Weaving a dream, new again,
despite the bad one I had last.
I am not afraid of this — not again —
the end unknown, like the world’s own end.
Dreaming a dream of a new end,
boundless is my soul once more,
loving a piece of every ending —
though it’s so unlikely, all I have.
A long-awaited day of life —
not so special, yet quite unusual.
It crossed the boundaries once laid down;
the beauty of the day still undisclosed.
Special was this dusky evening he had;
lucky, he guessed, was the day he wore.
Nature was perplexed by the nature of a day —
but its core will be understood this time.
He breathes a relief from his agony,
feeling glad of his journey;
distances undiscovered, and the rest now seen,
will be crossed in this new journey of life.
Struggling through all those days,
he forgot to live his own way.
But time has changed once again —
it is time to live, the right way, again.
He is not going to stop in life;
he will explore the unseen passage,
weaving a poem, and his message,
reflecting the poet he holds within him.
उस रात के अँधेरे से निकली एक आवाज़,
न जाने कौन था वो — एक अजनबी इंसान।
डरा-सहमा-सा मुझे था पुकार रहा,
रो-रो के, सहमा-सा मुझे निहार रहा।
वो डरी-डरी-सी आवाज़ गूँजती रही,
कुछ न होते हुए भी, डराती रही।
हर पल सोचने पर मजबूर करती —
क्या मेरा ही था वो प्रतिबिंब?
लेकिन क्यों थी उसकी ऐसी हालत,
आख़िर क्या था उसका कसूर?
सोचते-सोचते दिन महीनों में बदल गए,
उससे गुज़रते रहे हर रोज़, और हम रोते रहे।
आज समझ आया, कि वो था कौन —
मेरा ही हृदय था, मुझे पुकार रहा।
“जाग जा, अभी देर नहीं हुई” —
बस यही वो कहे जा रहा।
“अभी तो तूने कुछ किया ही नहीं,
फिर क्यों रहता है इतना परेशान?
सँभाल ख़ुद को, जी ले यह जीवन —
अभी बहुत कुछ बाक़ी है इस जीवन में।
हर पल मिलकर बनता है यह जीवन,
जी ले इस प्यारे-से उपहार को।
किस्मत अच्छी है तेरी, जो मिला है जीवन —
ज़िन्दगी के हर पल को कर दे प्यार के नाम।”
Life turns out to be an endless puzzle —
an endlessness that cannot be simply solved.
Simple — it sounds so simple to you;
and to you I am grateful, in many a verse.
The voice of life is so full in itself, and unbounded;
cruel it is, yet always a way toward calm.
Deaf in so many ways, yet such resounding music —
rhythmic it beats, with the power of the pure.
I hope to meet my absolute evil one day,
and tell him: I am not the same toward life anymore.
No more regrets to you, no pain of the past —
living in the moment is all I have now.
My life now turns to the less-travelled way:
less hearing, less thinking, but more doing.
The soul moves my body, once a slave to sorrow —
for life is a life only by its journey to a destination.
मैं पंछी विशाल नील गगन का,
मुझे आज इसमें समा जाने दो।
आज मन-सागर के भावों को फूट-फूट कर,
किरण की भाँति इस गगन में बह जाने दो।
दूर कहीं है कोई मुझे पुकार रहा —
ऐसा सोचते हुए मुझे उड़ जाने दो।
आज खोल दो इस पिंजरे का ताला,
विशाल नील गगन की सैर पर जाने दो।
मैं पंछी विशाल नील गगन का,
ज्ञान-अज्ञान की परिभाषा से परे।
मालूम है तो सिर्फ़ एक प्रेम की भाषा —
आज मुझे फिर हवाओं पर सवार हो जाने दो।
नफ़रत की भाषा का यह कैसा स्वरूप?
मुझे न तुम लोग इसमें घसीट डालो।
सोचने को हैं और भी बहुत-सी बातें, लेकिन
मुझे आज इस आसमान में खो जाने दो।
मैं पंछी विशाल नील गगन का,
मुझे आज सिर्फ़ उड़ जाने दो।
असीमित है मेरे मन का बल —
मरने से पहले एक बार जी जाने दो।
If I were a free-flying bird,
touching the heights of the sky,
free-falling, then rising again,
flying higher and higher—
if I were a snake,
moving here and there,
watching for my prey,
hissing out my bravery—
if I were a mammal,
walking and running for food,
fighting for my own space—
happiness would still be there.
But if I am a human being,
all I do is fool the others;
greed is the only thing I tend,
killing another for my pride.
If I am a human being,
then I am no longer me—
I have lost my soul in a world of money,
and I blame others for my fate.
So I am no more a human being.
As a child, he was free—
free to speak, to laugh, to do as he pleased.
As a child, he had a way
of hiding, of losing himself in a dream.
Pain, sorrow, and hurt
were nowhere along his path.
Tears still came, and often—
but not from helplessness, as they do now.
Anger was never a friend of his;
now he cannot live without it.
He was once immune to jealousy;
now he is a patient of it.
Logical or illogical,
he never used to care—
now, time and again, he must ask:
am I even right enough to cope?
Isn’t he lost in this vast world,
where only the hunger for money is left to feel?
He owns everything he has—
but for that, he sold his soul.
His eyes speak every word
he cannot say: he longs to fly free.
No one sees how alone he is,
fallen so low, as if he were the only one.
But fiercely he vows
he will not break, will not cry anymore;
he will face it all alone.
And drawing a single breath, he left—
with one ray of light
to find the world he had lost,
and build a world of his own,
living inside a dream
to find the world he left behind.