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Poetry! =P

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Aalam e napayadar = world that isnt reliable/certain
Kooe e yar = land of frnds i suppose..
Dayaar = place or city i think...



U seem pretty experienced in that...
Ok. Thanks.

Database is easy but I hate the syntax. And sometimes the queries don't work and then u just bang ur head on keyboard :p
 

badrobot14

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Nigah buland, sukhan dilnawaz, jaan pursooz
yahi hai rakht-e-safar meer-e-carvan k leyay - Iqbal
 

badrobot14

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A very motivating piece of poetry... forgive my translation... not very good x_x

Kaha kia oont pr baithon?
Kaha han oont pr baitho
Kaha kohaan ka dar hai
Kaha kohaan tou hou ga

(he said, should I ride the camel, I said yes.. he said but i fear the hump... I said but hump will be there..)

Kaha darya mai kia utron?
Kaha darya mai han utro
Kaha toofan ka dar hai
Kaha toofan tou ho ga

(he said should I ride the boat.. I said yes, ride it.. he said but I fear the storm... I said but storm will be there...)

Kaha kia phool ko torun?
Kaha han phool ko toro
Kaha par khaar ka dar hai
Kaha par khaar tou ho ga

(he said should I pluck the flower/rose? I said yes, he said but I fear the thorns.. I said but thorns will be there...)
 

badrobot14

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1.GIF


Bring forth Lofty ambitions, bring forth a burning heart!
to wield the sword of your father; bring forth the arm of your father! - Iqbal

its amazing how we as muslims want the glory of past, yet we fail to copy the heart and ambitions of our ancestors... what we have is just form... people will try to pray exactly like Abu Haneefa or Malik but they wont have the heart and khushu' of Abu Haneefa... and then we complain...

http://iqbalurdu.blogspot.com/2011/03/armaghan-e-hijaz-39-aan-azam-e-buland.html
 

badrobot14

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Good-Bye​

By Ralph Waldo Emerson
Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home:
Thou art not my friend, and I'm not thine.
Long through thy weary crowds I roam;
A river-ark on the ocean brine,
Long I've been tossed like the driven foam;
But now, proud world! I'm going home.

Good-bye to Flattery's fawning face;
To Grandeur with his wise grimace;
To upstart Wealth's averted eye;
To supple Office, low and high;
To crowded halls, to court and street;
To frozen hearts and hasting feet;
To those who go, and those who come;
Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home.

I am going to my own hearth-stone,
Bosomed in yon green hills alone, —
A secret nook in a pleasant land,
Whose groves the frolic fairies planned;
Where arches green, the livelong day,
Echo the blackbird's roundelay,
And vulgar feet have never trod
A spot that is sacred to thought and God.

O, when I am safe in my sylvan home,
I tread on the pride of Greece and Rome;
And when I am stretched beneath the pines,
Where the evening star so holy shines,
I laugh at the lore and the pride of man,
At the sophist schools, and the learned clan;
For what are they all, in their high conceit,
When man in the bush with God may meet?
 
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I've never tried tbh.. unless durin lessons but it doesn't count I guess. :p But it always seemed to me that poems are a kind of a very sophisticated puzzle, isn't it?
 
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