nothing changes, not even my terrible lame attempts at humour. I had a belly laugh last night…quite unladylike… at the prospect of my last sleep before the last awakening…the last day on this rockface… ah well…as I am to die chaste, unkissed, unloved, unburdened, let me spend my hours drinking in my one love….and today let me drink in not poetry nor prose nor letters….let me dwell in just those that remain forever glimmering as ideas… I talk ofcourse of negative capability….Negative capability….hmmm….one wonders….where does one begin…how can I muse over so great a concept with so tiny a mind….I am an imbecile…and yet I try and touch greatness everytime I read Keats…Īh the end of days, well this article was started prior to armageddon, and it continues in a post-apocalyptic world…. We come my love to the end of days, and yet I have not even begun to tell you of my love….If I meet you on the shores of heaven let not my words speak the rest, let mine eyes the rest reveal….stray thoughts emerge and submerge as the world draws its fnal curtain and lifetimes implode while decay sets in…ah tis the end of days…and I am as ever an enemy to decorum, I laugh when I should be somber… Her gilded prison she beautifully furnishedĬome come tis the end of days, let us muse in earnest – if I have just today left I shall as ever get drunk – intoxicate myself on Keats – and my last two words will be – negative capability…. Keeping herself tightly bound in shackles
‘Amounting to nothing’ – often thus her fate she rued She fought herself, her Maker, her world – she fought them all To ask her how she was resulted in tumultous uproarįought she valiantly her numerous diseases a full yearĪnd at times she fought her medication still Morose, melancholy, saddened, she chose to remain Her self belief touching the skies, after all she was just a child
Jud chuki hai tumse yaadein full song how to#
Knew she not how to write, but write she would all day She chose thus to break the hearts of others She was a trifle obstinate, and somewhat lacking in experienceĪt times her voice rang out in belly laughsĪt times she would dwell in fulsome tears Rebelling against all established customs Lost she remained in her many grand dreams There was a mad little girl, who spoke of big thingsĪt once she laughed on the smallest of specks Khudse khuda se, zamane se mol liya jung usneīan na sakee kuch khaas, ye sochke vo bigadti thiįir bhi ghar laut jaane ko har pal tarasti thiĮntwining her heart with others in delusion
Poocho gar haal uska, to bat bat pe barasti thi Kuch to vo ziddi thi, tajurbe mein kuch kachhi thiĪitbaar kuch zyada tha uska, aakhir vo ek bacchi thi Kuch bade bade sapno mein kho jaya karti thi Ek bavri si ladki thi, badi badi baatein karti thi
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