She shivered in the wind like the last leaf on a dying tree. i let her hear my footsteps. she only goes stiff for a moment.
care for a smoke?
sure. i'll take one.
are you as bored about that crowd as i am?
i didn't come here for the party. i came here for you. i've watched you for days. you're everything a man could ever want. it's not just your face. or your figure. or your voice. it's your eyes. all the things i see in your eyes. what is it you see in my eyes? i see a crazy call. you're sick of running. you're ready to face what you have to face. but you don't want to face it alone.
no. i don't want to face it alone.
The wind rises electric. she's soft and warm and almost weightless. her perfume is a sweet promise that brings tears to my eyes. i tell her that everything will be all right. that i'll save her from whatever she is scared of and take her far, far away. i tell her, i love her. the silencer makes a whisper of the gunshot. i hold her close until she is gone. i'll never know what she was running from.
I'll cash the cheque in the morning.... I am D Silent Assassin !!!
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Monday, November 30, 2009
All that is gold does not glitter
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.
I Sit and Think
I sit beside the fire and think
of all that I have seen,
of meadow-flowers and butterflies
in summers that have been;
in summers that have been;
Of yellow leaves and gossamer
in autumns that there were,
with morning mist and silver sun
and wind upon my hair.
I sit beside the fire and think
of how the world will be
when winter comes without a spring
that I shall never see.
For still there are so many things
that I have never seen:
in every wood in every spring
there is a different green.
I sit beside the fire and think
of people long ago,
and people who will see a world
that I shall never know.
But all the while I sit and think
of times there were before,
I listen for returning feet
and voices at the door.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
One-Man-One-Vote by Henry Lawson
“ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE!” You hear the people shouting.
The walls of Mammon tremble ere they fall.
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! Is this a time for doubting?
The poets have been prophets after all.
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! The cry is growing stronger!
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! It echoes o’er the wave!
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! The Wealthy dead no longer
Shall rule us through their children from the grave!
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! The knell of Retrogression!
The greatest triumph of the tongue and pen!
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! The right of long possession
Is right no longer in the minds of men!
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! There’s lightning in the thunder!
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! The reign of Greed is o’er!
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! The cursed Vote of Plunder
Shall rule the plundered slaves of earth no more.
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! We’re waking from our slumbers—
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! To rule the fields we farmed!
If thus we triumph with diminished numbers,
What will the triumph be when all are armed?
The walls of Mammon tremble ere they fall.
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! Is this a time for doubting?
The poets have been prophets after all.
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! The cry is growing stronger!
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! It echoes o’er the wave!
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! The Wealthy dead no longer
Shall rule us through their children from the grave!
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! The knell of Retrogression!
The greatest triumph of the tongue and pen!
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! The right of long possession
Is right no longer in the minds of men!
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! There’s lightning in the thunder!
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! The reign of Greed is o’er!
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! The cursed Vote of Plunder
Shall rule the plundered slaves of earth no more.
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! We’re waking from our slumbers—
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! To rule the fields we farmed!
If thus we triumph with diminished numbers,
What will the triumph be when all are armed?
The Water Lily by Henry Lawson
A lonely young wife
In her dreaming discerns
A lily-decked pool
With a border of ferns,
And a beautiful child,
With butterfly wings,
Trips down to the edge of the water and sings:
‘Come, mamma! come!
‘Quick! follow me—
‘Step out on the leaves of the water-lily!’
And the lonely young wife,
Her heart beating wild,
Cries, ‘Wait till I come,
‘Till I reach you, my child!’
But the beautiful child
With butterfly wings
Steps out on the leaves of the lily and sings:
‘Come, mamma! come!
‘Quick! follow me!
‘And step on the leaves of the water-lily!
And the wife in her dreaming
Steps out on the stream,
But the lily leaves sink
And she wakes from her dream.
Ah, the waking is sad,
For the tears that it brings,
And she knows ’tis her dead baby’s spirit that sings:
‘Come, mamma! come!
‘Quick! follow me!
‘Step out on the leaves of the water-lily!’
In her dreaming discerns
A lily-decked pool
With a border of ferns,
And a beautiful child,
With butterfly wings,
Trips down to the edge of the water and sings:
‘Come, mamma! come!
‘Quick! follow me—
‘Step out on the leaves of the water-lily!’
And the lonely young wife,
Her heart beating wild,
Cries, ‘Wait till I come,
‘Till I reach you, my child!’
But the beautiful child
With butterfly wings
Steps out on the leaves of the lily and sings:
‘Come, mamma! come!
‘Quick! follow me!
‘And step on the leaves of the water-lily!
And the wife in her dreaming
Steps out on the stream,
But the lily leaves sink
And she wakes from her dream.
Ah, the waking is sad,
For the tears that it brings,
And she knows ’tis her dead baby’s spirit that sings:
‘Come, mamma! come!
‘Quick! follow me!
‘Step out on the leaves of the water-lily!’
I Am Going To Sleep (Suicide Poem)
Teeth of flowers, hairnet of dew,
hands of herbs, you, perfect wet nurse,
prepare the earthly sheets for me
and the down quilt of weeded moss.
I am going to sleep, my nurse, put me to bed.
Set a lamp at my headboard;
a constellation; whatever you like;
all are good: lower it a bit.
Leave me alone: you hear the buds breaking through . . .
a celestial foot rocks you from above
and a bird traces a pattern for you
so you'll forget . . . Thank you. Oh, one request:
if he telephones again
tell him not to keep trying for I have left . .
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Tyger Tyger....
The Tyger
Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry
In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes!
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare sieze the fire!
And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand! & what dread feet!
What the hammer! what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain
What the anvil, what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!
When the stars threw down their spear
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see
Did he who made the Lamb make thee!
Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry.
William Blake
Love’s Secret
Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind does move
Silently, invisibly.
I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart;
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears,
Ah! she did depart!
Soon as she was gone from me,
A traveler came by,
Silently, invisibly
He took her with a sigh.
Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind does move
Silently, invisibly.
I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart;
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears,
Ah! she did depart!
Soon as she was gone from me,
A traveler came by,
Silently, invisibly
He took her with a sigh.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Work without hope.......
All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair—
The bees are stirring—birds are on the wing—
And Winter slumbering in the open air,
Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring!
And I the while, the sole unbusy thing,
Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.
Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow,
Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow.
Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may,
For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away!
With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll:
And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul?
Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve,
And Hope without an object cannot live.
The bees are stirring—birds are on the wing—
And Winter slumbering in the open air,
Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring!
And I the while, the sole unbusy thing,
Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.
Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow,
Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow.
Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may,
For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away!
With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll:
And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul?
Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve,
And Hope without an object cannot live.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Sarfaroshi ki tamanna.....
सरफरोशी की तमन्ना अब हमारे दिल में है,
देखना है जोर कितना बाजुए कातिल में है ।
करता नहीं क्यों दुसरा कुछ बातचीत,
देखता हूँ मैं जिसे वो चुप तेरी महफिल मैं है ।
रहबर राहे मौहब्बत रह न जाना राह
मेंलज्जत-ऐ-सेहरा नवर्दी दूरिये-मंजिल में है ।
यों खड़ा मौकतल में कातिल कह रहा है बार-
बारक्या तमन्ना-ए-शहादत भी किसी के दिल में है ।
ऐ शहीदे-मुल्को-मिल्लत मैं तेरे ऊपर
निसारअब तेरी हिम्मत का चर्चा ग़ैर की महफिल में है ।
वक्त आने दे बता देंगे तुझे ऐ आसमां,
हम अभी से क्या बतायें क्या हमारे दिल में है ।
खींच कर लाई है सब को कत्ल होने की उम्मींद,
आशिकों का जमघट आज कूंचे-ऐ-कातिल में है ।
सरफरोशी की तमन्ना अब हमारे दिल में है,
देखना है जोर कितना बाजुए कातिल में है ।
देखना है जोर कितना बाजुए कातिल में है ।
करता नहीं क्यों दुसरा कुछ बातचीत,
देखता हूँ मैं जिसे वो चुप तेरी महफिल मैं है ।
रहबर राहे मौहब्बत रह न जाना राह
मेंलज्जत-ऐ-सेहरा नवर्दी दूरिये-मंजिल में है ।
यों खड़ा मौकतल में कातिल कह रहा है बार-
बारक्या तमन्ना-ए-शहादत भी किसी के दिल में है ।
ऐ शहीदे-मुल्को-मिल्लत मैं तेरे ऊपर
निसारअब तेरी हिम्मत का चर्चा ग़ैर की महफिल में है ।
वक्त आने दे बता देंगे तुझे ऐ आसमां,
हम अभी से क्या बतायें क्या हमारे दिल में है ।
खींच कर लाई है सब को कत्ल होने की उम्मींद,
आशिकों का जमघट आज कूंचे-ऐ-कातिल में है ।
सरफरोशी की तमन्ना अब हमारे दिल में है,
देखना है जोर कितना बाजुए कातिल में है ।
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
The Fountainhead
Ellsworth Toohey: There's the building that should have been yours. There are buildings going up all over the city which are great chances refused and given to incompetent fools. You're walking the streets while they're doing the work that you love but cannot obtain. This city is closed to you. It is I who have done it! Don't you want to know my motive?
Howard Roark: No!
Ellsworth Toohey: I'm fighting you and shall fight you in every way I can.
Howard Roark: You're free to do what you please!
Ellsworth Toohey: Mr. Roark, we’re alone here. Why don't you tell me what you think of me in any words you wish.
Howard Roark: But I don't think of you!
[Roark walks away and Toohey's head slumps down
Howard Roark: No!
Ellsworth Toohey: I'm fighting you and shall fight you in every way I can.
Howard Roark: You're free to do what you please!
Ellsworth Toohey: Mr. Roark, we’re alone here. Why don't you tell me what you think of me in any words you wish.
Howard Roark: But I don't think of you!
[Roark walks away and Toohey's head slumps down
Imagine by John Lennon
Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the peopleLiving for today...
Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the peopleLiving life in peace...
You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one
Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the peopleSharing all the world..
.You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the peopleLiving for today...
Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the peopleLiving life in peace...
You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one
Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the peopleSharing all the world..
.You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one
The Mending Wall
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun
, And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
'Stay where you are until our backs are turned!'
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of out-door game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors'.
Spring is the mischief in me
, and I wonder If I could put a notion in his head:
'Why do they make good neighbors?
Isn't it Where there are cows?
But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.' I could say 'Elves' to him,
But it's not elves exactly,
and I'd rather He said it for himself.
I see him there Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top In each hand,
like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me~
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, "Good fences make good neighbors."
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun
, And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
'Stay where you are until our backs are turned!'
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of out-door game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors'.
Spring is the mischief in me
, and I wonder If I could put a notion in his head:
'Why do they make good neighbors?
Isn't it Where there are cows?
But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.' I could say 'Elves' to him,
But it's not elves exactly,
and I'd rather He said it for himself.
I see him there Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top In each hand,
like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me~
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, "Good fences make good neighbors."
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Good Morning Sunshine - Aqua
When the sun is up,
on a clear blue sky,
you will act like a lover
When the sky is grey,
and the rain comes down,
you will run for cover
Feel the heat, come out of cold,
and your arm is touching me
Good morning sunshine,
you're my only light
lying with me by my side,
you keep me warm all day
Just stay with me
Good morning sunshine,
be with me all day
Just don't let the rain pass you by
When it's cloudy and windy
and the snowflakes arrive,
you somehow just make me,
make me feel I'm alive
When you leave my field
then you light the stars
Fading away in horizon
there's a million streets
leading off the night,
waiting for sun to be risen
Feel the heat, come out of cold,
and your arm is touching me
Good morning sunshine,
you're my only light,
lying with me by my side,
you keep me warm all day
Just stay with me
Good morning sunshine,
be with me all day
Just don't let the rain pass you by
When it's cloudy and windy
and the snowflakes arrive,
you somehow just make me,
make me feel I'm alive
Hold it right there,
let me take a minute of your time,
to explain how I feel through these rhymes
I do the best I can, and believe me if I could
I'll build you a paradise with these two hands
the touch of your skin, makes my body go numb,
I'm thinking to myself, if my dream come true,
or is it 'cause you never give me a chance to tell you
how I feel, the moments we had were too precious to kill.
When it is cloudy and windy,
please turn your face at me
Good morning sunshine,
you're my only light,
lying with me by my side,
you keep me warm all day
Just stay with me
Good morning sunshine,
be with me all day,
Just don't let the rain pass you by,
when it is cloudy and windy
and the snowflakes arrive,
you somhow just make me,
make me feel I'm alive
make me feel I'm alive...
on a clear blue sky,
you will act like a lover
When the sky is grey,
and the rain comes down,
you will run for cover
Feel the heat, come out of cold,
and your arm is touching me
Good morning sunshine,
you're my only light
lying with me by my side,
you keep me warm all day
Just stay with me
Good morning sunshine,
be with me all day
Just don't let the rain pass you by
When it's cloudy and windy
and the snowflakes arrive,
you somehow just make me,
make me feel I'm alive
When you leave my field
then you light the stars
Fading away in horizon
there's a million streets
leading off the night,
waiting for sun to be risen
Feel the heat, come out of cold,
and your arm is touching me
Good morning sunshine,
you're my only light,
lying with me by my side,
you keep me warm all day
Just stay with me
Good morning sunshine,
be with me all day
Just don't let the rain pass you by
When it's cloudy and windy
and the snowflakes arrive,
you somehow just make me,
make me feel I'm alive
Hold it right there,
let me take a minute of your time,
to explain how I feel through these rhymes
I do the best I can, and believe me if I could
I'll build you a paradise with these two hands
the touch of your skin, makes my body go numb,
I'm thinking to myself, if my dream come true,
or is it 'cause you never give me a chance to tell you
how I feel, the moments we had were too precious to kill.
When it is cloudy and windy,
please turn your face at me
Good morning sunshine,
you're my only light,
lying with me by my side,
you keep me warm all day
Just stay with me
Good morning sunshine,
be with me all day,
Just don't let the rain pass you by,
when it is cloudy and windy
and the snowflakes arrive,
you somhow just make me,
make me feel I'm alive
make me feel I'm alive...
Monday, October 12, 2009
Waltz by Pablo Neruda
I touch hatred like a covered breast;
I without stopping go from garment to garment,
sleeping at a distance.
I am not, I'm of no use, I do not know
anyone; I have no weapons of ocean or wood,
I do not live in this house.
My mouth is full of night and water.
The abiding moon determines
what I do not have.
What I have is in the midst of the waves,
a ray of water, a day for myself,
an iron depth.
There is no cross-tide, there is no shield, no costume,
there is no special solution too deep to be sounded,
no vicious eyelid.
I live suddenly and other times I follow.
I touch a face suddenly and it murders me.
I have no time.
Do not look for me when drawing
the usual wild thread or the
bleeding net.
Do not call me: that is my occupation.
Do not ask my name or my condition.
Leave me in the middle of my own moon
in my wounded ground.
I without stopping go from garment to garment,
sleeping at a distance.
I am not, I'm of no use, I do not know
anyone; I have no weapons of ocean or wood,
I do not live in this house.
My mouth is full of night and water.
The abiding moon determines
what I do not have.
What I have is in the midst of the waves,
a ray of water, a day for myself,
an iron depth.
There is no cross-tide, there is no shield, no costume,
there is no special solution too deep to be sounded,
no vicious eyelid.
I live suddenly and other times I follow.
I touch a face suddenly and it murders me.
I have no time.
Do not look for me when drawing
the usual wild thread or the
bleeding net.
Do not call me: that is my occupation.
Do not ask my name or my condition.
Leave me in the middle of my own moon
in my wounded ground.
Sweet Torture by Alfonsina Storni
My melancholy was gold dust in your hands;
On your long hands I scattered my life;
My sweetnesses remained clutched in your hands;
Now I am a vial of perfume, emptied
How much sweet torture quietly suffered,
When, my soul wrested with shadowy sadness,
She who knows the tricks, I passed the days
kissing the two hands that stifled my life
On your long hands I scattered my life;
My sweetnesses remained clutched in your hands;
Now I am a vial of perfume, emptied
How much sweet torture quietly suffered,
When, my soul wrested with shadowy sadness,
She who knows the tricks, I passed the days
kissing the two hands that stifled my life
Visit www.rashtrakavi.blogspot.com for epic poems from Dinkar,Dushyant and evergreen hindi poets !!!
Feelings by Spike Milligan
| There must be a wound! No one can be this hurt and not bleed. How could she injure me so? No marks No bruises Worse! People say 'My, you're looking well' …..God help me! She's mummified me - ALIVE! |
Himself by Alice Guerin Crist
Last night, when I was listenin’
Alone, to wind and rain,
He took the chair beside me,
Himself - come home again.
His kind blue eyes were smilin’
Beneath his thatch of grey,
He laid his hand on my hand,
The ould sweetheartin’ way.
I pressed my cheek upon it,
Remembering bitterly
The times he faced his daily toil
Without one smile from me.
And yet, his meals were always good,
His clothes well kept and clean,
The neighbours, sure, will tell you,
The splendid wife I’ve been.
But in Life’s stress and struggle,
We somehow, grew apart,
You know these Irish mothers,
'Tis “the childer” has their heart.
And he grew grim, and close-lipped,
And harder, day by day,
Poor man - too tired for laughter,
Too worried to be gay.
But - how his care enclosed us,
For all he was so grim,
The very rafters of our home
Were cut and laid by him.
And I, that might have cheered him,
The bitter words I said,
Oh! God, that we remember,
Only when they are dead.
But now - my arms were round him,
The room seemed full of flowers,
And Youth came back and sunshine,
That glorious time was ours.
The firelight flamed and flickered,
The embers fell apart,
I woke to empty silence,
With sorrow at my heart.
The wild winds brought the morning,
The dawn was red and chill,
And Himself was lyin’ sleepin’
In the graveyard on the hill!
Alone, to wind and rain,
He took the chair beside me,
Himself - come home again.
His kind blue eyes were smilin’
Beneath his thatch of grey,
He laid his hand on my hand,
The ould sweetheartin’ way.
I pressed my cheek upon it,
Remembering bitterly
The times he faced his daily toil
Without one smile from me.
And yet, his meals were always good,
His clothes well kept and clean,
The neighbours, sure, will tell you,
The splendid wife I’ve been.
But in Life’s stress and struggle,
We somehow, grew apart,
You know these Irish mothers,
'Tis “the childer” has their heart.
And he grew grim, and close-lipped,
And harder, day by day,
Poor man - too tired for laughter,
Too worried to be gay.
But - how his care enclosed us,
For all he was so grim,
The very rafters of our home
Were cut and laid by him.
And I, that might have cheered him,
The bitter words I said,
Oh! God, that we remember,
Only when they are dead.
But now - my arms were round him,
The room seemed full of flowers,
And Youth came back and sunshine,
That glorious time was ours.
The firelight flamed and flickered,
The embers fell apart,
I woke to empty silence,
With sorrow at my heart.
The wild winds brought the morning,
The dawn was red and chill,
And Himself was lyin’ sleepin’
In the graveyard on the hill!
Sunday, October 11, 2009
"ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD"
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:
Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening care:
No children run to lisp their sire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share,
Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;
How jocund did they drive their team afield!
How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the Poor.
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Awaits alike th' inevitable hour:-
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Nor you, ye Proud, impute to these the fault
If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise,
Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
Can storied urn or animated bust
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust,
Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death?
Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;
Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd,
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre:
But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll;
Chill Penury repress'd their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.
Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast
The little tyrant of his fields withstood,
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood.
Th' applause of list'ning senates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,
And read their history in a nation's eyes,
Their lot forbad: nor circumscribed alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;
Forbad to wade through slaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind,
The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,
To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,
Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray;
Along the cool sequester'd vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.
Yet e'en these bones from insult to protect
Some frail memorial still erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd Muse,
The place of fame and elegy supply:
And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.
For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing lingering look behind?
On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires;
E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.
For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead,
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
If chance, by lonely contemplation led,
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, --
Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,
Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn
Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn;
'There at the foot of yonder nodding beech
That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high.
His listless length at noontide would he stretch,
And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
'Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove;
Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn,
Or crazed with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.
'One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill,
Along the heath, and near his favourite tree;
Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he;
'The next with dirges due in sad array
Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne,-
Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay
Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.'
The Epitaph
Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth
A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,
And Melacholy marked him for her own.
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heaven did a recompense as largely send:
He gave to Misery all he had, a tear,
He gained from Heaven ('twas all he wish'd) a friend.
No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode
(There they alike in trembling hope repose),
The bosom of his Father and his God.
By Thomas Gray (1716-71).
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:
Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening care:
No children run to lisp their sire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share,
Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;
How jocund did they drive their team afield!
How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the Poor.
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Awaits alike th' inevitable hour:-
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Nor you, ye Proud, impute to these the fault
If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise,
Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
Can storied urn or animated bust
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust,
Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death?
Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;
Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd,
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre:
But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll;
Chill Penury repress'd their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.
Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast
The little tyrant of his fields withstood,
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood.
Th' applause of list'ning senates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,
And read their history in a nation's eyes,
Their lot forbad: nor circumscribed alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;
Forbad to wade through slaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind,
The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,
To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,
Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray;
Along the cool sequester'd vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.
Yet e'en these bones from insult to protect
Some frail memorial still erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd Muse,
The place of fame and elegy supply:
And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.
For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing lingering look behind?
On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires;
E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.
For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead,
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
If chance, by lonely contemplation led,
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, --
Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,
Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn
Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn;
'There at the foot of yonder nodding beech
That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high.
His listless length at noontide would he stretch,
And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
'Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove;
Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn,
Or crazed with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.
'One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill,
Along the heath, and near his favourite tree;
Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he;
'The next with dirges due in sad array
Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne,-
Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay
Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.'
The Epitaph
Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth
A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,
And Melacholy marked him for her own.
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heaven did a recompense as largely send:
He gave to Misery all he had, a tear,
He gained from Heaven ('twas all he wish'd) a friend.
No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode
(There they alike in trembling hope repose),
The bosom of his Father and his God.
By Thomas Gray (1716-71).
Friday, October 9, 2009
How ......
how could
(did?)
Don McLean
confine it
to one day?
in clumps
they die
but not all at once
nor was there one
day
and often
it was only
the music
not the musician
MDC
killed JL
so the Beatles
could never perform
on earth
again
but their music died
when they quit
making it
they are the ROCK
of Rock and Roll
and fit with Mozart and Einstein
and then there is the
endless list
of
other names
a plane crash
a bullet
drugs
or just
dead
before something was invented
to
kill
artists
poets,
on the other hand,
well,
some people
only wish
we'd stop
nobody is picky about
how
but if You
have given
any person
any gift
it behooves someone
to share it
or the music really will stop
and so
will everything else
--
Jonathan
(did?)
Don McLean
confine it
to one day?
in clumps
they die
but not all at once
nor was there one
day
and often
it was only
the music
not the musician
MDC
killed JL
so the Beatles
could never perform
on earth
again
but their music died
when they quit
making it
they are the ROCK
of Rock and Roll
and fit with Mozart and Einstein
and then there is the
endless list
of
other names
a plane crash
a bullet
drugs
or just
dead
before something was invented
to
kill
artists
poets,
on the other hand,
well,
some people
only wish
we'd stop
nobody is picky about
how
but if You
have given
any person
any gift
it behooves someone
to share it
or the music really will stop
and so
will everything else
--
Jonathan
Monday, October 5, 2009
Mughal-e-Azam :::My Fav Hindi movie #4
Plot :::
Everyone know the plot of this movie so why waste time,here is sum trivia bout the movie u may find interesting .enjoy !!!
Trivia :::
- It took over 10 years for the movie to be complete.
- The first full feature-length movie to be revived/colorized for a theatrical re-release in the history of world cinema. It has been done for some Hollywood movies but only for re-release on home video.
- With the advent of Jhansi Ki Rani in 1951, colour films became a revolution. K. Asif wanted to remake the whole film in colour, but when the distributors lost patience settled for having two songs and the film's 30-minute climax shot in Technicolor, with the rest of the film (85%) black-and-white. However, in November 2004, the whole movie was restored and colorized in a year-long process by the IAAA (Indian Academy of Arts and Animation) and re-released.
- This was one of only two films K. Asif completed. When he died in 1971, he left behind two unfinished films, Sasta Khoon Mahenga Paani and Love and God, the latter released by K.C. Bokadia in 1986.
- This was (counting Sanjay Leela Bhansali's Devdas) the most expensive film ever made in Indian history. Tailors were brought from Delhi to stitch the costumes, specialists from Surat-Khambayat were employed for the embroidery, Hyderabad goldsmiths made the jewellery, Kohalpur craftsmen designed the crowns, Rajasthan ironsmiths crafted the weapons, and the elaborate footwear was ordered from Agra. For the battle sequence, 2000 camels, 4000 horses and 8000 troops were used, many of them soldiers on loan from the Indian Army. Altogether the film cost Rs. 1.5 crores (38.29 crores in present terms).
- The song "Ae Mohabbat Zindabad" had singer Mohammed Rafi with a chorus of 100 singers.
- The song "Pyar Kiya To Darna Kiya" has an unusual history to it: it cost Rs. 10 million at a time when a film would be made for less than a million; it was written and re-written 105 times by the lyricist, Shakeel Badayuni, before the music director, Naushad, could approve of it; it was shot in the renowned Sheesh Mahal (Palace of Mirrors); and in those days of sound recording, editing and mixing, as there was no way to provide the reverberation of sound, Naushad had Lata Mangeshkar sing the song in a studio bathroom.
- For the battle sequence, 2,000 camels, 4,000 horses and 8,000 troops were used, many of them soldiers on loan from the Indian Army. This was arranged through special permission through the Indian Ministry of Defence-a rare occurrence today. The soldiers came from the Jaipur regiment of the Indian army.
- The statue of Lord Krishna used in the film is made of pure gold.
- The heavy chains Madhubala wore in the film were authentic, not the lightweight models worn in those days. It was her greatest ordeal in the film and she was bedridden for days nursing the bruises caused by wearing those chains.
Pavitra Papi ::: My Fav Hindi movie #3
Kedarnath is employed with a local clock/watch repair shop, owned by a parsimonious Adarshan Lala. Kedarnath goes out of his way to help a destitute woman, Maya, who husband is missing, with two daughters, Veena and Vidya. Kedarnath rents a room with them, writes letters to her on behalf of her husband, Pannalal, and even arranges the marriage of Veena with the son of Daulatram. When Maya tells him that she has no money to pay for the marriage expenses, he steals cash from his employer, and tells Maya that the money is from Pannalal. And all along telling Maya that he is a close friend of Pannalal, even though he has never met Pannalal, leave alone know him, making one think as to what devious secret Kedarnath is hiding, and what is the reason behind Pannalal's disappearance.
Cast ::::
| Balraj Sahni | ... | Pannalal | |
| Tanuja | ... | Veena | |
| Parikshat Sahni | ... | Kedarnath (as Ajay Sahni) | |
| Achala Sachdev | ... | Maya (as Achla Sachdev) | |
The most disgusting thing is this is a classic movie and still avaiting 5 votes on imdb to have a rating !!!
PLZ log on to imdb and vote for it and if u are a movie lover then its a must watch !!!
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Robert Frost`s Acquainted With The Night
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain — and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
A luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
Robert Frost`s Out, Out
| The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood, Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it. And from there those that lifted eyes could count Five mountain ranges one behind the other Under the sunset far into Vermont. And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled, As it ran light, or had to bear a load. And nothing happened: day was all but done. Call it a day, I wish they might have said To please the boy by giving him the half hour That a boy counts so much when saved from work. His sister stood beside them in her apron To tell them "Supper." At the word, the saw, As if to prove saws knew what supper meant, Leaped out at the boy's hand, or seemed to leap— He must have given the hand. However it was, Neither refused the meeting. But the hand! The boy's first outcry was a rueful laugh, As he swung toward them holding up the hand Half in appeal, but half as if to keep The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all— Since he was old enough to know, big boy Doing a man's work, though a child at heart— He saw all spoiled. "Don't let him cut my hand off— The doctor, when he comes. Don't let him, sister!" So. But the hand was gone already. The doctor put him in the dark of ether. He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath. And then—the watcher at his pulse took fright. No one believed. They listened at his heart. Little—less—nothing!—and that ended it. No more to build on there. And they, since they Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs. |
John Keats ::::Ode On A Grecian Urn
1.
Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fring'd legend haunts about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
2.
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
3.
Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.
4.
Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little town by river or sea shore,
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.
5.
O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty,--that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Guide:::::: My Fav Hindi movie # 2
Plot
Raju makes a living by acting as a guide for tourists on one hand, and a con-man on another. He meets with Rosie Marco during one of his tours, and is attracted to her. He finds out that Rosie is unhappily married, would like to separate from her spouse, and take up acting and dancing. With Raju's encouragement, Rosie succeeds and both become rich beyond their imagination. Raju's lifestyle becomes easy, and he succumbs to gambling, and drinking in a big way. He forges a signature, is caught, arrested, tried in court, found guilty and imprisoned. Rosie will now have nothing to do with him. After Raju completes his prison sentence, he is released and travels far and wide in an attempt to meet Rosie and also to try and avoid returning to the city. He is mistaken for a Saint, and asked to preside over a temple in a region that is stricken by severe drought. Raju must offer prayers for rain and appease the people, or else they will expose him for fooling them. The question remains will he succeed in conning devotees that have come far and wide to watch him perform a miracle?
Trivia
This movie was made in two versions - an English version in collaboration with Pearl S. Buck and directed by Ted Danielewski to introduce Dev Anand to western audiences and of course the Hindi version directed by Dev Anand's younger brother Vijay Anand.
The film is based on the book "The Guide" by R. K. Narayan, India's best known author in the English language.
Vijay Anand was horrified when he read the script and thought it would ruin the image of the country abroad. He refused twice to direct the film. It was only on the third attempt by Dev Anand that he agreed.
The film is based on the book "The Guide" by R. K. Narayan, India's best known author in the English language.
Vijay Anand was horrified when he read the script and thought it would ruin the image of the country abroad. He refused twice to direct the film. It was only on the third attempt by Dev Anand that he agreed.
Cast
Dev Anand ... Raju
Waheeda Rehman ... Rosie Marco / Miss NaliniLeela Chitnis ... Raju's Mother
Kishore Sahu ... Marco
Gajanan Jagirdar ... Bhola
Anwar Hussain ... Gaffoor
Ulhas ... Raju's Maternal Uncle
Krishan Dhawan ... Inspector Girdhari
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Pyaasa:::::: My Fav Hindi movie # 1
Vijay: Apne shauk ke liye pyaar karti hai aur apne aaram ke liye pyar bechti hai.
[Love, for her, is a hobby that she can barter for material pleasures]
[Love, for her, is a hobby that she can barter for material pleasures]
Pyaasa (Hindi: प्यासा; Urdu: پیاسا; English: Thirsty) is a 1957 Indian film produced and directed by Guru Dutt. The film tells the story of struggling poet, Vijay (Guru Dutt), trying to make his works known in post-independence India. Gulabo (Waheeda Rehman in her first major leading role in Hindi cinema), a prostitute with a heart of gold, eventually helps him get his poems published. The music was composed by S.D. Burman.
With commercial success of thrillers like Baazi, Jaal, Aar Paar, C.I.D. and comedies Mr. & Mrs. '55, Guru Dutt and his studio were financially secure and established. He could now make movies he really wanted to make, including Pyaasa. In 2002, Pyaasa was ranked at #160 on the Sight & Sound critics' and directors' poll for all-time greatest films. In 2005, Pyaasa was rated as one of the 100 best films of all time by Time Magazine, which called it "the soulfully romantic of the lot."
Cast :::
Mala Sinha - Meena
Waheeda Rehman - Gulabo
Rehman - Mr. Ghosh
Johnny Walker - Abdul Sattar
Cast :::
Guru Dutt - Vijay
Mala Sinha - Meena
Waheeda Rehman - Gulabo
Rehman - Mr. Ghosh
Johnny Walker - Abdul Sattar
For more visit www.imdb.com
Sahirs zulm phir zulm hai
zulm phir zulm hai, baRhta hai to miT jaataa hai
Khoon phir Khoon hai, Tapkega to jam jaayega
Khoon phir Khoon hai, Tapkega to jam jaayega
Khaak-e-sehra pe jame yaa kaf-e-qaatil pe jame
farq-e-insaaf pe yaa paa-e-salaasal pe jame
teGh-e-bedaad pe yaa laasha-e-bismil pe jame
Khoon phir Khoon hai Tapkega to jam jaayega
farq-e-insaaf pe yaa paa-e-salaasal pe jame
teGh-e-bedaad pe yaa laasha-e-bismil pe jame
Khoon phir Khoon hai Tapkega to jam jaayega
laakh baiThe koi chhup chhup ke kameeN gaahoN meiN
Khoon Khud deta hai jalaadoN ke maskan ka suraaGh
saazisheiN laaKh uRaati raheiN zulmat ka naqaab
le ke har booNd nikalti hai hatheli pe chiraaGh
Khoon Khud deta hai jalaadoN ke maskan ka suraaGh
saazisheiN laaKh uRaati raheiN zulmat ka naqaab
le ke har booNd nikalti hai hatheli pe chiraaGh
zulm kii qismat-e-nakaarah-o-rusvaa se kaho
jab’r kii hikmat-e-purkaar ke eema se kaho (eema = permission)
mehmal-e-majlis-e-aqwaam kii laila se kaho
Khoon diiwana hai, daaman pe lapak sakta hai
shola-e-tuNd hai, Khirman pe lapak sakta hai
jab’r kii hikmat-e-purkaar ke eema se kaho (eema = permission)
mehmal-e-majlis-e-aqwaam kii laila se kaho
Khoon diiwana hai, daaman pe lapak sakta hai
shola-e-tuNd hai, Khirman pe lapak sakta hai
tum ne jis Khoon ko maqtal meiN dabaanaa chaaha
aaj vo kuchaa-o-bazaar meiN aa nikla hai
kahiiN shola kahiiN naarah kahiiN patthar ban ke
Khoon chalta hai to rukta nahiiN sangeeno se
sar jo uThtaa hai to dabtaa nahiiN aaeeno se
aaj vo kuchaa-o-bazaar meiN aa nikla hai
kahiiN shola kahiiN naarah kahiiN patthar ban ke
Khoon chalta hai to rukta nahiiN sangeeno se
sar jo uThtaa hai to dabtaa nahiiN aaeeno se
zulm ki baat hi kya, zulm ki auqaat hi kya
zulm bas zulm hai, aaGhaaz se anjaam talak
Khoon phir Khoon hai, so shakl badal sakta hai
aisi shakleiN ke miTaaoo to miTaaye na bane
aise shole k bujhaao to bujhaaye na bane
aise naare k dabaao to dabaaye na bane
zulm bas zulm hai, aaGhaaz se anjaam talak
Khoon phir Khoon hai, so shakl badal sakta hai
aisi shakleiN ke miTaaoo to miTaaye na bane
aise shole k bujhaao to bujhaaye na bane
aise naare k dabaao to dabaaye na bane
If.......
If
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!
Monday, September 28, 2009
Benaam sa yeh dard
(Benaam sa yeh dard
thahar kyon nahi jaata) -2
jo beet gaya hai vo
guzar kyon nahi jaata
benaam sa yeh ...
Sab kuch to hai kya dhoondti
rahti hain nigaahein
Kya baat hai main
waqt pe ghar kyoon nahi jaata
jo beet gaya hai vo
guzar kyoon nahi jaata
(Vo ek hi chahra to
nahi saare jahan main) -2
(Jo door hai vo dil se
utar kyon nahi jata) -2
Jo beet gaya hai vo
guzar kyoon nahi jata
benaam sa yeh....
(Main apni hi uljhi hui
raahon ka tamasha) -2
(Jaate hai jidhar sab
main udhar kyoon nahi jata) -2
Jo beet gaya hai vo
guzar kyoon nahi jata
(Vo naam jo barson se
na chehra hai na badan hai) -2
(vo khwab agar hai to
bikhar kyoon nahi jata) -2
Jo beet gaya hai vo
guzar kyoon nahi jata
Listen to this song here
Tere Khushbu Mein Basey Khat
Tere Khushbu Mein Basey Khat Main Jalaata Kaisey,
Jinko Duniya Ki Nigahon Se Chupaaye Rakhaa,
Jinko Ik Umr Kalejey Se Lagaaye Rakhaa,
Jinka Har Lafz Mujhe Yaad Tha Pani Ki Tarah,
Yaad They Mujhko Jo Paigaam-e-zubaani Ki Tarah,
Mujh Ko Pyarey They Jo Anmol Nishaani Ki Tarah.
Tuune Duniya Ki Nigahon Se Jo Bachakar Likhey,
Saalahaa-saal Mere Naam Baraabar Likhey.
Kabhi Din Mein Toh Kabhi Raat Mein Uthkar Likhey
Tere Khushbu Mein Basey Khat Main Jalaata Kaisey?
Pyar Mein Duubey Huye Khat Main Jalaata Kaisey?
Tere Haathon Ke Likhey Khat Main Jalaata Kaisey?
Tere Khat Aaj Main Ganga Mein Bahaa Aayaa Hoon,
Aag Behetey Hue Paani Mein Lagaa Aayaa Hoon.
Album : Live With Jagjit Singh
Video : Revival Jagjit Singh
Year : 1993
for More classics visit and bookmark
Friday, September 25, 2009
Sahirs kabhi kabhi
Kabhi kabhi mere dil mein khayaal aata hai
Kabhi kabhi mere dil mein khayaal aata hai
Ki jaise tujhko banaya gaya hai mere liye
Ki jaise tujhko banaya gaya hai mere liye
Tu abse pehle sitaaron mein bas rahi thi kahin
Tu abse pehle sitaaron mein bas rahi thi kahin
Tujhe zameen pe bulaya gaya hai mere liye
Tujhe zameen pe bulaya gaya hai mere liye
Kabhi kabhi mere dil mein khayaal aata hai
Ki ye badan ye nigaahein meri amaanat hain
Ki ye badan ye nigaahein meri amaanat hain
Ye gesuon ki ghani chhaon hain meri khatir
Ye honth aur ye baahein meri amaanat hain
Ye honth aur ye baahein meri amaanat hain
Kabhi kabhi mere dil mein khayaal aata hai
Ki jaise bajti hain shehnaaiyaan si raahon mein
Ki jaise bajti hain shehnaaiyaan si raahon mein
Suhaag raat hain ghoonghat utha raha hoon main
Suhaag raat hain ghoonghat utha raha hoon main
Simat rahi hai tu sharma ke apni baahon mein
Simat rahi hai tu sharma ke apni baahon mein
Kabhi kabhi mere dil mein khayaal aata hai
Ki jaise tu mujhe chaahegi umr bhar yoohin
Uthegi meri taraf pyaar ki nazar yoohin
Main jaanta hoon ki tu geir hai magar yoohin
Main jaanta hoon ki tu geir hai magar yoohin
Kabhi kabhi mere dil mein khayaal aata hai
Kabhi kabhi mere dil mein khayaal aata haiLee Fore Brace by Cicely Fox Smith
There was ten men hauling on the lee fore brace
In the rain an' the drivin' hail,
An' the mile-long graybeards chargin' by,
An' the thunderin' Cape Horn gale.
(That dark it was, you scarce could see
Your hand before your face;
That cold it was, our fingers froze
Stiff as they gripped the brace.
An' "Christ!" says Dan, "for a night in port
An' a Dago fiddler's tune,
An' just one whiff o' the drinks again
In a Callao saloon!")
There was ten men haulin' on the lee fore brace
When the big sea broke aboard;
Like a stream in spate, a foaming flood
Right fore an' aft it poured.
The ship, she staggered an' lay still —
So deep, so dead lay she,
You'd think she could not rise again
From such a weight of sea.
There was ten men haulin' on the lee fore brace . . .
Seven when she rose at last;
The rest was gone to the pitch-dark night,
An' the sea, an' the ice-cold blast.
An' one of them was Dago Pete,
An' one was Lars the Dane,
An' the third was the lad whose like on earth
I shall not find again.
An' I'll heave an' haul an' stand my wheel,
An' reef an' furl wi' the rest . . .
For winds an' seas go on the same,
When they've took an' drowned the best.
An' it ain't no use to curse the Lord,
Nor it ain't no sense to moan,
For a man must live his life the same,
An' keep his grief his own.
An' I'll drink my drink an' sing my song,
An' nobody'll know but me
A lump o' my heart went down with Dan
That night in the wild Horn sea
for More classics visit and bookmark http://classicshayari.blogspot.com
In the rain an' the drivin' hail,
An' the mile-long graybeards chargin' by,
An' the thunderin' Cape Horn gale.
(That dark it was, you scarce could see
Your hand before your face;
That cold it was, our fingers froze
Stiff as they gripped the brace.
An' "Christ!" says Dan, "for a night in port
An' a Dago fiddler's tune,
An' just one whiff o' the drinks again
In a Callao saloon!")
There was ten men haulin' on the lee fore brace
When the big sea broke aboard;
Like a stream in spate, a foaming flood
Right fore an' aft it poured.
The ship, she staggered an' lay still —
So deep, so dead lay she,
You'd think she could not rise again
From such a weight of sea.
There was ten men haulin' on the lee fore brace . . .
Seven when she rose at last;
The rest was gone to the pitch-dark night,
An' the sea, an' the ice-cold blast.
An' one of them was Dago Pete,
An' one was Lars the Dane,
An' the third was the lad whose like on earth
I shall not find again.
An' I'll heave an' haul an' stand my wheel,
An' reef an' furl wi' the rest . . .
For winds an' seas go on the same,
When they've took an' drowned the best.
An' it ain't no use to curse the Lord,
Nor it ain't no sense to moan,
For a man must live his life the same,
An' keep his grief his own.
An' I'll drink my drink an' sing my song,
An' nobody'll know but me
A lump o' my heart went down with Dan
That night in the wild Horn sea
for More classics visit and bookmark http://classicshayari.blogspot.com
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Langston Hughes :Mother To Son
Well, son, I'll tell you:
Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
It's had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor—
Bare.
But all the time
I'se been a-climbin' on,
And reachin' landin's,
And turnin' corners,
And sometimes goin' in the dark
Where there ain't been no light.
So, boy, don't you turn back.
Don't you set down on the steps.
'Cause you finds it's kinder hard.
Don't you fall now—
For I'se still goin', honey,
I'se still climbin',
And life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
Read Dinkars Rashmirathi at http://classicshayari.blogspot.com
Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
It's had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor—
Bare.
But all the time
I'se been a-climbin' on,
And reachin' landin's,
And turnin' corners,
And sometimes goin' in the dark
Where there ain't been no light.
So, boy, don't you turn back.
Don't you set down on the steps.
'Cause you finds it's kinder hard.
Don't you fall now—
For I'se still goin', honey,
I'se still climbin',
And life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
Read Dinkars Rashmirathi at http://classicshayari.blogspot.com
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Memorable quotes for Inglourious Basterds
[from trailer]
Lt. Aldo Raine: Each and every man under my command owes me one hundred Nazi scalps... and I want my scalps!
Adolf Hitler: [slamming his hand on a table] Nein nein nein nein nein nein!
Lt. Aldo Raine: The German will be sickened by us, the German will talk about us, and the German will fear us.
Lt. Aldo Raine: My name is Lt. Aldo Raine and I'm putting together a special team, and I need me eight soldiers. Eight Jewish-American soldiers. Now, y'all might've heard rumors about the armada happening soon. Well, we'll be leaving a little earlier. We're gonna be dropped into France, dressed as civilians. And once we're in enemy territory, as a bushwhackin' guerrilla army, we're gonna be doin' one thing and one thing only... killin' Nazis. Now, I don't know about y'all, but I sure as hell didn't come down from the goddamn Smoky Mountains, cross five thousand miles of water, fight my way through half of Sicily and jump out of a fuckin' air-o-plane to teach the Nazis lessons in humanity. Nazi ain't got no humanity. They're the foot soldiers of a Jew-hatin', mass murderin' maniac and they need to be dee-stroyed. That's why any and every every son of a bitch we find wearin' a Nazi uniform, they're gonna die. Now, I'm the direct descendant of the mountain man Jim Bridger. That means I got a little Injun in me. And our battle plan will be that of an Apache resistance. We will be cruel to the Germans, and through our cruelty they will know who we are. And they will find the evidence of our cruelty in the disemboweled, dismembered, and disfigured bodies of their brothers we leave behind us. And the German won't not be able to help themselves but to imagine the cruelty their brothers endured at our hands, and our boot heels, and the edge of our knives. And the German will be sickened by us, and the German will talk about us, and the German will fear us. And when the German closes their eyes at night and they're tortured by their subconscious for the evil they have done, it will be with thoughts of us they are tortured with. Sound good?
The Basterds: YES, SIR!
Lt. Aldo Raine: That's what I like to hear. But I got a word of warning for all you would-be warriors. When you join my command, you take on debit. A debit you owe me personally. Each and every man under my command owes me one hundred Nazi scalps. And I want my scalps. And all y'all will git me one hundred Nazi scalps, taken from the heads of one hundred dead Nazis. Or you will die tryin'.
Lt. Aldo Raine: You probably heard we ain't in the prisoner-takin' business; we in the killin' Nazi business. And cousin, Business is a-boomin'.
Col. Hans Landa: What a tremendously hostile world that a rat must endure. Yet not only does he survive, he thrives. Because our little foe has an instinct for survival and preservation second to none... And that Monsieur is what a Jew shares with a rat.
Bridget von Hammersmark: There have been two recent developments regarding Operation Kino. One, the venue has been changed from the Ritz to a much smaller venue.
Lt. Aldo Raine: Enormous changes at the last minute? That's not very "Germatic." Why the hell is Goebbels doing stuff so damn peculiar?
Bridget von Hammersmark: It probably has something to do with the second development.
Lt. Aldo Raine: Which is?
Bridget von Hammersmark: [sits up] The Führer is attending the premiere.
Lt. Aldo Raine: [Drawing a map] Up the road apiece, there's a orchard. Now, besides you, we know there's another kraut patrol fuckin' here somewhere. Now if that patrol were to have any crackshots, that orchard would be a goddamn sniper's delight. Now if you ever want to eat a sauerkraut sandwich again, you gotta show me on this map where they are, you gotta tell me how many there are, and you gotta tell me what kinda artillery they're carrying with 'em.
Sgt. Werner Rachtman: You can't expect me to divulge information that would put German lives in danger?
Lt. Aldo Raine: Well Werner, that's where you're wrong, because that's exactly what I expect. I need to about Germans hiding in them trees, and you need to tell me, and you need to tell me. And you need to tell me right now. Now take your finger and point out on this map where this party's being held, how many's coming, and what they brought to play with.
Sgt. Werner Rachtman: I respectfully refuse.
Lt. Aldo Raine: [a smack is heard offscreen] Here that? That's Sgt. Donny Donowitz. But you might know him better by his nickname. The Bear Jew. Now, if you heard of Aldo the Apache, you gotta have heard of the Bear Jew.
Sgt. Werner Rachtman: I have heard of the Bear Jew.
Lt. Aldo Raine: What did you hear about him, Werner?
Sgt. Werner Rachtman: He beats German soldiers with a club
Lt. Aldo Raine: He bashes their brains in with a baseball bat is what he does. Now, Werner, I'm gonna ask you one more goddamn time, and if you still "respectfully refuse," I'm callin' the Bear Jew over here, and he's gonna take that big-ole bat of his, and he's gonna beat you to death with it. Now take your wiener schnitzel lickin' finger and point out on this map what I want to know.
Sgt. Werner Rachtman: Fuck you.
[pause]
Sgt. Werner Rachtman: And your Jew dogs!
[the Basterds all laugh]
Lt. Aldo Raine: Actually, Werner, we're all tickled to here you say that. Frankly, watchin' Donny beat Nazis to death is is the closest we ever get to goin' to the movies.
[Calling offscreen]
Lt. Aldo Raine: DONNY!
Sgt. Donny Donowitz: [From offscreen] Yeah?
Lt. Aldo Raine: We got a German here who wants to die for his country! Oblige him!
Lt. Aldo Raine: [Lt. Aldo and PFC. Utivich stare at him in confusion]
Col. Hans Landa: Is that the way you say it: "That's a bingo?"
Lt. Aldo Raine: You just say "bingo".
Col. Hans Landa: Ahhh! BINGO! What fun! But, I digress. Where were we?
Major Dieter Hellstrom: That was the sound of my Walther pointed right at your testicles.
Lt. Archie Hicox: Why do you have a Luger pointed at my testicles?
Major Dieter Hellstrom: Because you've just given yourself away, Captain. You're no more German than that scotch.
Lt. Archie Hicox: Well, Major...
Bridget von Hammersmark: Major...
Major Dieter Hellstrom: Shut up, slut. You were saying?
Lt. Archie Hicox: I was saying that that makes two of us. I've had a gun pointed at your balls since you sat down.
Sgt. Hugo Stiglitz: That makes three of us.
[Stiglitz takes Hellstrom by the shoulder and aggresively forces a gun against his crotch]
Sgt. Hugo Stiglitz: And at this range, I'm a real Frederick Zoller.
Major Dieter Hellstrom: Looks like we have a bit of a sticky situation here.
Shosanna Dreyfus: [to Fredrick] If you are so desperate for a French girlfriend, I suggest you try Vichy.
Col. Hans Landa: Now if one were to determine what attribute the German people share with a beast, it would be the cunning and the predatory instinct of a hawk. But if one were to determine what attributes the Jews share with a beast, it would be that of the rat. If a rat were to walk in here right now as I'm talking, would you treat it to a saucer of your delicious milk?
Perrier LaPadite: Probably not.
Col. Hans Landa: I didn't think so. You don't like them. You don't really know why you don't like them. All you know is you find them repulsive. Consequently, a German soldier conducts a search of a house suspected of hiding Jews. Where does the hawk look? He looks in the barn, he looks in the attic, he looks in the cellar, he looks everywhere *he* would hide, but there's so many places it would never occur to a hawk to hide. However, the reason the Führer's brought me off my Alps in Austria and placed me in French cow country today is because it does occur to me. Because I'm aware what tremendous feats human beings are capable of once they abandon dignity.
Lt. Aldo Raine: "Looks like the shoe's on the other foot." Yeah, I was just thinking that.
Sgt. Donny Donowitz: We punch those goons out, take their machine guns, and burst in there blasting!
Narrator: The reason for Hugo Stiglitz's celebrity among German soldiers is simple. As a German enlisted man, he killed thirteen Gestapo officers, mostly Majors. Instead of putting him up against a wall, the High Command decided to send him back to Berlin, to be made an example of. Needless to say, once the Basterds heard of him, he never got there.
Perrier LaPadite: Please, Cononel, make yourself at home.
[Hans pulls out a very large pipe five times the size of Perrier's]
Col. Hans Landa: Are you mad? What have you done? I made a deal with your general for that man's life!
Lt. Aldo Raine: Yeah, they made that deal, but they don't give a fuck about him. They need you.
Col. Hans Landa: You'll be shot for this!
Lt. Aldo Raine: Nah, I don't think so. More like chewed out. I've been chewed out before.
Lt. Archie Hicox: I didn't know.
Lt. Aldo Raine: You said it was in a tavern.
Lt. Archie Hicox: It is a tavern.
Lt. Aldo Raine: Yeah, in a basement. You know, fightin' in a basement offers a lot of difficulties. Number one being, you're fightin' in a basement!
Sgt. Donny Donowitz: Speaking of Fraulein von Hammersmark, whose idea was it for the death trap rendezvous?
Lt. Archie Hicox: She chose the spot.
Sgt. Donny Donowitz: Well, isn't that just dandy.
Lt. Archie Hicox: Look, she's not a military strategist. She's just an actress.
Lt. Aldo Raine: You don't got to be Stonewall Jackson to know you don't want to fight in a basement.
Shosanna Dreyfus: I rather liked Lillian Harvey.
Joseph Goebbels: [suddenly] Lillian Harvey! Never mention that name in my presence!
Shosanna Dreyfus: It looks like we're supposed to have a Nazi premiere.
Marcel: Like I said, what the fuck are we supposed to do?
Adolf Hitler: Who and what is a "Private Butz"?
Shosanna Dreyfus: Filling the cinema with Nazis and burning it to the ground.
Marcel: I'm not talking about that. You're talking about that.
[raises hands in a dramatic manner]
Col. Hans Landa: My hands, to be exact. And they've been waiting a long time to touch you.
[fingers reach out and poke Lt. Aldo in the face; Lt. Aldo flinches]
Col. Hans Landa: [chuckling] Caught you flinching.
[Lt. Aldo headbutts Col. Landa]
Shosanna Dreyfus: You either do what the fuck we tell you, I'll bury this axe in your collaborating skull.
Major Dieter Hellstrom: [Hellstrom is trying to guess the famous person on his forehead, which is King Kong] I'll start, give you the idea. Am I German?
Major Dieter Hellstrom: Am I American?
Cpl. Wilhelm Wicki: Wait a minute, he goes to...
Bridget von Hammersmark: Don't be ridiculous. Obviously I wasn't born in America.
Major Dieter Hellstrom: So, I visited America, yes?
Bridget von Hammersmark: Yes.
Major Dieter Hellstrom: Was this visit fortuitous?
Cpl. Wilhelm Wicki: Not for you.
Major Dieter Hellstrom: Now, gentlemen, around this time you could ask whether you're real or fictitious. I, however, think that's too easy, so I won't ask that yet. Okay, my native land is the jungle. I visited America, but the visit was not fortuitous to me, but the implication is that it was to somebody else. When I went from the jungle to America, did I go by boat?
Bridget von Hammersmark: Yes.
Major Dieter Hellstrom: Did I go against my will?
Bridget von Hammersmark: Yes.
Major Dieter Hellstrom: On this boat ride, was I in chains?
Bridget von Hammersmark: Yes.
Major Dieter Hellstrom: When I arrived in America, was I displayed in chains?
Bridget von Hammersmark: Yes!
Major Dieter Hellstrom: Am I the story of the negro in America?
Cpl. Wilhelm Wicki: No.
Major Dieter Hellstrom: Well, then, I must be King Kong.
Shosanna Dreyfus: Oui.
Joseph Goebbels: How many?
Shosanna Dreyfus: Two.
Joseph Goebbels: More would be better.
Sgt. Donny Donowitz: [Aldo is carving a swastika into Private Butz's forehead] You know, Lieutenant, you're getting pretty good at that.
Lt. Aldo Raine: You know how you get to Carnegie Hall, doncha? Practice.
Pfc. Omar Ulmer: I have to.
Adolf Hitler: [at the premiere of "Nation's Pride"] Extraordinary, my dear. Simply extraordinary. This is your finest film yet.
Joseph Goebbels: [Goebbels' eyes fill with tears] Thank you, mein Fuhrer. Thank you.
Lt. Aldo Raine: I'm gonna give you a little somethin' you can't take off.
Kliest: Yes, mein Fuhrer?
Adolf Hitler: I have an order I want relayed to all German soldiers stationed in France. The Jew degenerate known as the Bear Jew henceforth is never to be referred to as the Bear Jew again. Did you get that, Kliest?
Kliest: Yes, mein Fuhrer.
Adolf Hitler: Nein, nein, nein, nein, nein, nein! How much more of these Jew swine must I endure? They butcher my men like they were fish bait! I have heard the rumors myself! Soldiers of the Third Reich, who have brought the world to its knees, now pecking and clucking like chickens. Do you know the latest rumor they've conjured up in their fear-induced delirium? The one that beats my boys with a bat. The one they call "the Bear Jew" is a golem!
General Frank: Mein Fuhrer, that is just soldier's gossip. No one really believes that the Bear Jew is a golem.
Lt. Aldo Raine: You know somethin', Utivich? I think this might just be my masterpiece.
Joseph Goebbels: It's only the offspring of slaves that allows America to be competitive athletically. American Olympic gold can be measured in Negro sweat.
Lt. Aldo Raine: That's Sergeant Donny Donowitz. But you might know him better by his nickname... the Bear Jew... Now, if you heard of Aldo the Apache, you gotta heard about the Bear Jew.
Major Dieter Hellstrom: By all means, Captain.
Lt. Archie Hicox: There's a special rung in hell reserved for people who waste good scotch. And seeing as I might be rapping on the door momentarily...
[he drinks the scotch]
Lt. Archie Hicox: I must say, damned good stuff, sir.
[pause]
Lt. Archie Hicox: Now, about this pickle we find ourselves in...
Shosanna Dreyfus: I am going to burn down the cinema on Nazi night. And if I'm going to burn down the cinema, which I am, we both know you're not going to let me do it by myself. Because you love me. And I love you. And you're the only person on this earth I can trust. But that's not all we're going to do. Does the filmmaking equipment in the attic still work? I know the film camera does. How about the sound recorder?
Marcel: Quite well, actually. I recorded a new guitarist I met in a cafe last week. It works superb. Why do we need filmmaking equipment?
Shosanna Dreyfus: Because, Marcel, my sweet, we're going to make a film. Just for the Nazis.
Bridget von Hammersmark: I can see since you didn't see what happened inside, the Nazis being there must look odd.
Lt. Aldo Raine: Yeah, we got a word for that kinda odd in English. It's called suspicious.
Col. Hans Landa: [Aldo has just killed his driver] Are you mad? What have you done? I made a deal with your general for that man's life!
Lt. Aldo Raine: Yeah, they made that deal, but they don't give a fuck about him. They need you.
Col. Hans Landa: You will be shot for this!
Lt. Aldo Raine: Naw, I don't think so. More like I'll be chewed out. I've been chewed out before.
Col. Hans Landa: I did have something else I wanted to ask you, but right now, for the life of me, I can't remember what it is. Oh, well, must not have been important. Till tonight.
[He leaves. Shosanna lets out a sigh of relief and starts crying]
Col. Hans Landa: [to Perrier LaPardite] I love rumors! Facts can be so misleading, where rumors, true or false, are often revealing.
Col. Hans Landa: Monsieur LaPadite, I regret to inform you I have exhausted the extent of my French. To continue to speak it so inadequately would only serve to embarrass me. However, I've been lead to believe that you speak English quite well.
Perrier LaPadite: Oui.
Col. Hans Landa: Well, it just so happens I do as well. This being your house, I ask your permission to switch back to English for the remainder of the conversation.
Sgt. Donny Donowitz: [to Butz, after beating Rachtman to death with his Louisville Slugger] Get the fuck up! You're on deck!
Col. Hans Landa: I have no doubt, and yes, some Germans will die, and yes, it will ruin the evening, and yes, Goebbels will be very, very, very mad at you for what you've done to his big night. But you won't get Hitler, you won't get Goebbels, you won't get Goering and you won't get Bormann. And you need all four to end the war. But if I do pick up that phone right there, you may very well get all four. And if you get all four, you end the war... tonight.
[he opens a bottle of Chianti]
Col. Hans Landa: So, gentlemen, let's discuss the prospect of ending the war tonight.
Lt. Aldo Raine: Well I speak the most Italian, so I'll be your escort. Donowitz speaks the second most so he'll be your Italian cameraman. Omar speaks third most, so he'll be Donny's assistant.
Pfc. Omar Ulmer: But I don't speak Italian.
Lt. Aldo Raine: Like I said, third best. Just keep your fuckin' mouth shut. In fact why don't you start practising, right now
General Ed Fenech: General Ed Fenech. At ease, Hicox. Drink?
Lt. Archie Hicox: If you offered me a Scotch and plain water, I could drink Scotch and plain water.
General Ed Fenech: Attaboy, Lieutenant. Make it yourself like a good chap, will you? The bar's in the globe.
Lt. Archie Hicox: Something for yourself, Sir?
General Ed Fenech: Whiskey, straight. No junk in it.
Lt. Archie Hicox: Well, if this is it, old boy, I hope you don't mind if I go out speaking the King's?
Major Dieter Hellstrom: By all means, Captain.
Lt. Archie Hicox: [Picks up his glass of scotch] There's a special rung in hell reserved for people who waste good scotch. Seeing as I might be rapping on the door momentarily...
[He drinks it]
Lt. Archie Hicox: I must say, damn good stuff, Sir.
[He sets his glass down and smokes his cigarette]
Lt. Archie Hicox: Now, about this pickle... we find ourselves in. It would appear there's only thing left for you to do.
Major Dieter Hellstrom: And what would that be?
Lt. Archie Hicox: Stiglitz?
Sgt. Hugo Stiglitz: Say auf wiedersehen to your Nazi balls.
[Stiglitz fires his gun into Hellstrom's crotch, Hicox and Hellstrom fire their guns at each other, and all three men are quickly killed in the ensuing battle]
[Sgt. Stiglitz nods]
Lt. Aldo Raine: Lt. Aldo Raine. These are the Basterds, ever heard of us?
[Sgt. Stiglitz nods]
Lt. Aldo Raine: We just wanted to say we're a big fan of your work. When it comes to killing Nazis...
Nazi Guard: Uggghhhhaahhh...
[one of the Basterds shoots him]
Lt. Aldo Raine: ...I think you show great talent. And I pride myself on having an eye for that kind of talent. But your status as a Nazi killer is still amateur. We all come here to see if you wanna go pro.
Sgt. Donny Donowitz: Teddy fuckin' Williams knocks it out of the park! Fenway Park on its feet for Teddy! Fuckin' ballgame! He went yardo on that one, on to fuckin' Lansdowne Street!
Lt. Aldo Raine: [trying to speaking Italian in an attempt to fool Landa to keep up his cover as an Italian actor] Gwatzeeeeee. Gwatzeeee. Gwatzeeee.
Fredrick Zoller: [shouting to the camera, acting in Nation's Pride] Who wants to send a message to Germany?
[Nation's Pride is interrupted by Shosanna's movie]
Shosanna Dreyfus: I have a message for Germany.
[Hitler and Goebbels watch in shock]
Shosanna Dreyfus: [her image on the screen smirks] That you are all going to die.
Adolf Hitler: [yelling] Enough! Stop it!
Joseph Goebbels: [yelling] Turn off the projector!
Shosanna Dreyfus: And I want you to look deep into the face of the *Jew* that is going to do it!
Joseph Goebbels: [as the audience begins to shout in protest and anger] I don't know what this is! This is not part of my movie!
Shosanna Dreyfus: [her image on the screen smiles] Marcel... burn it down.
Marcel: [standing behind the screen, he smiles] Oui, Shosanna.
These Quotes are taken frm www.imdb.com
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