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No, I wasn't meant to love and be loved. (poem)

No, I wasn't meant to love and be loved. 
If I'd lived longer, I would have waited longer. 

Knowing you are faithless keeps me alive and hungry. 
Knowing you faithful would kill me with joy. 

Delicate are you, and your vows are delicate, too, 
so easily do they break. 

You are a laconic marksman. You leave me 
not dead but perpetually dying. 

I want my friends to heal me, succor me. 
Instead, I get analysis. 

Conflagrations that would make stones drip blood 
are campfires compared to my anguish. 

Two-headed, inescapable anguish!— 
Love's anguish or the anguish of time. 

Another dark, severing, incommunicable night. 
Death would be fine, if I only died once. 

I would have liked a solitary death, 
not this lavish funeral, this grave anyone can visit. 

You are mystical, Ghalib, and, also, you speak beautifully. 
Are you a saint, or just drunk as usual?

by Mirza Ghalib

up

zen_agni +999 :thumbup:

no

Thank you to all for sharing your honest opinions.

April Fools

I (poem)

I wonder if I know him 
In whose speech is my voice, 
In whose movement is my being, 
Whose skill is in my lines, 
Whose melody is in my songs 
In joy and sorrow. 
I thought he was chained within me, 
Contained by tears and laughter, 
Work and play. 
I thought he was my very self 
Coming to an end with my death. 
Why then in a flood of joy do I feel him 
In the sight and touch of my beloved? 
This 'I' beyond self I found 
On the shores of the shining sea. 
Therefore I know 
This 'I' is not imprisoned within my bounds. 
Losing myself, I find him 
Beyond the borders of time and space. 
Through the Ages 
I come to know his Shining Self 
In the life of the seeker, 
In the voice of the poet. 
From the dark clouds pour the rains. 
I sit and think: 
Bearing so many forms, so many names, 
I come down, crossing the threshold 
Of countless births and deaths. 
The Supreme undivided, complete in himself, 
Embracing past and present, 
Dwells in Man. 
Within Him I shall find myself - 
The 'I' that reaches everywhere.

by Rabindranath Tagore

i like the poem you use it's classic .

Weavers (poem)

Weavers, weaving at break of day, 
Why do you weave a garment so gay? . . . 
Blue as the wing of a halcyon wild, 
We weave the robes of a new-born child. 

Weavers, weaving at fall of night, 
Why do you weave a garment so bright? . . . 
Like the plumes of a peacock, purple and green, 
We weave the marriage-veils of a queen. 

Weavers, weaving solemn and still, 
What do you weave in the moonlight chill? . . . 
White as a feather and white as a cloud, 
We weave a dead man's funeral shroud.

by Sarojini Naidu

A Fish’s Wish 

There was once a fish
tired of the sea, oppressed
leaped high, escaped
from the prison of the sea.

Saw first time the shore
the spaces so far!

From the security of waters
from its bothers
broke loose from barriers of flesh
landed writhing on the beach
pining for water
from her burning breath
her world was on fire.

The fish of the sea gathered.
‘Stepping outside
even a little is fatal' they spoke,
‘though the heart may thrill with hope!
Keep aspirations banked
freeze them' they advised.

But another fish
dreamt, and heard
a glowing call:
O, come, come, come over
when? Tell me when do we embrace?

That fish could bear this no longer,
could not her friend's call ignore,
and she leaped
so high, high into the blue yonder
and landed on grass that was tender.
Felt something cool, something sweet,
utterly fresh, never before seen.
Then she felt suffocated
though her being craved
a flame within surged
the fire in her bones sprang freed.

Again the fish congregated
‘You get out you die', they said.
‘We are after all just fish.
Can we dream?
And can we talk of freedom?
Fierce the fate
outside water,
and even in water
from the net.'

A third fish woke up
and saw such a conflagration!
In waters of the sea, in waves, in wind,
in its sinews, in every organ.

Fire beside fire turned so strange that
she got free from her scales
sprouted wings that pierced her ribs
in the open sky spread her wings
and even today she beckons:
‘Some fish scan high
some lower their gaze
in some a fire in every cell erupts.'

By Makarand Dave

The meaning of love(poem)

Both light and shadow 
are the dance of Love. 
Love has no cause; 
it is the astrolabe of God's secrets. 
Lover and Loving are inseparable 
and timeless. 
Although I may try to describe Love 
when I experience it I am speechless. 
Although I may try to write about Love 
I am rendered helpless; 
my pen breaks and the paper slips away 
at the ineffable place 
where Lover, Loving and Loved are one. 
Every moment is made glorious 
by the light of Love.

by Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

The astronomer (poem)
I only said, "When in the evening the round full moon gets
entangled among the beaches of that Dadam tree, couldn't somebody
catch it?"
But dada laughed at me and said, "Baby, you are the silliest
child I have ever known. The moon is ever so far from us, how could
anybody catch it?"
I said, "Dada, how foolish you are! When mother looks out of
her window and smiles down at us playing, would you call her far
away?"
Still dada said, "You are a stupid child! But, baby where
could you find a net big enough to catch the moon with?"
I said, "Surely you could catch it with your hands."
But dada laughed and said, "You are the silliest child I have
known. If it came nearer, you would see how big the moon is."
I said, "Dada, what nonsense they teach at your school! When
mother bends her face down to kiss us, does her face look very
big?"
But still dada says, "You are a stupid child."

by Rabindranath Tagore

zen_agni +1

Sympathy (poem)
If I were only a little puppy, not your baby, mother dear, would 
you say "No" to me if I tried to eat from your dish? 
Would you drive me off, saying to me, "Get away, you naughty 
little puppy?" 
Then go, mother, go! I will never come to you when you call 
me, and never let you feed me any more. 
If I were only a little green parrot, and not your baby, 
mother dear, would you keep me chained lest I should fly away? 
Would you shake your finger at me and say, "What an ungrateful 
wretch of a bird! It is gnawing at its chain day and night?" 
Then go, mother, go! I will run away into the woods; I will 
never let you take me in your arms again.

by Rabindranath Tagore

A tear and a smile (poem)

I would not exchange the sorrows of my heart 
For the joys of the multitude. 
And I would not have the tears that sadness makes 
To flow from my every part turn into laughter. 

I would that my life remain a tear and a smile. 

A tear to purify my heart and give me understanding 
Of life's secrets and hidden things. 
A smile to draw me nigh to the sons of my kind and 
To be a symbol of my glorification of the gods. 

A tear to unite me with those of broken heart; 
A smile to be a sign of my joy in existence. 

I would rather that I died in yearning and longing than that I live Weary and despairing. 

I want the hunger for love and beauty to be in the 
Depths of my spirit,for I have seen those who are 
Satisfied the most wretched of people. 
I have heard the sigh of those in yearning and Longing, and it is sweeter than the sweetest melody. 

With evening's coming the flower folds her petals 
And sleeps, embracingher longing. 
At morning's approach she opens her lips to meet 
The sun's kiss. 

The life of a flower is longing and fulfilment. 
A tear and a smile. 

The waters of the sea become vapor and rise and come 
Together and area cloud. 

And the cloud floats above the hills and valleys 
Until it meets the gentle breeze, then falls weeping 
To the fields and joins with brooks and rivers to Return to the sea, its home. 

The life of clouds is a parting and a meeting. 
A tear and a smile. 

And so does the spirit become separated from 
The greater spirit to move in the world of matter 
And pass as a cloud over the mountain of sorrow 
And the plains of joy to meet the breeze of death 
And return whence it came. 

To the ocean of Love and Beauty----to God.

by Khalil Gibran

Cradle song (poem)

From groves of spice, 
O'er fields of rice, 
Athwart the lotus-stream, 
I bring for you, 
Aglint with dew 
A little lovely dream. 

Sweet, shut your eyes, 
The wild fire-fiies 
Dance through the fairy neem; 
From the poppy-bole 
For you I stole 
A little lovely dream. 

Dear eyes, good-night, 
In golden light 
The stars around you gleam; 
On you I press 
With soft caress 
A little lovely dream.

by Sarojini Naidu

why do i find myself agreeing