Dhurandhar 2 - The meltdown has begun
Ranveer Singh the actor - Appreciation Thread!!
New promo Noinas last wish
BETI IS HURT 19.3
ICE REMOVED 20.3
Ranveer, Aditya, cast and crew at Dhurandhar 2 premiere!!
Journalist Vs Madhur Bhandarkar Paresh Rawal
Akshay Khanna Fa9La vs Ranveer Singh Didi Didi
Kyunki spin-off : Kyunki rishton ke bhi roop badalte hain
Manish Malhotra s mother passes away.
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Eid Mubarak
THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, | |
| The earth, and every common sight, | |
| To me did seem | |
| Apparell'd in celestial light, | |
| The glory and the freshness of a dream. | 5 |
| It is not now as it hath been of yore;" | |
| Turn wheresoe'er I may, | |
| By night or day, | |
| The things which I have seen I now can see no more. |
| A single field which I have look'd upon, | |
| Both of them speak of something that is gone: | |
| The pansy at my feet | 55 |
| Doth the same tale repeat: | |
| Whither is fled the visionary gleam? | |
| Where is it now, the glory and the dream? |
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
Cricket
