मंद-मंद हवा-सी बहती, बेफ़िक्र खिलखिलाती — वो हस्ती,
महकती, बहकती, किसी को बहलाती, दीवाना बनाती — वो हस्ती।
एक पल के लिए थाम लेती वो सबके सपनों की डोर,
फिर छोड़, बच्चों-सी नादान बनकर कहती — “हूँ ही मैं इतनी अच्छी।”
अक्सर आँखों से कुछ बोलती, ज़ुबान से कुछ और —
यूँ तो हँसती थी वो हर वक़्त, लेकिन रोती भी थी कभी-कभी।
फिर भी, हँसती-खिलखिलाती, ज़िन्दगी से खुश — चलती रहती, वो मेरी एक दोस्त…
We are trying every way to reach,
a new day starting with a shadow of cloud;
rushing to the end of the planet, but dispersed
off the life living across the street.
We are flying high, with fear nearby,
and like every time, time flees;
but little do we care, and less we look —
and it builds a sea across the street.
Are we blind, or just insecure?
Or are we building a planet of floors?
A few more takes, and the end is there —
still so far, from across the street.
We are trapped behind the ego,
living life on the stage of a show;
colours are lost into shades of darkness,
and we cry alone, across the street.
The fliers of dreams have no time to stay back in the nest and talk of comfort;
the travelers of the endless sky keep no count of how many times they’ve been pushed back. At the height of success, even the moon may cast your shadow off your glory —
yet even a winner must lose his ground once, if only to reach the sky of his own story.
With the sunrise comes a hope of tenderly flying dreams —
some already on their way, some still forming their shape. With the fall of night, darkness surrenders its soul to light, and the morning shines with a ray of success;
and through the troubles of life, you may fall once, but you rise forever again, above the hill of any failure.
Though everything is close to me, I am at the farthest place of my own;
though things are happy, reality is something I have learned to cherish. The constant struggle just to survive is a disguise —
of being made a victim by your own will. But life is only a game of risk.
When I look at it from above, it looks one way;
when I look from below, it looks another. And all I understand is this: it is all about life —
and it is different every time.
Though I wish the destination could be reached in flight —
to wear a pair of wings and dive into the sky —
would it be as joyous, would it still be your cherished happiness, any more?
Passing away with the dusk, wondering a while about the day;
I hope to see the dawn again —
but after the darkness, a day is lost.
Swiftly, slyly, she hides inside my dreams and keeps me awake the whole night through —
until at last I fall asleep in her arms, of love and of life.
Everywhere I go, they follow me like a shadow;
every time I try to forgive myself, they point back at me. Every day they burn my other self, and alone, I only hope to match them…