'Tere seenay mein apna dil...'

Tumhare khoon se meri ragon mein khwaab hain roshan,

Tumhari aadaton mein khud ko dhalte maine dekha hai...

Meri khamoshiyon mein taerateen hain teri awaazein,

Tere seenay mein apnaa dil machaltey maine dekha hai...



If you know the writer of these beautiful lines, please do comment. :)

'The first impression...' (Pahla Prabhaav) By 'William Hazelitt'



William Hazelitt

"The first impressions are often the most truest.
A man's look is the work of years; it is stamped on his countenance by the events of his whole life, nay, more by the hand of nature, and it is not to be got rid of easily."

William Hazlitt (1778–1830), British essayist. "On the Knowledge of Character," vol. 2, Table Talk (1822).

Translation in Hindi~

"Pahla prabhaav aksar sabse sachcha hota hai... Koi kaisa lagta hai, ye barson ki sadhna ka parinaam hota hai. Uske chehre par jivan ke prasango ki chhaap hoti hai."


This hindi translation is not by me. I read it somewhere.



'Dil hai kadmon par kisi ke..' by 'Jigar Muradabadi' (with translation)

These are some beautiful lines in urdu by Indian Poet "Jigar Muradabadi" (1890-1960)

Dil hai kadmon par kisi ke..,
Sir jhuka ho ya na ho...
Bandagi to apni fitrat hai..,
Khuda ho ya na ho...
Yah junoon bhi kya junoon?
Yah haal bhi kya haal hai?
hum kahe jaate hain..,
koi sun raha ho ya na ho...

English Translation ~

Heart is at the feet of someone..,
Doesn't matter if head is bowed or not..
Praying is a habit of mine..,
Doesn't matter if God is there or not...
What kind of a passion is this?
What kind of a condition is this?
I'm going on saying..,
Doesn't matter if somebody is listening or not...


If you have a suggestion for english translation, please do comment. : )

"Stone flowers"

What was she looking for? 
Sun was setting down. Very far.. at the side of river.. one girl was strolling around like a baby cane.
During 1-2 hours she sometimes sat on the stones looking for something and sometimes she wandered around here and there. Where is this girl from? Why has she come half a kilometer far from the town to this deserted river side? Has she lost something?
I left my fishing rod at one side and went toward her. She heard me coming and looked up to see me. She was 8 years old. very beautiful. She had big eyes. But there was some sadness in her face. Her white frock had some dirty stains and her braid was loosely tied with a butterfly like lace, and one could easily tell that she had tied it herself.
When I saw that she was looking at me with a wary look, I asked her in a soft tone, "little sister, what are you searching for?"
She was anxiously checking out a stone in her hand. 
I said, "Can I help you with something?"
After a long pause, breaking the silence she said, "I'm searching for stone flowers."
"stone flowers?"
I felt very angry. Somebody must have fooled the little girl. Do stones grow flowers?
"Who told you about this kind of flowers?"
She kept looking quietly at the brimming water of the river.
"This is unreal, little sister."
"No. My mother told me." She said quietly.
Mother? Did her mother... I was surprized. After a while she told me everything. Her parents used to quarrel with each other regularly. And sometimes those quarrels used to result into violent fights. Their relatives tried many a times to end their fights but each time her mother used to say, "Only when flowers will grow on stones and horns will borne out of horses' heads, our fights will end."
I was astonished.
"I'm searching for stone flowers from so many days but I haven't found even one."
 The sadness lurked on her face. Suddenly she asked me,"Do you have stone flowers where you live?" 
Her anxious eyes had a little sparkle of hope. I felt very sad looking at those eyes for I didn't have an answer to her question.


I read this story in Hindi somewhere. This is an english translation by me. I don't know the name of its writer. Please do comment if you know. : ) 

Un petit extait de 'short story-Touch' (O. Henry Prize stories 2008) by Alexi Zetner

         Excerpt from short story 'Touch' by Alexi Zetner

"Mama," she asked again, "why didn't you love Dad?"
"I always loved him, sweetheart," she replied, pouring hot water from the dish tub.
She leaned in toward the steam, letting it wash over her face.
"I just didn't know it yet."

French Translation :-
"Mama," demande-elle encore, "pourquoi vous n'avez pas aimé Papa?"
" Je l'ai aimé toujours, ma cherie," elle a repondu, versant l'eau chaude  d'un pot.
Elle a penché dans vers la vapeur, le laissant se laver à travers son visage.
"Je ne l'ai pas su encore."

This is my favourite part in this short story. I've tried translating it in french.
Comments regarding improvement in french translation are welcome. : )

"Les vieilles yeux bleus " (The old blue eyes) English Translation

Les vieilles aux yeux bleus ~ Extrait d' Esquisses parisiennes, 1992

Un soir de juin, à l'heure ou l'omre transparente tombait des marroniers du Luxembourg, une vieille aux yeux bleus est venue s'asseoir sur le banc de pierre ou je revais.

One evening in the month of June, in the times when transparent shadow of the chestnut trees of Luxembourg used to fall, an old lady with blue eyes came to sit on the stone bench where i was dreaming.

Comme elle s'asseyait , sa jupe est remontee, et j'ai apercu, dans un gros soulier lace , le plus mignon petit pied qu'on puisse voir. 

As she sat, her skirt got a little lifted, and i saw in a big laced shoe the cutest little foot one can see.

Elle baissait la tete, le chapeau noir me cachait son visage . Elle avait ramene ses pauvres mains de petite fille malade, et se serait dans son chale, toute maigre. On aurait dit une enfant de douze ans.

She bent her head, the black hat hid her face. She had pulled back her poor hands which were like that of a little sick girl, in her shawl, all lean. She looked like a child of twelve.

Elle eut peut-etre conscience de la pitie qui navrait mon Coeur, car elle leva la tete et me regarda de ses yeux vagues et noyes.

It was perhaps pity which distressed my heart because she raised her head amd watched me with her vacant and watery eyes.

Ce regard, qui rencontra le mien pendant une seconde., me conta une longue histoire d'amour et de regrets. Il y avait , dans ces yeux pales, une tristesse tender, tous les desirs de la jeunesse  et les lassitudes du vieil age.

The eyes which met mine for a second told me a story of love and regrets. In those pale eyes, there was a tender sadness, all the desires of youth and weariness of old age.