| ANIS AND SHAKESPEARE - A COMPARISON. Contd. |
Lamentation of mother
Vessus Adonis addressing death:
Thy mark is feeble age; but thy false dart
Mistakes that aim, and cleaves an infants heart
The destinies will curse thee for this stroke,
They bid thee crop a weed, thou pluckest a flower
Love's golden arrow at him should have fled,
And not Death's ebon dart, to strike him dead.
Now nature cares not for thy mortal vigour
Since her best is ruined with thy rigour
Why hast thou cast into eternal sleeping
Those eyes that taught all other eyes to see. (Shakespear)
Contentment:
My crown is in my heart
Not on my head,
Not decked with diamonds, and Indian stones,
Nor to be seen; my crown is called content,
A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy. (Shakespear)
Grave
If I die,
I will encounter darkness as a bride, and
Hug it in my arms.
ANIS :
mar mar ke musafir ne basaya hein tuje
Rukh sab se fira ke muh dikhaya hein tuje
Kyun na lipat kar ke tuj se sou eh kabr
Mein ne bhi jan kho kar paya hein tuje.
Shakespeare:
Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells
Here grows no damned grudges,
Here no storms,No noise but silence and eternal sleep.
To die- to sleep
No more, and by a sleep, to say we end,
The heart ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir too, it is
Consummation devoutly to be wished.
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Heedless evil doers
Who buys a minutes mirth to wail a week?
Or sells eternity to get a toy?
For one sweet grape, who will the vine destroy.
Moral order:
There is divinity that shapes our ends. Shakespeare
Anis:hum log to majboor hein, mukhtar vahi hein.
Faithful companion
Rushtam utha na sakta tha sar is ke samne
sero ke kapte the jigar unke samne
fiki thi roshnie kamar in ke samne
urta tha rang rue sahar unke samne
baksha tha noor haq ne harek khus sifaat ko
hota tha din jo ghar se nikal te the rat ko
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| BLIND OF SOUL |
Show me your 'God'!" The doubter cries.
I point him to the smiling skies;
I show him all the woodland greens;
I show him peaceful sylvan scenes;
I show him winter snow and frost
I show him waters tempest - lost;
I show him hill rock-ribbed and strong;
I bid him, hear the thrush's song;
I show him flower in the close;
the lily, voilet, and the rose;
I show him rivers, babbling streams;
I show him youthful hope and dreams;
I show him minds with eager hearts;
I show him toilers in the marts;
I show him stars, the moon, the sun;
I show him joy, I show him care;
And still he holds his doubting air;
And faithless goes his way, for he
Is blind of soul, and cannot see.
Courtesy: Al-Jamea-tus-Saifiyah, library.
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