de-Lorette
Two lovely crossed legs caught in long stockings
Flaring out in the center of a great white clover
There is a silken ladder rolled out over the ivy
There is
By my leaning over the precipice
Of your presence and your absense in hopeless fusion
My finding the secret
Of loving you
Always for the first time.

I BRING you with reverent hands

I BRING you with reverent hands
The books of my numberless dreams,
White woman that passion has worn
As the tide wears the dove-grey sands,
And with heart more old than the horn
That is brimmed from the pale fire of time:
White woman with numberless dreams,
I bring you my passionate rhyme.

A Dream Within A Dream

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand--
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep--while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

A Blue Valentine

Monsignore,
Right Reverend Bishop Valentinus,
Sometime of Interamna, which is called Ferni,
Now of the delightful Court of Heaven,
I respectfully salute you,
I genuflect
And I kiss your episcopal ring.

It is not, Monsignore,
The fragrant memory of your holy life,
Nor that of your shining and joyous martyrdom,
Which causes me now to address you.
But since this is your august festival, Monsignore,
It seems appropriate to me to state
According to a venerable and agreeable custom,
That I love a beautiful lady.
Her eyes, Monsignore,
Are so blue that they put lovely little blue reflections
On everything that she looks at,
Such as a wall
Or the moon
Or my heart.
It is like the light coming through blue stained glass,
Yet not quite like it,
For the blueness is not transparent,
Only translucent.
Her soul's light shines through,
But her soul cannot be seen.
It is something elusive, whimsical, tender, wanton, infantile, wise
And noble.
She wears, Monsignore, a blue garment,
Made in the manner of the Japanese.
It is very blue-
I think that her eyes have made it more blue,
Sweetly staining it
As the pressure of her body has graciously given it form.
Loving her, Monsignore,
I love all her attributes;
But I believe
That even if I did not love her
I would love the blueness of her eyes,
And her blue garment, made in the manner of the Japanese.

Monsignore,
I have never before troubled you with a request.
The saints whose ears I chiefly worry with my pleas
are the most exquisite and maternal Brigid,
Gallant Saint Stephen, who puts fire in my blood,
And your brother bishop, my patron,
The generous and jovial Saint Nicholas of Bari.
But, of your courtesy, Monsignore,
Do me this favour:
When you this morning make your way
To the Ivory Throne that bursts into bloom with roses
because of her who sits upon it,
When you come to pay your devoir to Our Lady,
I beg you, say to her:
"Madame, a poor poet, one of your singing servants yet on earth,
Has asked me to say that at this moment he is especially grateful to you
For wearing a blue gown".

She walks in beauty, like the night

She walks in beauty, like the night 
Of cloudless climes and starry skies, 
And all that's best of dark and bright 
Meets in her aspect and her eyes; 
Thus mellow'd to that tender light 
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies. 

One shade the more, one ray the less, 
Had half impair'd the nameless grace 
Which waves in every raven tress 
Or softly lightens o'er her face, 
Where thoughts serenely sweet express 
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. 

And on that cheek and o'er that brow 
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, 
The smiles that win, the tints that glow, 
But tell of days in goodness spent,— 
A mind at peace with all below, 
A heart whose love is innocent.

Love is like the wild rose-briar,

Love is like the wild rose-briar,

Friendship like the holly-tree

The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms

But which will bloom most constantly?

The wild-rose briar is sweet in the spring,

Its summer blossoms scent the air;

Yet wait till winter comes again

And who will call the wild-briar fair?

Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now

And deck thee with the holly's sheen,

That when December blights thy brow

He may still leave thy garland green.

And what is love? It is a doll dressed up

And what is love? It is a doll dressed up
For idleness to cosset, nurse, and dandle;
A thing of soft misnomers, so divine
That silly youth doth think to make itself
Divine by loving, and so goes on
Yawning and doting a whole summer long,
Till Miss's comb is made a perfect tiara,
And common Wellingtons turn Romeo boots;
Till Cleopatra lives at Number Seven,
And Antony resides in Brunswick Square.

Fools! if some passions high have warmed the world,
If queens and soldiers have played deep for hearts,
It is no reason why such agonies
Should be more common than the growth of weeds.
Fools! make me whole again that weighty pearl
The queen of Egypt melted, and I'll say
That ye may love in spite of beaver hats.

Deeye mein dhal gayi toh dekh lena,

Deeye mein dhal gayi toh dekh lena,
ye mitti roshani dene lagegi …!

Zulm Ye K Yaktaa Teri Begana-Ravi

Zulm Ye K Yaktaa Teri Begana-Ravi
Lutf Ye K Me Ab Bhi Tujhe Apna Samjhun...

Bhooly Hain Muddaton Main Usy Rafta Rafta Hum

Bhooly Hain Muddaton Main Usy Rafta Rafta Hum
Qiston Main Khudkashi Ka Maza Hum Se Poochiye...

Zor-e-Bazu Se Muhabbat Nahi Hasil Hoti

Zor-e-Bazu Se Muhabbat Nahi Hasil Hoti
Is Zamany Me Amanat Nahi Hasil Hoti

Bat Banti Hai Muqaddar Me Likhi Ho Warna
Rat-Jagon Ko Bhi Ibadat Nahi Hasil Hoti

Nala-e-Gham Ye Jahan Bhar Ko Kiun Sunate Ho
Ghair K Dar Se Hamayat Nahi Hasil Hoti

Lar-Kharaen Na Qadam Ehal-e-Jahan Se Jana
Kab Muhabbat Me Adawat Nahi Hasil Hoti

Dil Ki Awaz Ko Sunte Hain Faqat Dil Wale
Har Kisi Ko Ye Sama'at Nahi Hasil Hoti

Khush Naseebi Ho To Milti Hai Khabar Any Ki
Bad-Naseebi Pe Basharat Nahi Hasil Hoti

Hum Bhi Dikhlaen Ge Unhe Apni Muhabbat Akif
Jane Kiun Aisi Jasarat Nahi Hasil Hoti...

Kon Si Misaal Dun Tum ko

Kon Si Misaal Dun Tum ko
Har Sitam Be-Misaal Karte Ho...

Ek Muhabbat Ka Pas Tha Warna

Ek Muhabbat Ka Pas Tha Warna
Mujh Ko Kya Kya Na Ras Tha Warna

Tu To Ranaiyon Me Gum Hi Raha
Me Tere Aas Pas Tha Warna

Tere Kehne Pe Tujh Ko Na Manga
Tu Mri Eltimas Tha Warna

Aaj Bethe Ho Ghair K Pehlu
Tu Mri Pehli Aas Tha Warna

Mujh Ko Bakhshi Nigaah Qudrat Ne
Me To Duniya Shanaas Tha Warna

Aaj Mujh Se Na Wasta Hafiz
Koi Mujh Se Na Khas Tha Warna...

Roz Ek Saniha Sa Hota Hai

Roz Ek Saniha Sa Hota Hai
Rat Bhar Dil Kisi Ka Rota Hai

Kese Alfaz Me Likhun Jo Bhi
Aalam-e-Bebasi Me Hota Hai

Hum Hi Uthte Hain Rat Ko Warna
Kon Raton Ki Neend Khota Hai

Aik Jesa Hai Mera Wasal-o-Firaq
Tere Rukh Pe Naqab Hota Hai

Muskurate Nazar Jo Ate Hain
Dil Me Zakhmon Ka Sheher Hota Hai

Char Din Ki Hayat Me Akif
Kab Koi Pur-Sukoon Hota Hai...

Main Sitara Tha Teri Aankhon Ka

Main Sitara Tha Teri Aankhon Ka
Maa Dekh Mujhe Ab Kahan Hun Me...

Mera Zikr Parhne Wale Mera Rasta Na Chun Len

Mera Zikr Parhne Wale Mera Rasta Na Chun Len
Sar-e-Warq Ye Bhi Likhna Mujhe Maat Ho Gai Thi...

Lamhe Lamhe Me Basi Hai Teri Yaadon Ki Mehek

Lamhe Lamhe Me Basi Hai Teri Yaadon Ki Mehek
Ye Aur Bat Hai K Nazron Se Door Rehte Ho Tum...

Murawat Me Kaha Hai Us Ko Mene Laut Ana Hai

Murawat Me Kaha Hai Us Ko Mene Laut Ana Hai
Pata Us Ko Bhi Hai Mene Usy Ab Chor Jana Hai

Nazar K Samny Aao Zaruri Nahi Jana
Kia Hai Faisla Dil Ne Tumhe Khud Me Basana Hai

Kadi Hai Is Qadar Manzil Atty Hain Dhool Me Raste
Nahi Pehchan Raston Ki Magar Chalte Hi Jana Hai

Khara Hai Mere Aangan Me Hua Hai Khushk Ye Kab Ka
Purana Paidd Hai Garche Nahi Us Ko Girana Hai

Nahi Tinush Ki Manzil Safeena Jo Theher Jaye
Samandar Me Utar Kar Hi Usy Maqsood Pana Hai...

Murawat Me Kaha Hai Us Ko Mene Laut Ana Hai

Murawat Me Kaha Hai Us Ko Mene Laut Ana Hai

Pata Us Ko Bhi Hai Mene Usy Ab Chor Jana Hai

Nazar K Samny Aao Zaruri Nahi Jana

Kia Hai Faisla Dil Ne Tumhe Khud Me Basana Hai

Kadi Hai Is Qadar Manzil Atty Hain Dhool Me Raste

Nahi Pehchan Raston Ki Magar Chalte Hi Jana Hai

Khara Hai Mere Aangan Me Hua Hai Khushk Ye Kab Ka

Purana Paidd Hai Garche Nahi Us Ko Girana Hai

Nahi Tinush Ki Manzil Safeena Jo Theher Jaye

Samandar Me Utar Kar Hi Usy Maqsood Pana Hai...