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Sarojini Naidu
Cradle Song
From groves of spice,
O'er fields of rice,
Athwart the lotus-stream,
I bring for you,
Aglint with dew,
A little lovely dream.
Sweet, shut your eyes,
The wild fire-flies
Dance through the fairy neem;
From the poppy-bole
For you I stole
A little lovely dream.
Dear eyes, good night,
In golden light
The stars around you gleam;
On you I Press
With soft caress
A little lovely dream.
I have a thousand brilliant lies
For the question:
How are you?
I have a thousand brilliant lies
For the question:
What is God?
If you think that Truth can be known
From words,
If you think that the Sun and Ocean
Can pass through that tiny opening Called the mouth,
O someone should start laughing!
Someone should start wildly laughing -Now!
Hafiz
Several Times in the Last Week
by Hafiz
Ever since Happiness heard your name
It has been running through the streets
Trying to find you.
And several times in the last week,
God Himself has even come to my door-
Asking me for your address!
Once I said,
“God,
I thought You knew everything.
Why are You asking me
Where Your lovers live?”
And the Beloved replied,
Indeed, Hafiz, I do know Everything –
But it is fun playing dumb once in a while.
And I love intimate chat
And the warmth of your heart’s fire.
Maybe we should make this poem into a song-
I think it has potential!
How far does this refrain sound,
For I know it is a Truth:
Ever since Happiness heard your name,
It has been running through the streets
Trying to find you.
And several times in the last week,
God Himself has come to my door-
So sweetly asking for your address,
Wanting the beautiful warmth of your heart’s fire.
The beauty of this poem is boundless. I never get tired of reading Kabir and whose ideas and philosophy transformed me. He is one of my few favorites whose ideas I always agree with on spiritual and mystic thingsQuote:
Originally Posted by NikolaiI
I feel liking weeping and tears flew my eyes after reading this poem. My all philosophical and all skeptical notions of things melted away after going through these beautiful lines!!!!!!!!!!!Quote:
Originally Posted by NikolaiI
You are Light,
And you swim through the snow
like the turtle through the water
and you walk through the snow
like a fish in the sea,
and you walk through the snow,
and you have an army in tow,
and you are marching on a town.
You are a Pattern,
a Function of Life.
You are a melody
and a perfection.
If I say nothing else to you,
I will say,
Why do you think you have the power to destroy life,
but not the power to create?
You are a wave,
and you run through the snow
at the speed of a turtle
through the sea.
You are a traveler,
and as you sing,
you elevate the heavens,
and lower the seas.
You are a wise man,
and with your quiet voice,
worlds are led and
leaders are created.
You are God,
God of gods,
and with a single thought,
you can create infinite universes,
and infinite sources of knowledge.
With a thought you illuminate infinite universes,
and you reverberate a being of ultimate reality,
There is not one source but ininite sources,
and all are You.
Harvest Hymn,
by Sarojini Naidu
Mens Voices:
LORD of the lotus, lord of the harvest,
Bright and munificent lord of the morn!
Thine is the bounty that prospered our sowing,
Thine is the bounty that nurtured our corn.
We bring thee our songs and our garlands for tribute,
The gold of our fields and the gold of our fruit;
O giver of mellowing radiance, we hail thee,
We praise thee, O Surya, with cymbal and flute.
Lord of the rainbow, lord of the harvest,
Great and beneficent lord of the main!
Thine is the mercy that cherished our furrows,
Thine is the mercy that fostered our grain.
We bring thee our thanks and our garlands for tribute,
The wealth of our valleys, new-garnered and ripe;
O sender of rain and the dewfall, we hail thee,
We praise thee, Varuna, with cymbal and pipe.
Womens Voices:
Queen of the gourd-flower, queen of the har- vest,
Sweet and omnipotent mother, O Earth!
Thine is the plentiful bosom that feeds us,
Thine is the womb where our riches have birth.
We bring thee our love and our garlands for tribute,
With gifts of thy opulent giving we come;
O source of our manifold gladness, we hail thee,
We praise thee, O Prithvi, with cymbal and drum.
All Voices:
Lord of the Universe, Lord of our being,
Father eternal, ineffable Om!
Thou art the Seed and the Scythe of our harvests,
Thou art our Hands and our Heart and our Home.
We bring thee our lives and our labours for tribute,
Grant us thy succour, thy counsel, thy care.
O Life of all life and all blessing, we hail thee,
We praise thee, O Bramha, with cymbal and prayer
From the Large Jug, Drink
From the large jug, drink the wine of Unity,
So that from your heart you can wash away the futility of life's grief.
But like this large jug, still keep the heart expansive.
Why would you want to keep the heart captive, like an unopened bottle
of wine?
With your mouth full of wine, you are selfless
And will never boast of your own abilities again.
Be like the humble stone at your feet rather than striving to be like a
Sublime cloud: the more you mix colors of deceit, the more colorless
your ragged wet coat will get.
Connect the heart to the wine, so that it has body,
Then cut off the neck of hypocrisy and piety of this new man.
Be like Hafiz: Get up and make an effort. Don't lie around like a bum.
He who throws himself at the Beloved's feet is like a workhorse and will
be rewarded with boundless pastures and eternal rest.
From: Drunk on the Wine of the Beloved
Translated by Thomas Rain Crowe
We Might Have To
Medicate You
by Hafiz
Resist your temptation to lie
By speaking of separation from God,
Otherwise,
We might have to medicate
You.
In the ocean
A lot goes on beneath your eyes.
Listen,
They have clinics there too
For the insane
Who persist in saying things like:
"I am independent from the
Sea,
God is not always around
Gently
Pressing against
My body."
From: 'The Gift'
Translated by Daniel Ladinsky
A Potted Plant,
by Hafiz
I pull a sun from my coin purse each day.
And at night I let my pet the moon
Run freely into the sky meadow.
If I whistled,
She would turn her head and look at me.
If I then waved my arms,
She would come back wagging a marvelous tail
Of stars.
There are always a few men like me
In this world
Who are house-sitting for God.
We share His royal duties:
I water each day a favorite potted plant
Of His--
This earth.
Ask the Friend for love.
Ask Him again.
For I have learned that every heart will get
What it prays for
Most.
From: 'The Subject Tonight Is Love'
Translated by Daniel Ladinsky
Munajat
An Ancient Dervish Hymn
composed by Abdullah Ansari
In Your painful mystery of love,
lovers find the cure for pain,
wandering through the desert of longing,
crying aloud, Allah, Allah.
Drunk with delight, censored by men,
eyes aflame with desparate love,
Your friends cry out like Moses on the mountain,
"Lord, reveal yourself to me."
When You consume a heart with Your Love,
You scatter its ashes on the wind.
What need have we for separate identity
when we know You as the only Truth?
Ever present, how can I search?
Always aware, what can I pray?
When You glance with infinite Mercy,
how can any separation be?
We speak only to praise Your Name;
we seek only to express Your Delight.
Ruined are we, annihilated we;
slain by You, we are happy to be slain.
Paradise, brilliant and pure,
without Your Face is worse than hell.
A single glimpse of Your true Essence
brings to naught every heavenly delight.
When there dawns a glimpse of Your Love,
love of finitude fades away.
What drunken hearts You give to Your friends;
looking at themselves, they see only You.
Free us from faces, revealing Your Face;
free us from doors, opening Your Door.
If You but once call me Love's slave,
my bliss will surpass the bliss of Your Throne.
Your perfect Mercy cancels our faults;
rings of slavehood adorn our ears.
You raised us up before time began;
we are Your guests: treat us as You will.
What do I care for the play of Paradise?
You make my every glance Paradise.
When You gaze into my eyes.
no duality can arise.
What this poor one desires of You
is more than the wealth of a thousand kings.
Every life seeks blessings from You;
I am asking for You alone.
This faqir has no name and no shame.
This poor one knows neither peace nor war.
True rank is never turban and silken robe:
royalty springs from the heart of light.
Creatures are drunk with Your wine;
I am drunk with the Wine Bearer.
Their drunkenness is the life of praise;
I am lost in Your Silence alone.
You are what they praise at the holy Kaaba;
you are what they seek at temples and shrines.
I am free from every religion,
crying aloud, Allah, Allah.
You place a pearl on Adam's brow,
dust of rebellion on Satan's head.
Satan seeks You and finds but himself;
Adam seeks himself and finds only You.
Creation is hidden within Your Heart,
yet it remains unaware.
You are concealed within our heart,
still we remain unaware.
All will is Yours. What can I will?
I want no thing. I want no world.
I cannot care for heavenly delight,
seeking only the delight of You.
What must I do to merge into You?
My heart's blood streams through my eyes.
I hold no key to unlock Your door,
madly crying, Allah, Allah.
Whoever knows You encounters Your saints,
cool water for the thirsty soul.
Heavenly states for them are lke thorns;
they seek only the rose of You.
Pious acts make the mind proud;
forgetfulness brings repentance.
I rejoice in the night of separation,
for the dawn of mystic union is near.
You exist. I exist not.
Everyone is lost in You.
You are closer than my soul.
This is all that need be known.
This poor one is mad with true joy.
This faqir is king of all worlds.
Receiving just an atom of Your Love,
every king and world disappears.
Adoring You has destroyed my ease;
now I rejoice in tests and trials.
Just a mirror for Your Reflection,
I am never separate from Allah.
Love's union is calamity;
its agony is sheer delight.
I neither possess what I used to know,
nor know what it is I now possess.
You are the goa; Your friends are the way.
Earthly fires are drops of dew.
Without seeing You, Paradise is prison;
pleasure is poison without Your Face.
If You bring us to trial, we have no defense.
Grant our lives Your Own Purity.
Give our hearts desire for You only.
Resurrect us through Your Grace.
Ther are no shores in Your ocean of light.
Your mystery can never be revealed.
Lend us Your speech to thank and praise You;
we have nothing of our own to give.
Heart beats only with affection for You;
lungs breathe only with love for You.
From roses above my tomb
streams the fragrance of fidelity.
For free You create. You sustain us for free.
You are not a merchant of gems.
You never sell the precious Resurrection,
freely granting union to all lives.
Submission is Your luminous way;
our actions are Your Grace alone.
Remove from us the sense of obligation;
never veil from us Your Face.
When I remember You, sorrow is joy.
This is my secret door to Truth.
Without the taste of Your Identity,
praying and learning are illusory.
My direction of prayer is Your Face;
my victory banner reads, All is He.
Paradise is not my concern;
hell is not my anxiety.
Beginners on the way speak of the Truth,
but lovers possess neither word nor voice.
Those who desire this world are insane;
those who long for heaven are inane.
Fasting, vigil, pilgrimage
are labors of the wage earner.
Fall in love, the royal crown of falme.
"I am Truth," cires Mansur al-Hallaj.
Live in ecstasy but never speak aloud.
To find Truth, become afflicted by love.
Know what remains beyond annihilation
when there exists neither fasting nor prayer.
My eyes are weeping with love's agony
as I dance on the mystic way.
possessing nothing, not even myself,
crying out, "Poverty is my pride."
This traveler on the true path of love
tastes the peace of poverty,
liberation from personal existence.
What great bliss it is to be free.
The mystic guide opens the way.
Brilliant space surrounds the soul.
The rose of light, its petals Divine Names,
blossoms in the grateful heart.
The mystic guides pours the true wine,
his tears of love flooding the world,
his blessed face, a golden Quran,
shining as the rising sun.
Strive to become the true human being:
one who knows love, one who knows pain.
Be full, be humble, be utterly silent,
be the bowl of wine passed from hand to hand.
Oh Nikolai !Quote:
Originally Posted by NikolaiI
This poem is so great .. and its words are so spiritual ! and muslims do say many of these in their prayers...
I really love it ! :)
1 My God,
who can have tasted the sweetness of Thy love,
then wanted another in place of Thee?
Who can have become intimate with Thy nearness,
then sought removal from Thee?
2 My God, place us with him
whom Thou hast
chosen for Thy nearness and Thy friendship,
purified through Thy affection and Thy love,
given yearning for the meeting with Thee,
made pleased with Thy decree,
granted gazing upon Thy face,
shown the favour of Thy good pleasure,
given refuge from separation from Thee and Thy loathing,
settled in a sure sitting place in Thy neighbourhood,
singled out for true knowledge of Thee,
made worthy for worship of Thee,
whose heart Thou hast captivated with Thy will,
whom Thou hast picked for contemplating Thee,
whose look Thou hast made empty for Thee,
whose breast Thou hast freed for Thy love,
whom Thou hast made
desirous of what is with Thee,
inspired with Thy remembrance,
allotted thanksgiving to Thee,
occupied with obeying Thee,
turned into one of Thy righteous creatures,
chosen for whispered prayer to Thee,
and from whom Thou hast cut off all things
which cut him off from Thee!
3 O God,
place us among those
whose habit is rejoicing in Thee and yearning for Thee,
whose time is spent in sighing and moaning!
Their foreheads are bowed down before Thy mightiness,
their eyes wakeful in Thy service,
their tears flowing in dread of Thee,
their hearts fixed upon Thy love,
their cores shaken with awe of Thee.
O He
the lights of whose holiness
induce wonder in the eyes of His lovers,
the glories of whose face
arouse the longing of the hearts of His knowers!
O Furthest Wish of the hearts of the yearners!
O Utmost Limit of the hopes of the lovers!
I ask from Thee love for Thee,
love for those who love Thee,
love for every work which will join me to Thy nearness,
and that Thou makest Thyself more beloved to me
than anything other than Thee
and makest
my love for Thee
lead to Thy good pleasure,
and my yearning for Thee
protect against disobeying Thee!
Oblige me by allowing me to gaze upon Thee,
gaze upon me with the eye of affection and tenderness,
turn not Thy face away from me,
and make me one of the people of happiness with Thee
and favoured position!
O Responder,
O Most Merciful of the merciful!
I too loved your poem Nikolai. Plus there are so many verses that stand out I didnt know which to choose. So here are two
YExcellent :thumbsup:Quote:
ou place a pearl on Adam's brow,
dust of rebellion on Satan's head.
Satan seeks You and finds but himself;
Adam seeks himself and finds only You.
Creation is hidden within Your Heart,
yet it remains unaware.
You are concealed within our heart,
still we remain unaware.
I'm glad you like it, Hope and Dizzy! :)
I know what you mean Dizzy it's the same for me. So many parts and stanzas that are great.
Hope that is a really lovely poem you posted, who is it by?
Its also Munajaat.. for Imam Ali ,the fourth caliph in the muslim state !Quote:
Originally Posted by NikolaiI
Dare You See A Soul
by Emily Dickenson
Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat?
Then crouch within the door --
Red -- is the Fire's common tint --
But when the vivid Ore
Has vanquished Flame's conditions,
It quivers from the Forge
Without a color, but the light
Of unanointed Blaze.
Least Village has its Blacksmith
Whose Anvil's even ring
Stands symbol for the finer Forge
That soundless tugs -- within --
Refining these impatient Ores
With Hammer, and with Blaze
Until the Designated Light
Repudiate the Forge -
for, or by?Quote:
Originally Posted by hoope
The Illusion of Love,
by Sarojini Naidu
Beloved, you may be as all men say
Only a transient spark
Of flickering flame set in loam of clay –
I care not …since you kindle all my dark
With the immortal lustres of the day.
And as all men deem, dearest, you may be
Only a common shell
Chance-winnowed by the sea-winds from the sea –
The subtle murmurs of eternity.
And tho’ you are, like men or mortal race,
Only a hapless thing
That Death may mar and destiny efface –
I care not … since unto my heart you bring
The very vision of God’s dwelling-place.
We are as the Flute,
Rumi
We are as the flute, and the music in us is from thee;
we are as the mountain and the echo in us is from thee.
We are as pieces of chess engaged in victory and defeat:
our victory and defeat is from thee, O thou whose qualities are comely!
Who are we, O Thou soul of our souls,
that we should remain in being beside thee?
We and our existences are really non-existence;
thou art the absolute Being which manifests the perishable.
We all are lions, but lions on a banner:
because of the wind they are rushing onward from moment to moment.
Their onward rush is visible, and the wind is unseen:
may that which is unseen not fail from us!
Our wind whereby we are moved and our being are of thy gift;
our whole existence is from thy bringing into being.
Masnavi Book, I, 599-607
In your light I learn how to love.
In your beauty, how to make poems.
You dance inside my chest,
where no one sees you,
but sometimes I do,
and that sight becomes this art.
by Rumi
The Valley Wind
Living in retirement beyond the World,
Silently enjoying isolation,
I pull the rope of my door tighter
And stuff my window with roots and ferns.
My spirit is tuned to the Spring-season:
At the fall of the year
There is autumn in my heart.
Thus imitating cosmic changes,
My cottage becomes a Universe.
~Lu Yun translated by Arthur Waley
No past.
No future.
Open Mind.
Open Heart.
Complete attention.
No reservations.
That's all.
~Scott Morrison
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"The Holy Longing"
Johann Wolfgang Goethe
Tell a wise person, or else keep silent.
Because the massman will mock it right away.
I praise what is truly alive,
what longs to be burned to death.
In the calm water of the love-nights,
where you were begotten, where you have begotten,
a strange feeling comes over you
when you see the silent candle burning.
Now you are no longer caught
in the obsession with darkness,
and a desire for higher lovemaking
sweeps you upward.
Distance does not make you falter,
now, arriving in magic, flying,
and finally, insane for the light,
you are the butterfly and you are gone.
And so long as you haven't experienced
this: to die and so to grow,
you are only a troubled guest
on the dark earth.
~translated by Robert Bly
On the road
My friend, the traveler
Remember
We are here,
Hidden under various disguises,
Posted
As guards, guides and companions
Along your life's journey,
Waiting
To give you assistance
To extend a helping hand
To provide succor.
We are
But a reflection of your virtues
Manifesting in time
Of necessity.
Savings
Placed by your forgotten
Selfless deeds
In the inexhaustible
Divine
Treasure-house.
Yours for the taking
When the need arises.
We are
The friend
Of friends
Whose face is always hidden
Yet ever revealed
In the silent smile
Of your heart,
In the caress of the wind,
In the soothing coolness of spring water.
And the secret is
That
Forgetting yourself
You too
Are one
Of
Us.
_()_
yosy
Keep your heart clear and transparent
And you will never be bound.
A single disturbed thought, though,
Creates ten thousand distractions.
Let myriad things captivate you
And you'll go further and further astray.
How painful to see people
All wrapped up in themselves.
~Ryokan
This dharma as it has been directly entrusted
by buddha ancestors.
Now that you have realized it
you must guard it mindfully.
Snow heaped in a silver bowl,
a heron fading into the bright moon.
Similar but unequal.
Place them side by side
and you will see which is which.
The meaning is not in words.
Inquiring students seek further.
Moving forward creates pitfalls.
Avoidance leads to a standstill.
Faced with a great wall of fire,
turning your back on it and touching it are both wrong.
Expressing it in colorful words
only stains it.
Midnight is bright,
dawn brings no dew.
Things are truth itself
to be used for removing delusion.
This is not created
and yet not inexpressible.
As form and image face each other
in a bright mirror,
you are not it
but it is you.
It is like a baby
perfectly possessing five freedoms:
Not coming, not going,
not rising, not staying...
And goo goo wa wa -
words that are not words.
In the end nothing is grasped
because speech is not precise.
In the double-split hexagrams
the particular and the general integrate.
When the lines are closed they become three,
and its final change makes five.
A blade of zhi grass has five flavors,
A vajra has five points.
Within the general, something marvelous lies.
Drumming and singing go together.
Penetrating the source, penetrating the paths.
Here is a short path, here is a long path.
If you miss it, that's a good sign.
Don't neglect it.
What is natural and inconceivable
belongs neither to delusion nor enlightenment.
Causes and conditions right at this moment
shine completely in silence.
So minute that it penetrates any space.
So enormous that it exceeds all bounds.
The slightest difference
puts it out of tune.
Because the basic teachings of sudden and gradual
have been set up,
the Zen school has become divided.
These ways have become standard.
Even though you master such teachings
the truth keeps on escaping.
You may sit still but waver inside -
a tied up horse, or a cowering rat.
The Ancient Teacher pitied us
and transmitted the dharma.
Because of our delusions
we say black is white.
When delusions disappear
understanding reveals itself.
If you wish to conform to the old ways,
take a lesson from the past.
People trying to attain the buddha way
by gazing for ten eons at a tree
are like a tiger with tattered ears
or a hobbled horse.
A greedy mind sees
rare treasures.
A surprised mind sees
raccoons and white bulls.
Legendary bowman Yi with his skill
shoots the mark a hundred paces away.
When arrowheads meet head-on,
is it only a matter of skill?
Right when a wooden man sings
a stone woman gets up and dances.
It's not within the reach of knowledge
nor does it admit ideas.
Retainers serve their lord;
children obey their father.
Without obedience there is no respect;
without service there is no civic virtue.
Conceal your practice, work inside.
Be ignorant, look foolish.
Just keep on doing it.
This is called host with host.
From: Essential Zen eds. Kazuaki Tanahashi & Tensho David Schneider
Ghazal 107
by Hafiz
May your goodness always increase
And your smiling face never cease
In our head the thought of your love
Every day is on the increase.
Every cedar and every spruce
From your height may you hear their pleas
The eye not intrigued by thee
Its tear drops a bloody disease.
Your eye for mesmerizing hearts
Is a magician and master-tease.
Wherever a heart is longing for thee
Impatiently shears its own fleece.
The beauty of all the lovers
Beside your swan is ugly geese.
The heart that is out of love’s lease
From the circle of union release.
Hafiz’s soul, your ruby lips ease
Away from base lips, if you please.
The Stairway of Existence
by Hafiz
We
Are not
In pursuit of formalities
Or fake religious
Laws,
For through the stairway of existence
We have come to God's
Door.
We are
People who need to love, because
Love is the soul's life,
Love is simply creation's greatest joy.
Through
The stairway of existence,
O, through the stairway of existence, Hafiz
Have
You now come,
Have we all now come to
The Beloved's
Door.
I Am Mad
I am mad with love
And no one understands my plight.
Only the wounded
Understand the agonies of the wounded,
When the fire rages in the heart.
Only the jeweller knows the value of the jewel,
Not the one who lets it go.
In pain I wander from door to door,
But could not find a doctor.
Says Mira: Harken, my Master,
Mira's pain will subside
When Shyam comes as the doctor.
- Mirabai
Do not go to the garden of flowers!
Do not go to the garden of flowers!
O Friend ! go not there;
In your body is the garden of flowers.
Take your seat on the thousand petals of the lotus,
and there gaze on the Infinite Beauty.
Kabir
One with the River,
by Guthema Roba
I’m one with the river
The river that snores
The river that moans. The river that roars…
Every sound of its roar is my breath.
Its rise and its fall is a sign of life
In the depth of my bone
It is the color of my curiosity.
My courage and my cowardice.
Every bit of its flow is my hope, my strength
Tears of my bliss, whisper of my love.
Magic of creativity. My singing age.
I’m one with a mountain.
Every part of its rise
And every minute of its silence
Is my song that’s not sang yet.
My denied freedom, my hushed liberty.
Every speechless stone is my deep sleep.
I’m one with the Sun, with the Sky, with the Moon, the galaxies.. the milky way…
Their every twinkle, their every stare,
Their every frown, their every smile
Their every caress is my wakefullness.
Their divine warmth is my longing for newness.
I’m one with the woods
Every single wood is the renewal of my physical body
The song of the beasts in the wood is my heartbeat,
The shade of every single tree is my serenity
I’m one with a meadow, with the moors
Every single blade of leaves is my flesh under my skin
Every single grass is my blood cell.
The flowers in the grass are laugher and sorrow in my heart.
Every road that crosses the meadow
Is part of me that sings with light.
My presence. The awareness of the Now
I’m one with a farmer.
His bellowing bulls, his bleating sheep
His frolicking horses and kicking mules
Are the age of innocence.
The cord between a cow and the calf
And the milk in between is immortal tenderness
Of my mother.
The serene thatched, lonely houses
Are my purple moments
when I meet the formless, the ageless. The nameless
I’m one with the winds.
Every sound of its whistle
Is the poem I am composing.
Every groan of its might is
The message in this poem
And every sigh of its fury is my suppressed feelings.
I’m one with the earth.
Her hills and her gorges are my silent tongue.
Every speck of her dust is my beautiful death
My buried intensities. My spent hours, my evenings.
Light enters me through your smile
And it departs from me though your sobs
And it returns to me again through your silence
Through everyone of you,
I learn how to live
And through everyone of you
I practice the art of dying.
The House Was Quiet and the World Was Calm,
by Wallace Stevens
The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The reader became the book; and summer night
Was like the conscious being of the book.
The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The words were spoken as if there was no book,
Except that the reader leaned above the page,
Wanted to lean, wanted much to be
The scholar to whom his book is true, to whom
The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
The house was quiet because it had to be.
The quiet was part of the meaning, part of the mind:
The access of perfection to the page.
And the world was calm. The truth in a calm world,
In which there is no other meaning, itself
Is calm, itself is summer and night, itself
Is the reader leaning late and reading there.
Live your Briliance,
by Mary Pat Nally
Brilliance
Lies ahead
Begging to be claimed
To be held
To be honored
A lighthouse
A flame
A star
Leading the way
for each of us
To see
The brilliance
that lies within
each of us
The love
The compassion
The gentle hand
That holds an inner knowing
A connection
Between us
A connection
that touches hearts
across the world
For, In the Divine
We all
Are one
THE TRUE SUFI
Rumi
What makes the Sufi? Purity of heart;
Not the patched mantle and the lust perverse
Of those vile earth-bound men who steal his name.
He in all dregs discerns the essence pure:
In hardship ease, in tribulation joy.
The phantom sentries, who with batons drawn
Guard Beauty's place-gate and curtained bower,
Give way before him, unafraid he passes,
And showing the King's arrow, enters in.
R. A. Nicholson
'Persian Poems', an Anthology of verse translations
edited by A.J.Arberry, Everyman's Library, 1972
To Weep Because
by Sri Aurobindo
To weep because a glorious sun has set
Which the next morn shall gild the east again;
To mourn that mighty strengths must yield to fate
Which by that force a double strength attain;
To shrink from pain without whose friendly strife
Joy could not be, to make a terror of death
Who smiling beckons us to farther life,
And is a bridge for the persistent breath;
Despair and anguish and the tragic grief
Of dry set eyes, or such disastrous tears
As rend the heart, though meant for its relief,
And all man's ghastly company of fears
Are born of folly that believes the span
Of life the limit of immortal man.
An Infant In Your Arms,
by Rumi
The tide of my love
Has risen so high let me flood
over
You.
Close your eyes for a moment
And maybe all your
fears and fantasies
Will end.
If that happened
God would become an infant in your
Arms
And then you
Would have to nurse all
Creation!
From “The Gift” by Daniel Ladinsky.
In a Thousand Forms,
by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
English version by John White
You may hide yourself in a thousand forms,
Still, All-beloved, I recognize you;
You may cover yourself in magic mists,
All-present, I can always tell that it is you.
I discover you as well, All-beautifully-growing,
In the cypress's pure young surge,
In the stream's fresh, living rush,
All-enchanting, I know you well.
When rising jets of water unfurl,
All-playful, how glad I am to see you;
When clouds form and transform themselves,
All-manifold, I discern you in them.
In the blossoming tapestry that covers the meadow,
I see your All-colorful, starry beauty;
When ivies reach their thousand arms around,
I meet you, All-embracing.
When morning lights the mountain range
I greet you there too, All-brightening,
Then, as the sky grows round above me,
All-heart-expanding, it is you I inhale.
What, with out and inner senses, I know,
I know only through you, All-teaching;
When I name Allah's hundred names,
A name, with each name, re-echoes for you.
The Touch of the Master's Hand
It was battered and scarred,
And the auctioneer thought it
hardly worth his while
To waste his time on the old violin,
but he held it up with a smile.
"What am I bid, good people", he cried,
"Who starts the bidding for me?"
"One dollar, one dollar, Do I hear two?"
"Two dollars, who makes it three?"
"Three dollars once, three dollars twice, going for three,"
But, No,
From the room far back a gray bearded man
Came forward and picked up the bow,
Then wiping the dust from the old violin
And tightening up the strings,
He played a melody, pure and sweet
As sweet as the angel sings.
The music ceased and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said "What now am I bid for this old violin?"
As he held it aloft with its' bow.
"One thousand, one thousand, Do I hear two?"
"Two thousand, Who makes it three?"
"Three thousand once, three thousand twice,
Going and gone", said he.
The audience cheered,
But some of them cried,
"We just don't understand."
"What changed its' worth?"
Swift came the reply.
"The Touch of the Masters Hand."
And many a man with life out of tune
All battered with bourbon and gin
Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd
Much like that old violin
A mess of pottage, a glass of wine,
A game and he travels on.
He is going once, he is going twice,
He is going and almost gone.
But the Master comes,
And the foolish crowd never can quite understand,
The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought
By the Touch of the Masters' Hand.
Myra Brooks Welch
Fireflies
by Rabindranath Tagore
I touch God in my song
as the hill touches the far-away sea
with its waterfall.
The butterfly counts not months but moments,
and has time enough.
Let my love, like sunlight, surround you
and give you illumined freedom.
Love remains a secret even when spoken,
for only a lover truly knows that he is loved.
Emancipation from the bondage of the soil
is no freedom for the tree.
In love I pay my endless debt to thee
for what thou art.