Kuch Umer Ki Pehli Manzil Thi, …. Kuch Raste Thay Anjan Buhat, …. Kuch Ham Bhi Pagal Thay Lekin, …. Kuch Wo Bhi Thay Nadan Buhat, …. Kuch Usne Bhi Na Samjhaya, …. Yeh Piyar Nahi Aasan Buhat, …. Aakhir Hamne Bhi Khail Liya, …. Jis Khail Mein Thay Nuqsan Buhat
Love is like a friendship caught on fire.
In the beginning a flame, very pretty,
Often hot and fierce,
But still only light and flickering.
As love grows older,
Our hearts mature
And our love becomes as coals,
Deep-burning and unquenchable.
Faasle mita kar aapas mein pyar rakhna,
pyar ka rishta yu hi barkaraar rakhana,
bichar jae kabhi aap se hum,
to ankho mein hamesha hamara intezaar rakhna..
Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs. Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers'' eyes. Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers'' tears. What is it else? A madness most discreet, a choking gall and a preserving sweet
Apni Najron se unki Najren milni chahiye....
unke pyare se chehre pe ek khoobsurat si muskan hona chahiye....
log kehte hain, mujhe usi ke liye jeena chahiye...
usi ke Liye Marna Chahiye.....
ab toh mujhe bhi lagta hai yaaron is dil ke liye ek dilbar hona chahiye.....
