English poems मराठी | in Marathi Translation

  “Daffodils”   by William Wordsworth ( 1770-1850 )    Poem:- I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o’er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed—and gazed—but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.   Meaning / Narration of the Poem Through the narrator’s chance encounter with a field of daffodils by t...

  "A Psalm of Life”  by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) What the heart of the young man said to the Psalmist Poem:- Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each tomorrow Find us farther than today. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world’s broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife! Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant! Let the dead Past bury its dead! Act,—act in the living Present! Heart within, and God o’erhead! Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us F...

    “On His Blindness”  by John Milton (1608-1674) Poem:- When I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodg’d with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide, “Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?” I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies: “God doth not need Either man’s work or his own gifts: who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed And post o’er land and ocean without rest: They also serve who only stand and wait.”   Meaning / Narration of the Poem This poem deals with one’s limitations and shortcomings in life. Everyone has them and Milton’s blindness is a perfect example of this. His eyesight gradually worsened and he became totally blind at the age of 42. This happened after he served in an eminent position un...

                             श्री बाळूमामा श्री बाळूमामा आरती जयदेव जयदेव जय बाळूमामा | आरती ओवाळू तुज कैवल्य धामा || धनगर कुलाचा उद्धार झाला | अवतरले संत अकोळ गावाला | बालपणी त्यांनी चमत्कार केला | वस्तीचे दर्शन भोजन थाळीला ||1||   मेंढ्या राखिती उन्हातान्हात | मुक्या प्राण्यावर अपार प्रीत | नीतीने वागावे कमी नाही होत | उन्मत्ताला मामा शासन करीत ||2||   गोसावी रुपात देवदूत आले | मामांचे त्यांनी सत्व पाहिले | अवघड विहिरीची पाणी पाजता | आशीर्वाद देवी प्रसन्न होता ||३||   दिन दुबळ्यांना मामा रक्षिती | निपुत्रीकाला मामा संतान देती | कन्या रोग्याला औषधी होती | भंडाऱ्याचा महिमा वर्णावा किती ||४|| Śrī bāḷū sulamāmā āratī jayadēva jayadēva jaya bāḷūmāmā | āratī ōvā suḷa tuja kaivalya dhamā || dhanagara kulācā ud'dhāra | avataralē santa akōla gāvālā | bālapaṇī hē cāra ṭhikāṇī | vastīcē darśana bhōjana thāḷīlā || 1 || mēṇḍhyā rākhī uṇḍatānhāta | mukā praṇōvara ap...

  “The Tiger”   by William Blake (1757-1827) Poem:- Tiger Tiger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies. Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand, dare seize the fire? And what shoulder, and what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? and what dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain, In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? what dread grasp, Dare its deadly terrors clasp! When the stars threw down their spears And water’d heaven with their tears: Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee? Tiger Tiger burning bright, In the forests of the night: What immortal hand or eye, Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?   Meaning /Narration of the Poem This poem contemplates a question arising from the idea of creation by an intelligent creator. The question is this: If ther...

  "Ode on a Grecian Urn”  by John Keats (1795-1821) Poem:- hou still unravish’d bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of silence and slow time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fring’d legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy? Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear’d, Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair! h, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed Your leaves, ...