Amor mio

Kuch Aks Khalb ke

Aftaab se raushan nahin hota andhera khalb ka Ishq hai nahin hissa kisi lavz o alfaz ka
Ruuh hai bas jagir dildaar ka mohabbat hai bas chirrag is aashiq ka

Resham ke parde se nahin dhakte hain didein us Nargis ke
Mazhab ke deewaron se nahin rukte mohabbat is aashiq ke

Tasbih aur zunnar kya rakhein hum aashiqon ko duur tha aakbat
Rakhein kaise duur unhe jinhe mila hai noor e mohabbat

Wohi akidat hain is imam e ishq ki hai kohinoor is falsafi e mohabbat ki
Wohi taj hai is badshah e mohabbat ki manzil hain is Musafir ki

Winter The Capricious Mistress of the Indian Plain

The Air is clean crisp and neat

The Sweat has dried from the City Street

The Garbage stinks no more from Hellish Shores

The Season comes for Love in Indian lores

The Summer so loved of Britain's clime

Oh the Gaulish spring favored of Bards in Prime

Do fade in the hot eyes of Bhaskar pouring his heat

The Sweat leaves only Mangoes as enjoyable treat

The Hills and their Queen of all

Do dress and hold Beauty as thrall

But all is lost to the souls of Plains

The ragged souls tied in Chains

Burned by Aftaab in his affable way

Where his regime holds the Greatest sway

Skins burnt and parched by the Midnight Sun

Can but aspire for the Paradise which them does shun

And Burn them alive in the roasted peat

As hot lava flows for every heartbeat

To such thralls of pain a leisure comes to bless

A time frail and of duration too less

That waters their burning hearts

And saves them for a time from Ravi's flaming darts

That salves their burnt dark skin

That burninig passions to celebrations wean

Thus the dam breaks on the Indian Heart

And thus at last does the repreive of Winter Start

The slow chill enters the marrow and shakes the bone at place

Yet the Gods at such times are given greater grace

For finally the chill does come

The taste of Ambrosia for all and some

The Sweat cool and allows the Dancer to open his pace

For the winter chill does allow the Joy and Grace

As Men and Gods celebrate the sky

That Gives them the right to spread their wing and fly

Such is Winter a heaven on the Indian Plain

Which removes of the land all mark and stain

And gives a heaven for the people all

To celebrate with abandon and let hard work stall

The World is enriched yet for another day

As the people celebrate their living lay

The burning passion of the Lover as he takes his Mistress at night

Is tempered softly and reduced slight

Not in quantity but in the flame of Romantic Quality does he stake his time

As he enjoys the sight when his Mistress's lip the Garden of Indra does mime

Her eyes with their soft grace evoke the beauty of the Immortal Dhruva's race

And her smile which all the wonders made of Men does disgrace

Her alabaster skin which the colour of the Gandharvas does mime

Her hair with the shine of Kuber's Treasure does mock time

The sweaty nights do primal passions bring

But the cool Usha does allow the man to feel Eros's own sting

As his Mistress lies not only as Venus to him

But the Lakshmi who brightens his heart's passages dim

Her soft skin so fragnant of the smell of Amour

Is yet to treasure as the fragrance of her passionate Ardour

As the poet feels himself to be a God or hero of Old

For how else could to trap a Goddess he be so bold

And Winter in the plains gives him the time to prance

As a Lordly Lion can he to his Heartbeat Dance

Visit those he loves far and near

For Sweat shall not away from Darkness him steer

For now is Byron's Lake washed in cool Selene Light open to him

For now is the clean silver land shown to him

I am a bard yet but a common man

To tell of a Woman's heart I dare not nor can

But Winter is but a treasure to all

Trapped in the hot an humid Prison Stall

The Flowers bloom in The Indian clime

And to treasure them is it the greatest time

And trapped in Summer it remains a dream

To cool oneself in Winter's Stream

And as the cool air does comfort those of The Caucasian West

The Indian pains suffer to paas Phoebus's test

His Chariot is said to have burnt the Indian Skin

But Ancients knew not that every year he tries to win

As the Cooling Air the Indian Plane does shun

The Aryans of East await Winter's return

Droplets(A Rubbayi)

Beyond the moon and my mistresses's eyes don't speak
If not her vocal symphony then don't speak


If not on how best to love her don't speak
If not on the Love we share don't speak


If not how the Gods are slaves to my Love Don't speak
If not on the one who is the Universe why speak!