हो गई है पीर पर्वत-सी पिघलनी चाहिए

-  दुष्यन्त कुमार 

हो गई है पीर पर्वत-सी पिघलनी चाहिए,
इस हिमालय से कोई गंगा निकलनी चाहिए।

आज यह दीवार, परदों की तरह हिलने लगी,
शर्त लेकिन थी कि ये बुनियाद हिलनी चाहिए।

हर सड़क पर, हर गली में, हर नगर, हर गाँव में,
हाथ लहराते हुए हर लाश चलनी चाहिए।

सिर्फ हंगामा खड़ा करना मेरा मकसद नहीं,
सारी कोशिश है कि ये सूरत बदलनी चाहिए।

मेरे सीने में नहीं तो तेरे सीने में सही,
हो कहीं भी आग, लेकिन आग जलनी चाहिए।

Comments : An article in the paper ten days ago pointed me to this poem and I just loved it, perhaps that's because I haven't read a powerful Hindi poem in a while. Later on I found out that this is quite a well-known poem, and many people hear it during their childhood. I'm glad I finally discovered it - der aaye durust aaye. - Zen

Here's a link to a clip of Manoj Bajpai reciting the poem on a youtube channel called Hindikavita.

Dance me to the end of love

Leonard Cohen

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin


Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in


Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove


Dance me to the end of love, dance me to the end of love

Oh let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone


Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon


Show me slowly what I only know the limits of


Oh dance me to the end of love, dance me to the end of love

Dance me to the wedding now, dance me on and on


Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long


We're both of us beneath our love, we're both of us above


Dance me to the end of love, dance me to the end of love

Dance me to the children who are asking to be born


Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn


Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn


Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin


Dance me through the panic till I'm gathered safely in


Touch me with your naked hand or touch me with your glove


Dance me to the end of love, dance me to the end of love


Dance me to the end of love

Comments : The version I have been listening to - from the Essential Cohen collection – is available on the itunes store. Located this link if you want to see the video

http://www.last.fm/music/Leonard+Cohen/_/Dance+Me+to+the+End+of+Love

Deceptively a simple love song is actually far more… research it and find out.. 

( Ed - I found the answer on wikipedia, and it's really worth reading - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dance_Me_to_the_End_of_Love )

The standout for me in this standout song is  “We're both of us beneath our love, we're both of us above
…

Dance me to the end of love, dance me to the end of love..”

Gift yourself some Cohen – you won’t regret it, or maybe you will J. - S.

Year's End

By Ted Kooser

Now the seasons are closing their files
on each of us, the heavy drawers
full of certificates rolling back
into the tree trunks, a few old papers
flocking away. Someone we loved
has fallen from our thoughts,
making a little, glittering splash
like a bicycle pushed by a breeze.
Otherwise, not much has happened;
we fell in love again, finding
that one red feather on the wind.

Comments : Loved the imagery in this one, beginning with the very first line, 'seasons closing their files on each of us', delicious. - Zen  (p.s. thanks to AD for sharing this poem)

New Year’s Day

By  Kim Addonizio

The rain this morning falls   

on the last of the snow

and will wash it away. I can smell   

the grass again, and the torn leaves

being eased down into the mud.   

The few loves I’ve been allowed

to keep are still sleeping

on the West Coast. Here in Virginia

I walk across the fields with only   

a few young cows for company.

Big-boned and shy,

they are like girls I remember

from junior high, who never   

spoke, who kept their heads

lowered and their arms crossed against   

their new breasts. Those girls

are nearly forty now. Like me,   

they must sometimes stand

at a window late at night, looking out   

on a silent backyard, at one

rusting lawn chair and the sheer walls   

of other people’s houses.

They must lie down some afternoons   

and cry hard for whoever used

to make them happiest,   

and wonder how their lives

have carried them

this far without ever once

explaining anything. I don’t know   

why I’m walking out here

with my coat darkening

and my boots sinking in, coming up

with a mild sucking sound   

I like to hear. I don’t care

where those girls are now.   

Whatever they’ve made of it

they can have. Today I want   

to resolve nothing.

I only want to walk

a little longer in the cold

blessing of the rain,   

and lift my face to it.

Comments : A bittersweet poem, about loneliness, nostalgia and solitude; I liked the rhythm and the way the scene unfolds. - Zen

December 31st

By Richard Hoffman

All my undone actions wander

naked across the calendar,

a band of skinny hunter-gatherers,

blown snow scattered here and there,

stumbling toward a future

folded in the New Year I secure

with a pushpin: January’s picture

a painting from the 17th century,

a still life: Skull and mirror,

spilled coin purse and a flower.

Comments : Three days too late posting this poem, but what the heck. Better late than never. Loved the imagery in it , though I'm not quite sure I deciphered the last few lines correctly. - Zen

Happy New Year !

Comments : To bring in the New Year, here're two poems, one by Kobayashi Issa and another nod in his direction by Richard Hass. Happy 2015, everyone.

Here's Kobayashi Issa's haiku for the day :

New Year's Day--
everything is in blossom!
I feel about average.

Translated by Robert Hass

After the gentle poet Kobayashi Issa
Richard Hass

New Year’s morning—
everything is in blossom!
I feel about average.

A huge frog and I
staring at each other,
neither of us moves.

This moth saw brightness
in a woman’s chamber—
burned to a crisp.

Asked how old he was
the boy in the new kimono
stretched out all five fingers.

Blossoms at night,
like people
moved by music

Napped half the day;
no one
punished me!

Fiftieth birthday:

From now on,
It’s all clear profit,
every sky.

Don’t worry, spiders,
I keep house
casually.

These sea slugs,
they just don’t seem
Japanese.

Hell:

Bright autumn moon;
pond snails crying
in the saucepan.

Langston Hughes, Poet to Bigot

I have done so little

For you,

And you have done so little 

For me,

That we have good reason

Never to agree.

I, however, 

Have such meager

Power,

Clutching at a 

Moment,

While you control

An hour.

But your hour is 

A stone.

My moment is

A flower.

Comments : A rather apt poem as we head into an election that is dividing some states along communal or caste-based lines. Even without that context, love the poem for the precision, brevity and deftness with which the message is delivered.     - Zen

To read more about Langston Hughes, click on this link.