Birds 31 Photography Dnyneshwar Muley

Stray Birds

Stray birds of summer come to my window
to sing and fly away.
And yellow leaves of autumn,
which have no songs,
flutter and fall there with a sigh.

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Rangoli Independence day Zero Creativity Photography

National Anthem of India

Jana Gana Mana Adhinaayak Jaya Hey,
Bhaarat Bhaagya Vidhaataa
Panjaab Sindhu Gujarat Maraatha,
Draavid Utkal Banga
Vindhya Himaachal Yamuna Ganga,
Uchchhal Jaladhi Taranga
Tav Shubh Naamey Jaagey,
Tav Shubh Aashish Maange
Gaahey Tav Jayagaathaa
Jana Gana Mangal Daayak,
Jaya Hey Bhaarat Bhaagya Vidhaataa
Jaya Hey, Jaya Hey, Jaya Hey,
Jaya Jaya Jaya, Jaya Hey

Sun Dnyaneshwar Muley Photography 1

Endless Time

Time is endless in thy hands, my lord.
There is none to count thy minutes.

Days and nights pass and ages bloom and fade like flowers.
Thou knowest how to wait.

Thy centuries follow each other perfecting a small wild flower.

We have no time to lose,
and having no time we must scramble for a chance.
We are too poor to be late.

And thus it is that time goes by
while I give it to every querulous man who claims it,
and thine altar is empty of all offerings to the last.

At the end of the day I hasten in fear lest thy gate be shut;
but I find that yet there is time.

Water gel bid photography zero creativity

Chain of Pearls

Mother, I shall weave a chain of pearls for thy neck
with my tears of sorrow.

The stars have wrought their anklets of light to deck thy feet,
but mine will hang upon thy breast.

Wealth and fame come from thee
and it is for thee to give or to withhold them.
But this my sorrow is absolutely mine own,
and when I bring it to thee as my offering
thou rewardest me with thy grace.

Baby's-World-Tagore-Poetry.jpg
Baby’s World Photo Poetry

Baby’s World

I wish I could take a quiet corner in the heart of my baby’s very
own world.
I know it has stars that talk to him, and a sky that stoops
down to his face to amuse him with its silly clouds and rainbows.
Those who make believe to be dumb, and look as if they never
could move, come creeping to his window with their stories and with
trays crowded with bright toys.
I wish I could travel by the road that crosses baby’s mind,
and out beyond all bounds;
Where messengers run errands for no cause between the kingdoms
of kings of no history;
Where Reason makes kites of her laws and flies them, the Truth
sets Fact free from its fetters.

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