Mirza Galib Shayari is a thing of today and tomorrow. Once he said: “We don't like running in our veins, what is blood when it doesn't drip from the eye.”
रगों में दौड़ते फिरने के हम नहीं क़ायल, जब आँख ही से न टपका… तो फिर लहू क्या है.
Ghalib
Writing such punchlines could only be the great and famous Ghalib (pen name). His real name was Mirza Asadullah Baig Khan Ghalib (27 Dec 1797–15 Feb 1869), Indian poet of 80s when Mughals were disappearing and the era uprooted by British Raj. His writing life began at the age of 11 in his favorite languages (Urdu and Persian). However, his audience loved his poetry in Urdu. He could also write and read Persian too.
Galib was born in Agra to Mirza Abdullah Baig and Izzat-ut-Nisa Begum. His mother was a Kashmiri. Ghalib saw pain and struggles since his childhood, he got his first shock when his father died. Ghalib was too young. His father died in the battle of 1803, the battle of Laswari. It was second Anglo — Marathi War occurred on November 1, 1803 near Laswari village, Alwar.
Therefore, the poet raised by his paternal uncle for few years, and again Mirza got another shock when his uncle passed away. During those days, his poetic tiny brain was under development through those ups and downs of his life. However, he grabbed those emotional era and imprinted inside his heart-to-soul.
Hindi Shayari (Kavita) by Ghalib
Di se teri Nigaah jigar tak utar gai, dono ko ik adaa mein razamand kar gai
Ghalib in Hindi
दिल से तेरी निगाह जिगर तक उतर गई, दोनो को इक अदा में रजामंद कर गई |
Mirza Galib Shayari in English
From the heart, your eyes went down to the liver, agreed to both of them in a single gesture
Marriage at 13 what brings miracle in life?
The sparkling thoughts started gathering in him at the age of 11 and got married at the age of 13. Does marriage teach a man like him? One who is very young to understand or to taste the life. How can one prepared to get married at such a young age? Therefore, his intelligence marked in the history through his imagination skills, mostly in love and affairs putting them together. It is possible when one who gone through sorrow and grief could be the one. Furthermore, reading this biography, it takes you through ups and downs from his young life to through married and then old age. Mirza Galib Shayari in India is famous across the country.
Dard jab dil mein ho toh dawa keejiye Dill hi jab dard ho toh kya keejiye
दर्द जब दिल में हो तो दावा कीजिये दिल ही जब दर्द हो तो क्या कीजिये
When the pain is in the heart, give it medicine Heart only when it hurts so, what to do?
A Quote by Mirza Ghalib
This world is a child’s playground for me. A spectacle unfolds day and night before me.
Ghalib
According to Ghalib, the poet is one who gambled, got into the jailed and has beaten with sleepers by lovers. He exactly expressed to one who has many emotional attachments. The one who passed through many struggles, crimes could evoke a lot of emotions on pages. However, the life of Ghalib had never been a straight, simple, and easy. He was taught from the life’s great lesson and experiences. Therefore, it's inspired thoughts his soul built from. Once he was also fell in love, but jealousy had never been onto his mind.
Ghalib thoughts that loving a person does not mean achieving, staying together or take the control of it. But, love it from the heart, spend some time with the person you love, share good and bad experiences and support each other mentally. No one has been skipped the travel of life’s struggles. The poems of Ghalib also said that married life is a prison of sorrow from bondage, and one who is bound left no one free from them. In central Kolkata, free school street is now Mirza Ghalib Street.
Prison of Life according to Mirza Ghalib
The prison of life and the bondage of sorrow are one and the same Why should man be free of sorrow before dying?
Ghalib
The book, The Last Mughal: The Fall of a Dynasty, Delhi, 1857 written by William Dalrymple wrote that Ghalib was called “ladies man” the most of his writings (Shayari and poems) written on love themes. His most loved city was Delhi,
“I asked my soul: what is Dilli, she replied: the world is the body and Dilli is its life.”
Hello readers! Welcome to lekh my name is Ashish Rasila and I wrote Hindi poem “Not My Intention — मेरा मक़सद नहीं”. I am an extensive reader and writing poetry since 2015. My birthplace is Firozpur; however, I grew up reading and writing in Haryana. However, I love to read biography of the famous personalities around the world. My favorite food is 'Kheer' as well as most of the famous Indian foods.
My favorite book is Encyclopedia. I believe, Chandigarh is the most beautiful city he has ever seen so far. Because of two things, I graduated in the city and second thing, I completed my education with my best friend and real brother, Nitish Rasila.
Hindi Poem “मेरा मक़सद नहीं” by poet Ashish Rasila and its Analysis
Poem “मेरा मक़सद नहीं — Not My Intention”
खुद को किसी से बेहतर कहना मेरा मक़सद नहीं,
किसी का दिल दुखा कर खुश रहना मेरा मक़सद नहीं।
मैं जो भी था, मैं जो भी हूं , मैं जो भी होने वाला हूं ,
अपने हालों पर किसी को मुजरिम बनाना मेरा मक़सद नहीं।
मुझ से अनजाने में किसी का दिल भी टूट सकता है ,
मगर मैं पलट कर माफ़ी ना मांगू, मेरा मक़सद नहीं ।
कुछ टूटे हैं मुझ से रिश्ते, कुछ लोगों ने मुझ से तोड़े हैं,
मगर रिश्तों के टूटने से मैं ख़ुद टूट जाऊं, मेरा मक़सद नहीं ।
मैं किसी के ऐब गिनाता फिरूं ये मेरी ज़हनियत नहीं है ,
अपने दुश्मन को भी बुरा कहना, मेरा मक़सद नहीं ।
झुक जाए सर मेरे एहतराम में, ऐसी शोहरत का मोहताज नही,
किसी का सर झुका कर उसे गले लगाना, मेरा मक़सद नहीं।
किसी के सपनों पर मैं अपने सपनों की नीव नही रख सकता,
किसी को हरा कर जितने की मुराद रखना, मेरा मक़सद नहीं।
ये दुनियां एक दुनियां है मेरी दुनियां तो कहीं और है ,
ख्वाबों की दुनियां में हकीकत को भूल जाना, मेरा मक़सद नहीं।
मेरा गलत होना या सही होना तुम्हारे नजरिए से है,
किसी के कहने पर मैं बदल जाऊं, मेरा मक़सद नहीं ।
खुदा है तो खुदा होगा, मुझे उसके होने पर ऐतराज नहीं,
खुदा के नाम पर मैं मिट जाऊं ऐसा सोचना, मेरा मक़सद नहीं ।
मुनासिफ है की कल बुलंदियों का मैं आसमान चुमूं ,
मगर मैं अपनी ओकाद भूल जाऊं, मेरा मक़सद नहीं ।
इस दुनियां में रहने वाले हम सभी किरायेदार हैं ,
मैं जैसे आया था, वैसे ही लौट जाऊं, मेरा मक़सद नहीं ।
मैंने बहुत सोच समझ कर ये अपनी बातें रखी हैं ,
लोग अपने दिल पर ना लगा बैठें, मेरा मक़सद नहीं ।।
Translation & Criticism of The Hindi Poem “मेरा मक़सद नहीं - Not My Intention” by Lokesh Umak
It is not my intention to call myself better than anyone,
It is not my intention to be happy by hurting the heart of someone else.
Whatever I was, whoever I am, whatever I am going to be,
It is not my intention to make anyone guilty on my status.
I can unintentionally break someone's heart,
But I will not apologize by turning back, it is not my intention.
Some have broken relationships with me, some people have broken with me,
But due to the breakdown of relationships, I break myself, it is not my intention.
It is not my duty to count someone else's name.
It is not my intention to call my enemy bad.
Bow down head in my respect, do not want such fame,
It is not my intention to hug someone by bowing their head.
I cannot lay my dreams on someone's dreams,
It is not my intention to wish to win by defeating someone.
This world is one world, my world is somewhere else,
Forgetting reality in the world of dreams is not my intention.
My being wrongs or being right is from your point of view,
I should change at the behest of someone, not my intention.
If God is there, then God will be there, I don't mind being there.
It is not my intention to think that I should perish for God.
It is beneficial that tomorrow I should kiss the sky of heights,
But let me forget my position, not my purpose.
We are all tenants living in this world,
I should return as I came, it is not my intention.
I have kept these things very thoughtfully,
People should mind it, is not my intention.
[rb_related title="Also in This Issue" total="2"]
Criticism of the poem “Not My Intention”
The poet has many things to discuss here and has different intentions. However, they are unique and special for him. He prefers not to call himself good, nor wanted to hurt someone. He feels it would be better not to live his life guilty any more. The poet never wants to break someone's heart, if at all, for that, he is always ready to apologize. He wants not to finish himself on the broken relationship with his loved and dear one. His soul is pure, he never wants to call his enemy bad. The poet neither lay his dream on someone else, nor win by defeating anybody. There is worship for God, but not ready to die for him. He wants to touch the sky irrespective of this position, however, don't want to forget his purpose. Whatever is his thought people should mind it, isn't his intension at all.
The famous poets of India always put culture first in their writings and poems. Some demonstrated eternal wisdom, a path to peace, and devotions, while others spread Bhakti movements.
These beautiful poems from the famous poets of India contain hidden and meaningful life
We must learn about the famous poets of India and the culture of India in the 14th century by reading their beautiful poems, which contain meaningful life's motives.
Famous Poets Of India and Their well-known Poems
List of the Famous Poets Of India and Their Poems
Dnyaneshwar Maharaj
Dnyaneshwar Maharaj (1275 - 1296), there are a total of 18 chapters in Dnyaneshwari (Eternal Wisdom of Dnyaneshwari is Available on Amazon in Paperback by author, Vassant Shirvaikar),
it is the greatest novel written by Dnyaneshwar Maharaj who was once a great saint, the Holy Spirit who is called Mauli was a 13th-century poet and yogi. He lived only for 21 years and has contributed in the form of literature.
Poem Pasaydan in English
“Now may the cosmic God be satisfied with my rhetoric and give me this Pasaydan (offering).॥
Let the wickedness of the wicked disappear, let them be interested in doing good deeds.
Create a sense of friendship in all creatures. ॥
May the darkness of ignorance of the sinful man disappear, may the sun of self-righteousness rise in the universe.
May the wishes of life be fulfilled. ॥
May the God-fearing saints who shower all kinds of Mars come down to earth and meet the creatures. ॥
Those (saints) are the walking gardens of Kalpataru, the villages of conscious Chintamani gems, the speaking seas of nectars.
May the saints who are pure moons without any spots, without sun without heat, be the friends of all creatures. ॥
All three should be perfect in all their pleasures and should serve the Primordial Man of the universe uninterruptedly. ॥
Those who have this scripture as their life should conquer the visible and invisible sufferings of this world. ॥
Vishweshwar Guru Shri Nivruttinath said that you will get this Prasad. Gyan dev was happy with this groom. ॥
Saint Muktabai
daughter of three great Maharashtrian saints, Nivruttinath, Dnyaneshwar and Sopan. Muktabai (b. 1279—d 1297) was an Indian saint and poet.
The one who saw poverty and closely watched the thirstiness and shock of losing her parents. However, she and her brothers dared absorb the illiterate orthodox Brahmin caste’s pressure on their family in their young age.
Muktabai’s elder brother, Dnyaneshwar Mauli was a prominent figure who wrote Dnyaneshwari at the age of 16 and lived for only 21 years (went in a cave for deep meditation to contemplate higher consciousness and never returned).
Poem “Though he has no form” by Muktabai
Though he has no form
My eyes saw him
His glory is fire in my mind
That knows
His secret inner forms
Invented by the soul.
What is beyond the mind
Has no boundary.
In it our senses end.
Poet Tulsidas
Poet Tulsidas (1543 – 1623) was renowned for his devotion for lord Ram. Therefore, he wrote Hanuman Chalisa, a prayer to win the heart of Pavan putra (Hanuman) to show how much he worships Ram.
It is a holy prayer for Bajarag Bali Hanuman. Tulsidas was a saint as same as another Indian poet and saint like Tukaram, Kabir, Dnyaneshwar Maharaj. The lord Shiva once said to Parvati that Tulsidas was incarceration of poet Valmiki who wrote the great Ramayana and considered the first poet in Sanskrit Literature.
Hanuman Chalisa in English
Jai Hanuman gyan gun sagar
Jai Kapis tihun lok ujagar
Ram doot atulit bal dhama
Anjaani putra Pavan sut nama
Mahabir Bikram Bajrangi
Kumati nivar sumati ke sangi
Kanchan varan viraj subesa
Kanan kundal kunchit kesa
Hath vajra aur dhvaja viraje
Kaandhe moonj janeyu saje
Shankar suvan kesri nandan
Tej pratap maha jag vandan
Vidyavan guni ati chatur
Ram kaj karibe ko aatur
Prabu charitra sunibe ko rasiya
Ram Lakhan Sita man basiya
Sukshma roop dhari siyahi dikhava
Vikat roop dhari lank jarava
Bhima roop dhari asur sanghare
Ramachandra ke kaj sanvare
Laye Sanjivan Lakhan jiyaye
Shri Raghuvir harashi ur laye
Raghupati kinhi bahut badai
Tum mam priye Bharat hi sam bhai
Sahas badan tumharo yash gaave
Asa kahi Shripati kanth lagaave
Sankadhik Brahmadi Muneesa
Narad Saarad sahit Aheesa
Yam Kuber Digpaal jahan te
Kavi Kovid kahi sake kahan te
Tum upkar Sugreevahin keenha
Ram milaye rajpad deenha
Tumharo mantra Vibheeshan maana
Lankeshwar bhaye sab jag jana
Yug sahastra jojan par Bhanu
Leelyo tahi madhur phal janu
Prabhu mudrika meli mukh mahee
Jaladhi langhi gaye achraj nahee
Durgam kaj jagath ke jete
Sugam anugraha tumhre tete
Ram dwaare tum rakhvare
Hoat na agya binu paisare
Sub sukh lahae tumhari sar na
Tum rakshak kahu ko dar naa
Aapan tej samharo aapai
Teenhon lok hank te kanpai
Bhoot pisaach nikat nahin aavai
Mahavir jab naam sunave
Nase rog harae sab peera
Japat nirantar Hanumant beera
Sankat te Hanuman chudavae
Man kram vachan dhyan jo lavai
Sab par Ram tapasvee raja
Tin ke kaj sakal Tum saja
Aur manorath jo koi lavai
Soi amit jeevan phal pavai
Charon jug partap tumhara
Hai persidh jagat ujiyara
Sadhu Sant ke tum rakhware
Asur nikandan Ram dulhare
Ashta sidhi nav nidhi ke dhata
As var deen Janki mata
Ram rasayan tumhare pasa
Sada raho Raghupati ke dasa
Tumhare bhajan Ram ko pavai
Janam janam ke dukh bisraavai
Anth kaal Raghuvir pur jayee
Jahan janam Hari Bakht Kahayee
Aur Devta chit na dharahi
Hanumanth sehi sarve sukh karehi
Sankat kate mite sab peera
Jo sumirai Hanumat balbeera
Jai Jai Jai Hanuman Gosayin
Kripa karahu Gurudev ki nyahin
Jo sat bar path kare kohi
Chutahi bandhi maha sukh hohi
Jo yah padhe Hanuman Chalisa
Hoye siddhi sakhi Gaurisa
Tulsidas sada hari chera
Keejai nath hridaye mein dera
Pavan tanay sankat harana, Mangal moorati roop I
Ram Lakhan Sita sahit, Hridaya basahu sur bhoop II
One of the Famous Poets Of India, Maharashtra, Saint Tukaram
Tukobaraya(Tukoba – Saint Tukaram) of 17th century Hindu poet and saint of Maharashtra known popular for his devotional poetry and Bhakti Movements.
The poem, “Vrukshavalli Amha Soyari Vanchari” is a unique soul-scrubbing, that makes you fall in love with nature, animals, and birds.
“Vrukshavalli Amha Soyari”
वृक्ष वल्ली आम्हां सोयरीं वनचरें । पक्षी ही सुस्वरें आळविती ।। येणें सुखें रुचे एकांताचा वास । नाही गुण दोष अंगा येत ।। आकाश मंडप पृथुवी आसन । रमे तेथें मन क्रीडा करी ।। कंथाकुमंडलु देहउपचारा । जाणवितो वारा अवसरु ।। हरिकथा भोजन परवडी विस्तार । करोनि प्रकार सेवूं रुची ।। तुका म्हणे होय मनासी संवाद । आपुला चि वाद आपणांसी ।।
Read complete exposition of Vrukshavalli Amha Soyari here
Kabir Das
Kabir Das, a mystical soul of the 15th century who had spent his early life in a Muslim family.
His followers claimed that he was born in womb from a widow and his mother left Kabir alone in the universe (as to escape her from the bruising of people and society) thus, the Muslim family of Kabir was his second parents.
Poem "हीरा सोई सराहिये" by Kabir Das
हीरा सोई सराहिये
सहे घनन की चोट
कपट को रंगे मानवा
परखत निकरा खोट
हीरा तहाँ ना खोलिये
जहाँ कुंजड़ों की हाट
सहजे गाँठि बाँधी के
लगिये अपनी बात
हीरा सोई सराहिये…
हीरा परा बाजार में
रहा छार लपटाय
केतिहे मूरख पची मुए
कोई पारखी लिया उठाय
हीरा सोई सराहिये…
Savitribai Jyotiba Phule (b. 3 Jan 1831 — d. 10 March 1897) was one of the gods gifted Indian educationalist and wife of great social reformer Jyotiba Phule (she got married at the age of 9).
Immense contribution of both husband and wife. Their work was countless to the Indian education system and traditional reformation. Both made people aware of unnecessary customs which were dangerous to humanity and their success.
Poem: “The Greatest Wealth” by Savitribai Phule
Early in the morning,
Perform your ambulation,
Having become clean and tidy,
Pay your respects to parents and elders.
Remembering the name of God,
Immerse yourself in studies,
Waste not these precious days,
by insisting on going home.
Study hard, get educated,
Treat knowledge as your God,
Diligently take advantage of it,
Concentrating with all your heart.
Knowledge is wealth,
Greater than all riches,
Wise is considered he,
Who acquires it.
Sarojini Naidu
Sarojini Naidu (b. 13 Feb 1879 — d. 2 March 1949) was a not only Indian political leader, activist but also a great poet as well as a woman of India and celebrated nationally.
She was one of the key figures of the Indian independence movement. Naidu aimed to help diminish the ruling of the British in India during the years of 1912 to 1947.
Poem “The Bazaars of Hyderabad” by Sarojini Naidu
What do you sell, oye Marchant?
Richly your wares are displayed.
Turbans of crimson and Silver
Mirrors with panels of amber,
Daggers with handles of jade
What do you weigh, oye Vendors
Saffron and lentil and rice
What do you grind oye maidens?
Sandalwood, henna, and spice.
What do you call oye Pedlars?
Chessmen and ivory dice.
What do you make oye Goldsmith?
Wristlet, anklet, and ring.
Bells for the feet of blue pigeons,
Frail as a Dragon’s-fly’s wing, girdles of gold for the dancers,
Scabbards of gold for the king […]
Kamala Das
The real name of Indian writer, poet and failed politician Kamala Das (b. 31 March — d. 31 May 2009) was Kamala Surayya.
And most of her Malayalam writings by pen name, MadhaviKutty. Her most liked subjects in writing reckoning child education, political issues and labouring women related topics.
Poem: The Looking Glass by Kamala Das
Getting a man to love you is easy
Only be honest about your wants as woman.
Stand nude before the glass with him
so that he sees himself the stronger one
And believes it so, and you so much more
Softer, younger, lovelier.
Admit your Admiration.
Notice the perfection Of his limbs,
his eyes reddening under the shower,
the shy walk across the bathroom floor,
dropping towels, and the jerky way he
Urinates.
All the fond details that make
him male and your only man.
Gift him all, gift him what makes you woman,
the scent of long hair, the musk of sweat between the breasts,
the warm shock of menstrual blood, and all yours
Endless female hungers.
Oh yes, getting a man to love is easy,
but living without him afterwards may have to be
Faced.
A living without life when you move around,
meeting strangers, with your eyes that gave up their search,
with ears that hear only his last voice calling out your name,
and your body which once under his touch had gleamed
Like burnished brass, now drab and destitute.
Poet Ramanujan
Ramanujan (b. 16 March 1929 — d. 13 July 1993) was an Indian literary scholar and poet. However, he was born to mathematician and astrologer, Attipat Krishnaswami, in Mysore.
He spent his 30 years at the University of Chicago. The well-known writer in Indian literature community considered notable English poet of 1960. He wrote many essays and translated many Indian works into English which depicts the Indian Culture.
“Obituary” Poem by Poet Ramanujan
Father, when he passed on,
left dust on a table of papers,
left debts and daughters,
a bed-wetting grandson
named by the toss
of a coin after him, a house that leaned
slowly through our growing
years on a bent coconut
tree in the yard.
Being the burning type,
he burned properly
at the cremation as before, easily and at both ends,
left his eye coins in the ashes that didn’t
look one bit different,
several spinal discs, rough,
some burned to coal,
for sons to pick gingerly and throw as the priest said,
facing east where three rivers met
near the railway station;
no long-standing headstone
with his full name and two dates
to hold in their parentheses
everything he didn’t quite
manage to do himself,
like his caesarian birth
in a Brahmin ghetto
and his death by heart-failure in the fruit market.
But someone told me
he got two lines
in an inside column
of a Madras newspaper
sold by the kilo
exactly four weeks later
to street hawkers who sell it in turn
to the small groceries
where I buy salt,
coriander,
and jaggery
in newspaper cones
that I usually read for fun, and lately
in the hope of finding
these obituary lines.
And he left us
a changed mother
and more than
one annual ritual.
Atal Bihari was a former PM of India as well as One of the Famous Poets Of India
Atal Bihari Vajpayee (b. 25 Dec 1924-d. 6 Aug 2018) was a real statesman who had brought many changes including domestic and infrastructural reforms encouraged on research and development.
Apart from his successful political career, he was a great poet and writer. His political party symbol was Lotus (Bhartiy Janata Party) one of the best bodies ever made in India. A great speaker whose words and speeches were wonderful all the times and could result into some miracles.
His poem, (हार नहीं मानूँगा, रार नहीं ठानूँगा, काल के कपाल पर लिखता मिटाता हूँ।गीत नया गाता हूँ। ) is one of the best poems he ever written.
टूटे हुए तारों से फूटे बासंती स्वर ,
पत्थर की छाती में उग आया नव अंकुर,
झरे सब पीले पात,
कोयल की कूक रात,
प्राची में अरुणिमा की रेख देख पाता हूं।
गीत नया गाता हूँ।
टूटे हुए सपनों की सुने कौन सिसकी?
अंतर को चीर व्यथा पलकों पर ठिठकी।
हार नहीं मानूँगा,
रार नहीं ठानूँगा,
काल के कपाल पर लिखता मिटाता हूँ।
गीत नया गाता हूँ।
बेनकाब चेहरे हैं,
दाग बड़े गहरे है,
टूटता तिलस्म , आज सच से भय खाता हूँ।
गीत नहीं गाता हूँ।
लगी कुछ ऐसी नज़र,
बिखरा शीशे सा शहर,
अपनों के मेले में मीत नहीं पाता हूँ।
गीत नहीं गाता हूँ।
पीठ में छुरी सा चाँद,
राहु गया रेख फाँद,
मुक्ति के क्षणों में बार बार बंध जाता हूँ।
गीत नहीं गाता हूँ।
Annabhau Sathe
Maharashtra’s legend Annabhau Sathe and his literature has always been recommendable.
One of the top Dalit activists from the state after iconic figure Dr Babasaheb Ambedkar and Jyotiba Phule, as well as, Sathe was one of the founding members of “Lal Bawta Kalapathak”. Tukaram Bhaurao Sathe (was his real name) wrote almost 35 novels in Marathi, 14 short stories, and many to count his real meanings of life stated poems achieved many Maharashtra’s poem loving hearts.
Dalit shahirs of Maharashtra: Annabhau Sathe’s powerful song, one of his favorite poems “माझी मैना गावावर राहिली !” (“My mynah bird stayed in the village!”)
माझी मैना गावावर राहिली |
माझ्या जिवाची होतिया काहिली ||
ओतीव बांधा | रंग गव्हाला |
कोर चंद्राची | उदात्त गुणांची |
मोठ्या मनाची | सीता ती माझी रामाची |
हसून बोलायची | मंद चालायची |
सुगंध केतकी | सतेज कांती |
घडीव पुतली सोन्याची | नव्या नवतीची |
काडी दवन्याची |रेखीव भुवया |
कमान जणू इन्द्रधनुची | हिरकणी हिरयाची
काठी आंधल्याची | तशी ती माझी गरीबाची|
मैना रत्नाची खाण | माझा जिव की प्राण |[…]
Rabindranath Tagore is One of The Renowned Poets Of India
Rabindranath Tagore born Bhanu Singh Thakur, a literary soul composes many verses in the universe, and he is famous for one of his works, Gitanjali.
A book of the poem on devotion. Apart from this, he has written India’s national anthem, “Jan Gan Man Adhi Na Ek Jai hai” A long ago he already inclined Bengali and later entire India to his new and next level of literature. In 1913 India had found a Nobel person in the literary world, who had become the fist non-European to win the prize. Most of the work had not got known to the world as being a Bengali and considered him as a Bard of Bengal in literature.
Poem: Vocation By Poet Rabindranath Tagore
When the gong sounds ten in the morning, and
I walk to school by our lane,
Every day I meet the hawker crying, “Bangles,
crystal bangles!”
There is nothing to hurry him on, there is no
road he must take, no place he must go to, no
Time when he must come home.
I wish I were a hawker, spending my day in
The road, crying, “Bangles, crystal bangles!”
When at four in the afternoon, I come back from
the school,
I can see through the gate of that house the
Gardener digging the ground.
He does what he likes with his spade, the soils
his clothes with dust, nobody takes him to
Task, if he gets baked in the sun or gets wet.
I wish I were a gardener digging away at the
Garden with nobody to stop me from digging.
Just as it gets dark in the evening and my
mother sends me to bed,
I can see through my open window the
Watchman walking up and down.
The lane is dark and lonely, and the street lamp
Stands like a giant with one red eye in its head.
The watchman swings his lantern and walks
with his shadow at his side, and never once
Goes to bed in his life.
I wish I were a watchman walking the street
all night, chasing the shadows with mine
Lantern.
Munshi Premchand
Munshi Premchand, the man who was born as Dhanpat Rai Srivastav on 31st July 1880 Lambai, in north India.
He was once a teacher, a school administrator, editor and founder of his journal publication, Hans and Jagaran. Most of the famous work is in Hindi, Urdu and Russian Literature. All the work of Munshi had addressed and delivered in April 1936. The meeting was held at All India progressive writer’s association in Lucknow. Urdu writer Syed Sajjad Zaheer had organized the meeting.
One of the poems by Premchand
सन् अट्ठारह सौ अस्सी, लमही सुंदर ग्राम।प्रेमचंद को जनम भयो, हिन्दी साहित काम।।
परमेश्वर पंचन बसें, प्रेमचंद कहि बात।हल्कू कम्बल बिन मरे, वही पूस की रात।।
सिलिया को भरमाय के, पंडित करता पाप।धरम ज्ञान की आड़ में, मनमानी चुपचाप।।
बेटी बुधिया मर गई, कफन न पायो अंग।घीसू माधू झूमते, मधुशाला के संग।।
होरी धनिया मर गए, कर न सके गोदान।जीवनभर मेहनत करी, प्रेमचंद वरदान।।
मुन्नी तो तरसत रही, आभूषण नहि पाई।झुनिया गोबर घूमते, बिन शिक्षा के माहि।।
बेटी निर्मला कह रही, कन्या दीजे मेल।जीवनभर को मरण है, ब्याह होय बेमेल।।
पंच बसे परमात्मा, खाला लिए बुलाय।शेखा जुम्मन देखते, अलगू करते न्याय।
London born George to Welsh parents (Celtic culture that defines a coastal city with a nightlife scene) but his father soon died when George Essex Evans (18 Jun 1863 - 19 Nov 1909) was a few months old. He was raised by his mother Mary Ann who was a well-educated woman, fluent in both Latin and Greek. After his education, Evans immigrated to Australia at the age of 17 with his sibling.
George had injured heavily while horse ridding. However, could not do any physical activities. Evans was a dual characteristic sometimes impulsive, showing oppositeness. As well as, loyal and kind. In his life, he was a successful husband and father. Despite his sick ears, he was gifted with a good amount of memory.
His poetic verses are famous. One of his poem, “the secret key and the order verses” published in 1906. It travels us to magical land, stars and to a strange power. However, he was working in public service. George penned many articles, criticism, poetry for Australian as well as British newspapers and journals. During the year 1902 to 1905 Evans was a regular columnist, contributed to Darling Downs Gazette and Toowoomba Chronicle.
Poem: “The Secret Key” by George Evans
There is a magic kingdom of star powers,
through-hidden, lit by other stars than ours;
and, when a wanderer through its mazes brings
Word of things seen, men say: “A poet sings”.
Its gates are guarded in a sterile land -
Mountain and deep morass, and shifting sand;
Storm-barred are they, and may not opened be
Save by the hand that finds the secret key.
That key, some say, lies in the sunset glow,
Or the white arc of dawn, or where the flow
of some lone river stems the shoreward wave
In shuddering silver on its ocean grave.
Some say that when the wind wars with the sea,
In that stern music, one may find the key.
Or in green blooms of forests, where the pine
Splits her spear amid great wreaths of vines;
Or, where the streaming mid's white rollers climb.
The dark ravine and precipice sublime-
A filmy sea that twines and intertwines
Wreathes the low hills, and veils the mighty lines
Of sovran mountains, crimsoned and aglow
In crystal pomp, crested with jewelled snow;
But still, with souls afire, men seek that land,
And die in deep morass and shifting sand.
To those alone its iron gates are free,
Who find, within their hearts, the secret key;
For Earth, with all the colour of her day,
is not their country — that lies far away.
Later in 1905, Evans published his own weekly newspaper in south Queensland. However, it was lasted only for few editions. His life then was so simple like a common man. He had married to widow Blanche Hopkins (1899) with two children in bonus. He was a milk man who used to deliver milk as a part-time job.
Also, read Melancholy Life of Amy Levy the poet who couldn't survive “Double D” War. And Emphatic philosopher, John Mill who had strange confusion between poetry and philosophy. How difficult was it is for poet Bukowski living a lonely life. However, he couldn't live through poetry in his is life.
Kamala Das (b. 31 March — d. 31 May 2009) Bilingual Kamala Das preferred to write poetry in English and other fictional work in Malayalam. She received many literary awards. Source Twitter
Kamala Das poems are famous among the women. Therefore, still her writing proves desire stirring in every poem loving women. Read why?
Indian writer, poet and failed politician Kamala Das (b. 31 March — d. 31 May 2009) was once Kamala Surayya. And most of her Malayalam writings by pen name, MadhaviKutty. Her most liked subjects in writing reckoning child education, political issues and labouring women related topics. Das was daughter of managing editor of widely newspaper, Matrubhumi (one of the famous Malayalam Daily) V. M. Nair and Poet Nalapat Balamani Amma. The Young soul of Kamala soon wrapped through the meaningful words breathes thousands of emotional and creative thoughts. At the very young age, Kamala swiftly acquired safest places for super vision under uncle Nelapat menon (7 Oct 1887 – 31 Oct 1954) who already had well settled within other well-known poets of India.
It is not queer to know specially in Kamala minded women. In the 60s, most of the women in Indian used to get married early. Das married to a banking professional Madhavan Das at the age of fifteen. However, her husband throughout her life not only became a good supporter but also one of the reasons of her inspiration in life. He motivated Kamala and insist focus on writing.
She was a notable Indian writer and poet for her many Malayalam short stories. Her first published work of poetry Summer in Calcutta (1965) has been considered a fresh celebrated gentle wind in poetry for that year.
Poetry does not sell in this country (India)
Kamala Das
Her second book, “The Descendant” (1967) guides women educationally about sexual urge that trick out easily to achieve the desire of any women. Das often caught in comparison with Marguerite Duras and Sylvia Plath. One of her books, “My Story” (1975) her autobiography had become the controversial stirred. Later Kamala admitted that her biography had fictional elements. However, many Indian readers admired the work.
I cannot think of any other Indian autobiography that so honestly captures a woman's inner life in all its sad solitude, its desperate longing for real love and its desire for transcendence, its tumult of colours and its turbulent poetry
—K. Satchidanandan
Bilingual Kamala Das preferred to write poetry in English and other fictional work in Malayalam. She received many literary awards. Few of them are as listed below.
Asian Poetry Award 1963
Sahitya Akademi Award 1984
Muttathu Varkey Award
Kundra Sahitya Academy Award 1985
Vayalar Award 1997
Ezhuthachan Award 2009
Getting a man to love you is easy Only be honest about your wants as woman. Stand nude before the glass with him so that he sees himself the stronger one And believes it so, and you so much more Softer, younger, lovelier. Admit your Admiration. Notice the perfection Of his limbs, his eyes reddening under the shower, the shy walk across the bathroom floor, dropping towels, and the jerky way he Urinates. All the fond details that make him male and your only man. Gift him all, gift him what makes you woman, the scent of long hair, the musk of sweat between the breasts, the warm shock of menstrual blood, and all yours Endless female hungers. Oh yes, getting a man to love is easy, but living without him afterwards may have to be Faced. A living without life when you move around, meeting strangers, with your eyes that gave up their search, with ears that hear only his last voice calling out your name, and your body which once under his touch had gleamed Like burnished brass, now drab and destitute.
I speak three languages, write in two, dream in one.
Many famous Malayalam works of Kamala Das published in her Pseudonym MadhaviKutty. As well as, Das changed her name to Surayya after her conversion into Islam at the age of 65. There was a stir that she was going to get married to her Muslimlover in 1990 and converted to Islam. She also wanted to enter into politics but failed to make a line.
The great poet from Russian Literature Mikhail Kuzmin (b. 18 Oct 1872 — d. 1 March 1936) originally was a musician, and later he moved his interest in writing. Kuzmin was from a noble family background. The man who never graduated from the university. He said why I love poetry and explained what it is exactly according to him.
It is easier and simpler poetry falls ready-made from the sky. Like manna into the mouths of an Israelites in the desert.
However, living and setting his goal on the writing did not make his love weaker for music. His work in music has little but has its poisons.
A Friend to all is a friend to none
— Aristotle
Friendship plays an important role in our life. One and everyone gets influence on life because of friends. Thus, Kuzmin also had two influences in his life one was travel and the other was soviet politician and linguist, patrician George Chicherin. They had never relationship less than any friendship.
He extensively travelled, brought many memories but the great turning and life’s learning were from old Believers. Mikhail’s journey had started from Egypt to Italy and his last part where he had spent his life was the northern part ofRussia. Furthermore, Mikhail became an important figure in gay literature.
He slowly started gearing up in writing when Russian poet, critic and historian Valery Bryusov found his writing attractive and interesting to read. However, Valery had invited him to contribute to one of the famous literary magazines, Vesy. In the year 1906 for Kuzmin it became the best year for him as two of his famous work published.
His book, The Cycle, seven sections anthology also called as Aleksandrijskie Pesni. However, the book has a total 32 poems. The First two poems considered senses evoking about the great city that he admired was Alexandria (Egypt).
Poem: from “The Cycle” by Mikhail Kuzmin
Like a mother’s lullaby
Over her baby’s cradle
Like a mountain echo
Answering the shepherd’s pipe at daybreak,
Like the remote surge
Of my native sea, long un-beheld
Thy name rings in my ears
Thrice blessed Alexandria!
Like the hesitant whispering,
In the oak’s deep shade,
of love’s confessions,
Like the mysterious murmur
Of the shadowy sacred groves,
Like the lamborine of great Cybele,
Bringing to mind far thunder and the more of doves
Thy name rings in my ears,
Thrice sapient Alexandria!
Like the sound of a trumpet before battle,
The scream of an eagle over the abyss,
The rushing wings of flying NIKE
Thy name rings in my ears
Thrice mighty Alexandria
— The Cycle
Mikhail was the only writer whose first Russian novel, Wings received literary acclaimed and made him widely known.
His poetry is erudite and the themes range from Ancient Greece to Alexandria to modern day Petersburg
One of the influential Brazilians of the 20th century Ferreira Gullar (b. 10 Sep 1930 - d. 4 Dec 2016) was a poet and Essayist. The young Gullar was a poetry reader of the best Brazilians and the foreign poets.
From Dirty Poem Translated by Leland Guyer
Oh, my dirty city
you suffer deeply and in silence
from the shame the family smothers
in its deepest drawers
of faded dresses
of tattered shirts
of legions of degraded people
barely eating
yet embroidering flowers on
their tablecloths on
their table centerpieces
with water jars
However, from his schooling days Ferreira had an interest in poetry. As well as, he also wrote few of them, but he could not see any future in his small village. The real life started for him when he flew to the second most popular city, Rio de Janeiro in 1950 and started working as a journalist.
Another poem written by Gullar was “There are Many Traps in The world”. There are many traps, some gets caught in social shame, or others in religious or political, drugs etc. However, the poet grabbed the reader’s attention on refuge at the beginning.
Art exists because life is not enough
Ferreira Gullar
Ferreira gave the best comparison of the human being to morning foam on the beach. As well as, it all ends with the biggest battle of life like betrayal, jail or hang. Gullar also said that life is crazy that often ends and vanishes like a Bomb.
Furthermore, he did not forget about generations of a kid’s fearless entry on this earth. And, seeking the unending answers of every question and convergence. The poet taught us that we should endure such traps until our death. The hard truth about life that is humans are prisoners and throughout their life. However, man should not give up in the middle of the life.
Poem: “There are Many Traps in The World” by Ferreira Gullar
There are many traps in the world
and what is a trap could be a refuge
and what is a refuge could be a trap
Your window, for instance,
opens to the sky
and a star tells you that man is nothing
or the morning foaming on the beach
batters it, before Cabral, before Troy
(four centuries ago Tomás Bequimão
took the city, created a popular militia
and then was betrayed, jailed, hanged)
There are many traps in the world
and many mouths telling you
that life is short-lived
that life is crazy
And why not the Bomb? They ask you.
Why not the Bomb to end it all, since
life is crazy?
Yet, you look at your son, the little kid
who doesn’t know
who fearlessly enters life and wants
life
and seeks the sun, the ball, fascinated, sees
the aeroplane and questions and questions
Life is short-lived
life is crazy
but there’s nothing but life
And you couldn’t kill yourself, that’s the truth.
You’re a prisoner of life as if in a cage.
We’re all prisoners
in this cage that Gagarin was the first to see
from above, and to tell us: It’s blue.
And we already knew it, so well
that you couldn’t kill yourself and wouldn’t
kill yourself
and will endure until the end.
It’s certain that in this cage there are those who have
and those who have not
there are those who have so much that they alone could
feed the whole city
and those who haven’t enough for today’s lunch
The star is a liar
the sea is a sophist. In fact,
man is tied to life and needs to live
man has hunger
and needs to eat
man has children
and needs to provide for them
There are many traps in the world
and it’s necessary to shatter them.
The Poet, Robert Frost (b. 26 March 1874 - d. 29 Jan 1963) whose work was recognized by England and published first time. However, Robert was born in the United States of America. Moreover, the most of his poems depicts the real life of New England in the early 20th century.
He was the only one who had received many honour awards and Pulitzer Price for Poetry four times.
The poem, “The Road Not Taken” is one of the famous poems of Frost that Robert Kiyosaki has published in his book. Furthermore, this poetry has very meaningful thoughts when you read it. Your intention looking at your work, your path of success will definitely change. Talking about a meaningful Punchline in this book so that you get inside the book.
Many of our parents give good advice no doubt, I have never seen a parent giving any bad advice but some of them became successful in their parenting or some got failed. So don’t worry! After reading this book, you may get a chance to parenting again and prove yourself one of the best parents to your kids. Yes, and that is in this book.
Most of the parents will learn how to shape their kids in the proper direction. Many of them who have already read this book treat this as a dusting reads. There is a punchline that makes us think twice or out of the box. We take our child to an expensive school thinking that one day he would come out becoming one of a businessman or a celebrity or a doctor or engineer. However, most of the time it doesn't happen with all.
Mr. Kiyosaki only asks this question at the beginning of his book, “Does school prepare children for the real world?” When any amateur becomes a surgeon and passes his degree out with 1st class but has poor practical knowledge. It would never turn him a successful surgeon. Thus, Mr Kiyosaki makes us realize how important it is to understand this advanced world and changing the education system as per the requirement.
The size of your success is measured by the strength of your desire; the size of your dream; and how you handle disappointment along the way.
Robert Kiyosaki
However, he said that we as a human constantly bring the change, but the education system is not getting that required change since. Mr. Kiyosaki says that we are trapped in Rat Race, well written, “Rich Dad and Poor Dad” with practical examples of how to get out of the Rat Race. What is Rat Race? It is defined as below,
“Go to a good school, get good marks, get hired by a good company, a better job than your neighbour and earn a lot of money.”
Perfect example of Rat Race by Robert Kiyosaki.
Study hard and get good grades, and you will find a high-paying job with great benefits.
Opinion
Every parent says stated as above. The first chapter of the book ends with Mr Robert Kiyosaki’s favorite poem The Road Not Taken written by Robert Frost.
Poem: "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost
Two roads diverged into a yellow wood And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveller, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could. To where it bent in the undergrowth. Then took the other as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim Because it was grassy and wanted wear, Though as for that the passing there, Had worn them really about the same. And both that morning equally lay In leaves, no step had trodden black, Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads onto way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence, Two roads diverged in a wood, I took the one less travelled by That made all the difference.
Robert Frost
The poetry gives a message that a road or path when we choose decides our future. And the path that we don’t choose is called “The Road Not Taken” and that made all the difference.
The poems of Lord Byron (b. 22 Jan 1788 - d. 19 April 1824) and his work was famous, however, he was a romantic British poet. He was a poet first before his political career. Son of handsome Captain John Byron and second wife Catherine Gordon (Heiress). However, It was Greece when Byron began writing Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. The Childe Harald's was a long form poem written by Byron.
Moreover, Byron loved travellings, he travelled across Europe and most of his poems reflects the culture of European in his writings. He was one of the poets whose poetry were widely read in his era and was well-known for his romantic rhythms. The most notable works are Don Juan, Childe Harold's and Hebrew Melodies.
But, the most popular is Childe Harold's Pilgrimage as it was such a long and beautiful book of the poem written by Byron into four parts. It also considered the powerful spice to European Romanticism. All The elements of the long form poem received through the experience of his travels, visiting The Mediterranean, Aegean Sea and Portugal during 1809 and 1811. The first and second part of the poem has too many details of Byron, biographical notes. As well as which made him famous by his exceptional poetic writings.
The Great Art Of Life Is Sensation, To Feel That We Exist, Even In Pain.
Lord Byron
Byron Wrote: “I woke one morning and found myself famous.” The poem was dedicated to Charlotte Harley. The poet used the nickname “Lanthe”. Charlotte was the second daughter of Lady Oxford who was a lover of Lord Byron.
Poems From Childe Harold Pilgrimage by Lord Byron
Credit to LibriVox
There sunk the greatest, nor the worst of men, Whose spirit antithetically mixt One moment of the mightiest, and again On little objects with like firmness fixt, Extreme in all things! Hadst thou been betwixt, Thy throne had still been thine, or never been; For daring made thy rise as fall: thou seek'st Even now to re-assume the imperial mien, And shake again the world, the Thunder Er of the scene!
Conqueror and captive of the earth art thou! She trembles at thee still, and thy wild name Was ne'er more bruited in men's minds than now That thou art nothing, save the jest of Fame, Who woo'd thee once, thy vassal, and became The flatterer of thy fierceness, till thou wert A god unto thyself; nor less the same To the astounded kingdoms all inert, Who deem'd thee for a time whate'er thou didst assert.
[rb_related title="Also in This Issue" total="2"]
Oh, more or less than man -- in high or low, Battling with nations, flying from the field; Now making monarchs' necks thy footstool, now More than thy meanest soldier taught to yield: An empire thou couldn't crush, command, rebuild, But govern not thy pettiest passion, nor, However, deeply in men's spirits skill'd, Look through thine own, nor curb the lust of war, Nor learn that tempted Fate will leave the loftiest star.
Yet well thy soul hath brook'd the turning tide With that untaught innate philosophy, Which, be it wisdom, coldness, or deep pride, Is gall and wormwood to an enemy. When the whole host of hatred stood hard by, To watch and mock thee shrinking, thou hast smiled With a sedate and all-enduring eye; -- When Fortune fled her spoil'd and favourite child, He stood unbow'd beneath the ills upon him piled.
Sager than in thy fortunes: for in them Ambition steel'd thee on too far to show That just habitual scorn, which could contemn Men and their thoughts; 'twas wise to feel, not so To wear it ever on thy lip and brow, And spurn the instruments thou wert to use Till they were turn'd unto thine overthrow; 'Tis but a worthless world to win or lose; So hath it proved to thee, and all such lot who choose.
If, like a tower upon a headlong rock, Thou hadst been made to stand or fall alone, Such scorn of man had help'd to brave the shock; But men's thoughts were the steps which paved thy throne, Their admiration thy best weapon shone; The part of Philip's son was thine, not then (Unless aside thy purple had been thrown) Like stern Diogenes to mock at men; For sceptred cynics earth were far too wide a den.
But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell, And there hath been thy bane; there is a fire And motion of the soul which will not dwell In its own narrow being, but aspire Beyond the fitting medium of desire; And, but once kindled, quenchless evermore, Preys upon high adventure, nor can tire Of aught but rest; a fever at the core, Fatal to him who bears, to all whoever bore.
This makes the madmen who have made men mad By their contagion; Conquerors and Kings, Founders of sects and systems, to whom add Sophists, Bards, Statesmen, all unquiet things Which stir too strongly the soul's secret springs, And are themselves the fools to those they fool; Envied, yet how unenviable! What stings Are theirs! One breast laid open were a school Which would un-teach mankind the lust to shine or rule:
Their breath is agitation, and their life A storm whereon they ride, to sink at last, And yet so nursed and bigoted to strife, That should their days, surviving perils past, Melt to calm twilight, they feel an overcast With sorrow and supineness, and so die; Even as a flame unfed, which runs to waste With its own flickering, or a sword laid by, Which eats into itself, and rusts ingloriously.
He who ascends to mountain-tops, shall find The loftiest peaks most wrapped in clouds and snow. He who surpasses or subdues mankind, Must look down on the hate of those below. Though high above the sun of glory glow, And far beneath the earth and ocean spread, Round him are icy rocks, and loudly blow Contending tempests on his naked head, And thus reward the toils which to those summits led.
Russian artist and poet Mikhail Lermontov (1814 – 1841) was very influenced by two things in life. The mountains of the Caucasus and his inspirational poet Lord Byron. He was born with a silver spoon, got his first year tutor at the home. And at the age of 13 (1829) he was being trained under a notable poet and critic Alexy Merzlyakov.
Additionally, The work of Lermontov had fresh feels of modern literature of Russia after the death of Alexander Pushkin (written controversial poetry including love poem for his lover kern). Equally, Lermontov was not only a poet, but also was a very notable artist of the mid 18th century. During, most of the paintings have been lost, but still some of them are the best of his works. They are landscapes on the themes of regiments, portraits of cartoon characters, scenes on genres, and sketches and drawings.
Besides, The Caucasus was the reason of creativity of Lermontov becoming the famous painter and poet. Most of the paintings made with oil-based. The history says that Lord Byron was his inspiration that motivated deep inside him. And it seems incorporated into his writings. Everybody (motivational persons) comes after the poet, Pushkin. Alexander Pushkin was the one and first admirer in the life of Mikhail Lermontov.
The Caucasus Mountains in Svaneti, Georgia (Source: Wikipedia Commons)
Popular Paintings made by Lermontov
Credit to Wikipedia commons
Credit to Wikipedia commons
Credit to Wikipedia commons
Credit to Wikipedia commons
While, Lermontov proved the world and drew all the attention of the universe toward him in the year 1837. It was right after the murder of Pushkin. It was Mikhail Lermontov who wrote on the event.
The second great writer of Russia's Golden Age, Mikhail Lermontov (1814-41) also had some familiarity with gay sex [1]
What Made Mikhail Lermontov visiting The Panoramic beautiful valleys of peaceful mountains?
Also, when he was a boy, at the age of 10, the first time he saw sacred The Caucasus. The Caucasus, or Caucasia, is a region between the Black Sea and the Caspian Sea. [2] He went to the great mountains with his beautiful grandmother, Yelizaveta Arsenyeva.
Although, being with disciplinary regiment officers and the military unite as well as attending his training programs. However, Mikhail got an astonished, mind-blowing and peaceful experience on his journey to the divine hills. And he quickly fell in love with its beauty. He himself called The Caucasus a sacred place for him.
The thoughts of the young Lermontov couldn’t resist any more elicit from inside his brain. He was the only one and had of the greatest brainpowerRussian saw and heard ever.
For him, it was like a feeling of having a strong urge for a pen and paper something to draw or write a poem all about the situation.
The poetry “The Demon” was set in the beloved mountains and measured as the masterpiece of European Romantic poetry. To make this timeless masterpiece, he had written many drafts, rewrite and write. The final one published later in 1842 after his death.
The Demon is a story of girl Tamara who was a daughter of Gudal, a Caucasian chief. Both were living in a castle on a grand hill. One evening, Tamara was spending the evening with her girlfriends, dancing and singing. She was so pure and lovely that she would arouse resistless thoughts in anybody. Even in a Demon, were one to see her. He sees her and fall in love.
Read The Poem: “The Demon” by Mikhail Lermontov
A FALLEN ANGEL once was winging Over a sinful earth his way, And memory was ever bringing The vision of a happier day, telling an unforgotten story How once in realms of light and glory A seraph pure and bright he shone How the brief comet downward fleeting Loved to exchange a smile of greeting With him, before its spark was gone. How 'mid the infant world's formations In caravans of cloud he roved Through worlds of scattered constellations How Nature spread her lore and smiled Once upon him, God's happy child, In days when he believed and loved. No trouble vexed his spirit then Now endless vistas lie between The blessedness beyond his ken And Him, who knew what might have been. (Read free, Source: archieve.org)[3]
We cannot run away from the fact that dramatization of the poem. It is a Christian poem where mustered the problems of Evil and his social criticism. The Demon do well enough than Onegin. Eugene Onegin is a novel in verse written by Alexander Pushkin(1825–1835).
Mikhail Lermontov died young in a duel when he was 27. The part of his inspiration had two great things. The Caucasus and poetic influence of Byron that made a great Lermontov. He was the one who rode horseback and successful travelled to ranges of the Western literature and culture.
