from In Lovely Blue / Friedrich Holderlin

Like the stamen inside a flower   
The steeple stands in lovely blue   
And the day unfolds around its needle;   

The flock of swallows that circles the steeple   
Flies there each day through the same blue air   
That carries their cries from me to you;   

We know how high the sun is now   
As long as the roof of the steeple glows,   
The roof that’s covered with sheets of tin;   

Up there in the wind, where the wind is not   
Turning the vane of the weathercock,   
The weathercock silently crows in the wind.  

(Translated from German by George Kalogeris)

Confessions of a Young Judge / Bharat Chugh

A young boy was produced before me,
his abject poverty and emaciation was for all to see.

In a rich India of poor people, 
being poor was his crime, 
the ‘Welfare State’ naturally decided that 
he should serve his jail time. 

He was accused of selling ‘tea’, 
without licence in a train, 
he was a migrant…
you could see his sheer pain; 
with that torn shirt, 
as if modesty was just for the rich.
Law or Justice, I couldn’t, 
at first, pick which.

The law required me to punish him, 
it’s dry, blindfold diktat and arbitrary whim; 
I chose to exonerate him, 
but didn’t say anything.

How could I ask him not to earn his bread -
when the state couldn’t bring…
Could I think of a more honorable way, 
this boy could have earned a living - 
selling honest tea - with fair billing. 

If I went by the strict letter 
of the law and did fine, 
I wouldn’t be able to sleep with 
the already vexed conscience of mine. 

For legal authority was there, 
but moral authority I had none, 
my nation’s law had somewhat failed, 
and poverty had won!

Work without Hope / Samuel Taylor Coleridge

All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair— 

The bees are stirring—birds are on the wing— 

And Winter slumbering in the open air, 

Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring! 

And I the while, the sole unbusy thing, 

Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing. 

Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow, 

Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow. 

Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may, 

For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away! 

With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll: 

And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul? 

Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve, 

And Hope without an object cannot live.

अरमानों की अस्थियाँ / प्रेरणा सिन्हा

बातों में तो ख़ुशी सी होती है ज़ाहिर
होंठों पे भी कलियाँ मुस्कानों की खिल जाती हैं 
पर गहरे अंतर्मन में उतरती हूँ जब भी
कई अस्थियाँ अरमानों की मिल जाती हैं 

कड़ी धूप में अकेले चलने का ग़म कब था हमें
क्यूँ ये ठंडक बहारों की मिल जाती है
ग़म तो होता है जब मिल के छिन जाती है

जिन आँखों को आदत हो बस आँसुओं की
उन आँखों में कोई ख्वाब न दो
सुना है काँच की होती है सपनों की दुनिया
टूट के क्षण में ही बिखर जाती है

गहरे अंतर्मन में उतरती हूँ जब भी
कई अस्थियाँ अरमानों की मिल जाती हैं 

Clown In The Moon / Dylan Thomas

My tears are like the quiet drift
Of petals from some magic rose;
And all my grief flows from the rift
Of unremembered skies and snows.

I think, that if I touched the earth,
It would crumble;
It is so sad and beautiful,
So tremulously like a dream.

हम तो जैसे वहाँ के थे ही नहीं / जॉन एलिया

हम तो जैसे वहाँ के थे ही नहीं

बे-अमाँ थे अमाँ के थे ही नहीं

हम कि हैं तेरी दास्ताँ यकसर

हम तिरी दास्ताँ के थे ही नहीं

उन को आँधी में ही बिखरना था

बाल ओ पर आशियाँ के थे ही नहीं

अब हमारा मकान किस का है

हम तो अपने मकाँ के थे ही नहीं

हो तिरी ख़ाक-ए-आस्ताँ पे सलाम

हम तिरे आस्ताँ के थे ही नहीं

हम ने रंजिश में ये नहीं सोचा

कुछ सुख़न तो ज़बाँ के थे ही नहीं

दिल ने डाला था दरमियाँ जिन को

लोग वो दरमियाँ के थे ही नहीं

उस गली ने ये सुन के सब्र किया

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