One of my favourite couplets from a famous poem by Dushyant Kumar - Ink on Paper
Translation:
“…The intent is not to create a ruckus/chaos,
All this trying is to change the state of things,
If not in my heart, then, in your heart,
Wherever the fire (passion) may be,
but the fire must burn on…”
Complete poem at: from: http://www.prayogshala.com/poems/aag-jalni-chahiye-dushyant-kumar
A Community of the Spirit” by Rumi - Present for a dear friend (http://prettyux.tumblr.com/), her favorite poem
There is a community of the spirit.
Join it, and feel the delight
of walking in the noisy street
and being the noise.
Drink all your passion,
and be a disgrace.
Close both eyes
to see with the other eye.
Open your hands,
if you want to be held.
Sit down in the circle.
Quit acting like a wolf, and feel
the shepherd’s love filling you.
At night, your beloved wanders.
Don’t accept consolations.
Close your mouth against food.
Taste the lover’s mouth in yours.
You moan, “She left me.” “He left me.”
Twenty more will come.
Be empty of worrying.
Think of who created thought!
Why do you stay in prison
when the door is so wide open?
Move outside the tangle of fear-thinking.
Live in silence.
Flow down and down in always
widening rings of being.
From Rumi – Selected Poems (Penguin Classics)
Translated by Coleman Barks with John Moyne
Taken from:
http://www.poetseers.org/spiritual_and_devotional_poets/contemp/rumibarks/1/
Vanity - Used Peacock Feathers for portraying the poem, as in Indian Folklore Peacocks signify both vanity and beauty
Poem: “Song Offerings” from GITANJALI
My song has put off her adornments. She has no pride of dress
and decoration. Ornaments would mar our union; they would come
between thee and me; their jingling would drown thy whispers.
My poet’s vanity dies in shame before thy sight. O master poet,
I have sat down at thy feet. Only let me make my life simple and
straight, like a flute of reed for thee to fill with music.
The child who is decked with prince’s robes and who has jewelled
chains round his neck loses all pleasure in his play; his dress
hampers him at every step.
In fear that it may be frayed, or stained with dust he keeps
himself from the world, and is afraid even to move.
Mother, it is no gain, thy bondage of finery, if it keep one
shut off from the healthful dust of the earth, if it rob one of
the right of entrance to the great fair of common human life.
Aj aakhaan Waaris Shah nu…One of my favourite punjabi Poems - by Amrita Pritam
(I call upon ‘Waris Shah’ - the sufi writer/saint, to wake up from his grave and turn over the next page in the book of love)
Poem : The Cloud by Percy Bysshe Shelley.
Lots of mistakes , but finally got around to making the cloud that I wanted for so long :)
