Indian Poets Quotes
Quotes tagged as "indian-poets"
Showing 1-10 of 10
“समंदर एक ऐसा प्रेमी है, जो सबसे ज़्यादा क्षमा से भरा हुआ है. वह हर पल ख़ुद से दूर जाने वाली लहरों को क्षमा करता है और वापस अपने में शामिल कर लेता है. जाने देना भी प्रेम है. लौटे हुए को शामिल करना भी प्रेम है.”
― Adhoori Cheezon Ka Devta
― Adhoori Cheezon Ka Devta
“What I write
is water dripping from a child’s cupped hands.
- Geet Chaturvedi
Translated by Anita Gopalan”
― The Memory of Now
is water dripping from a child’s cupped hands.
- Geet Chaturvedi
Translated by Anita Gopalan”
― The Memory of Now
“उससे दूर रहो जिसमें हीनभावना होती है
तुम उसकी हीनता को दूर नहीं कर पाओगे
ख़ुद को श्रेष्ठ बताने के चक्कर में
वह रोज़ तुम्हारी हत्या करेगा”
― Nyoonatam Main
तुम उसकी हीनता को दूर नहीं कर पाओगे
ख़ुद को श्रेष्ठ बताने के चक्कर में
वह रोज़ तुम्हारी हत्या करेगा”
― Nyoonatam Main
“तुम्हारे लिए जो कविताएं नहीं लिखीं मैंने,
वे कविताओं से ज़्यादा हैं.
जो संगीत नहीं रचा मैंने, वह संगीत से ज़्यादा है.
जो वचन मैंने नहीं निभाए,
सो इसलिए कि हमारे बीच सब कुछ ख़त्म न हो जाए.
तुम तकाज़ा करती रहो और गुंजाइशें बची रहें.”
― Nyoonatam Main
वे कविताओं से ज़्यादा हैं.
जो संगीत नहीं रचा मैंने, वह संगीत से ज़्यादा है.
जो वचन मैंने नहीं निभाए,
सो इसलिए कि हमारे बीच सब कुछ ख़त्म न हो जाए.
तुम तकाज़ा करती रहो और गुंजाइशें बची रहें.”
― Nyoonatam Main
“सारी किताबें तुम्हारी आंखों की तरह खुलती हैं
कोर से कोर तक, कवर से कवर तक
किताब के भीतर बैठकर
मैं किताबें लिखता रहा
और तुम कहती रहीं,
मेरी आंखों के पन्ने रह-रहकर फड़फड़ाते हैं.”
― Khushiyon Ke Guptchar
कोर से कोर तक, कवर से कवर तक
किताब के भीतर बैठकर
मैं किताबें लिखता रहा
और तुम कहती रहीं,
मेरी आंखों के पन्ने रह-रहकर फड़फड़ाते हैं.”
― Khushiyon Ke Guptchar
“I threw my poems
in the ocean
the paper rotted
but poems swim
along with little fishes on the ocean floor.
- Geet Chaturvedi,
Translated by Anita Gopalan”
― The Memory of Now
in the ocean
the paper rotted
but poems swim
along with little fishes on the ocean floor.
- Geet Chaturvedi,
Translated by Anita Gopalan”
― The Memory of Now
“The world is rapt by the sound of harsh music
and you a soft silence woven in my touch.
- Geet Chaturvedi
Translated by Anita Gopalan”
― The Memory of Now
and you a soft silence woven in my touch.
- Geet Chaturvedi
Translated by Anita Gopalan”
― The Memory of Now
“From my body, take earth and sprinkle on barren lands
From my body, take water and bestrew the desert with streams
From my body, take the sky and build roofs for the homeless
From my body, take air and purify the breath of factories
From my body, take fire, your heart is frightfully cold
- Geet Chaturvedi
Translated by Anita Gopalan”
― The Memory of Now
From my body, take water and bestrew the desert with streams
From my body, take the sky and build roofs for the homeless
From my body, take air and purify the breath of factories
From my body, take fire, your heart is frightfully cold
- Geet Chaturvedi
Translated by Anita Gopalan”
― The Memory of Now
“Downstairs I left a candle burning
In its light I'll read a few lines when I return
By the time I returned the candle had burned out
Those few lines had faded like innocence
You walk with me
The way moon walks along with a child sitting in a train window
I stood in the balcony one day
Waved a handkerchief toward the sky
Those who have gone without saying their goodbyes
Will recognize it even from far
In my handkerchief they have left behind their tears
The way early humans left behind their etchings on cave walls
Lyotard said, every sentence is a now
No. Actually it's a memory of now
Every memory is a poem
In our books, the count of the unwritten poems is so much more
- Geet Chaturvedi
Translated by Anita Gopalan”
― The Memory of Now
In its light I'll read a few lines when I return
By the time I returned the candle had burned out
Those few lines had faded like innocence
You walk with me
The way moon walks along with a child sitting in a train window
I stood in the balcony one day
Waved a handkerchief toward the sky
Those who have gone without saying their goodbyes
Will recognize it even from far
In my handkerchief they have left behind their tears
The way early humans left behind their etchings on cave walls
Lyotard said, every sentence is a now
No. Actually it's a memory of now
Every memory is a poem
In our books, the count of the unwritten poems is so much more
- Geet Chaturvedi
Translated by Anita Gopalan”
― The Memory of Now
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