La Belle Dame sans Merci

"O, what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

    Alone and palely loitering?

The sedge is wither'd from the lake,

    And no birds sing.

O, what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

    So haggard and so woe-begone?

The squirrel's granary is full,

    And the harvest's done.

I see a lily on thy brow,

    With anguish moist and fever dew;

And on thy cheek a fading rose

Fast withereth too"

    "I met a lady in the meads

    Full beautiful --- a faery's child;

Her hair was long, her foot was light,

    And her eyes were wild.

I made a garland for her head,

    And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;

She look'd at me as she did love,

    And made sweet moan.

I set her on my pacing steed,

    And nothing else saw all day long;

For sideways would she lean, and sing

A faery's song"

 "She found me roots of relish sweet,

    And honey wild, and manna dew;

And sure in language strange she said,

    'I love thee true.'

She took me to her elfin grot,

    And there she wept and sighed full sore,

And there I shut her wild sad eyes

With kisses four"

   "And there she lulled me asleep,

    And there I dream'd --- ah! woe betide! ---

The latest dream I ever dreamt

    On the cold hill side" 

"I saw pale kings, and princes too,

    Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;

They cried --- 'La Belle Dame sans Merci

    Hath thee in thrall!'

I saw their starved lips in the gloam

    With horrid warning gaped wide,

And I awoke, and found me here

    On the cold hill side"

La Belle Dame sans Merci (The Beautiful Lady Without Mercy) is John Keats' celebrated ballad which was subjected to numerous interpretations. It is a simple story of love on a bleak winter landscape. The lady who is erotic, attractive, fascinating yet deadly attracts lovers only to destroy them by her supernatural powers. 

The fourth line in each stanza is deliberately shortened which gives a slow movement to the ballad. Kates' repetitive yet simple language coupled with economic usage of words and an underlying supernatural tone makes it a classic.
(In the photo - Jibin, Harikrishnan and Praphul)

My roots will set off to seek another land

"I want you to know

one thing.

If you think it long and mad,

the wind of banners

that passes through my life,

and you decide

to leave me at the shore

of the heart where I have roots,

remember

that on that day,

at that hour,

I shall lift my arms

and my roots will set off

to seek another land"

"... but

if each day,

each hour,

you feel that you are destined for me

with implacable sweetness,

if each day a flower

climbs up to your lips to seek me,

ah my love, ah my own,

in me all that fire is repeated,

in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,

my love feeds on your love, beloved,

and as long as you live it will be in your arms

without leaving mine"

Pablo Neruda - 'If You Forget Me'

My Worship of Sorrow will be over

"When birds return to the nest

In the shadow of the evening,

When the bell of evening worship is rung in the evening

Then this life will lit up its last flame-offer

And my worship of sorrow will be over.

And my worship of sorrow will be over"

.

"So many words of my so many days

So many yearnings in so many ways

My mind is full of these things now-a-days!

When in the sacrificial fire

They will burn like the stars

And they will rush towards the sky ignoring barriers

Then my arrangement will match sunset’s color

And my worship of sorrow will be over"

Tagore - 'My Worship of Sorrow'

My Tears

"The hush this evening seems to expect a footfall,
and you ask me for the cause of my tears.
I cannot give a reason why I weep,
for that is a secret still withheld from me"
-- Tagore : 'The Fugitive' --

'I, and Silence, some strange Race'

"I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,

And Mourners to and fro

Kept treading -- treading -- till it seemed

That Sense was breaking through --"

"And when they were all seated,

A service, like a drum --

Kept beating -- beating -- till I thought

My mind was going numb --

And then I heard them lift a box
And creak across my soul
With those same boots of lead, again,
Then Space -- began to toll;"

"As all the Heavens were a Bell,

And Being, but an Ear,

And I, and Silence, some strange Race

Wrecked, solitary, here --

And then a Plank in Reason, broke,

And I dropped down, and down --

And hit a World, at every plunge,

And Finished knowing -- then --"

 ~ 'I felt a funeral, in my brain' : Emily Dickinson ~

One of America's greatest poets, Emily Dickinson (1830 – 1886), led a life of self imposed seclusion. This offbeat lifestyle almost cut off from the society created an aura around her life and literature, often celebrated and romanticized after her death. Though she was shy in social situations her poems have an amazing capacity to move and provoke. Most of the time she spent in the family house in Amherst, Massachusetts and rarely met people from outside. Yet in the closet she was an artist and accomplished musician. A prolific writer, she wrote more than 1500 poems and countless personal letters to a chosen circle of close friends.

Emily Dickinson remained a reclusive spinster all her life  and died at the age of 55 from Bright’s disease, which was caused by kidney degeneration. Doctors opined that the accumulation of stress throughout her life contributed to her premature death.

She wrote hundreds of poems every year, yet never published a book of poetry during her life. Emily wished her poems to be burnt after her death. But her sister Lavinia ignored this request and handed them over to Mabel Todd and Terrence Higginson, Emily's long standing friends. Ms.Todd use to refer Emily as "a lady whom people call the Myth". With their help the first edition of Emily's poems were published in 1893 which was critically acclaimed all over the English speaking world.

Since 1900 Dickinson has remained continuously in print.

'Once more to think what it is I am remembering'

"I, too, often shrivel the grey shreds,
Sniff them and think and sniff again and try
Once more to think what it is I am remembering,
Always in vain. I cannot like the scent,
Yet I would rather give up others more sweet,
With no meaning, than this bitter one.

I have mislaid the key. I sniff the spray
And think of nothing; I see and I hear nothing;
Yet seem, too, to be listening, lying in wait
For what I should, yet never can, remember;

No garden appears, no path, no hoar-green bush
Of Lad's-love, or Old Man, no child beside,
Neither father nor mother, nor any playmate;
Only an avenue, dark, nameless, without end"

-- 'Old Man' : Edward Thomas --

Philip Edward Thomas (1878 – 1917) was an Anglo-Welsh poet.

To One in Paradise

"And all my days are trances,

And all my nightly dreams

Are where thy dark eye glances,

And where thy footstep gleams—

In what ethereal dances,

By what eternal streams!

Alas! for that accursed time

They bore thee o'er the billow,

From love to titled age and crime,

And an unholy pillow!

From me, and from our misty clime,

Where weeps the silver willow!"

-- 'To One in Paradise' : Edgar Allan Poe --

'Pehlay dil, phir dilruba, phir dil kay mehmaan ho gayey..!'

Mehdi Hassan was once traveling through a rugged terrain of Sindh Province in Pakistan. At midnight his car was stopped by robbers and his valuables were snatched away at gun point. When the thugs were about to leave he was asked about his profession. With humility he told them that he was a singer.
They wanted him to sing a song.

He instantly agreed.
By that rusty withered road on a night that slightly drizzled, he sat to sing 'Rafta Rafta Woh Meri'. As Hassan filled the air with rustling leaves in the dark background, those furious goons melted into bliss and tears. When the song was over they apologised and returned his possessions.

How else can a song be grateful to the singer?

"Rafta rafta woh meri hasti ka saamaan ho gayey,

(Face to face, she became the power of my existence)

Pehlay jaan, phir jaan-e-jaan, phir jaan-e-jaana ho gayey !

(First my life, then the love of my life, then she became the beloved of my life)

Din-b-din badti gehin us husn ki raaniyaan,

(Day by day, the queen's beauty increased)

Pehlay Gul, phir gul-badan, phir gul-badamaan ho gayey !

(First a rose, then the body of a rose, then she became the greatest rose)

Aap to nazdeek say nazdeek-tar aatay gahey,

(You became closer and closer to me)

Pehlay dil, phir dilruba, phir dil kay mehmaan ho gayey !

(First the heart, then the sweetheart, then you became the guest of the heart)

Rafta rafta woh meri hasti ka saamaan ho gayey,

(Face to face, she became the power of my existence)

Pehlay jaan, phir jaan-e-jaan, phir jaanayjaana ho gayey !

(First my life, then the love of my life, then she became the beloved of my life)

Pyar jab Hadd se badha saare Taqaloof mith gayey,

(When love transcended its limit, all formalities were erased)

Aaap se phir tum huay phir tu ka Khunwaan hogayey!"

(First we were formal - "Aap", then we became informal - "Thum", finally we became one - "Thu")

Written by Tasleem Fazli for the Pakistani film Zeenat (1975),  'Rafta Rafta..' was composed by Nashaad. Mehdi Hassan, the king of Gazals, died on 13th June 2012 at Aga Khan University Hospital, Karachi.

I Knew a Woman

"I knew a woman, lovely in her bones,

When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them;"

~ Theodore Roethke - 'I knew a woman' ~

[Theodore Roethke (1908-1963)  was an American poet, who published several volumes of poetry characterized by its rhythm, rhyming, and natural imagery.
He was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for poetry in 1954 for his book, 'The Waking']

Why flowers are painted in tints

"When I bring you coloured toys, my child

I understand why there is such a

play of colours on clouds, on water,

and why flowers are painted in tints

When I sing to make you dance,

I truly know why there is music in leaves

and why waves sent their chorus of voices

to the heart of listening earth

When I bring sweet to your greedy hands,

I know why there is honey in the cup of the flower

and why fruits are secretly filled with sweet juice

When I kiss your face to make you smile, my darling,

I surely understand what pleasure streams

from the sky in the morning light,

and what delight the summer breeze brings to my body"

~ 'Crescent Moon' - Tagore ~