I died for beauty

I died for beauty, but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.

He questioned softly why I failed?
"For beauty," I replied.
"And I for truth, -the two are one;
We brethren are," he said.

And so, as kinsmen met a night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names.

-- Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

That Shapes the Eye

That Shapes the Eye

Children
Can easily open the
Drawer

That lets the spirit rise up and wear
Its favorite costume of
Mirth and laughter.

When the mind is consumed with
Remembrance of
Him (Allah)

Something divine happens to the
Heart

That
Shapes the hand and tongue
And eye into
The word
Love.

-- Hafiz
(translations by Daniel Ladinsky)

‘Tis my heart, not brick, nor stone / Dil Hi To Hai Na Sang-o-Khist

‘Tis my heart, not brick, nor stone
Weeps like others; don’t you know?
It will cry, a thousand times
Why, do you, torture it so?

At temples, mosques, nor at his door
Not even, on, my beloved’s porch
I wait, along a distant road
Why do others, ask me to go?

His face, its beauty, lights my heart
Brighter than, the midday’s glow
His sight, it sears, with every gaze
Why is it, he veils it so?

Your tender glance, a fatal knife
Like haughty darts, from a deadly bow
Your image is, enough for me
My self, to you, I dare not show

Life, a prison; my anguish, its chain
Filled with sorrow; both, the same
Is my wish, for death, insane?
How else, do I, remove my pain?

Beauty does agree with you
Lust - ‘tis my carnal quest m
I must control, my inner thoughts
Why have you, put me, to this test?

There; a modest dignity
Here; a show of shy respect
Can we meet, along the way?
Will he call me, to his fest?

I know, he does not, fear God
Disloyal and faithless, he maybe
The loyal, the faithful, those two
They have never, interested me

Ghalib, the wretch; when he leaves
The world, without him, will not cease
So, when he dies, no need to mourn
So, when he dies, no need to grieve


----------------------------------

Dil Hi To Hai Na Sang-o-Khist
Dard Se Bhar Na Aaaye Kyon?
Royenge Hum Hazaar Baar
Koyee Hamein Sataye Kyon?

Dair Nahin, Haram Nahin,
Dar Nahin, Aastan Nahin
Baithe Hain Reh-Guzar Pe Hum
Gair Hamein Uthaye Kyon?

Jab Voh Jamaal-e-Dilfaroze
Surte-Mehre Neem-Roze
Aap Hi Ho Nazaar-Soze
Parde Mein Munh Chuppaye Kyon?

Dashne-e-Gamaz Jaan-Sitan
Naavke-Naaz Bepanah
Tera Hi Akse-Rukh Sahi,
Saamne Teray Aaye Kyon?

Qaide-Hayat-O-Band-e-Gam,
Asl Mein Dono Aik Hain
Maut Say Pehlay Aadmi
Gum Say Nijaat Paye Kyon?

Husn Aur Us Pe Husn-e-Zun
Reh Gayee Bulhavas Ki Sharm
Apne Pe Eitmad Hai,
Gair Ko Aazmaye Kyon?

Van Voh Garure-Izz-o-Naaz
Yan Yeh Hijabe-Paase-Vazan
Rah Mein Hum Milain Kahan
Bazm Mein Voh Bulaye Kyon?

Han Voh Nahin Khuda Parasat
Jaao Voh Baiwafa Sahi
Jisko Ho Din-o-Dil Aziz
Uski Gali Mein Jaye Kyon?

Ghalib-e-Khasta Kay Bagair
Kaunsay Kaam Band Hain?
Roeeye Zar-Zar Kaya?
Keejiye Haye-Haye Kyon?

-- Mirza Asadullah Khan 'Ghalib'

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
----William Shakespeare (Sonnet CXVI)

Everything about her wreaks havoc, Ghalib! / bala-e-jan hai, Ghalib us ki har baat

Dil har qatra hai saz-e-an-al-bahaar
ham us ke hain, hamara puchhna kya

nigah-e be muhaba chahta hun
taghaful hai tamkin azma kya

Kiya kis ne jigar dari ka daava
shikeb-e khatir-e-ashiq bhala kya

bala-e-jan hai, Ghalib us ki har baat
ibarat kya, isharat kya, ada kya

-- [ Mirza Ghalib]

These are sonnets , every couplet (sher) makes a complete poem and whole thing some sense. For those who never heard of Ghalib, he is considered as shakespeare + Keats of Urdu.


The heart of every drop sings "I am the ocean."
what to ask of me? I belong to him (Almighty)

An uninhibited glance (from her) is what I long for
why then this indifference to test my patience

Who made the claim to be patient?
why then should there be testing of the lover's patience?

Everything about her wreaks havoc, Ghalib!
What to say of her expressions, her hinting and her coquettishness?

-- [Mirza Ghalib , translated by Sarfaraz Niazi]