Autophony

Foggy and endless the morning river stretches. Lives flow as time stands.

What wonder the river fish: fighting currents to stay in the same place.

Muddy flows the river in white polluted haze. All it does is flow.

Chameleon-like, green in the woods, black in cities, the river wanders.

L'amitie des yeux en fleur quand sommes ensemble oublie quand partie.

To your Everest be the Tenzing who says, "You're just a little hill".

Even a little hill is an Everest when you try to climb it.

A cloudy morning Makes the river seem sullen. What tricks does light play!

Argent hemispheres One real, one reflected. Truth and myth frame life.

यथा दृष्टि तथा मात्रा यथा मात्रा तथा विद्या यथा विद्या तथा सृष्टि - यथा दृष्टि तथा सृष्टि | यह कृति उमर बहुभाषीय रूपांन्तरक की मदद से देवनागरी में टाइप की गई है|

अह्ल ए हकम की शाबाशी कभी हासिल न हो, किसी तारीफ़नमे का दीदार कभी न हो, पर करामात इतना छोड जाएँगे, के लौह-ए-असल पर दर्ज रहेगा, के मेहनत कभी कम नहीं हुई, के जुनून कभी कम नहीं हुई | यह कृति उमर बहुभाषीय रूपांन्तरक की मदद से देवनागरी में टाइप की गई है|

An ashen expanse Flows under a cloudy sky. Winter quietly mourns.

Ink-black ripples float Upon mirthless quietude. Dark waters seem deep.

Ash turns to silver, The river gleams in first sun. New day, new stories.

Day envelops all, First beams yield to blinding white. Unmoved, the brook flows.

Blue stretch of water that turns turquoise in the sun. Grace is many-hued.

Silver stretch of moon Gentle meandering stream. Silence is beauty.

बिन जुनून के चाहत ऐसी, बिन बहर के ग़ज़ल जैसी, बिन इज़्तिराब के 'श्क़ ऐसी, बिन बहर के ग़ज़ल जैसे | हर लफ़्ज़ हर याद में ढूँढता हूँ, तुम्हारी आवाज़ की सरगम, हर बात बेमतलब लगती है, बिन बहर के ग़ज़ल जैसे | वक़्त के भुलाए ख़्वाब जैसे, बिन महक के फूलों जैसे, ज़िन्दगी बेजान लगती है, बिन बहर के ग़ज़ल जैसे | ख़ामोशी के आसमाँ से आँसुओं की बारिश गिरा दे बिन बादल के फ़लक ऐसे, बिन बहर के ग़ज़ल जैसे | इन सुनसान दीवारों पर अपनी हंसी के रंग चढा दे, बिन पनाह के मकान ऐसे, बिन बहर के ग़ज़ल जैसे | लडखडाओ, डगमगाओ, झलक दो के तुम इन्सान हो बिन जज़्बे के आँखें ऐसे, बिन बहर के ग़ज़ल जैसे | यह कृति उमर बहुभाषीय रूपांन्तरक की मदद से देवनागरी में टाइप की गई है|

Desire that has no passion, is like ghazals that have no beher. Longing that is not restless, is like ghazals that have no beher. In songs, in sounds, in music, these ears seek out the notes of your voice, All speech to them is meaningless, like ghazals that have no beher. Like a flower that has no fragrance, like a memory robbed by time, Life passes in dull soullessness, like ghazals that have no beher. From the heavens of silence pour down a gentle rain of tears, Cloudless the sky's vast emptiness, like ghazals that have no beher. Fill these barren chambers with the many colours of your laughter, This house stands sombre, shelterless, like ghazals that have no beher. Populate the darkness with stars, tiny orbs of twinkling delight, Else there is just blank mirthlessness, like ghazals that have no beher. Step across my threshold, and purge my home of its melancholy, Else 'Wanderer' remains homeless, like ghazals that have no beher.

I think this might be more in the doggerel line:- Long time no see not to be seen Arre my good friend where you been? Calling in office calling in home Without no telling where you roam? Aiyo, Here he comes! What do I do? How do I tell him that I have been Avoiding the very sight of you? And hell! I cannot even be mean! What you doing nowadays bhai? You will say been busy, I know. But never busy for cutting chai It good for you I telling so. How do I tell him I hate cutting tea And the waste of time that it entails? The office brew's good enough for me But let's not go into the details. Went to college together, man And doing job in office nearby But catching you I never can Why avoiding me, tell me why? Should I really tell him what I think Of his manners and his behaviour? That I'm the one paying for his drink, Ever since the days of St. Xavier? Do I tell him I don't like it when He mooches money on this or that Silly pretext and then asks again, But never retu...

मंज़िल बदल जाते हैं वक़्त के साथ, ख़्वाहिश नहीं बदलती ख़ुराक़ बदल जाते हैं वक़्त के साथ, तलब नहीं बदलती पेशे बदल जाते हैं वक़्त के साथ, थकान नहीं बदलती तुम बदलोगे, दुनिया बदलेगी, नसीब होगा सिर्फ़ सिफ़र हंगाम बदल जाता है वक़्त के साथ, हालात नहीं बदलते | यह कृति उमर बहुभाषीय रूपांन्तरक की मदद से देवनागरी में टाइप की गई है|

Six elderly aunts had I Six nagging, bragging souls. At family weddings I Am the poor one they'd hold. "You're next, you're next!" they tease me "You're next in line to go!" "Tied up in matrimony, You'll not long be solo." "We'll tie you with apron-strings, Bind you with bridal charms. We've found you a homely girl Who with her smile disarms!" Six elderly aunts had I Six nagging, bragging souls. Then Aunt Maragatham died, For age must take its toll. The five left are now solemn, There's wedding talk no more. "You're next, you're next!" I tell them, "You're next in line to go!"

ख़्वाहिश ए कौम की आवाज़ सुनो, आ'इने वक़्त में झांक के देखो| मुहिब्ब ए जान हो तो गौर करो, आ'इने वक़्त में झांक के देखो| आवाज़ यह मौजूद ज़माने की, गली‍ गली में गूँजती है| सदा ए महकूम है इनक़िलाब, आ'इने वक़्त में झांक के देखो| बादशाहों के ताज समन्दर की लहरों पर सफ़ेद झाग है जो बहाकर ले जायेगी सैलाब, आ'इने वक़्त में झांक के देखो| अपने नाम के मोहर पिघला दे, रुतबा सिर्फ़ आल्लाह का होगा| याद रखना वह माँगेगा हिसाब, आ'इने वक़्त में झांक के देखो| जला दो अपने फ़तवे फ़रमान, नकार दो यह शौक़त ओ शान कितने दिन तक रहेगा शबाब, आ'इने वक़्त में झांक के देखो| रौब‍-रुबाब जमाते-दिखाते, नज़रन्दाज़ न कर देना इन सरगर्मियों के इज़तिराब, आ ' इने वक़्त में झांक के देखो | ज़मीन कांपते गिरेंगे महल, आग लगते जल जाएँगे ताज तब भी करोगे इतना मक़ताब? आ ' इने वक़्त में झांक के देखो | यह कृति उमर बहुभाषीय रूपांन्तरक की मदद से देवनागरी में टाइप की गई है|

महफूज़ रखेंगे आपके तोहफ़े, जो दर्द दिये, जो सितम दिये; ‍ग़‌म नहीं के तुमने ग़‌म दिये, ग़‌म यही के तुमने कम दिये| यह कृति उमर बहुभाषीय रूपांन्तरक की मदद से देवनागरी में टाइप की गई है|

The calm surface marks the turbulence of the storm. Moody is the brook.

I cannot wait for you to pull me off my bed run your finger through my spine open me and plunge right in; tensed I wait for your wet finger to touch me. Grasp me Fondle me beloved before I return to spend an eternity on the bookshelf.

Clouds dull the night sky while puddles on earth twinkle. Rain changes all things.

The river at night: Steel sheets among shapes of grey. Softly, water sings.

Stone-strewn field. You'd think nothing would grow; wait for rain. Wetted, brown turns green.

Perdidi sed te amare gavisus sum. Amor vita est.

Entre les nuages la lune brille comme un orbe d'argent. Nuits d'été sont belles.

Unless She likes it, everything I write is trash. Love is my haiku.

A forest aflame with hues saffron, red and gold. Flowers delight the eye.

Pretty Lantana flowers - red, yellow and white. The best things are small.

Je t'ai perdu mais t'aimer était très heureux. L'amour est la vie.

The moon silvers the river through a clouded sky. Calm waters bring peace.

The forest asleep is the time of the leopard. Death disturbs the night.

Flooded paddy fields glimmer silver by moonlight. Night shimmers in peace.

Sunrays sneak through the clouds to a welcoming green. Pauses in rain please.

As light sneaks through clouds, A rainbow streaks through the sky. Rain delights all hearts.

L'eau tombe du ciel, Et mon coeur, il se remplit. C'est joie qui pleut.

Water falls from the skies, and my heart fills itself. It is joy that rains.

உள்ளத்தை ரொப்ப, வானம் கொட்டும் பொன்மழை மகழ்ச்சி வெள்ளும்.

The earth erupts in green; death dissolves in water. Monsoon blooms delight.

Why just dormant seeds? Joy is for mushrooms even. Rain knows no favours.

For three happy months, Earth is a fairyland green. Monsoon is magic.

Tiny umbrellas open whenrains kiss the earth. Joyful, love mushrooms.

Little seeds awaken as green pushes out of brown. Rain makes mountains bloom.

Washed out spirits trudge on with ceaseless daily chores. Rain steadily pours.

my eyes met hers in a train her hands rose to cover them and revealed one and then the other a little giggle burst out and i was in love i hid myself behind my book her earnest eyes searched i suddenly revealed myself and said boo she laughed out in her shrill voice and i was in love again then she covered her face and unhid it again she shouted boo and laughed and i was in love forever

rain comes. Ants fly in- to the mouth of waiting death. Unskilled hopes perish.

Var 1:- The lightning sparks glee, It thunders with ecstasy, And gently rains joy. Var 2:- The lightning sparks glee, And thunders with ecstasy. And rain gently pours.

Pregnant clouds give birth. And as seeds burst through their shells, Life rains from the sky.

I spoke to Him. He asked: Why dost thou worship me? Dost thou worship my infinite genius of creativity that made the heavens, the flowers and thee? Or dost thou worship the unerring measurer of thy deeds, who judges and sentences without appeal?

For every Alexander There is a Punjab, For every Bligh a Bounty, An East India Company May plunder, chase revenues And impose doctrines, But it would do well To steer clear of Dumdum bullets.

My Refund cries under the taxman My Refund cries under the king My Refund cries under the taxman Oh give back my Refund to me Give back, give back Give back my Refund to me, to me Give back, give back Give back my Refund to me Last night as I sat with my accounts Last night as I sat with my books Last night as I sat with my accounts I dreamed that my Refund was dead Give back, Give back Give back my Refund to me, to me Give back, Give back Give back my Refund to me Oh throw ye curses o'er the taxman And throw ye curses o'er the king Oh throw ye curses o'er the taxman And Get back my Refund to me Give back, Give back Give back my Refund to me, to me Give back, Give back Give back my Refund to me The lies will blow over the taxman The lies will blow over the king The lies will blow over the taxman And give back my Refund to me Give back, Give back Give back my Refund to me, to me Give back, Give back Give back my Refund to me

Squashed, she lay in a pool of other people's blood, Squished, she lay in a pool of other people's blood! Oh! Her crumpled gossamer wings shall buzz no more, Hushed, they lay in a pool of other people's blood! Alas! Her broken slender legs shall land no more, Smashed, they lay in a pool of other people's blood! Oh! Her maxillary palps shall sense veins no more, Bashed, they lay in a pool of other people's blood! Oh! Her blunted piercing stylets shall drill no more, Mashed, they lay in a pool of other people's blood! Alas! Her maxilla shall suck up blood no more, Coshed, it lay in a pool of other people's blood! Dreams of little maggots floating in still water, Dashed, they lay in a pool of other people's blood! Hopes of a malarial life lived together, Quashed, they lay in a pool of other people's blood! Pitiful this male mosquito sings lamenting, Crushed, She lay in a pool of other people's blood!

Cracking pods release silk-cotton seeds in the air. Summer sows new life.

"Scripsis poesem Persicam, eh!" "Lingua pulcherissima est, ne?" "Scriptum arabicum est." "Nimium bellum, non est ne?" "Id quid codum secretum Al-Qaedae visum est." "Vere dicistis fabulae! Id prex ad Khodam est." "Khoda Allah est, integre?" "Multi sunt nomines Dei." "Illi viri clamant Allahu-Akbar, non clamantne? Codum est, scivi ego!" * "TERRORATOR SIMULANS POETA PERSICA CAPTUS EST"

Those times of strain, those tears of suffering, shall be remembered. Of ceaseless toil and repeated trying, shall be remembered. Sincerely made attempts to please unrelenting hearts, Efforts in vain, always failing, shall be remembered. I never sinned, yet in the minds of those who judge me, This damning stain, never fading, shall be remembered. They say I failed; I fled from them. But their curses that Follow in train,never pausing, shall be remembered. But yet Raamesh, shall dauntlessly be avenged some day His heavy price, never sparing, shall be remembered.

तुम्हारी मोतियों के रेगिस्तान का हम क्या करेंगे? जी लेंगे हम अगर आप हमारे नाम एक आंसू मॊहब्बत का बहा देंगे! यह कृति उमर बहुभाषीय रूपांन्तरक की मदद से देवनागरी में टाइप की गई है|

Don't send me other people's poems. When your ocean has countless pearls Each more beautiful than the other, Why do I care for shallow rivers' gold-dust?

You may be just a speck of dust in the desert a grain of salt in the sea; but I am a chemist - a molecule is more interesting than the cosmos.

मैंने तो केवल खींची थीं कागज़ पर, काली सियाही की चन्द रेखाएँ; तुम्ही ने बनायीं उन रेखाओं को, कथा‍पात्रों की जीवनरेखाएँ | यह कृति उमर बहुभाषीय रूपांन्तरक की मदद से देवनागरी में टाइप की गई है|

What beauty in a star that does not twinkle? what love in an anklet that does not tinkle? What beauty in a bulbul that does not sing? What beauty in a school-bell that does not ring? How cute a buffalo not covered in mud? What beauty in a louse that does not suck blood? What fun politicians who do not gaffe? What beauty in a snob who likes the riff-raff? What beauty in an aunt who does not gossip? What use a banana peel that does not trip? What beauty in an itch that you cannot scratch? What beauty in an account that does not match? What beauty in a will that is not for me? What beauty in a download that is not free? What beauty in puris that drip not with oil? What beauty in a python that does not coil? What beauty in a witch who does not cackle? What fun a footballer who does not tackle? What beauty in a scorpion that does not sting? What beauty in a gutter that does not stink? What beauty in a fly that irritates not? What beauty in you who appreciates not?

सालों अकेला रह जाने का कोई फ़िक़्र नहीं बेबस राह देखते रह जाने का, कोई फ़िक़्र नहीं जब तेरा साथ ही नहीं था, बिछड़ने का क्या डर तन्हाई में तरस जाने का, कोई फ़िक़्र नहीं यादों की बैसाखी पकडे कटती है ज़िन्दगी इन्हें कभी भी ख़ो जाने का, कोई फ़िक़्र नहीं लिपट जाऊँ मैं तेरी बिछड़ाहत के नूर से इस पतंगे को जल जाने का, कोई फ़िक़्र नहीं यह चाहत तेरी, न मरने देती है न जीने पर छटपटाते रह जाने का, कोई फ़िक़्र नहीं अकेले पन की अब आदत लग गयी है सनम तेरे बिन जीवन जी जाने का, कोई फ़िक़्र नहीं अब तू आएगी तो घबरा जाए रामेश, लेकिन आ जा, तेरे आने जाने का, कोई फ़िक़्र नहीं यह कृति उमर बहुभाषीय रूपांन्तरक की मदद से देवनागरी में टाइप की गई है|

seize the day there is tomorrow seize on joy to hell with sorrrow i place on your altar cocaine and crack in your great temple no pleasure shall lack for some you're a cigarette joy wrapped in paper or a charas-filled chillum which high doesn't taper some seek you in wine they sip you, they sniff you for some you're in toddy they straightforward quaff you you're a sachet of gutkha a snort of some snuff for some you're in shoe- polish or similar stuff some seek you in sport they seek victory on top of a mountain in the surf of the sea some scared of defeat choose the spectator-box for them you're the win of the boston red sox some seek to seduce the one they adore weaker ones seek you in the arms of a whore some think you exist in things they acquire they think they find you when stocks rise higher you're the immortal name that some seek to conquer like a gandhi did once with protest and hunger some call you glory they seek you in war they slaughter young sol...

Team 2 of the Workshop for Writing for Children, Kala Ghoda Arts Festival - Manoj Sood, Jennifer Alphonso, Nandita Banerjee and Raamesh Gowri Raghavan Mumbai, 2 & 3 February 2008 In the land of Old Uvai, In the Ngoro Ngoro forest, Lived a nasty naughty boy, Who was never at a rest. His name was Konoo-Monoo, He lived upon a Dhonoo, He ate mongongo nuts And ripe chamanchaputs. He was fond of irritating, Whoever slept a wink For if he saw you sleeping, He would tickle you pink. He had a proud, long tail, A really long, long tail, All humans then had tails, you see, But them they lost 'em. How? Just see! He washed his tail with water, He thought it very fine. He said, “everyone oughter, Have a Tail like mine!” Huma the Head-Elephant, Said, “Do not be arrogant, Now mind my sound advice, Lest you be cursed thrice!” “Once cursed you may be, A second you may catch, But if it comes to three, Your tail shall detach!” But Konoo-Monoo giggled, He tickled and he jiggled, He said, “Hoof”, he...

Eleven hundred Twenty-nine dollars. Eight cents. Nine dollars a poem.

दुनिया के चाहत का दरिया क्यों न हो, क्या करेगा रामेश, तेरे मॊहब्बत का एक क़तरा मिल जाए, जी जाएगा रामेश | यह कृति उमर बहुभाषीय रूपांन्तरक की मदद से देवनागरी में टाइप की गई है|

April is the grasshopper's time, The cricket and cicada's too; April is the time of flowers, The time of sweet nectar-filled flowers; April is the time of singing, The time to chirp serenades of love; April is the time of summer, The summer of May and June; April is the season of joy, The joy that seems eternal. but April's the month of deceit, The joys are but ephemeral; April blinds one to December, And its cold that starves and torments; April's a cheat and a liar, April is the cruellest month. (drawing from the fable of the ant and the cicada)

On opening a book of verse, falls a strand of memory. A part of you that is ever mine, this strand of memory. Intangible, infrangible, It keeps bound among these pages - The bonds that you chose to sever, dear, this strand of memory. It seems you are talking to me; It replays the things you said, Funny, dull, silly, vague, clever, clear, this strand of memory. Like a shiny black record tape, it plays again and again, The voice I am doomed to never hear, this strand of memory. You never concede that you err, But it stores forever the Mistakes you hid with a clever tear, this strand of memory. The twinkle of your jewels comes back; It floods my senses, dispels, A parting that I need never fear, this strand of memory. The paper crumbles, the ink fades, but your ghazals still echo, They stream back to me as ever clear, this strand of memory. You never were mine, but entrapped among these ageing verses, ...

Chains of DNA Play an endless game of dice. A chance throw made me.

पैसा पडा है बैंक में, आठ टक्का ब्याज है | रामेश पाहे कंजूस को, खाता रोटी‍ प्याज है || यह कृति उमर बहुभाषीय रूपांन्तरक की मदद से देवनागरी में टाइप की गई है|

बोझ ढोते दर्द जो रोए, चादर ओढे सोए | रामेश देखो चींटी को, काज कैसे होए || यह कृति उमर बहुभाषीय रूपांन्तरक की मदद से देवनागरी में टाइप की गई है|

Variation 1:- I am because some DNA must replicate. Carbon defines life. Variation 2:- I am because some DNA must replicate. The Red Queen enslaves.

Through cracks in concrete, a Laburnum blooms yellow. Life finds ways to live.

Stiff doorkeepers, Elderly Parsi ladies, Catholics from Bandra, Swanks with corporate passes, And the mandatory coconut, Babes thrown in for spice, And there must obviously, be boys to impress them. And some like me, On cheap tickets Thinking they alone came for the music. Stephen Kovacevich plays to us all. (The pianist Stephen Kovacevich played Bach and Beethoven at the NCPA on March 19th, 2008.)

I exist because the dinosaurs went extinct. A meteor made me.

Forest fires singe winter's leaves for summer's blooms. Death makes way for life.

A few colourless drops turn dead brown to vivid green. The monsoon brings life.

A few drops of rain: Barren soil erupts in life. Frist showers enthrall.

A floating brinjal is all that remains of you. But memory will haunt.

Cracked Gulmohur pods sow red flowers next summer. Life's never dormant.

Writing senryu is a lifetime of syllables. To save one is joy.

कभी तेरे दीदार से मचली थी यादें | अब तड़‌पती रहती हैं मसली हुई यादें || कभी तेर आँखों में खो जाती थी साँसें | अब तलाश‌ती रहती हैं मसली हुई यादें || गूँजती जब हँसी तेरी, निखर जाती हवाएँ | अब तरस‌ती रहती हैं मसली हुई यादें || तेरे वायदे तेरे बातों से बान्धे थे सपने | अब बीख़‌र‌ती रहती हैं मसली हुई यादें || मुस्कुराता था रामेश, पनपती आशाएँ | अब सिसक‌ती रहती हैं मसली हुई यादें || (re-edited a bit) यह कृति उमर बहुभाषीय रूपांन्तरक की मदद से देवनागरी में टाइप की गई है|

Tuka mhane: आम्हां घरी धन शब्दांचीच रत्नें | शब्दांचीच शस्त्रें यत्न करुं || शब्द चि आमुच्या जीवांचे जीवन | शब्दें वांटूं धन जनलोकां || तुका म्हणे पाहा शब्द चि हा देव | शब्द चि गौरव पूजा करुं || Translation (by Dilip Chitre, the renowned Marathi poet): Words are the only Jewels I possess Words are the only Clothes that I wear Words are the only food That sustains my life Words are the only wealth I distribute among people Says Tuka Witness the Word He is God I worship Him With my words My own transcreation: If you open my jewel-box, you will only find words If you raid my castle, only my words will defend me All I need to live upon, is the magic of words All my charity is done through my words Behold The Word: The Word is my only God Worship It: it is the beginning, it is the end

Seed pods straining tense, On the first splash shall explode. Summer waits for rain.

December morals: Time dies, time cycles again. New things will happen.

November twilight like the year's forsaken cause. Endings agonise.

October goes from verdant to yellow to brown. All things must decay.

Bappa Morya comes visiting in September. Revelry is peace.

Floods of joy or tears as August rain so chooses. Water: life and death.

Puddles delight me though city folk just plod on. Rain defines July.

It is now time to buy uniforms and raincoats. June explodes in green.

Hot hotter hottest. May vacation trains run full. Home beckons the sick.

Hot hotter hottest. May eagerly seeks rain clouds. Heat boils embarrass.

All Fools' Day begins the new financial year's hopes. April blooms delight.

Many worries plague a sweating tropical March. Income-tax bothers.

Hopes not extinguished flicker in February. Resolutions break.

It's said time cycles anew every January. Beginnings excite.

लोग हमें देखकर हंसते हैं, कहते हैं देखो जा रहा है ज़माने को बदलनेवाला ठेकेदार‌ हम उनसे ख़ैर‌ इतना कहना चाहते हैं शायरों ने भी छोड दिया तो कौन होगा ज़माने का ज़िम्मेदार? यह कृति उमर बहुभाषीय रूपांन्तरक की मदद से देवनागरी में टाइप की गई है|

ना क‌ब्र‌ गाढ़े गढ़‌ती है ना आग जलाये जलती है तेरे मुहिब्ब की इबादत है ना लाख़ मिटाये मिटती है यह कृति उमर बहुभाषीय रूपांन्तरक की मदद से देवनागरी में टाइप की गई है|

Big frightening words Make doctors feel Important. But they are just words.

Joy unshared with you Is a flowerless summer. Incompleteness pricks.

when you are with me Cold loneliness shall vanish. Spring erupts again. (Can haiku have more than one kigo?)

I saw somebody in the train today And the mind immediately started off: Knock! Knock! Who's there? Sabzi. Er...Sabzi Who? Sabzi Gurkha! I suppressed the giggles. But the stereotypes continue to live.

At times it's Zen, but when I wait upon your voice silence always hurts.

She just resembles. This autumn heart skips a beat. Old love always burns.

Silence. Sometimes Zen. A winter of despondence that forever hurts.

बर्फी के घर में शादी है, दुल्हा उसका लड्डू है, माला उसकी किशमिश है, चूडी उसकी काजू है, बादाम उसकी बाली है, चाँदी की उसकी चुनरी है! यह कृति उमर बहुभाषीय रूपांन्तरक की मदद से देवनागरी में टाइप की गई है|

“Remove the Ganpati from main door. Move the god on the left to the right. Move the god on the east to the south. Do this. Do that. It will bring prosperity. Paint your toilet yellow. Keep cupboards on opposite walls. Shift your stamp-cabinet to southwest. That will remove negative energy from house. You are keeping many gods in house. It is good sign. But they will not be happy, because you are keeping dog in house. Do as I am saying. God will shower blessings on you.” Go away. Go far far away. I don't want you and your god. What kind of god is he that will bless a house with yellow toilets only? And if the saints say that He is everywhere, how does it matter whether he be in the south or east or southwest? And by what rules of physics do opposing cupboards remove negative energy? My dog is my god, for he brings me happiness. Is that not a god's task? My idols are my gods. For in them I see Him and adore Him. My toilets, my cupboard, my house, they are my gods. For they give m...

maintenant que je t'ai perdu ma jeunesse l'oeil te cherche ce-corps-ci a soixante la goutte ce corps-ci est gras il meurt mais ce-coeur-ci le coeur qui feint ce-coeur-ci n'admettra pas il cherche dans tes yeux ta voix ta chair ton parfum je suis jaloux je te hais je suis saisi je t'aime embrassez-moi je vivrai embrassez-moi je mourrai un pécheur un voyeur un baiseur débauché je bois je masturbe je suis totalement brûlé Ma jeunesse me trouve ma tombe mais celle qui je cherche c'est tu

Why am I a writer? Why must pen scratch paper? What is it that makes me Want to tell a story? Why think of truth, beauty, Hope, error and duty? Why not live, love and die? Why tell the reason? Why? Because in a story Thou art freed from worry For an hour thou art free And then truth shall claim thee. So ink must blot paper, That's why I'm a writer. I've violated all traditional sonnet rhyme schemes here, following a (perhaps labored) scheme of aa bbbb cc bbbb aa. Does it work?