tulsi tere aangan ki

Mein hun tulsi tere aangan ki;

Ki ghar ke ander meri jagah nahin.

Itne bade jahaan main,aye khuda !!

Kya ye teri achchi dillagi nahin.

Zindgi ke har mausam me bhatka ,

Tera insaan,mol kuch uski ye bandgi nahin.

Chatt nahi jamin nahin,kanjoos bada tera dil,

Tu kisi ki khudi ki bekhudi nahin.

Tere aangan me insaan ko tulsi ki tarah,

Pyaar ke saath maat bhi khaani he.

Haan ji ,yahi he ibaadat teri;

Ek kahkashan si barpegi,fir baaki kuch nahi.

Written by aruna sharma.

28.01.2017.             1.45at noon


On vacation.

My all dear friend,bloggers n followers !! I m going on vaction because some wranglings.sorry for dt.i can not say -when will i return back on my blog.plz ,u all take good care.if u may pray for me plz do for me.Bye for some times.

omar khyaam’s rubaiyat-how crazy he was but having most popularity.

Everyone knows that I never mumbled prayers.
Everyone also knows I never tried to hide my faults.
I don’t know whether a higher Judge and a
higher Kindness exist – but still,
I am full of confidence as I have
always been true to myself.

What do you prefer?
To sit down in a wine house and there
to investigate yourself and your conscience,
or to kneel down in a church or mosque without your soul
participating? I don’t even think about whether
or not we have a Master and what
he will do with us if he exists.

Look with compassion
at the heavy drinkers. Know, that you too
have your weaknesses. If you want to live in peace
and clarity, then look at the poor and the handicapped
carrying the burden of their misery,
and see how fortunate you are!

Live in such way, that your
righteousness and knowledge does
not trouble others. Be calm and master of yourself.
Don’t allow yourself to be aggressive.
If you truly want to live in peace,
smile at your Fate.

Be happy today,
as you don’t know what tomorrow will bring.
Take some wine, sit down in the light of the moon
and say to yourself that tomorrow that moon
may look for you in vain.

There is no harm
in reading the Koran once in a while.
But who can do that with pleasure every day?
On the rim of each cup a secret line
of wisdom is written, which we can
savour with each sip we take.

Our greatest treasure?
Wine! Our palace? The wine house.
Our true friends? Thirst and drunkenness.
We don’t worry, as we know that our soul, our heart,
our cups and our old clothes have nothing to fear
from mud and dust, from water or fire!

Be happy that you have only few friends.
Don’t feel obliged to show them endless sympathy.
Before you shake hands, before you consider
someone a friend, ask yourself whether you
are not shaking a hand that
may one day beat you.

This earthen bowl
may have been made from the ashes
of a man in love, suffering under the indifference
of a woman. The ear of the bowl? It was his arm
around the neck of his beloved.

How sad, a heart that
does not know how to love, that
does not know what it is to be drunk with love.
If you are not in love, how can you enjoy
the blinding light of the sun,
the soft light of the moon?

I feel young today.
Wine, wine! Its fire fills me.
Any wine will do – I am not choosy.
For even the best wine is as bitter
as life itself.

You know that you have
no power or choice regarding your fate.
So why should the uncertainty about what
may happen tomorrow fill you with fear? If you
are truly wise, live now! The future?
Who knows what it will bring.

Look at this
infinite season of hope,
of souls impatient to wake up,
of our search for a lonely place rich with scents.
Is each flower the fragrant hand of Moses,
each breeze the breath of Jesus?

Man cannot confidently go his own way
if he has not eaten of the fruits of truth.
Once Truth is glimpsed within the labyrinth of knowledge,
one knows that the days that have passed and the days that
are still to come do not differ from the disappointing
first day after Creation.

Beyond the earth,
beyond the farthest skies
I try to find Heaven and Hell.
Then I hear a solemn voice that says:
“Heaven and hell are inside.”

Nothing interests me anymore.
Get up and pour me some wine, my dear.
Tonight your mouth seems the most luscious rose in the world.
Wine! That it may have the same pink colour
as your cheeks; that my regrets
may be as light.

The spring breeze freshens the faces
of the roses. In the blueish shadow of
the garden that same breeze lovingly touches
the face of my beloved. We have had so many
good moments together, but right now
I don’t think about our past as the
present is so bright.

How long will I continue
to try to fill the ocean with stones?
I disapprove of the vain and the religeous.
Khayyam, who can affirm whether you will go to Heaven
or Hell? Besides, what do those words mean? Do you
know any traveller who has been there?

Drinker, bottomless container,
I don’t know by whom you were created
but I know that death will break you one day.
Therefore this long-harboured question: why have
we been created and why have we been happy, why
were we made of dust and why will we
return to dust again?

Our days pass as fast
as the water of the river
or the wind of the desert.
But there are two days that
do not interest me: yesterday
and tomorrow.

Why was I born, when will I die?
Who can change the day of his birth,
who has a say in the day of his death?
Come, my beloved, I want to ask the spirit
of the wine to make me forget that we
shall never understand.

Khayyam, you thought
you sewed the tents of Wisdom together;
you were burnt by suffering and will return to ashes.
An Angel cut the ropes of your tents.
Death sold your fame for a song.

Why blame yourself, Khayyam,
for having made so many mistakes?
Your grief is useless. For after your death
there will be either a Void
or Grace.

In convents, synagogues, mosques, churches,
the weak, those that are afraid of Hell, take refuge.
They that really trust Allah’s greatness
do not fill their hearts with the seeds
of fear and with pleas for mercy.

In spring I sometimes sit down
at the edge of a meadow in full bloom.
When a young woman then brings me a cup of wine
I certainly am not occupied with my salvation.
If I would, at such a moment of perfection,
I would not be worth a dime.

Our great wide world – a piece
of dust. All human knowledge – words.
The people, animals and flowers of the
seven continents – shadows. The result
of our meditations –

Let’s assume that you have finally solved
the riddle of the creation – what’s your fate?
Let’s assume that you found the deepest layers of
truth – what will be your fate? Let’s assume that
you have lived a hundred happy years and
that you will live another hundred –
what will be your fate?

Realise this: one day your soul
will depart from your body and you will
be drawn behind the curtain that floats between us
and the unknown. While you wait for that moment, be happy,
because you don’t know where you came from and
you don’t know where you will be going.

The most outstanding scholars of history
were walking in the darkness of ignorance.
And still, they were considered the torchbearers
of their age. What did they do? They left us
some confused thoughts
and passed away.

My heart asked me:
“I want to know, to understand.
Teach me, Khayyam, you that have worked so hard.”
And I replied by saying: “A.” And then my heart said:
“Now I know; the A is the first letter of
an infinite number of words.”

No one can understand
that which is full of mystery. One cannot
see what is hiding behing outward appearances. All
our dwellings are temporary, exept the last: the earth.
Drink wine! Stop your superfluous reasoning.

Life is nothing
but a dull game with two
sure rewards: sorrow and death.
Is this a game
worth playing?

Don’t look for friends at this merry-go-round.
Don’t look for a safe hiding place. Accept your sorrows
with a strong soul and don’t fancy you will find the remedy
that doesn’t exist. In difficult times: smile.
Don’t depend on others because
they can’t help you.

The big wheel turns
without following our human calculations.
Abandon your vain efforts to count the stars.
Rather meditate on this sure fact: one day
you will die and stray dogs will
tear apart your decayed body.

I was sleepy. Wisdom told me:
“The flowers of happiness don’t smell while you sleep.”
Instead of succumbing to that bloodrelative of death:
drink wine. You still have all eternity
for sleeping.

The creator of stars, heaven and earth
surpassed himself when he also created pain.
Lips like rubies, delicious-smelling hair,
blooming flowers, how many of you are
already buried in earthy soil?

There are too many tears in my eyes!
The fires of Hell are no more than sparks of fire
as compared to the flames that consume me inside.
Paradise? For me it means
a moment of peace.

Sleeping while alive, sleeping when dead.
Above and under the earth it’s full of dead bodies.
Emptiness everywhere. Empty cases
as far as you can see.
People that come,
people that go.

Old world, where
the horses of Day and Night
are galloping through, you are like
the old palaces where kings dreamt
of fame and of compassion,
and woke up crying.

The southern wind
has withered the rose
for which the nightingale sang its song.
Should we grieve for that rose or for ourselves?
When death has already paled our cheeks
other roses will be flowering.

Ignore that yesterday
you should have been rewarded and that you were not.
Be happy. Don’t regret anything. Don’t expect anything.
Your future is already written down in the Book
of which the pages are turned, as if by accident,
by the Wind of Eternity.

When I hear someone talking
about all the delights the chosen few can expect,
I say: “I only trust in wine. Give me cash and no promises!”
The sound of drummers is best at a distance.

Drink wine.
Wine gives you a taste of the eternal life.
Wine is the magic potion that can restore youth, that
divine season of roses, of intoxication, of sincere friends.
Enjoy this fleeting moment we call life.

Drink wine
for you will be asleep a long time,
once buried, without friends, without women.
I will entrust you with this secret: withered
flowers never bloom again.

Very softly
the clay says to the potter moulding it:
“Remember, I have been alive like you,
treat me with gentleness.”

beware of damaging
the clay of which Adam was made.
On your wheel I see the heart of a poet,
the hand of a painter.
Potter, beware!

This poppy
may have taken
its colour from the blood
of a buried emperor. That violet could
have sprouted from a beauty spot on
the beaming face of a young child.

Millions of centuries
Have seen dawn, have seen twilight.
Millions of centuries stars have passed through the sky.
Walk the earth cautiously. That lump of soil
you almost trampled down may have been
the eye of a child needing help.

Who knows whether this daffodil,
softly moving on the side of the brook,
touches with its roots the lips of a perished woman.
Let your feet touch the grass lightly. Remind
yourself that that grass grows off the dust
of so many faces shining like tulips.

Yesterday I watched
a Potter behind his wheel,
moulding the ears and curves of a vase
with clay that contained the skull of a sultan
and the hands of a beggar.

On this earth
Good and Bad fight for supremacy.
Heaven is not responsible for the good or bad times
our fate may bring us. Don’t thank Heaven and dont
curse it either. Heaven is as indifferent
to your happyness as to your sorrow.

When you have planted
the rose of Love into your heart
your life has not been in vain. Better still:
when you have tried to understand the voice of Allah.
Or better still: when you have lifted your mug
laughing with joy.

Be cautious, traveller!
The road you follow is dangerous.
The sword of fate is razor-sharp.
When you see ripe almonds along the road,
don’t eat them; they may be poisonous.j

A garden, a beautiful
young woman with flowing hair,
a cup of wine, my desire and my pain.
That’s my Paradise, my Hell.
But who ever visited
Paradise, who Hell?

You, whose cheeks
surpass the wild roses,
you, whose face resembles the statue of
a Chinese Goddess, do you know that your
velvety look degraded the King of Babylon
to the wooden bishop in a game of chess,
thus making him a slave to the queen.?

(Some pieces of his rubaiyat written in persian language and translated in english by Adward Fitzaedger)

hey Roger Moor Sir!! Dis is ur answer

I am still young

The air is fragrant
The blooming flowers are lustrous
A thousand chants fill the air
As spring is in full bloom
O beloved, where are you going?
Come back, come here
What are you looking for?
Lift the pitcher, pour in the glass
Give it to me
Look at the garden and
Enjoy the atmosphere without hesitation
Aa aa, swaying dark clouds clearing from the horizon
Like inebriated crowd walking towards tavern
Your surmise is the bad surmise
Don’t think I am naive
There is no thought of abstinence
I am still young.

There is talk about prayers
There is worry about salvation
There is passion about rewards for good work
There is concerned about tormentation
But listen O learned man
You are a strange creature
Can adolescence love and passion stand apart?
When maiden scatters her splendours
When there is more of sensuous glance
When breeze spreads a strong aroma
How can one not have a strong desire?
The provocative lovers, some here, some there
Arouse the pleasure,
what can a mortal creature do?
Ok, that was my short story
Your subtle hint be correct
But I am still young.

The trekking the mountain range
The walking along a gushing rivulet
The chirping nightingales
The laughter of beautiful maidens
Meeting one of them
My grief and worry vanished
When time stood still
One laughed and another wept
This is the tale of love
The exuberance of youth
Some kindness on the one side
Some ridiculousness on the other side
From sky (heaven) to earth
the grandeur of my beloved (God)
He wants a life of good deeds
Better I leave my life here
Death is so near I can’t believe
No, no, not yet
I am still young.

Worry not for open and close (chapters of my life?)
Care not for peak and trough (of life)
Worry not for (my) status and existence
Concerned not about the promise made at the day of creation

[the word in nazm is ‘waada-e-alast’ which refers in the context of the day of creation
when God asked ‘am I not your God? To which everyone said ‘Yes’.]

My hope and despair lost
My greed and rationality gone
Everything around me looks lost
Besides I miss my glass (of wine)
Let there not be lessening of intoxication in wine
Let me remain friendly with house (tavern)
Let the session (of drinking) continue
Let the more of the same continue
O soft singer, start an exhilarating melody
And take my sadness away
Create an effect by your voice and music
Light up fire in my heart
Let lips of every one say only one thing
Don’t stop me O my beloved
Pour on pour on more drinks
I am still young.

(Written by Hafeej Jalandhari n sung by Malika Pukhraaj-abhi to mein jawaan hun (i m still young)

Why is dt red signal in my life

I want to be free for wandering here n there;

My heart’s feelings want to smile everywhere.

My pure love wants to fly in blue sky forever.

My imagination’s word is wanting tenshionfree atmosphere.

What does my fate demand to me?

What may i offer him to please?

Are my life,my loneliness ,my mental peace is for only crushing?

Are these railway’s tracks for me absolutely trampling?

Those red signals r not green,are they ,for me,waiting?

Nah.dear life doesn’t depress coz of wranglings.

U r a uniqe gift of Almighty’s blessing.

Those red signals are to do wrong by you for stopping.

To spread love in unverse eventhough be alone.

Why do you depress in midway,this not your zone.

20.01.2017.             9.21pm

At railway station.

All copyright is reservd by aruna sharma.

Last MughalEmpror-now i m feeling like dis type?????????


radiif: aar huuN


naa kisii kii aaNkh kaa nuur huuN, naa kisii ke dil kaa qaraar huuN
jo kisii ke kaam na aa sake, maiN vo ek musht-e-gubaar huuN

main nahin huun naghma-e-jaaN feza, koii sun ke mujh ko karega kya
main baRe birog ki huuN sada, maiN baRe dukhoN ki pukaar huun

meraa rang ruup bigaR gayaa, meraa yaar mujh se bichaR gayaa
jo chaman khizaaN se ujaR gayaa, main usi ki fasl-e-bahaar huun

naa to maiN kisii kaa habiib huuN, naa to maiN kisii kaa raqiib huuN,
jo bigaR gayaa vo nasiib huun, jo ujaR gayaa vo dayaar huun.

pae faatihaa koi aae kyuuN, koi chaar phuul chaRhaae kyuuN?
koi aake shamaa jalaae kyuuN, maiN vo bekasi kaa mazaar huun

Rough English Translation-

not the light of any one’s eyes,
nor the solace for any one’s heart
of no use to anyone,
I am that one fistful of dust

I am not the song infusing life,
why would anyone want to hear me
I am the sound of separation,
I am the wail of much distress

my complexion and beauty is ravaged,
my beloved is parted from me
the garden that got ruined in autumn,
I am the crop of its spring

I am neither anyone’s friend,
nor am I anyone’s rival
the one that is ruined, I am that fate
the one that is destroyed, that land

why should anyone come to sing a requiem
why should anyone come to offer four flowers
why should anyone come to light a candle
I am the tomb of that destitution

Ghazal ***

radiif: aar meiN


Lagtaa nahii hai dil meraa ujRe dayaar meiN
kiss kii banii hai aalame-naapaaidaar meiN

umr-e-daraaz maaNg ke laaye the chaar din
do aarzuu meiN kaT gaye do intezaar meiN

kah do in hasratoN se kahiiN aur jaa baeiN
itnii jagah kahaaN hai dil-e-daaghdaar meiN

kitnaa hai badnaseeb zafar dafan ke liye
do gaz zamiin bhii naa milii kue-yaar mein

Rough English Translation-

cannot find peace, this heart of mine,
in this wrecked land
who has succeeded in this
transitory world

having asked for a long life
I brought back four days
two passed away in yearning
and two in waiting

tell these desires
to go and settle down elsewhere
where is so much space
in the scarred heart

how ill-fated is that
Zafar, for his burial
could not even find
two yards of land in the street of the beloved

By  Mughal EmprorBahadurshaah Zafar

Vo chamkta sitaara (dat shining star)

Mene apne pyaar ko ek chamkta sitaara bana diya he;

(I have made my love a shining star;)
Mujhe chor ke jaane waale! preshaan na ho ke tujhe fitanawaar banaa diya he.

(O wanderer, u left me alone!plz don’t get depressed,

‘Coz i think dt situation has made ur mind restless)

Na tujhse kuch kahaa gayaa na meri jubaan bayaan kar saki;

(We could not say anything to each other

Gum na kar ke har jajbaat ko haalat ne maara bana diya he.

(Don’t be sad becoz our emotions r decieved by time as deciever)

Na tera kusoor tha na mera,taqdeer ne hi ishq ko mohraa banaa diya he.

( u did not do any wrong and I didn’t too,

Bt luck has played a hand of chess with us)

Tu bichud gaya,yakeen hota nahi,

Ek dhoke ka sahra banaa diya he.

( u have separated forever,my heart does not believ still now,oh , suddenly it has converted into desert surpass)

Me apne me gum par tanha nahi,

apne pyaar ko sahaara bana diya he

(I am so much lost in myself but I am not alone ‘coz i have made my love mine ).

Me tujhse khafaan nahi,mere mahboob !tujhe tahreek-e-yaara banaa diya he.

(I am not angry with you,darling!i have made u as my aspiration)

Saari qaynaat he khushnam us pyaar se, har takhleek-e-pyaar se pyaara banaa diya he.

(All surroudings r awesome n lovely because i have made them by love’s verses as blessed)

Na teri khataa thi na meri,bhool ke sab paak sa diyaara banaa diya he.

(Dt time ,niether ur fault nor my fault;so i have made a holy bright island)

20.1.2017.              12.45at midnight.

All copyright is reserved by aruna sharma.