Dard-e-dil, dard-e-jigar

Khoya khoya sa hoon

Ki apni hi talaash mein hoon

Sehma sehma sa hoon

Ki kuchh niraash sa hoon

Bunte the khwaab bhi kabhi

Jab kabhi asha ki thi kiran

Ab to aalam hai ye banaa

Ki haare baazigar ke taash sa hoon

Loose English translation:

I am somewhat lost
For I'm in search of my own self
I am somewhat subdued
For I'm disillusioned at the moment
I used to weave dreams once
When I thought I could see a ray of hope
But now I feel like a gambler
Dealt a hand that can only lose

P.S: My occasional forays in the world of poetry sometimes do border on the morose. This is purely because I like to indulge in all moods in my poetry, not just the gung-ho type. The poetry should therefore not be seen as necessarily reflective of my state of mind. :-)

Whose life is it anyway?

So they’ve ceased firing

For how long, I wonder

A year, maybe two

‘fore the bombs again thunder

Where life is cheap

And dignity even cheaper

The wrinkles tell their own story

As the wounds just get deeper

That child silenced for ever

Was she Jew or non-Jew

Collateral damage, they say

And continue to bomb anew

And we, from the sidelines, watch

This drama year after year

From the comfort of our cosiness

We shed the odd tear.