Pink Sari – Sathya Narayana

When took a dip in Ganga
that pink sari
imbibed a lot of Advaitha.

…glued to her skin
and lost identity…

became a mound of her mounds
curve of her curves
and dip of her dips.

I knew how euphoric that pinky felt
When dried up and separated from her
…retained her shape.

The Pink – Henry King

Fair one, you did on me bestow 
Comparisons too sweet to ow; 
And but I found them sent from you 
I durst not think they could be true. 
But ’tis your uncontrolled power 
Goddess-like to produce a flower, 
And by your breath, without more seed, 
Make that a Pink which was a Weed. 
Because I would be loth to miss 
So sweet a Metamorphosis, 
Upon what stalk soere I grow 
Disdain not you sometimes to blow 
And cherish by your Virgin eye 
What in your frown would droop and die: 
So shall my thankful leaf repay 
Perfumed wishes every day: 
And o’re your fortune breathe a spell 
Which may his obligation tell, 
Who though he nought but air can give 
Must ever your (Sweet) creature live. 

This Peach Is Pink With Such A Pink – Norman Rowland Gale

This peach is pink with such a pink 
As suits the peach divinely; 
The cunning colour rarely spread 
Fades to the yellow finely; 
But where to spy the truest pink 
Is in my Love’s soft cheek, I think. 

The snowdrop, child of windy March, 
Doth glory in her whiteness; 
Her golden neighbours, crocuses, 
Unenvious praise her brightness! 
But I do know where, out of sight, 
My sweetheart keeps a warmer white. 

A Pink Sky Gone Grey – Mandy Lee

The waves roll back and forth, 
crashing. Always crashing. 
It crests and then falls, 
tumbling down and uprooting the serenity of placement beneath it. 

So too do bits of hardened sand and stone get washed away, 
exposing the soft clay beneath. 
Pounded and damaged, a hurt looking life.

The marmoset turns and blinks; a slow, painstaking blink. 
And so, the rain begins. 

Pink Fingers – Khairul Ahsan

I can set out on a world tour
On foot, holding your fingers, 
Your beautiful, pink fingers. 

I can spend years in meditation
Like a sage, if you let me clench
Your pink fingers in my fist.

I can embark on a parachute jump
From the top of the Mt. Everest, 
If I have with me, your pink fingers.

I can write a poem every morning, 
Only if every night I go to sleep
Holding one or more of your fingers.

The Night – Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin

My voice that is for you the languid one, and gentle,
Disturbs the velvet of the dark night’s mantle,
By my bedside, a candle, my sad guard,
Burns, and my poems ripple and merge in flood —
And run the streams of love, run, full of you alone,
And in the dark, your eyes shine like the precious stones,
And smile to me, and hear I the voice:
My friend, my sweetest friend… I love… I’m yours… I’m yours! 

The Breath Of Night – Randall Jarrell

The moon rises. The red cubs rolling
In the ferns by the rotten oak
Stare over a marsh and a meadow
To the farm’s white wisp of smoke.
A spark burns, high in heaven.
Deer thread the blossoming rows
Of the old orchard, rabbits
Hop by the well-curb. The cock crows
From the tree by the widow’s walk;
Two stars in the trees to the west,
Are snared, and an owl’s soft cry
Runs like a breath through the forest.
Here too, though death is hushed, though joy
Obscures, like night, their wars,
The beings of this world are swept
By the Strife that moves the stars. 

Lonesome Night – Hermann Hesse

You brothers, who are mine,
Poor people, near and far,
Longing for every star,
Dream of relief from pain,
You, stumbling dumb
At night, as pale stars break,
Lift your thin hands for some
Hope, and suffer, and wake,
Poor muddling commonplace,
You sailors who must live
Unstarred by hopelessness,
We share a single face.
Give me my welcome back.

Weaving At Night – Ho Xuan Huong

Lampwick turned up, the room glows white.
The looms moves easily all night long

as feet work and push below.
Nimbly the shuttle flies in and out,

wide or narrow, big or small, sliding in snug.
Long or short, it glides out smoothly.

Girls who do it right, let it soak.

Here is another translation of the same poem:

Light turned on, it is found such a white,
The stalk moves slightly and repeatedly all night.

Pushing with the feet, but lightly release,
Shuttle passing through brings joy and ease.

Large or narrow, small or big they all fit,
Long and short, size and form so be it.

To make it best, girl needs to soak it with care .
The cloth color won’t fade before three whole years. 

Life Of My Life, You Seem To Me – Torquato Tasso

Life of my life, you seem to me
Like some pallid olive tree
Or the faded rose I see:
Nor do you lack beauty,
But pleasing in every way to me,
In shyness or in flattery,
Whether you follow me or flee,
Consume, destroy me softly. 

Jerusalem – Book 01 – Part 03 – Torquato Tasso

“Turks, Persians conquered, Antiochia won,
Be glorious acts, and full of glorious praise,
By Heaven’s mere grace, not by our prowess done:
Those conquests were achieved by wondrous ways,
If now from that directed course we run
The God of Battles thus before us lays,
His loving kindness shall we lose, I doubt,
And be a byword to the lands about.

“Let not these blessings then sent from above
Abused be, or split in profane wise,
But let the issue correspondent prove
To good beginnings of each enterprise;
The gentle season might our courage move,
Now every passage plain and open lies:
What lets us then the great Jerusalem
With valiant squadrons round about to hem?

“Lords, I protest, and hearken all to it,
Ye times and ages, future, present, past,
Hear all ye blessed in the heavens that sit,
The time for this achievement hasteneth fast:
The longer rest worse will the season fit,
Our sureties shall with doubt be overcast.
If we forslow the siege I well foresee
From Egypt will the Pagans succored be.”

This said, the hermit Peter rose and spake,
Who sate in counsel those great Lords among:
“At my request this war was undertake,
In private cell, who erst lived closed long,
What Godfrey wills, of that no question make,
There cast no doubts where truth is plain and strong,
Your acts, I trust, will correspond his speech,
Yet one thing more I would you gladly teach.

“These strifes, unless I far mistake the thing,
And discords raised oft in disordered sort,
Your disobedience and ill managing
Of actions lost, for want of due support,
Refer I justly to a further spring,
Spring of sedition, strife, oppression, tort,
I mean commanding power to sundry given,
In thought, opinion, worth, estate, uneven.

“Where divers Lords divided empire hold,
Where causes be by gifts, not justice tried,
Where offices be falsely bought and sold,
Needs must the lordship there from virtue slide.
Of friendly parts one body then uphold,
Create one head, the rest to rule and guide:
To one the regal power and sceptre give,
That henceforth may your King and Sovereign live.”

And therewith stayed his speech. O gracious Muse,
What kindling motions in their breasts do fry?
With grace divine the hermit’s talk infuse,
That in their hearts his words may fructify;
By this a virtuous concord they did choose,
And all contentions then began to die;
The Princes with the multitude agree,
That Godfrey ruler of those wars should be.

This power they gave him, by his princely right,
All to command, to judge all, good and ill,
Laws to impose to lands subdued by might,
To maken war both when and where he will,
To hold in due subjection every wight,
Their valors to be guided by his skill;
This done, Report displays her tell-tale wings,
And to each ear the news and tidings brings.

She told the soldiers, who allowed him meet
And well deserving of that sovereign place.
Their first salutes and acclamations sweet
Received he, with love and gentle grace;
After their reverence done with kind regreet
Requited was, with mild and cheerful face,
He bids his armies should the following day
On those fair plains their standards proud display.

The golden sun rose from the silver wave,
And with his beams enamelled every green,
When up arose each warrior bold and brave,
Glistering in filed steel and armor sheen,
With jolly plumes their crests adorned they have,
And all tofore their chieftain mustered been:
He from a mountain cast his curious sight
On every footman and on every knight.

My mind, Time’s enemy, Oblivion’s foe,
Disposer true of each noteworthy thing,
Oh, let thy virtuous might avail me so,
That I each troop and captain great may sing,
That in this glorious war did famous grow,
Forgot till now by Time’s evil handling:
This work, derived from my treasures dear,
Let all times hearken, never age outwear.
The French came foremost battailous and bold,
Late led by Hugo, brother to their King,
From France the isle that rivers four infold
With rolling streams descending from their spring,
But Hugo dead, the lily fair of gold,
Their wonted ensign they tofore them bring,
Under Clotharius great, a captain good,
And hardy knight ysprong of princes’ blood.

A thousand were they in strong armors clad,
Next whom there marched forth another band,
That number, nature, and instruction had,
Like them to fight far off or charge at hand,
All valiant Normans by Lord Robert lad,
The native Duke of that renowned land,
Two bishops next their standards proud upbare,
Called Reverend William, and Good Ademare.

Their jolly notes they chanted loud and clear
On merry mornings at the mass divine,
And horrid helms high on their heads they bear
When their fierce courage they to war incline:
The first four hundred horsemen gathered near
To Orange town, and lands that it confine:
But Ademare the Poggian youth brought out,
In number like, in hard assays as stout.

Baldwin, his ensign fair, did next dispread
Among his Bulloigners of noble fame,
His brother gave him all his troops to lead,
When he commander of the field became;
The Count Carinto did him straight succeed,
Grave in advice, well skilled in Mars his game,
Four hundred brought he, but so many thrice
Led Baldwin, clad in gilden arms of price. 

She Sung Of Love – Thomas Moore

She sung of Love, while o’er her lyre 
The rosy rays of evening fell, 
As if to feed with their soft fire 
The soul within that trembling shell. 
The same rich light hung o’er her cheek, 
And play’d around those lips that sung 
And spoke, as flowers would sing and speak, 
If Love could lend their leaves a tongue. 

But soon the West no longer burn’d, 
Each rosy ray from heaven withdrew; 
And, when to gaze again I turn’d, 
The minstrel’s form seem’d fading too. 
As if her light and heaven’s were one, 
The glory all had left that frame; 
And from her glimmering lips the tone, 
As from a parting spirit, came.

Who ever loved, but had the thought 
That he and all he loved must part? 
Fill’d with this fear, I flew and caught 
The fading image to my heart — 
And cried, “Oh Love! is this thy doom? 
Oh light of youth’s resplendent day! 
Must ye then lose your golden bloom, 
And thus, like sunshine die away?” 

Drink To Her – Thomas Moore

Drink to her who long 
Hath waked the poet’s sigh, 
The girl who gave to song 
What gold could never buy. 
Oh! woman’s heart was made 
For minstrel hands alone; 
By other fingers play’d, 
It yields not half the tone. 
Then here’s to her who long 
Hath waked the poet’s sigh, 
The girl who gave to song 
What gold could never buy. 

At Beauty’s door of glass, 
When Wealth and Wit once stood, 
They ask’d her, “which might pass?” 
She answer’d, “he who could.” 
With golden key Wealth thought 
To pass — but ‘twould not do: 
While Wit a diamond brought, 
Which cut his bright way through. 
So here’s to her who long 
Hath waked the poet’s sigh, 
The girl who gave to song 
What gold could never buy. 

The love that seeks a home 
Where wealth or grandeur shines, 
Is like the gloomy gnome, 
That dwells in dark mines. 
But oh! the poet’s love 
Can boast a brighter sphere; 
Its native home’s above, 
Though woman keeps it here. 
Then drink to her who long 
Hath waked the poet’s sigh, 
The girl who gave to song 
What gold could never buy. 

Baby My Heart – Peter S. Quinn

Baby my heart is still with you
Every night and every day
Beyond the stars and deep sea blue
I’ll be there finding our way
Summer will come in colors shine
Into the dawn and the bright
Every true shading will be fine
Till there again comes the night

You and I and the blue skies
With everything outside to come
Flowery bouquets in their surprise
With what comes to us there from? 
Right or wrong whatever it is
Feelings we gave from the inside
All what’s here and we miss
Whenever our feelings would hide

Baby my heart feel the beat I give
Just as long as I can do so
There is this feeling worthy to live
Because its importance it’ll show
Everything is leaving forever stuck
Into the drafting’s of ways
If love hasn’t got it its out of luck
Forever in oblivion’s dim haze 

Baby – Dan Brown

You lie there
in all your glory.
Looking at me.
You smile at me.
Don’t you know
my heart screams
in anguish,
and confusion,
when I look at you?
I love you eternally.
But I hate you equally.
You’re everything I want.
You’re everything I can’t have.
You’re everything I won’t allow myself.
I want to drown myself in those big, blue eyes
that look up at me so dependently.
Instead, I must drown myself in the pain
that washes over me repeatedly.
You start to cry and
I kiss your forehead.
My single tear meets with your thousands,
and is lost forever as I put you to bed.

Shrawan Mukarung – Pirai Pir Ko Bhari Boki

पीरैपीरको भारी बोकी कता जाने तामाङ दाइ
उँभो लागे बिगु गुम्बा
उँधो लागे नीलो गङ्गा
जहाँ पुगे’नि सुख छैन सपना देख्ने मान्छेलाई

पहाड नाघ, जङ्घार तर भेटिने त उही सूर्य
बिसोनी हो यशोधरा तिम्रा लागि तिमी बुद्ध
पीरैपीरको भारी बोकी…

यो बाटोमा पसिनाको एकपछि अर्को हिमाल
जति आँसु बहे पनि आफ्ना लागि आफैँ रुमाल

Shrawan Mukarung – Ye Naulo Manchhe

ए नौलो मान्छे सुन यो सहरमा तिमी एक्लो छैनौ
बाटो हराएका
माटो गुमाएका
यो ठूलो संसारमा तिमी एक होइनौ

कति छन् यहाँ आफ्नो नाम खोज्दा बेनाम भएका
कति छन् यहाँ अनुहार खोज्दा पग्ली झरेका
ए नौलो मान्छे…

यहाँ छन् हजारौँ दुःखले गलेका मानिसका आँखा
यहीँ छन् हजारौँ मान्छे अटाउने देवताको काख
ए नौलो मान्छे…

तिमीले टेकेको गोलो यो पृथिवी तिम्रो पनि हो
यो धर्ती, यो आकाश अहँ हुँदैहोइन बिर्ता कसैको
ए नौलो मान्छे…

Shrawan Mukarung – Surya Grahan

तिम्रो सिउँदो भर्न मैले
यसरी हत्केला चिरेजस्तै
पृथिवीको सिउँदो भर्न
आकाश चिर्दै–चिर्दै आउने गर्छ

यसरी निधारै भरिएर रगत
तिम्रो पाउभरि खसेजस्तै
नदी हुँदै–
समुद्रमा खस्ने गर्छन्

मेरो छातीको सिरानी लगाएर तिमी–मैले
अनेक सपना देखेजस्तै
या मन्दिर छोएर हर्षले बरबरी रोएजस्तै
सूर्य कति रोयो होला–
तर, एक्कासि तिमीले झैँ पृथिवीले
सूर्यलाई छोडेर गयो– दुःखमा !
अहिले पृथिवीको सिउँदो भर्न
चन्द्रमा आकाश चिर्दै–चिर्दै आइरहेछ
मसित त न चक्कु छ न त्रिशूल !