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Opinion
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| THIRTY FIVE YEARS AGO // WRITTEN BY ASHOK RAINA | | | | I recall all those days
Once again
My heart put me into restless
The petals and flowers in the garden
We’re convincing in the breeze
The habitat of life was hanging unsteadily
The rhythm and harmony were falling apart
The nights were terrible
And sleep was constantly broken
All the wonderful dreams vanished
Persist me as, a stranger in my own land,
A story of sorrows of mine
Narrating the things
I recall all those days
Once again
Why my life remains unchanged,
No feeling fills anyone's heart,
What kind of life is this? looks to you
Trust and faith vanished in everyone’s heart
The heartbeats of my heart stopped?
Materialized world like
The scene, an empty sky?
I witnessed the terrible havoc of storms and winds,
Even the growers and landscapers
Found into troubled,
Many blossoms withered before my eyes,
The vibrant flowers were
Fell from the branches of trees
The wheels of life's chariot are broken.
The colorful birds that were disappeared
In my courtyard
The morning weather was cruel without me,
crying for sadness, grief, joy, and pain.
I recall all those days
Once again and again.
Who was it, after all
Who poured water on my desires?
Whom should I ask?
Who will even eavesdrop on me?
How could stones become emperors
Amidst the scorching summers suddenly?
The sleep come to asked me
Why are you sitting amidst a thicket of thorns?
We longed for water,
Lay down in hunger,
Settled on the shores of sand
Relying on our wretched fate.
Rubrics were espoused to keep us silent,
Promises and intents turned out to be false.
They tormented us bit by bit,
We shed tears many times.
Listen, to whom should
I tell this story?
Cherished adored Ashok, in the ghazals,
Is being remembered forever
Is telling to you
Emotion are becoming restless much more
Whom I ask like wonder to feel
I recall all those days
Once again
crying for sadness, grief, joy, and pain.
Days of Youth was so beautiful,
Ignored the image
And changed why it was on walls.
I never found the edge of feeling.
Vigor made us sleep on thorns,
Many the nights' sleeps were ruined,
Like withered flowers, my life as so
Dreams tormented me
Even more in my loneliness,
Stormy winds seemed before me.
Where was a charming life possible?
Even the beautiful marvels were taken away,
Dreams became the unreliable sources of life
The tendency of my heart feels unfortunate.
I recall all those days
Once again
crying for sadness, grief, joy, and pain.
My heart put me into restless
Remembering me the days of events
Thirty-five years ago.
(Ashok Raina editor of daily Northern times the author of this poetry) | | | | |
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