Stumble to silence, all you uneasy things,
That pack the day with bluster and with fret.
For here is music at each window set;
Here is a cup which drips with all the springs
That ever bud a cowslip flower; a roof
To shelter till the argent weathers break;
A candle with enough of light to make
My courage bright against each dark reproof.
A hand's width of clear gold, unraveled out
The rosy sky, the little moon appears;
As they were splashed upon the paling red,
Vast, blurred, the village poplars lift about.
I think of young, lost things: of lilacs; tears;
I think of an old neighbor, long since dead.
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घरेलू स्त्री / ममता व्यास
जिन्दगी को ही कविता माना उसने जब जैसी, जिस रूप में मिली खूब जतन से पढ़ा, सुना और गुना... वो नहीं जानती तुम्हारी कविताओं के नियम लेकिन उ...
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चाँदनी की पाँच परतें, हर परत अज्ञात है। एक जल में एक थल में, एक नीलाकाश में। एक आँखों में तुम्हारे झिलमिलाती, एक मेरे बन रहे विश्वास...
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The Moon will shine, Without your smile, But no longer shall it be, A Moon that shines for me, Gone are the days, When you'd just ...
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All about the country, From earliest teens, Dark unmarried mothers, Fair game for lechers — Bosses and station hands, And in town and city...
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