Poem on Pavan Yara

Either/Or

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Fri, 29 Mar 2019 11:27:13 +0530

If you marry, you will regret it; if you do not marry, you will also regret it; if you marry or if you do not marry, you will regret both; whether you marry or you do not marry, you will regret both.
Laugh at the world’s follies, you will regret it; weep over them, you will also regret it; if you laugh at the world’s follies or if you weep over them, you will regret both; whether you laugh at the world’s follies or you weep over them, you will regret both.
Believe a girl, you will regret it; if you do not believe her, you will also regret it; if you believe a girl or you do not believe her, you will regret both; whether you believe a girl or you do not believe her, you will regret both.
If you hang yourself, you will regret it; if you do not hang yourself, you will regret it; if you hang yourself or you do not hang yourself, you will regret both; whether you hang yourself or you do not hang yourself, you will regret both.
This, gentlemen, is the sum of all practical wisdom.

Either/or; a fragment of life,
Author:
Søren Kierkegaard

You Start Dying Slowly

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Thu, 31 Mar 2016 11:58:00 +0530

You start dying slowly

if you do not travel, if you do not read, If you do not listen to the sounds of life, If you do not appreciate yourself.

You start dying slowly
When you kill your self-esteem;When you do not let others help you.

You start dying slowly
If you become a slave of your habits, Walking everyday on the same paths…If you do not change your routine, If you do not wear different colors
Or you do not speak to those you don’t know.

You start dying slowly
If you avoid to feel passion
And it’s turbulent emotions;Those which make your eyes glisten
And your heart beat fast.

You start dying slowly
If you do not change your life when you are not satisfied with your job, or with your love, or with your surroundings.If you do not risk what is safe for the uncertain, If you do not go after a dream, If you do not allow yourself, At least once in your lifetime, To run away from sensible advice…

~ Pablo Neruda

Promise Yourself

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Wed, 11 Feb 2015 03:30:00 +0530

To be so strong that nothing
can disturb your peace of mind.
To talk health, happiness, and prosperity
to every person you meet.

To make all your friends feel
that there is something in them
To look at the sunny side of everything
and make your optimism come true.

To think only the best, to work only for the best,
and to expect only the best.
To be just as enthusiastic about the success of others
as you are about your own.

To forget the mistakes of the past
and press on to the greater achievements of the future.
To wear a cheerful countenance at all times
and give every living creature you meet a smile.

To give so much time to the improvement of yourself
that you have no time to criticize others.
To be too large for worry, too noble for anger, too strong for fear,
and too happy to permit the presence of trouble.

To think well of yourself and to proclaim this fact to the world,
not in loud words but great deeds.
To live in faith that the whole world is on your side
so long as you are true to the best that is in you.

~ Christian D. Larson, Your Forces and How to Use Them

Moment's Indulgence

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Tue, 03 Feb 2015 19:25:00 +0530

I ask for a moment's indulgence to sit by thy side. The works

that I have in hand I will finish afterwards.

Away from the sight of thy face my heart knows no rest nor respite,

and my work becomes an endless toil in a shoreless sea of toil.

Today the summer has come at my window with its sighs and murmurs; and

the bees are plying their minstrelsy at the court of the flowering grove.

Now it is time to sit quite, face to face with thee, and to sing

dedication of life in this silent and overflowing leisure.
- Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali (1913)

Find What You Love and Let it Kill You?

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Wed, 16 Jul 2014 20:13:00 +0530

Some Dorothy Parker Verse!

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 23:57:00 +0530

Unfortunate Coincidence###

By the time you swear you’re his,

Shivering and sighing,

And he vows his passion is

Infinite, undying —

Lady, make a note of this:

One of you is lying.

The Leal

The friends I made have slipped and strayed,

And who’s the one that cares?
A trifling lot and best forgot —
And that’s my tale, and theirs.

Then if my friendships break and bend,
There’s little need to cry
The while I know that every foe
Is faithful till I die.

Symptom Recital

I do not like my state of mind;

I’m bitter, querulous, unkind.
I hate my legs, I hate my hands,
I do not yearn for lovelier lands.
I dread the dawn’s recurrent light;
I hate to go to bed at night.
I snoot at simple, earnest folk.
I cannot take the simplest joke.
I find no peace in paint or type.
My world is but a lot of tripe.
I’m disillusioned, empty-breasted.
For what I think, I’d be arrested.
I am not sick. I am not well.
My quondam dreams are shot to hell.
My soul is crushed, my spirit sore:
I do not like me any more.
I cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse.
I ponder on the narrow house.
I shudder at the thought of men.
I’m due to fall in love again.

Nocturne

Always I knew that it could not last

(Gathering clouds, and the snowflakes flying),
Now it is part of the golden past
(Darkening skies, and the night-wind sighing);
It is but cowardice to pretend.
Cover with ashes our love’s cold crater —
Always I’ve known that it had to end
Sooner or later.

Always I knew it would come like this
(Pattering rain, and the grasses springing),
Sweeter to you is a new love’s kiss
(Flickering sunshine, and young birds singing).
Gone are the raptures that once we knew,
Now you are finding a new joy greater —
Well, I’ll be doing the same thing, too,
Sooner or later.

O Me! O Life!

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 23:43:00 +0530

by Walt Whitman
O Me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring;Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill’d with the foolish;Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the struggle ever renew’d;Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me; Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me intertwined;The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life? Answer.That you are here—that life exists, and identity;That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse

Beautiful!

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 00:30:00 +0530

You suppose you are the trouble
But you are the cure
You suppose that you are the lock on the door
But you are the key that opens it
It’s too bad that you want to be someone else
You don’t see your own face, your own beauty
Yet, no face is more beautiful than yours.

~Rumi

A Psalm of Life

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 23:36:00 +0530

TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream ! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real !
Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal ;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way ;
But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle !
Be a hero in the strife !
Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant !
Let the dead Past bury its dead !
Act,— act in the living Present !
Heart within, and God o’erhead !
Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time ;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate ;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.~ H.
W.
Longfellow

If

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 11:50:00 +0530

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;

If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

~Rudyard Kipling

Three Passions

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 23:41:00 +0530

Three passions have governed my life: The longings for love, the search for knowledge, And unbearable pity for the suffering of [humankind]. Love brings ecstasy and relieves loneliness. In the union of love I have seen In a mystic miniature the prefiguring vision Of the heavens that saints and poets have imagined. With equal passion I have sought knowledge. I have wished to understand the hearts of [people]. I have wished to know why the stars shine. Love and knowledge led upwards to the heavens, But always pity brought me back to earth; Cries of pain reverberated in my heart Of children in famine, of victims tortured And of old people left helpless. I long to alleviate the evil, but I cannot, And I too suffer. This has been my life; I found it worth living.

[adapted from The Prologue to Bertrand Russell’s Autobiography ]

Gitanjali

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Tue, 15 Nov 2011 23:57:00 +0530

Few parts :

I boasted among men that I had known you. They see your pictures in all works of mine. They come and ask me, Who is he?' I know not how to answer them. I say, Indeed, I cannot tell.’ They blame me and they go away in scorn. And you sit there smiling.
I put my tales of you into lasting songs. The secret gushes out from my heart. They come and ask me, Tell me all your meanings.' I know not how to answer them. I say, Ah, who knows what they mean!’ They smile and go away in utter scorn. And you sit there smiling.
I thought I should ask of thee—but I dared not—the rose wreath thou hadst on thy neck. Thus I waited for the morning, when thou didst depart, to find a few fragments on the bed. And like a beggar I searched in the dawn only for a stray petal or two.
Ah me, what is it I find? What token left of thy love? It is no flower, no spices, no vase of perfumed water. It is thy mighty sword, flashing as a flame, heavy as a bolt of thunder. The young light of morning comes through the window and spread itself upon thy bed. The morning bird twitters and asks, `Woman, what hast thou got?’ No, it is no flower, nor spices, nor vase of perfumed water—it is thy dreadful sword.
I sit and muse in wonder, what gift is this of thine. I can find no place to hide it. I am ashamed to wear it, frail as I am, and it hurts me when press it to my bosom. Yet shall I bear in my heart this honour of the burden of pain, this gift of thine.
From now there shall be no fear left for me in this world, and thou shalt be victorious in all my strife. Thou hast left death for my companion and I shall crown him with my life. Thy sword is with me to cut asunder my bonds, and there shall be no fear left for me in the world.
From now I leave off all petty decorations. Lord of my heart, no more shall there be for me waiting and weeping in corners, no more coyness and sweetness of demeanour. Thou hast given me thy sword for adornment. No more doll’s decorations for me!

Today

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Wed, 17 Nov 2010 11:13:00 +0530

There’s only us, there’s only this.

Forget regret, or life is yours to miss.

No other road, no other way, no day but today.

I can’t control my destiny.

I trust my soul.

My only goal is just to be.

There’s only now, there’s only here.

Give in to love, or live in fear.

No other path, no other way.

No day but today.

~ Jonathan Larson in “Another Day”

Kavitha O Kavitha...

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Tue, 05 Oct 2010 19:48:00 +0530

My favorite poem from Sri Sri:

కవితా! ఓ కవితా!

నా యువకాశల నవపేశల సుమగీతావరణంలో,

నిను నే నొక సుముహూర్తంలో,

అతిసుందర సుస్యందనమందున

దూరంగా వినువీధుల్లో విహరించే

అందని అందానివిగా

భావించిన రోజులలో,

నీకై బ్రదుకే ఒక తపమై

వెదుకాడే నిమిషాలందున నిషాలందున,

ఎటు నే చూచిన చటులాలంకారపు

మటుమాయల నటనలలో,

నీ రూపం కనరానందున

నా గుహలో, కుటిలో, చీకటిలో

ఒక్కడనై స్రుక్కిన రోజులు లేవా?

నీ ప్రాబల్యంలో,

చిరదీక్షా శిక్షా తపస్సమీక్షణలో,

నిశ్చల సమాధిలో,

స్వర్గద్వారపు తోరణమై వ్రేలిన నా

మస్తిష్కంలో

ఏయే ఘోషలు, భాషలు, దృశ్యాల్ తోచాయో?

నే నేయే చిత్రవిచిత్ర శ్యమంత

రోచిర్నివహం చూశానో!

నా గీతం ఏయే శక్తులలో

ప్రాణస్పందన పొందిందో?

నీకై నే నేరిన వేయే ధ్వనులో,

ఏయే మూలల వెదకిన ప్రోవుల

ప్రోవుల రణన్నినాదాలో!

నడిరే యాకస మావర్తించిన,

మేఘా లావర్షించిన,

ప్రచండ ఝంఝా ప్రభంజనం

గజగజ లాడించిన

నడిసంద్రపు కెరటాల్లో మ్రోగిన

శంఖారావం, ఢంకాధ్వానం!

ఆ రాత్రే,

కారడవులలో లయాతీతమై

విరుతించిన నానాజంతుధ్వనులో?

నక్షత్రాంతర్నిబిడ నిఖిలగానం,

భూకంపాలు, ప్రభుత్వ పతనాలు,

విప్లవం, యుద్ధం,

అన్నీ నీ చైతన్యం!

నీ విశ్వరూప సాక్షాత్కారం!

మరి నిన్ను స్మరిస్తే

నా కగుపించే దృశ్యాలా?

వినిపించే భాష్యాలా?

అగ్నిసరస్సున వికసించిన వజ్రం!

ఎగిరే లోహశ్యేనం!

ఫిరంగిలో జ్వరం ధ్వనించే మృదంగ నాదం!

ఇంకా నే నేం విన్నానా?

నడిరే నిద్దురలో

అపుడే ప్రసవించిన శిశువు నెదడ నిడుకొని

రుచిర స్వప్నాలను కాంచే

జవరాలి మనఃప్రపంచపు టావర్తాలు!

శిశువు చిత్ర నిద్రలో

ప్రాచీన స్మృతులూచే చప్పుడు!

వైద్యశాలలో,

శస్త్రకారుని మహేంద్రజాలంలో,

చావుబ్రదుకుల సంధ్యాకాలంలో

కన్నులు మూసిన రోగార్తుని

రక్తనాళ సంస్పందన!

కాలువనీళులలో జారిపడి

కదలగనైనా చాలని

త్రాగుబోతు వ్యక్తావ్యక్తాలాపన!

ప్రేలాపన!

కడుపు దహించుకుపోయే

పడుపుకత్తె రాక్షసరతిలో

అర్ధనిమీలిత నేత్రాల

భయంకర బాధల పాటల పల్లవి!

ఉరి తీయబడ్డ శిరస్సు చెప్పిన రహస్యం!

ఉన్మాది మనస్సినీవాలిలో

ఘూకం కేకా, భేకంబాకా!

సమ్మెకట్టిన కూలీల,

సమ్మెకట్టిన కూలీల భార్యల, బిడ్డల

ఆకటి చీకటిచిచ్చుల

హాహాకారం! ఆర్తారావం!

ఒక లక్ష నక్షత్రాల మాటలు,

ఒక కోటి జలపాతాల పాటలు,

శతకోటి సముద్రతరంగాల మ్రోతలు!

విన్నానమ్మా! విన్నా, నెన్నో విన్నాను.

నా విన్నవి కన్నవి విన్నవించగా

మాటలకై వెదుకాడగబోతె–

అవి,

పుంఖానుపుంఖంగా

శ్మశానాలవంటి నిఘంటువుల దాటి,

వ్యాకరణాల సంకెళ్ళు విడిచి,

ఛందస్సుల సర్పపరిష్వంగం వదలి–

వడిగా, వడివడిగా

వెలువడినై, పరుగిడినై, నా యెద నడుగిడినై!

ఆ చెలరేగిన కలగాపులగపు

విలయావర్తపు

బలవత్ ఝరవత్ పరివర్తనలో,

నే నేయే వీధులలో

చంక్రమణం చేశానో,

నా సృష్టించిన గానంలో

ప్రక్షాళితమామక పాపపరంపర

లానందవశంవదహృదయుని జేస్తే-

నీకై మేలుకొనిన

సకలేంద్రియములతో

ఏది రచిస్తున్నానో, చూస్తున్నానో,

ఊపిరి తీస్తున్నానో,

నిర్వికల్ప సమాధిలో

నా ప్రాణం నిర్వాణం పొందిందో,

అటు నను మంత్రించిన,

సమ్ముగ్ధం గావించిన ఆ గాంధర్వానికి,

తారానివహపు ప్రేమసమాగమంలో

జన్మించిన సంగీతానికి…

నా నాడుల తీగలపై సాగిన

నాదబ్రహ్మపు పరిచుంబనలో,

ప్రాణావసానవేళాజనితం,

నానాగానానూనస్వానావళితం,

బ్రదుకును ప్రచండభేరుండ గరు

త్పరిరంభంలో పట్టిన గానం,

సుఖదుఃఖాదిక ద్వంద్వాతీతం,

అమోఘ, మగాధ, మచింత్య, మమేయం,

ఏకాంతం, ఏకైకం,

క్షణికమై శాశ్వతమైన దివ్యానుభవం,

బ్రహ్మానుభవం కలిగించిన,

నను కరిగించిన కవనఘృణీ!

రమణీ!

కవితా! ఓ కవితా!

నా జనని గర్భంలో,

ఆకారం లేకుండా నిద్రిస్తూన్న

నా అహంకారానికి

ఆకలి గొల్పించిననాడో!

నా బహిరంతరింద్రియాలలో

ప్రాణం ప్రసరించగ, నేనీ భూలోకంలో పడి

సుఖదుఃఖా లేవేవో

వస్తూంటే తలదాలిచి

ప్రపంచ పరిణాహంలో

ప్రయాణికుడనై,

పరివ్రాజకుడనై,

విహ్వలంగా వర్తించే వేళ

అభయహస్తముద్రతో ననుదరిసిన

నన్ను పునీతుని కావించిన కవితా!

లలిత లలిత కరుణామహితా!

అనుపమితా!

అపరిమితా!

కవితా! ఓ కవితా!

నేడో, నా ఊహాంచల

సాహసికాంసం కప్పిన నా

నిట్టూర్పులు వినిపిస్తాయా?

నే నేదో విరచిస్తానని,

నా రచనలలో లోకం ప్రతిఫలించి,

నా తపస్సు ఫలించి,

నా గీతం గుండెలలో ఘూర్ణిల్లగ

నా జాతి జనులు పాడుకొనే

మంత్రంగా మ్రోగించాలని,

నా ఆకాశాలను

లోకానికి చేరువగా,

నా ఆదర్శాలను

సోదరులంతా పంచుకునే

వెలుగుల రవ్వల జడిగా,

అందీ అందకపోయే

నీ చేలాంచలముల విసరుల

కొసగాలులతో నిర్మించిన

నా నుడి నీ గుడిగా,

నా గీతం నైవేద్యంగా, హృద్యంగా,

అర్పిస్తానో

నా విసరిన రస విసృమర

కుసుమ పరాగం!

ఓహో! ఓ రసధుని! మణిఖని! జననీ! ఓ కవితా!

కవితా! కవితా! ఓ కవితా!

Instantes (Instants)

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 23:43:00 +0530

If I were able to live my life anew, In the next I would try to commit more errors.I would not try to be so perfect, I would relax more.I would be more foolish than I’ve been, In fact, I would take few things seriously.I would be less hygienic.I would run more risks, take more vacations, contemplate more sunsets, climb more mountains, swim more rivers.I would go to more places where I’ve never been, I would eat more ice cream and fewer beans, I would have more real problems and less imaginary ones.

I was one of those people that lived sensiblyand prolifically each minute of his life;Of course I had moments of happiness.If I could go back I would tryto have only good moments.

Because if you didn’t know, of that is life made:only of moments; Don’t lose the now.

I was one of those that neverwent anywhere without a thermometer, a hot-water bottle, an umbrella, and a parachute;If I could live again, I would travel lighter.

If I could live again, I would begin to walk barefoot from the beginning of springand I would continue barefoot until autumn ends.I would take more cart rides, contemplate more dawns, and play with more children, If I had another life ahead of me.

But already you see, I am 85, and I know that I am dying.

~ Jorge Luis Borges

Invictus

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Tue, 19 Jan 2010 21:56:00 +0530

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

~William Ernest Henley

APJ Kalam: Wings of Fire Dedication

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Sat, 19 Dec 2009 21:46:00 +0530

From Arun Tiwari’s Wings of Fire:

To the memory of my parents

My Mother

Sea waves, golden sand, pilgrims’ faith,

Rameswaram Mosque Street, all merge into one,

My Mother!

You come to me like heaven’s caring arms.

I remember the war days when life was challenge and toil—

Miles to walk, hours before sunrise,

Walking to take lessons from the saintly teacher near the temple.

Again miles to the Arab teaching school,

Climb sandy hills to Railway Station Road,

Collect, distribute newspapers to temple city citizens,

Few hours after sunrise, going to school.

Evening, business time before study at night.

All this pain of a young boy,

My Mother you transformed into pious strength

With kneeling and bowing five times

For the Grace of the Almighty only, My Mother.

Your strong piety is your children’s strength,

You always shared your best with whoever needed the most,

You always gave, and gave with faith in Him.

I still remember the day when I was ten,

Sleeping on your lap to the envy of my elder brothers and sisters

It was full moon night, my world only you knew

Mother! My Mother!

When at midnight I woke with tears falling on my knee

You knew the pain of your child, My Mother.

Your caring hands, tenderly removing the pain

Your love, your care, your faith gave me strength

To face the world without fear and with His strength.

We will meet again on the great Judgement Day, My Mother!

~ APJ Abdul Kalam

Lost Love

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Tue, 15 Dec 2009 18:51:00 +0530

How, when I once was so happy, can I suddenly be so sad,

How did I end up by losing, that special person I had,

How can a pain insubstantial, hurt more than if I did bleed,

How do I learn to cope with, not having she whom I need.

Why do I dwell on the memories, rather than looking ahead,

Why does my mind keep replaying, so much she did and she said,

Why does a place once so special, now seem so lonely and bare,

Why do I still wake each morning, hoping that she will be there.

Where is my reason and logic, why am I now so obsessed,

Where is the wry sense of humour, I know that I once possessed,

Where is my passion for living, where is my courage and strength,

Where are the plans for the future, I had once made at great length.

Who has the words that will help me, help me get out of this hole,

Who can help me to recover, get the heart back which she stole,

Who can put me on the right track, who can help me find the way,

Who can guide me from the darkness, back to the light of the day.

What is the point of emotion, why does it torture us so,

What is the purpose it’s serving, dearly I wish I did know,

What is the answer I’m seeking, is it one I’ll ever find,

What can take up my attention, putting her out of my mind.

When will the hurting be over, when will the new dawn appear,

When will I stop all the dreaming, wishing that she could be near,

When will the future inspire me, will I be free of the past,

When will I put her behind me, and get my life back at long last.

[Source:http://www.gather.com/viewArticle.action?articleId=281474977129052]

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked. (On Joy and Sorrow)

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 23:46:00 +0530

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater."

But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.

Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.

When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

~Khalil Gibran

To Strive, To Seek....

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 12:27:00 +0530

It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,–
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
~ from “Ulysses” by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Loving in truth, and fain in verse

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 18:45:00 +0530

Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show,
That she, dear she, might take some pleasure of my pain,
Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know,
Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain,
I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe;
Studying inventions fine, her wits to entertain,
Oft turning others’ leaves, to see if thence would flow
Some fresh and fruitful showers upon my sunburned brain.
But words came halting forth, wanting Invention’s stay;
Invention, Nature’s child, fled stepdame Study’s blows;
And others’ feet still seemed but strangers in my way.
Thus, great with child to speak, and helpless in my throes,
Biting my truant pen, beating myself for spite,
“Fool,” said my muse to me, “look in thy heart and write."
- Sir Philip Sidney (1554-11-30 – 1586-10-17)

Bittersweet Symphony the verve

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 20:48:00 +0530

‘Cause it’s a bittersweet symphony, this life
Trying to make ends meet
You’re a slave to money then you die
I’ll take you down the only road I’ve ever been down
You know the one that takes you to the places
where all the veins meet yeah

No change, I can’t change
I can’t change, I can’t change
But I’m here in my mind
I am here in my mind
But I’m a million different people
from one day to the next
I can’t change my mind
No, no, no, no, no, no, no
no, no, no, no, no
(fading away)

Well I never pray
But tonight I’m on my knees yeah
I need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me, yeah
I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now
But the airways are clean and there’s nobody singing to me now

No change, I can’t change
I can’t change, I can’t change
But I’m here in my mind
I am here in my mind
And I’m a million different people
from one day to the next
I can’t change my mind
No, no, no, no, no, no, no
I can’t change
I can’t change it

‘Cause it’s a bittersweet symphony, this life
Trying to make ends meet
Trying to find some money then you die
I’ll take you down the only road I’ve ever been down
You know the one that takes you to the places
where all the veins meet yeah

You know I can’t change, I can’t change
I can’t change, I can’t change
But I’m here in my mind
I am here in my mind
And I’m a million different people
from one day to the next
I can’t change my mind
No, no, no, no, no

I can’t change my mind
no, no, no, no, no,
I can’t change
Can’t change my body,
no, no, no

I’ll take you down the only road I’ve ever been down
I’ll take you down the only road I’ve ever been down
Been down
Ever been down
Ever been down
Ever been down
Ever been down
That you’ve ever been down
That you’ve ever been down

Choruses from The Rock

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Sat, 13 Jun 2009 13:31:00 +0530

The Eagle soars in the summit of Heaven,
The Hunter with his dogs pursues his circuit.
O world of spring and autumn, birth and dying!
The endless cycle of idea and action,
Endless invention, endless experiment,
Brings knowledge of motion, but not of stillness;
Knowledge of speech, but not of silence;
Knowledge of words, and ignorance of the Word.
All our knowledge brings us nearer to death,
But nearness to death no nearer to God.
Where is the Life we have lost in living?
Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge?
Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?
The cycles of Heaven in twenty centuries
Brings us farther from God and nearer to the Dust.
The lot of man is ceaseless labor,
Or ceaseless idleness, which is still harder,
Or irregular labour, which is not pleasant.
I have trodden the winepress alone, and I know
That it is hard to be really useful, resigning
The things that men count for happiness, seeking
The good deeds that lead to obscurity, accepting
With equal face those that bring ignominy,
The applause of all or the love of none.
All men are ready to invest their money
But most expect dividends.
I say to you: Make perfect your will.
I say: take no thought of the harvest,
But only of proper sowing.
~ T.S.Eliot (1934)

Love-Hate Relationship

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Fri, 03 Apr 2009 18:33:00 +0530

Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
~ Oscar Wilde

" Nothing "

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Thu, 26 Mar 2009 21:09:00 +0530

through friend: ( Fool’s Garden– Nothing -Lyrics)

There’s no picture,
I could paint to tell you what you mean to me
And no poem,
I could write to tell you what you mean to me

You’re more than fire
You are more than rain
You’re more than love
And you are more than pain
No, no, there’s no single word
that could explain

There’s no flower,
blooming like the smile in your ethereal eyes
And no scholar,
ever could explain it â€“ he could be so wise

You’re more than heaven
You are more than Earth
You’re the origin
You are more than birth
You’re more than beautiful
You’re everything to me

It’s not the way that you move
It’s not the glowing
on your face when you smile
that makes me trembling and calm
It’s not that look in your eyes
when I am going
It’s just everything â€“ what you are

There’s no ocean,
deep enough to show you what you mean to me
And no mountain,
high enough to show you what you mean to me

You’re more than meaning
You are more than time
You are redemption
You’re the reason why
You’re so mysterious
You’re everything to me

It’s not the way that you move
It’s not the glowing
on your face when you smile
that makes me trembling and calm
It’s not that look in your eyes
when I am going

Don’t you let them live in your soul
whenever they will try
to barricade the way that you go
You’re fragile â€“ souls can fly

It’s not the way that you move…

A verse from Gitanjali

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Tue, 17 Mar 2009 21:04:00 +0530

My eyes strayed far and wide before I shut them and said ‘Here art thou!’
The question and the cry ‘Oh, where?’ melt into tears of a thousand streams and deluge the world with the flood of the assurance ‘I am!’

The song that I came to sing remains unsung to this day.

I have spent my days in stringing and in unstringing my instrument.
The time has not come true, the words have not been rightly set;
only there is the agony of wishing in my heart.

The blossom has not opened; only the wind is sighing by.
I have not seen his face, nor have I listened to his voice; only
I have heard his gentle footsteps from the road before my house.

The livelong day has passed in spreading his seat on the floor;
but the lamp has not been lit and I cannot ask him into my house.

I live in the hope of meeting with him; but this meeting is not yet.

Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Tue, 06 Jan 2009 13:39:00 +0530

Morning when dawn’s left hand was in the sky
I heard a voice within the tavern cry
Awake my little ones and fill the cup
Before life’s liquor in its cup be dry.
Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse, and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!
The Moving Finger writes, and having writ
Moves on, nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a line
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
Each Morn a thousand Roses brings, you say:
Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday?
And this first Summer month that brings the Rose
Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad away.

Light up the Fire

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Sun, 07 Sep 2008 23:00:00 +0530

I gaze into the heart, lowly it may be,
Thought the words be higher still.
For the heart is all the substance,
The speech an accident.
How many phrases will you speak,
Too many for me.
How much burning, burning will you feel,
Be friendly with the fire, enough for me.
Light up the fire of love inside,
And blaze the thoughts away.

~Rumi

Look To this Day

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Sun, 07 Sep 2008 22:53:00 +0530

Look to this day:

For it is life, the very life of life.

In its brief course

Lie all the verities and realities of your existence.

The bliss of growth,

The glory of action,

The splendour of achievement

Are but experiences of time.

For yesterday is but a dream

And tomorrow is only a vision;

And today well-lived, makes

Yesterday a dream of happiness

And every tomorrow a vision of hope.

I Am and I Am Not

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Sun, 07 Sep 2008 20:08:00 +0530

I’m drenched
in the flood
which has yet to come

I’m tied up
in the prison
which has yet to exist

Not having played
the game of chess
I’m already the checkmate

Not having tasted
a single cup of your wine
I’m already drunk

Not having entered
the battlefield

I’m already wounded and slain

I no longer
know the difference
between image and reality

Like the shadow

I am
And
I am not

When the Rose is gone

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Sun, 07 Sep 2008 20:08:00 +0530

When the rose is gone and the garden faded
you will no longer hear the nightingale’s song.
The Beloved is all; the lover just a veil.
The Beloved is living; the lover a dead thing.
If love withholds its strengthening care,
the lover is left like a bird without care,
the lover is left like a bird without wings.
How will I be awake and aware
if the light of the Beloved is absent?
Love wills that this Word be brought forth

Self-Knowledge

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Sun, 07 Sep 2008 19:53:00 +0530

And a man said, “Speak to us of Self-Knowledge."

And he answered, saying:

Your hearts know in silence the secrets of the days and the nights.

But your ears thirst for the sound of your heart’s knowledge.

You would know in words that which you have always know in thought.

You would touch with your fingers the naked body of your dreams.

And it is well you should.

The hidden well-spring of your soul must needs rise and run murmuring to the sea;

And the treasure of your infinite depths would be revealed to your eyes.

But let there be no scales to weigh your unknown treasure;

And seek not the depths of your knowledge with staff or sounding line.

For self is a sea boundless and measureless.

Say not, “I have found the truth,” but rather, “I have found a truth."

Say not, “I have found the path of the soul.” Say rather, “I have met the soul walking upon my path."

For the soul walks upon all paths.

The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed.

The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless petals.

[ From The Prophet]

ఐ

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Sun, 07 Sep 2008 19:28:00 +0530

నేనొక దుర్గమ్!
నాదొక స్వర్గమ్!
అనర్గళమ్, అనితర సాద్యమ్, నా మార్గమ్!

[ found via http://srisrikavitalu.blogspot.com ]

ఆః!

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Sun, 07 Sep 2008 19:27:00 +0530

ఆః!
నిప్పులు చిమ్ముకుంటూ
నింగికి నే నెగిరిపోతే,
నిబిడాశ్చర్యంతో వీరు-

నెత్తురు క్రక్కుకుంటూ
నేలకు నే రాలిపోతే,
నిర్దాక్షిణ్యంగా వీరే…

Original credits to srisrikavitalu.blogspot.com

దేశ చరిత్రలు

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Sun, 07 Sep 2008 19:25:00 +0530

ఏ శిల్పం? ఏ సాహిత్యం?
ఏ శాస్త్రం? ఏ గాంధర్వం?
ఏ వెల్గుల కీ ప్రస్థానం?
ఏ స్వప్నం? ఏ దిగ్విజయం?

All credits to http://srisrikavitalu.blogspot.com

ప్రతిజ్ఞ

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Sun, 07 Sep 2008 19:24:00 +0530

పొలాల నన్నీ ,
హలాల దున్నీ,
ఇలాతలంలో హేమం పిండగ-
జగానికంతా సౌఖ్యం నిండగ-
విరామ మెరుగక పరిశ్రమించే,
బలం ధరిత్రికి బలి కావించే,
కర్షక వీరుల కాయం నిండా
కాలువకట్టే ఘర్మజలానికి,
ఘర్మజలానికి,
ధర్మజలానికి,
ఘర్మజలానికి ఖరీదు లేదోయ్!

నరాల బిగువూ,
కరాల సత్తువ
వరాల వర్షం కురిపించాలని,
ప్రపంచ భాగ్యం వర్ధిల్లాలని-
గనిలో, పనిలో, కార్ఖానాలో
పరిక్లమిస్తూ,
పరిప్లవిస్తూ
ధనికస్వామికి దాస్యంచేసే,
యంత్రభూతముల కోరలు తోమే,
కార్మిక వీరుల కన్నుల నిండా
కణ కణ మండే,
గలగల తొణికే
విలాపాగ్నులకు, విషాదాశ్రులకు
ఖరీదుకట్టే షరాబు లేడోయ్!

[[found via http://srisrikavitalu.blogspot.com/ ]]

రుక్కులు

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Sun, 07 Sep 2008 19:21:00 +0530

తలుపుగొళ్ళెమ్,
హారతి పళ్ళెమ్,
గుర్రపు కళ్ళెమ్
కాదేదీ కవిత కనర్హమ్!
ఔనౌను శిల్పమనర్హమ్!

ఉన్డాలోయ్ కవితావేశమ్!
కానీవోయ్ రస నిర్దేశమ్!
దొరకదటోయ్ శోభాలేశమ్!
కళ్ళన్టూ ఉన్టే ఛూసి,
వాక్కున్టే వ్రాసి!
ప్రపన్ఛమొక పద్మవ్యూహమ్!
కవిత్వమొక తీరని దాహమ్!

[[ found via http://srisrikavitalu.blogspot.com/]]

జయభేరి

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Sun, 07 Sep 2008 19:18:00 +0530

నేను సైతం
ప్రపంచాగ్నికి
సమిధ నొక్కటి ఆహుతిచ్చాను!

నేను సైతం
విశ్వవ్రుష్టికి
అశ్రు వొక్కటి ధారపోశాను!

నేను సైతం
భువన ఘోషకు
వెర్రిగొంతుక విచ్చి మ్రోశాను!
found via

ఎండాకాలం మండినప్పుడు
గబ్బిలవలె
క్రాగిపోలేదా!

వానాకాలం ముసిరిరాగా
నిలివు నిలువున
నీరు కాలేదా?
శీతాకాలం కోతపెట్టగ
కొరడు కట్టీ,
ఆకలేసీ కేకలేశానే!

నే నొక్కణ్ణే
నిల్చిపోతే-
చండ్ర గాడ్పులు, వానమబ్బులు, మంచుసోనలు
భూమి మీదా
భగ్నమౌతాయి!

నింగినుండీ తొంగిచూసే
రంగు రంగుల చుక్కలన్నీ
రాలి, నెత్తురు క్రక్కుకుంటూ
పేలిపోతాయి!

పగళ్ళన్నీ పగిలిపోయీ,
నిశీధాలూ విశీర్ణిల్లీ,
మహాప్రళయం జగం నిండా
ప్రగల్భిస్తుంది!

నే నొకణ్ణీ ధాత్రినిండా
నిండిపోయీ-
నా కుహూరుత శీకరాలే
లోకమంతా జల్లులాడే
ఆ ముహూర్తా లాగమిస్తాయి!

నేను సైతం
ప్రపంచాబ్జపు
తెల్లరేకై పల్లవిస్తాను!

నేను సైతం
విశ్వవీణకు
తంత్రినై మూర్చనలు పోతాను!

నేను సైతం
భువన భవనపు
బావుటానై పైకి లేస్తాను!

[found via http://srisrikavitalu.blogspot.com/ ]

Little Flute

pavan.yara@gmail.com (Pavan Yara) — Sun, 31 Aug 2008 14:54:00 +0530

Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail
vessel thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh life.

This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales,
and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.

At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits in
joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable.

Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of mine.
Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room to fill.