Kehne Ko Us Se...

Kehne Ko Us Se Mera Koi Wasta Nahi

(Amjab Islam Amjad)

Kehne Ko Us Se Mera Koi Wasta Nahi
Amjad Magar Woh Shakhs Mujhe Bhoolta Nahi

Darta Hoon Aankh Kholoon To Manzar Badal Na Jaye
Mein Jaag To Raha Hu Magar Jagta Nahi

Ashuftagi Se Us Ki Use Be-Wafa Na Jaan
Adat Ki Baat Aur Hai Dil Ka Bura Nahi

Tanha Udas Chand Ko Samjho Na Be-Khabar
Har Baat Sun Raha Hai Magar Bolta Nahi

Khaamosh Ratjagoun Ka Dhuwaan Tha Char Su
Nikla Kab Aftab, Mujhe Pata Nahi

Amjad Wo Aankhain Jheel Se Gehri To Hai Magar
Un Mein Koi Bhi Aaks Mery Naam Ka Nahi

Hamesha Dair Kr Daita Hun..

Hamesha dair kar deta hoon main
Har kaam karnay mein

Zaroori baat kehne ho
Koi wada nibhana ho 
Usay aawaz deni ho 
Usay wapis bulana ho
Hamesha dair kar deta hoon main

Madad karni ho us ki
Yaar ke dhaarus bundhana ho
Bohat dayreena rustoon par
Kisi se milne jana ho 
Hamesha dair kar deta hoon main

Budaltay mausmo ke sair mein 
Dil ko lagana ho
Kisi ko yaad rakhna ho 
Kisi ko bhool jana ho
Hamesha dair kar deta hoon main

Kisi ko maut se pehlay 
Kisi ghum se buchana ho
Haqeeqat aur thi kuch us ko
Jaa kay yah batana ho

Hamesha dair kar deta hoon main
Har kaam karnay mein

(Poet: Munir Niazi)

Another One...

Andha Kabari (Noon Meem Rashid)

She walks in beauty, like the night

BY LORD BYRON She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies,
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meets in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress
Or softly lightens o'er her face,
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek and o'er that brow
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,—
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

BY ROBERT FROST

Whose woods these are I think I know.   

His house is in the village though;   

He will not see me stopping here   

To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

My little horse must think it queer   

To stop without a farmhouse near   

Between the woods and frozen lake   

The darkest evening of the year.   

He gives his harness bells a shake   

To ask if there is some mistake.   

The only other sound’s the sweep   

Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   

But I have promises to keep,   

And miles to go before I sleep,   

And miles to go before I sleep.

If

BY RUDYARD KIPLING

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 impostors 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 worn-out 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 breathe 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!

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost

The Road Not Taken

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, 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 on to 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, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

My Favourite Lines From "Rich Dad Poor Dad"

"if you're the kind of person who has no guts, you just give up every time life pushes you. If you're that kind of person, you'll live all your life playing it safe, doing the right things, saving yourself for some event that never happens. Then, you die a boring old man.

You'll have lots of friends who really like you because you were such a nice hard-working guy. You spent a life playing it safe, doing the right things. But the truth is, you let life push you into submission. Deep down you were terrified of taking risks. You really wanted to win, but the fear of losing was greater than the excitement of winning. Deep inside, you and only you will know you didn't go for it. You chose to play it safe."



Robert T. Kiyosaki, Excerpt from "Rich Dad, Poor Dad" (One of my most favorite lines from this book).

Let It Be Forgotten

Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten,
Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold,
Let it be forgotten for ever and ever,
Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.


If anyone asks, say it was forgotten
Long and long ago,
As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed football
In a long forgotten snow