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Poems about Eastern
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I am being accused of loving you, that is all
It is not an insult, but a praise, that is all
Jab qata ki masafat e shab aaftaab ne
Jalwa kiya sahar ke rukhe behijaab ne
A true lover is proved such by his pain of heart;
No sickness is there like sickness of heart.
What is seen is not the Truth
What is cannot be said
by Kabir
28 lines, 7 comments
Whatever comes out of the heart is effective
It has no wings but has the power of flight
Dont ask me for the same love, my sweetheart
I thought that life was radiant because of you
I reach deep into my lonely mind and carve out a full moon.
High into night’s starry sky I hang it like a mirror.
My peace, O my brothers and sisters, is my solitude,
And my Beloved is with me always,
O cupbearer, from that wine which you first gave,
Toss in two [more] cups worth and increase (my) happiness.
I am mad with love
And no one understands my plight.
Jheelon se chaar paaye na uthte thay taaba shaam
Maskan mein machliyoon ke samandar ka tha maqaam
Dil e man Musafir e man
Meray dil meray musafir
On the far horizon waved some flicker of light
My heart, a city of suffering, awoke in a state of dream
Someone is at the door again, my weeping heart, no, no one
Perhaps a passerby, who will go somewhere else
I said to the wanting-creature inside me:
What is this river you want to cross?
by Kabir
18 lines, 6 comments
Don't surrender your loneliness
So quickly.
Through you the secret was revealed to the human intellect
Down the memory lanes, on which
you've strolled since ages past
Why should I be destructive and remain reckless of betterment?
Think not of the future, remain occupied in today’s problems?
There's a moon in my body, but I can't see it!
A moon and a sun.
The rainy season is abroad
And the skirt of my dress is wet.
Your hope in my heart is the rarest treasure
Your Name on my tongue is the sweetest word
Until you've found pain, you won't reach the cure
Until you've given up life, you won't unite with
I send letters to my Beloved,
The dear Krishna.
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I'll meet you there.
In love, nothing exists between heart and heart.
Speech is born out of longing,
Do not mention the name of love,
O my simple-minded companion.
The earth and sky were unknown worlds to me
Only the expanse of mother's bosom was a world to me
A certain yaksha who had been negligent in the execution of his own duties,
on account of a curse from his master which was to be endured for a year and
There are two kinds of intelligence: one acquired,
as a child in school memorizes facts and concepts
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