ALLAMA IQBAL

Allama Iqbal

urdu poetry

ALLAMA IQBAL

URDU POETRY

bhule shah.

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Bulleh Shah's Poetry

Bulleh Shah's Poetry

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Jey mein vekhan mere bahir Tu ain

Tey Mere under kon samana
Jey mein vekhan mere under tu ain
Te taan muqayad jana
Bus bahir Tu ain mere man wich Tu ain
Mein v Tu, tey Tu v Tu ain
Wich Bulha kon namana
Nafs paleed, paleed jey keeta
Bulhaya asal paleed tey na sey
La makan makan aye sada
Eithey aan butan wich phasay

Dr. Allama Muhammad Iqbal----NAYA SHIWALA - 2

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NAYA SHIWALA - 2

AA GHERIYYAT KAY PARDAY IK BAR PHIRR UDTHA DEN
BICHROON KO PHIRR MILA DEN' NAQASH E DOOI MITA DEN
SOONI PARRI HUI HAY MUDAT SAY DIL KI BASTI
AA IK NAYA SHIWALA IS DAIS MEIN BANA DEN
DUNYA KAY TERTHOON SAY OONCHA HUWA APNA TERATH
DAMAN E ASMAN SAY IS KA KALAS MILA DEN
HER SUBHA UDTH KAY GAEIN MANTAR WO MEEDTHAY MEEDTHAY
SARAY PUJARIOON KO MAYE PEET KI PILA DEN

SHAKTI BHI' SHANTI BHI BHUGTOON KAY GEET MEIN HAY
DHARTI KAY BASIOON KI MUKTI PAREET MEIN HAY

Dr. Allama Muhammad Iqbal

William Shakespeare - Love ART OF EUROPE

ATR OF EUROPE

William Shakespeare - Love

Tell me where is Fancy bred, 

Or in the heart or in the head! How begot, 

how nourished? Reply, 

reply. It is engender'd in the eyes,

 With gazing fed;

 and Fancy dies In the cradle where it lies.

Let us all ring Fancy's knell; I'll begin it, - Ding, 

dong, bell.  All.  Ding, dong, bell.

ART OF EUROPE

William Shakespeare -

O me!

 what eyes hath love put in my head Which have no correspondence with true sight: 

Or if they have, 

where is my judgement fled That censures falsely what they see aright?

 If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote,

 What means the world to say it is not so?

 If it be not, then love doth well denote Love's eye is not so true as all men's: 

No, How can it? O how can love's eye be true, 

That is so vex'd with watching and with tears? 

No marvel then though I mistake my view: 

The sun itself sees not till heaven clears.  

O cunning Love! with tears thou keep'st me blind Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find!

The Indian Serenade

I arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep of night,
When the winds are breathing low,
And the stars are shining bright.
I arise from dreams of thee,
And a spirit in my feet
Has led me -who knows how?
To thy chamber-window, Sweet!

The wandering airs they faint
On the dark, the silent stream -
The champak odours fail
Like sweet thoughts in a dream;
The nightingale's complaint,
It dies upon her heart,
As I must die on thine,
O beloved as thou art!

Oh lift me from the grass!
I die! I faint! I fail!
Let thy love in kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale.
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My heart beats loud and fast;
Oh press it close to thine again,
Where it will break at last!

Music, When Soft Voices Die

Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory -
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the beloved's bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.

Love's Philosophy

The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of Heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle -
Why not I with thine?

See the mountains kiss high Heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea -
What are all these kissings worth
If thou kiss not me?