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Posts Tagged ‘love’

When New York slept.

January 25, 2010 3 comments
Translated by Thumbelina from the original (see video at the end)
When it was time for New York to sleep, loneliness abounded and the fog grew
and the wind got off the ship and walked on the shores.
Within these 4 glass walls, my candle and I
what loneliness, what torture.
With words like lullabies, you aren’t here to lull me to sleep
nor to wake me in the morning with coffee and a kiss
nor to remove the mote of dust from my eye
nor to soothe the confusion in my mind
Me here, you there, in this loneliness the minutes become years, I wonder why
And why have we become an explanation for the saying ” the sky’s here, the blue’s there”
In my calendar, my pen writes your name a hundred times
and is your name honey that ants surround it as soon as I do
even though the earth is cold, this moment my winter becomes hot summer
but the moment you come where I am, the heat wave becomes ice
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Two Ustads

July 1, 2009 7 comments

Rumi. Persian poet, philosopher.


I used to be shy.
You made me sing.

I used to refuse things at table.
Now I shout for more wine.

In somber dignity, I used to sit
on my mat and pray.

Now children run through
and make faces at me.
              ~~
You've so distracted me,
your absence fans my love.
Don't ask how.

Then you come near,
"Do not....," I say, and
"Do not....," you answer.

Don't ask why
this delights me.
         ~~

Ustad Amir Khan, doyen of the Indore Gharana. He was well versed in Persian and Sanskrit. I envy his riches.

Chocolat

October 23, 2008 Leave a comment

A nice waltz through a tiny French village that ends with this sermon by Pere Henri:

I don’t want to talk about Jesus’ divinity, I’d rather talk about his humanity.

How he lived his life here on earth, his kindness, his tolerance.

We can’t go around measuring our goodness by what we don’t do, by what we deny ourselves, what we resist and who we exclude.

I think we’ve got to measure our goodness by what we embrace, what we create and who we include.”

The Raj Thackeray’s of this world ought to take some inspiration from this. It is easy to hate, it is easy to blame and point fingers. What is hard is introspection.

Pablo Neruda

March 8, 2008 6 comments
I can write the saddest lines tonight.
Write for example: ‘The night is full of stars
and they shiver, blue, those stars, in the distance’
The night wind turns in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest lines tonight.
I loved her, sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like these I held her in my arms.
I kissed her greatly under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could I not have loved her huge, still eyes.

I can write the saddest lines tonight.
To think I don’t have her, to feel I have lost her.

Hear the vast night, vaster without her.
Lines fall on the soul like dew on the grass.

What does it matter that I couldn’t keep her.
The night is fractured and she is not with me.

That is all. Someone sings far off. Far off,
my soul is not content to have lost her.

As though to reach her, my sight looks for her.
My heart looks for her: she is not with me

The same night whitens, in the same branches.
We, from that time, we are not the same.

I don’t love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the breeze to reach her.

Another’s kisses on her, like my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body, infinite eyes.

I don’t love her, that’s certain, but perhaps I love her.
Love is brief: forgetting lasts so long.

Since, on these nights, I held her in my arms,
my soul is not content to have lost her.

Though this is the last pain she will make me suffer,
and these are the last lines I will write for her.

-Neruda, from ‘Twenty poems of love and a song of despair’

Categories: poetry Tags: , , , ,