१९ जुलै, २०१४

Translation: Me fasalo mhanuni

Original Lyrics: 
मी फसलो म्हणूनी..

मी फसलो म्हणूनी हसू दे वा चिडवू दे कोणी
ती वेळच होती वेडी अन् नितांत लोभसवाणी..

ती ऊन्हे रेशमी होती चांदणे धगीचे होते
कवितेच्या शेतामधले ते दिवस सुगीचे होते
संकेतस्थळांचे सूर त्या लालस ओठी होते
ती वेळ पूरिया होती, अन् झाड मारवा होते..
मी फसलो म्हणूनी..

ती हार असो वा जीत, मज कुठले अप्रूप नाही
त्या गंधित गोष्टीमधला क्षण कुठला विद्रुप नाही
ती लालकेशरी संध्या निघताना अडखळलेली
ती निघून जातानाही बघ ओंजळ होती ओली..
मी फसलो म्हणूनी..


English version:
I was deceived..

I was deceived, they might jeer
Even ridicule and sneer, but I would endure
For those times were truly charming, and held sweet allure!

My days would shine in silky lights
then, I would bathe in blazing nights
and orchards of my verses, donned blooming sights
Our scarlet lips crooned, rendezvous in tunes,
In moments filled with romance, the air had myriad moods..

I was deceived, they might jeer
Even ridicule and sneer, but I would endure
For those times were truly charming, and held sweet allure!

I neither rejoice nor do I mourn
Blessed with pleasant fragrance to adorn,
No ugly cord those seasons had worn
The sky went amber and the dusk was trailing
A feeling of contentment, she gave while fading..

I was deceived, they might jeer
Even ridicule and sneer, but I would endure
For those times were truly charming, and held sweet allure!

१६ जुलै, २०१४

Pune!

She's the capital of history and culture
A heritage of intellect and art & literature
Yet striding sanguinely, into the approaching years
Her charisma is something, everyone reveres

Blessed with nature at its beautiful best
she enthuses you, with her juvenile zest
She loves her children in such magical way
They stay deeply rooted, even if far, far away

Hardly do you find, such a perfect blend
Preserving her legacy, yet going with the trend
Nothing can be wrong here, rightly they commend
As pace of life doesn't matter, rather the time you spend

I reminisce the days spent on her teeny-tiny lanes
and the aroma in her air, after eventide rains
She caresses me with her cool, soft zephyr
I still hear her hum sweet tunes, in leisure

For bittersweet sarcasm, she is the epitome
Yet she is the one whom I fondly call my home
As the best city for me, I'd never wish her reform
For she is too precious to be losing her charm..



Credits: Aakash gautam via Wikimedia Commons