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Ode To A Nightingale - Poem by John Keats

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thy happiness,---
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees,
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease.

O for a draught of vintage, that hath been
Cooled a long age in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country green,
Dance, and Provencal song, and sun-burnt mirth!
O for a beaker full of the warm South,
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
And purple-stained mouth;
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with thee fade away into the forest dim:

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden-eyed despairs;
Where beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
Or new love pine at them beyond tomorrow.

Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! tender is the night,
And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
Clustered around by all her starry fays;
But here there is no light,
Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
Wherewith the seasonable month endows
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;
Fast-fading violets covered up in leaves;
And mid-May's eldest child,
The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.

Darkling I listen; and for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain---
To thy high requiem become a sod

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
The same that oft-times hath
Charmed magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
As she is famed to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music:---do I wake or sleep?
John Keats

Latest Urdu Poetry

Kyun vasl ki shab hath laganey nahin dete,
Maashooq ho ya koi amaanat ho kissi ki..

tum aur fareb khao bayan-e-raqib se
tum se to kam gila hai ziyada nasib se
goya tumhari yad hi mer

Fasla itna barhanay ki zarorat kia thi,

Tujhay mujh say roth kr janay ki zrorat kia thi,

Ab jo

Usko Sajne Ya Sanwarne Ki Zarorat Hi Nahi, ,
Us Pe Jachti Hai Haya Bhi Kisi Zaiwar Ki Tarhan, , , ,

Khudi Ko Kr Buland Itna K Har Takder Se Pehlay
Khuda Banday Se Khud Pochay Bta Teri Raza Kya Hai

Jis Dil Wich Sajan Was Jaiye

Us Dil Te Zulam Kamai Da Nai

Jadon Pyar Kise Nal Pa Laiye

Ohnu

bas yehi aadat uski mujay achi lagti hai fida
udaas ker k mujay khud b khush nahi rehta

غنچۂ ناشگفتہ کو دور سے مت دکھا کہ یوں
بوسہ کو پوچھتا ہو

Dil Mera Soz E Nihaan Se Be-Muhaaba Jal Gaya
Aatish E Khaamosh Ki Maanind Goya Jal Gaya
Dil Mein Z

railroad yard in San Jose
I wandered desolate
in front of a tank factory
and sat on a bench

sau rang hai kis rang se taswir banaun
mere to kai rup hain kis rup mein aaun
kyun aa ke har ek

Zindagi khaak na thi, khaak urratey guzri,
Tujhse kya kehtey tere pass jo atey guzri,
Din jo guzra

Humare dilki gehrai ko koi samjh paya hi nai,
Kitne tanha hain hum koi jaan paya hi,
Kisi ko humar

Ghul si gayi ruuh me udaasi,
Raas aayi na ham ko khud-shanaasi,
Hr morr pe be-kashish kharri hai,

Log ishq kartay hain baray shor kay sath,
Humne bhi kia bare zor kay sath,
Lakin ab karain gay tho

Zindagi Be-Saibaan Be-Ghar Kahin Aisi Na Thi

Aasmaa Aisa Nahi Tha Aur Zamee Aisi Na Thi

Hum Bi

LORD BUDDHA, on thy Lotus-throne,
With praying eyes and hands elate,
What mystic rapture dost th

Jaise murda kar diya tha ishq ke ilzaam ne
mujh mein saaNse phuNk di hain aapke paigham ne

Abr,

Bahut kaThin tha nibhaana, nibaah main ne kiya

Khud apne aap ko yaani tabaah main ne kiya

Mila

Azaab-e-wehshat-e-jaaN ka silaa na maaNge koi

Naye safar ke liye raastaa na maaNge koi

Buland

Urdu Poetry

Urdu Poetry – Poetry is the language of heart. Emotions and feelings take the shape of words and are delivered in a poetic manner. Urdu poetry draws its existence from past 18th and 19th century which are rich in tradition and composed in various forms. Most of the Urdu poetry derives from Arabic and Persian origin. From time immemorial, Urdu poetry has been written and narrated by renowned poets of all times. Urdu poetry is enriched with such true emotions and feelings. It has been observed that Urdu poets in the past used to say poetry that depicts and highlights the social, cultural issues of their era.

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