Poems Not About Krishna - But Maybe They Are...

Here are some poems that are not about Krishna... but maybe they are... Feel free to add more if you find some good verses.

found the poem Here

A STORY
by Li-Young Lee


Sad is the man who is asked for a story
and can't come up with one.

His five-year-old son waits in his lap
Not the same story, Baba. A new one.
The man rubs his chin, scratches his ear.

In a room full of books in a world
of stories, he can recall
not one, and soon, he thinks, the boy
will give up on his father.

Already the man lives far ahead, he sees
the day this boy will go. Don't go!
Hear the alligator story! The angel story once more!
You love the spider story. You laugh at the spider.
Let me tell it!

But the boy is packing his shirts,
he is looking for his keys. Are you a god,
the man screams, that I sit mute before you?
Am I a god that I should never disappoint?

But the boy is here. Please, Baba, a story?
It is an emotional rather than logical equation,
an earthly rather than heavenly one,
which posits that a boy's supplications
and a father's love add up to silence.

Along the sun-drenched roadside, from the great
by Rainer-Maria Rilke

Along the sun-drenched roadside, from the great
hollow half-treetrunk, which for generations
has been a trough, renewing in itself
an inch or two of rain, I satisfy
my thirst: taking the water's pristine coolness
into my whole body through my wrists.
Drinking would be too powerful, too clear;
but this unhurried gesture of restraint
fills my whole consciousness with shining water.

Thus, if you came, I could be satisfied
to let my hand rest lightly, for a moment,
lightly, upon your shoulder or your breast.

(Translated by Stephen Mitchell)

Sorry to have to quote Elvis, but... you know. Hehe.



Wise men say only fools rush in
but I can't help falling in love with you
Shall I stay
would it be a sin
If I can't help falling in love with you

Like a river flows surely to the sea
Darling so it goes
some things are meant to be
take my hand, take my whole life too
for I can't help falling in love with you

The Art of Poetry
by Jorge Luis Borges


To gaze at a river made of time and water
And remember Time is another river.
To know we stray like a river
and our faces vanish like water.

To feel that waking is another dream
that dreams of not dreaming and that the death
we fear in our bones is the death
that every night we call a dream.

To see in every day and year a symbol
of all the days of man and his years,
and convert the outrage of the years
into a music, a sound, and a symbol.

To see in death a dream, in the sunset
a golden sadness--such is poetry,
humble and immortal, poetry,
returning, like dawn and the sunset.

Sometimes at evening there's a face
that sees us from the deeps of a mirror.
Art must be that sort of mirror,
disclosing to each of us his face.

They say Ulysses, wearied of wonders,
wept with love on seeing Ithaca,
humble and green. Art is that Ithaca,
a green eternity, not wonders.

Art is endless like a river flowing,
passing, yet remaining, a mirror to the same
inconstant Heraclitus, who is the same
and yet another, like the river flowing.

No no, "Elpis" is ok. hehe

Fools Rush In
(Words & music by J. Mercer - R. Bloom)

Sung by Elvis

Fools rush in, where angels fear to tread
And so I come to you my love
My heart above my head
Though I see the danger there
If there's a chance for me
Then I don't care, oh-oh-oh-oh

Fools rush in, where wise men never go
But wise men never fall in love
So how are they to know
When we met, I felt my life begin
So open up your heart and let
This fool rush in

And I don't care, oh-oh-oh-oh

Fools rush in, where wise men never go
But wise men never fall in love
So how are they to know
When we met, I felt my life begin
So open up your heart and let
This fool rush in

So open up your heart and let
This fool rush in

So open up your heart and let
This fool rush in

So open up your heart and let
This fool rush in

"Oh-oh-oh-oh!"

Appeal
by Anne Brontë


Oh, I am very weary,
Though tears no longer flow;
My eyes are tires of weeping,
My heart is sick of woe;

My life is very lonely,
My days pass heavily,
I'm wearing of repining,
Wilt thou not come to me?

Oh, didst thou know my longings
For thee, from day to day,
My hopes, so often blighted,
Thou wouldst not thus delay!

Procrastination
by Marcus Valerius Martialis

Tomorrow you will live, you always cry;
In what fair country does this morrow lie,
That 'tis so mighty long ere it arrive?
Beyond the Indies does this morrow live?
'Tis so far-fetched, this morrow, that I fear
'Twill be both very old and very dear.
"Tomorrow I will live," the fool does say;
Today itself's too late -- the wise lived yesterday.

-Translated by Abraham Cowley

The River-Merchant's Wife: A Letter

Translated by Ezra Pound, from the Chinese of Li Po (Rihaku)

While my hair was still cut straight across my forehead
I played about the front gate, pulling flowers.
You came by on bamboo stilts, playing horse,
You walked about my seat, playing with blue plums.
And we went on living in the village of Chokan:
Two small people, without dislike or suspicion.

At fourteen I married My Lord you.
I never laughed, being bashful.
Lowering my head, I looked at the wall.
Called to, a thousand times, I never looked back.

At fifteen I stopped scowling,
I desired my dust to be mingled with yours
Forever and forever and forever.
Why should I climb the look out?

At sixteen you departed,
You went into far Ku-to-yen, by the river of swirling eddies,
And you have been gone five months.
The monkeys make sorrowful noise overhead.
You dragged your feet when you went out.
By the gate now, the moss is grown, the different mosses,
Too deep to clear them away!
The leaves fall early this autumn, in wind.
The paired butterflies are already yellow with August
Over the grass in the West garden;
They hurt me. I grow older.
If you are coming down through the narrows of the river Kiang,
Please let me know beforehand,
And I will come out to meet you
As far as Cho-fu-sa.

Love
by Sarah Flower Adams

O Love! thou makest all things even
In earth or heaven;
Finding thy way through prison-bars
Up to the stars;
Or, true to the Almighty plan,
That out of dust created man,
Thou lookest in a grave,--to see
Thine immortality!

Without You

Translated by James Wright from the German of Hermann Hesse

My pillow gazes upon me at night
Empty as a gravestone;
I never thought it would be so bitter
To be alone,
Not to lie down asleep in your hair.

I lie alone in a silent house,
The hanging lamp darkened,
And gently stretch out my hands
To gather in yours,
And softly press my warm mouth
Toward you, and kiss myself, exhausted and weak-
Then suddenly I'm awake
And all around me the cold night grows still.
The star in the window shines clearly-
Where is your blond hair?
Where is your sweet mouth?

Now I drink pain in every delight
And poison in every wine;
I never knew it would be so bitter
To be alone,
Alone, without you.


Ohne Dich

Mein Kissen schaut mich an zur Nacht
Leer wie ein Totenstein;
So bitter hatt ich's nie gedacht,
Allein zu sein
Und nicht in deinem Haar gebettet sein!

Ich lieg allein im stillen Haus,
Die Ampel ausgetan,
Und strecke sacht die Haende aus,
Die deinen zu umfahn,
Und draenge leis den heissen Mund
Nach dir und kuess mich matt und wund-
Und ploetzlich bin ich aufgewacht
Und ringsum schweigt die kalte Nacht,
Der Stern im Fenster schimmert klar-
O du, wo ist dein blondes Haar,
Wo ist dein suesser Mund?

Nun trink ich Weh in jeder Lust
Und Gift in jedem Wein;
So bitter hatt ich's nie gewusst,
Allein zu sein,
Allein und ohne dich zu sein!

When You Are Old

William Butler Yeats

When you are old and gray and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

And bending down beside the glowing bars
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

Sonnet XVII

Pablo Neruda

I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving

but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.


Soneto XVII

No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.
Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva
dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,
y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo
el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra.
Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,
sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño.

A song definitely about Krishna. Author - may be anon. Corrections welcome!

prana sakhi re
oi shun kadamba tole vamsi bajaye ke
vamsi bajaye ke re sakhi vamsi bajaye ke
amar mathar beni khuilya dimu tare aina de

Dear prANa sakhi
Hey listen, who is playing the flute under the kadamba tree
Who is playing the flute, Oh sakhi, who is playing the flute
I will untie my hair, just bring Him ..

prana sakhi re
oi shun kadamba tole vamsi bajaye ke

Dear prANa sakhi
Hey listen, who is playing the flute under the kadamba tree

je poth diye bajaye bashi
je poth diye jaye sonar nupur diye paye
amar naker peshor khuilya dimu
sei nopoter gaye
amar golar har choriye debo
sei nopoter gaye
jodi har joriye pore paye

The path on which He plays His flute
The path which He treads with His golden anklets on
I'll take off my nose ring
and throw it on that nAgara
I will throw my necklace
on that nAgara's body
if He only wears the necklace on His legs

prana sakhi re
oi shun kadamba tole vamsi bajaye ke

Dear prANa sakhi
Hey listen, who is playing the flute under the kadamba tree

jar bashi emon
se ba kemon, janish jodi bol
sakhi korish na go chol
amar mon boro chanchal
amar prana bole tar bashi jane
amar chokhe jol

Whose flute is such
how will He be, if you know then tell
O sakhi, kindly do not play pranks
my mind is very restless
my heart says, His flute knows
that my eyes are with tears

torola basher bashi
chidra guta choy
bashi kotoi kotha koi
nam dhoriya bajaye bashi
rohono na jaye
ghore rohono na jaye

That flute of soft wood
with six holes in it
that flute speaks so many things
Taking names, (He) plays the flute
can't stay put any longer
Just can't stay at home

prana sakhi re
oi shun kadamba tole vamsi bajaye ke

Dear prANa sakhi
Hey listen, who is playing the flute under the kadamba tree

Lovely!

Hey I thought of posting the "Krishna Deewani" song that I had you translate for me, but I don't know if anyone here would like it.

Sonnet XLV (from Cien sonetos de amor)
Pablo Neruda

Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --
because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, like an empty train station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't go, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that wanders looking for a home
will drift into me, to kill my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve in the sand;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don't leave me for a second, beloved,

because in that moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander the whole earth, asking,
Will you come back? Or will you leave me dying?





XLV (Cien sonetos de amor)
Pablo Neruda

No estés lejos de mí un solo día, porque cómo,
porque, no sé decirlo, es largo el día,
y te estaré esperando como en las estaciones
cuando en alguna parte se durmieron los trenes.

No te vayas por una hora porque entonces
en esa hora se juntan las gotas del desvelo
y tal vez todo el humo que anda buscando casa
venga a matar aún mi corazón perdido.

Ay que no se quebrante tu silueta en la arena,
ay que no vuelen tus párpados en la ausencia:
no te vayas por un minuto, bienamada,

porque en ese minuto te habrás ido tan lejos
que yo cruzaré toda la tierra preguntando
si volverás o si me dejarás muriendo.

Love

Pablo Neruda

Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers
I ache from the perfumes of spring.
I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands;
how did your lips feel on mine?
Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks,
the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.
I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice;
I have forgotten your eyes.
Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound
to my vague memory of you. I live with pain that is like a wound;
if you touch me, you will do me irreparable harm.
Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.
I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every window.
Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me;
because of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires:
shooting stars, falling objects.

http://www.boppin.com/neruda.html

Somehow, this one reminds me of Srimati Vishnupriya...

somewhere i have never travelled

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

-- e. e. cummings

http://www.cs.rice.edu/~ssiyer/minstrels/poems/619.html

Aho! Satyaji the poetry you have provided has been sooooo sweet!

How about a spot of Tagore?

"You and I have floated here on the stream that brings from the fount.
At the hear of time, love of one for another."
I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times...
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,
That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
Whenever I hear old chronicles of love, it's age old pain,
It's ancient tale of being apart or together.
As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge,
Clad in the light of a pole-star, piercing the darkness of time.
You become an image of what is remembered forever.

You and I have floated here on the stream that brings from the fount.
At the hear of time, love of one for another.
We have played along side millions of lovers,
Shared in the same shy sweetness of meeting, the distressful tears of farewell,
Old love but in shapes that renew and renew forever.

Nice example of Catholic bridal mysticism. I tried to fix up the translation a bit, but really I might have made things worse rather than better... oh well

Noche escura del alma (Dark Night of the Soul)
San Juan de la Cruz (Saint John of the Cross)

On a dark night,
Inflamed with the anticipation of love
--what great luck!--
I went out without being noticed,
My house being now at rest.

In darkness and secure,
By the secret ladder, hidden
--what great luck!--
In darkness and concealed,
My house being now at rest.

In the happy night,
In secret, when no one saw me,
Nor did I see anything,
Without any other light or guide,
But that which burned in my heart.

This light guided me
More clearly than the light of noonday
To the place where He awaited me
He who I knew well
A lonely place, where no one else appeared

Oh night which guided me!
Oh, night sweeter than the dawn!
Oh, night that joined
The Beloved with the lover,
The lover transformed in the Beloved!

Upon my flowery breast,
Kept wholly for himself alone,
There he lay sleeping,
and I caressed Him,
And the fanning of the cedars made a breeze.

A breeze blew from the turret
When I parted his the locks of His hair.
With His gentle hand
He wounded my neck
And caused all my senses to be suspended.

I was- and I forgot myself;
I rested my face on the Beloved.
All ceased and I abandoned myself,
Leaving my cares forgotten among the lilies.


En una noche escura
con ansias en amores inflamada
¡o dichosa ventura!
salí sin ser notada
estando ya mi casa sosegada.

ascuras y segura
por la secreta escala, disfraçada,
¡o dichosa ventura!
a escuras y en celada
estando ya mi casa sosegada.

En la noche dichosa
en secreto que naide me veýa,
ni yo mirava cosa
sin otra luz y guía
sino la que en el coraçón ardía.

Aquésta me guiava
más cierto que la luz de mediodía
adonde me esperava
quien yo bien me savía
en parte donde naide parecía.

¡O noche, que guiaste!
¡O noche amable más que la alborada!
¡oh noche que juntaste
amado con amada,
amada en el amado transformada!

En mi pecho florido,
que entero para él solo se guardaba
allí quedó dormido
y yo le regalaba
y el ventalle de cedros ayre daba.

El ayre de la almena
quando yo sus cavellos esparcía
con su mano serena
en mi cuello hería
y todos mis sentidos suspendía.

Quedéme y olbidéme
el rostro recliné sobre el amado;
cessó todo, y dexéme
dexando mi cuydado
entre las açucenas olbidado.

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

ee cummings

"I have estimated the influence of Reason upon Love and found that it is like that of a raindrop upon the ocean, which makes one little mark upon the water's face and disappears."

Hafez

Hey Sakhicharan, I liked your Hafiz quote.

Here is a Neruda poem from Veinte poemas de amor. (#15)

I did the translation myself, so sorry if it lacks grace. Also, please forgive any actual *errors* in the translation.



I like you when you’re quiet. It’s like you are absent,
And you hear me from a distance, and my voice doesn’t touch you.
It seems like your eyes have flown away from you,
Like I tried to kiss you and you closed your mouth.

Just as everything is filled with my soul
You emerge from every thing, filled with my soul.
Dream butterfly, you look like my soul,
And you seem like a melancholy word.

I like you when you’re quiet. It’s as if you are distant.
And you are insistent- lullaby butterfly.
And you hear me from a distance, and my voice doesn’t reach you:
And I want to be quiet with your silence.

Then I want to speak to your silence
Clear as lamplight, simple as a gold ring.
You are like night, quiet and star-lit
Your silence is star-like, so distant and simple.

I like you when you’re quiet. It’s like you are absent.
Distant and painful as if you had died.
And then, just a word, a smile is enough.
And I am so so happy. I don’t know why.

You know me too well!

The Gauge of a good poem is
The size of the love-bruise it leaves
On your neck.
Or

The size of the love-bruise it can paint
On your brain.
Or

The size of the love-bruise it can weave
Into your soul.

Or indeed -
It could be all of the
Above.


Hafez

O flute,
You have no tongue, yet you wail all day?
For whom do you cry?
The flute said:
They took me from His sweet lips.
What else can I do but cry?

~RUMI

(This one has some special significance for me. )

From He Gives to Taste
by RUMI

Do not despair
if the Beloved pushes you away.
If He pushes you away today
it's only so He can draw you back tomorrow.

If He closes the door on your face,
don't leave, wait-
you'll soon be by His side.
If He bars every passage,
don't lose hope-
He's about to show you
a secret way nobody knows

...

God's blows don't bring death but eternal life.
He gives the wealth of Solomon to a single ant.
He gives the treasure of both worlds to all who ask.
He gives and gives
yet does not startle a single heart.

I've traveled to all the ends of the earth
and have not found anyone like Him.
Who can match Him?
Who can hold a candle to His glory?

Silence already!
He gives us the wine to taste,
not to talk about...

He gives to taste.
He gives to taste.
He gives to taste.

Ahhh! One more sweet one from RUMI.


When I shed tears of blood
You made me laugh.
When I was gone from this world
You brought me back.
Now You ask,
What about your promises?
What promises?-
You made me break them all.

Rumi you say!

Poor copies out of heaven's originals,
Pale earthly pictures mouldering to decay,
What care although your beauties break and fall,
When that which gave them life endures for aye?

from Pope's Pastorals.

Strephon;

My gentle Delia beckons from the plain,
Then hid in shades, eludes her eager swain;
But feigns a laugh, to see me search around,
And by that laugh the willing fair is found.

Daphnis;

The sprightly Silvia trips along the green,
She runs, but hopes she does not run unseen;
While a kind glance at her pursuer flies,
How much at variance are her feet and eyes!

I said, This longing in my heart
is more a curse than a cure.

He said, What is your cure?
I said, Union.
He said, And what is My cure?
I said, Union.

~RUMI

From T.S. Eliot's Four Quartets



III

I sometimes wonder if that is what Krishna meant—
Among other things—or one way of putting the same thing:
That the future is a faded song, a Royal Rose or a lavender spray
Of wistful regret for those who are not yet here to regret,
Pressed between yellow leaves of a book that has never been opened.
And the way up is the way down, the way forward is the way back.
You cannot face it steadily, but this thing is sure,
That time is no healer: the patient is no longer here.
When the train starts, and the passengers are settled
To fruit, periodicals and business letters
(And those who saw them off have left the platform)
Their faces relax from grief into relief,
To the sleepy rhythm of a hundred hours.
Fare forward, travellers! not escaping from the past
Into different lives, or into any future;
You are not the same people who left that station
Or who will arrive at any terminus,
While the narrowing rails slide together behind you;
And on the deck of the drumming liner
Watching the furrow that widens behind you,
You shall not think 'the past is finished'
Or 'the future is before us'.
At nightfall, in the rigging and the aerial,
Is a voice descanting (though not to the ear,
The murmuring shell of time, and not in any language)
'Fare forward, you who think that you are voyaging;
You are not those who saw the harbour
Receding, or those who will disembark.
Here between the hither and the farther shore
While time is withdrawn, consider the future
And the past with an equal mind.
At the moment which is not of action or inaction
You can receive this: "on whatever sphere of being
The mind of a man may be intent
At the time of death"—that is the one action
(And the time of death is every moment)
Which shall fructify in the lives of others:
And do not think of the fruit of action.
Fare forward.
O voyagers, O seamen,
You who came to port, and you whose bodies
Will suffer the trial and judgement of the sea,
Or whatever event, this is your real destination.'
So Krishna, as when he admonished Arjuna
On the field of battle.
Not fare well,
But fare forward, voyagers.

Barbara Allen

traditional English Ballad...just one of many versions

Was in the merry month of May
When all gay flowers were a bloomin',
Sweet William on his death-bed lay
For the love of Barbara Allen.

He sent his servant to the town
To the place where she was dwelling
Said, "You must come to my master's house,
If your name be Barbara Allen."

So slowly, slowly she gets up,
And to his bedside going
She drew the curtains to one side
And says, "Young man, you're dying."

"I know, I'm sick and very low,
And sorrow dwells within me
No better, no better I never will be.
Til I have Barbara Allen."

"Don't you remember last Saturday night
When I was at the tavern,
You gave your drinks to the ladies there
But you slighted Barbara Allen?"

He reached up his pale white hands
Intending for to touch her
She turned away from his bedside
And says, "Young man I won't have you."

He turned his cheek into the wall
And bursted out a crying
"What I do to thee I do to all
And I do to Barbara Allen."

She had not walked and reached the town
She heard the death bells ringing
And as they rolled they seemed to say,
"Hard-hearted Barbara Allen."

"Oh Mother, oh mother go make my bed
Make it both long and narrow
Sweet William died for me today
I'll die for him tomorrow."

Sweet William was buried in the old church yard
And Barbara there anigh him,
And out of his grave grew a red, red rose,
And out of hers, a briar.

They grew and grew to the old churchyard,
Where they couldn't grow no higher,
And there they tied in a true love's knot.
The rose wrapped around the briar.

Dover Beach
Matthew Arnold

The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits;--on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanch'd land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Ægean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furl'd.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

Song to Celia
Ben Jonson


Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I'll not look for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise
Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove's nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.

I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
Not so much honouring thee
As giving it a hope, that there
It could not withered be.
But thou thereon didst only breathe,
And sent'st it back to me;
Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,
Not of itself, but thee.

The Garden of Love
William Blake

I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen:
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
And `Thou shalt not' writ over the door;
So I turn'd to the Garden of Love,
That so many sweet flowers bore,

And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tomb-stones where flowers should be:
And Priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars my joys and desires.

From As you LIke It

Why should this a desert be,
For it is unpeopled? no;
Toungeus I'll hang on every tree,
That shall civil sayings show:
Some, how brief the life of man
Runs his erring pilgramage,
That the stretching of a span
Buckles in his sum of age;
Some of violated vows,
'Twixt the souls of friend and friend;
But upon the fairest boughs,
Or at every sentence end,
Will I Rosalinda write,
Teaching all that read, to know
The quintessence of every sprite,
Heaven would in little show.
Therefore Heaven Nature charg'd
That one body should be fill'd
With all Graces wide-enlarg'd:
Nature presently distill'd
Helen's cheek, but not her heart,
Cleopatra's majesty,
Atalanta's better part,
Sad Lucretia's modesty.
Thus Rosalinda of many parts
By heavenly synod was devis'd;
Of many faces , eyes, and hearts,
To have the touches dearest priz'd.
Heaven would that she these gifts should have,
And I to live and die her slave.

Hey, you picked my favorite Shakespeare play to quote from- I even used "Rosalind" as my online id for something once (a long time ago!) Nice choice.

Let's have some more! (Act V Scene II)

Ros. O! I know where you are. Nay, ’tis true: there was never anything so sudden but the fight of two rams, and Cæsar’s thrasonical brag of ‘I came, saw, and overcame:’ for your brother and my sister no sooner met, but they looked; no sooner looked but they loved; no sooner loved but they sighed; no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy: and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage which they will climb incontinent, or else be incontinent before marriage. They are in the very wrath of love, and they will together: clubs cannot part them.

Orl. They shall be married to-morrow, and I will bid the duke to the nuptial. But, O! how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man’s eyes. By so much the more shall I to-morrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how much I shall think my brother happy in having what he wishes for.

Ros. Why then, to-morrow I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind?

Orl. I can live no longer by thinking.

Definitely my favorite too along with Midsummer Night's Dream, particularly because the stories are pre-Christian, and they're often refering to the gods or making comparison with the the gods. As Jayadeva does;

Your eyes are lazy with wine, like Madalasa,
Your face glows like the moonlight nymph Indumati,
Your gait pleases every creature like Manorama,
Your thighs are plantains in motion like Rambha,
Your passion is the mystic rite of Kalavati,
Your brows form the sensual line of Chitralekha.
Frail Radha, as you walk on Earth,
You bear the young beauty of heavenly nymphs. (Gita Govinda)

Sonnet XXXI
William Shakespeare

Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts
Which I by lacking have supposed dead;
And there reigns Love, and all Love’s loving parts,
And all those friends which I thought buried.
How many a holy and obsequious tear
Hath dear religious love stol’n from mine eye,
As interest of the dead, which now appear
But things remov’d that hidden in thee lie!
Thou art the grave where buried love doth live,
Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone,
Who all their parts of me to thee did give,
That due of many now is thine alone:
Their images I lov’d I view in thee,
And thou—all they—hast all the all of me.

From Ovid's Metamorphoses,trans. John Dryden

Those would I teach; and by right reason bring
To think of death, as but an idle thing.
.................
...............
What feels the body, when the soul expires,
By time corrupted, or consum'd by fires?
Nor dies the spirit, but new life repeats
In other forms, and only changes seats.

Ev'n I, who these mysterious truths declare,
Was once Euphorbus in the Trojan war;
My name, my lineage I remember well,
And how in fight by Sparta's king I fell.
In Argive Juno's fane I late beheld
My buckler hung on high, and own'd my former shield.

Then, death, so call'd, is but old matter dress'd
In some new figure, and a vary'd vest:
Thus all things are but alter'd, nothing dies;
And here, and there th' unbody'd spirit flies.
By time, or force, or sickness dispossest,
And lodges, where it lights, in man or beast;
Or hunts without, 'till ready limbs it find,
And actuates those according to their kind;
From tenement to tenement is toss'd,
The soul is still the same, the figure only lost:
And, as the soften'd wax new seals receives,
This face assumes, and that impression leaves;
Now call'd by one, now by another name;
The form is only chang'd, the wax is still the same:
So death, so call'd, can but the form deface;
Th' immortal soul flies out in empty space,
To seek her fortune in some other place.

Interesting how the soul gets the feminine pronoun huh.

Sure is! Hmm...

Poem definitely about Krishna, by Sant Tukaram.

I went into the wood with Govinda alone, such experience was mine!
do not call me a lascivious woman
for I did not approach a vicious Man.
I saw no other path
therefore I approached Him boldly.
with reverence I embraced Him and lay in His bed;
with a familiar gesture He clasped my breast, and I endured it.
I concieved a child and thereby I am a lawful wife;
why must I explain this to you?"
Tukaram says,
she ended her speech;
thus she protected herself and Govinda;
this was what she had long desired;
now the vow of vows was fulfilled.

(jaya jaya Ranga Panduranga )

Dhavala Giri by Madhusudan Datta

Dhavala by name, a peak
On Himalaya's kingly brow-
Swelling high unto the heavens,
Ever robed in virgin snow;
And endu'd with soul divine;
Vast and moveless like the lord
Siva - mightiest of the gods,
By holiest anchorites ador'd, -
When with spotless garment clad, he
Stands sublime immers'd in pray'r,
With his arms uplifted high,
His tow'ring head hid in the air! -
Forests, groves and trees and creepers,
Blossoms, flowers, and all that gem
Every mountain's aery brow,
Like gold-and- emerald diadem -
Grow not here; as if Earth's lord,
Of earthly pleasures sick, disdains
Life's gay vanities and follies -
Breaking thus delusion's chains!
Birds that ever sweetly warble -
Bees that wander on the wing
Seeking honey from each flow'r
Come not here; the forest king, -
Mountain bodied elephant -
Tiger, bear and all that move
And live and breathe in woodland bow'r,
In dark, dim forest, boundless grove -
Of the wilderness the lotus, (?)
She - the lovely eyed gazelle,
And the she-snake in whose locks
The brightest gems are said to dwell,
And the snake with poison hoarded -
Ne'er approach this frowning hill -
Aweful, wild, majestic stands it -
Solitary - stern - and still!
Hoarsely in it's sunless glens
Aye the torrent flood is sounding
Like the roaring Bhogavati
Through hell's darksome valley bounding!
God or Goddess, man or woman -
All that people earth or air,
As to pathless lofty castle -
Go not - may not ever go there!
Round it blows the howling tempest,
Like tremendous Rudra's breath,
When with terrors clad he dooms
This vast creation all to death!
And clouds around it lower,
Fierce and gloomy night and day,
Like the demons that round Siva
Dance in wild and demon-play!

I think he was into Longfellow amongst others, but Micheal Madhusudan Datta was a 19 C Bengali poet and playwrite who also wrote much in English. His muse was a blond haired blue eyed maid who was daughter to some English Colonial dignitary. Not so much for the above, be wrote a fair amount about her.

Shakespear Sonnet CLIII

Cupid laid by his brand, and fell asleep.
A maid of Dian's this advantage found,
And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep
In a cold valley-fountain of that ground;
Which borrow'd from this holy fire of Love
A dateless lively heat, still to endure,
And grew a seething bath, which yet men prove
Against strange maladies a soverrign cure.
But at my mistress' eye Love's brand new fired,
The boy for trial needs would touch my breast;
I, sick withal, the help of bath desired,
And thither hied, a sad distemper'd guest,
But found no cure: the bath for my help lies
Where Cupid got new fire - my mistress' eyes.

One day
after kissing me
He did not leave

~Rabi'a al-Adawiyya

...and another by Rabi'a

Ironic, but one of the most intimate acts
of our body is death.
So beautiful appeared my death--
knowing who then I would kiss
I died a thousand times before I died.
"Die before you die, " said the Prophet Muhammad.
Have wings that feared ever touched the Sun?
I was born when all I once feared---I could love.

Morning came- the separation-
substitute for the love we shared,
for the fragrance of our coming together,
falling away.

The moment of departure came upon us-
fatal morning, the crier of our passing
ushered us through death's door.

Who will tell them who,
by leaving, cloak us in a sorrow
not worn away with time,
though time wears us away.

That time that used
to make us laugh
when we were near
returns to make us grieve.

~Ibn Zaydun -Nuniyya

I hope that this is not seen as dumbing down of this thread but I sincerely think this song has more than a hint of Radharani in seperation from Krishna.

My favourite version is sung by Lorraine Ellison, other versions by Bette Midler and also Whitesnake (!)


(Pagowoy/Weiss)

Where did you go
When things went wrong, baby,
And who did you run to,
To find a shoulder
To lay your head upon.
Baby, wasn't I there,
Didn't I take good care of you.

Oh no, I can't believe you leaving me...

Stay with me, baby,
Stay with me, baby...
Won't you stay with me, baby,
I can't go on...

Who did you touch
When you need tenderness.
I gave so much
And in return I found happiness.
Baby, what did I do
Maybe I was too good, too good for you.

No, no, I can't believe you leaving me.

Stay with me, baby,
Stay with me, baby.
Won't you stay with me, baby,
I can't go on.

Remember,
You said you're always gonna need me,
Remember,
You said you'd never, ever leave me,
Remember, remember, I'm asking you, begging you.

Stay with me, baby,
Stay with me, baby...
Won't you stay with me, baby,
I can't go on, can't go on...

Stay with me, baby,
Stay with me, stay with me, baby.
Won't you stay with me, baby,
I can't go on...

How many a long night
like the wave of the sea
has dropped its curtain over me
in torment.

I said, when it had stretched
its loins, pulled back
its hindquarters and
arched its chest,

Long, long night, will you
not fade with the morn,
(though morning
would be no better)

What a night you are!
as if the stars were
anchored in bedrock
with flaxen chains.

~ Imr'u l-Qays - Mu`allaqa

In The Young Spring Evening

In the young spring evening
The moon is shining full
Girls form a circle
As though round an altar

And their feet perform
Rhythmical steps
Like the soft feet of Cretan girls
Must once have danced

Round and round an altar of love
Designing a circle
In the delicate flowering grass

The stars that are shining
Around the beautiful moon
Hide their own bright faces
When She, at Her fullest
Paints the earth with Her
Silvery light.

Now, while we are dancing
Come! Join us!
Sweet joy, revelry,
Bright light!

Inspire us, muses
Oh, you with the beautiful hair.

--Sappho

Listened to a bob dylan CD in my car during a trip this weekend. Got lost in this song and saw Krishna in it... hehe....

When the rain is blowing in your face
And the whole world is on your case
I could offer you a warm embrace
To make you feel my love

When the evening shadows and the stars appear
And there is no one there to dry your tears
I could hold you for a million years
To make you feel my love

I know you haven't made your mind up yet
But I would never do you wrong
I've known it from the moment that we met
No doubt in my mind where you belong

I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue
I'd go crawling down the avenue
There's nothing that I wouldn't do
To make you feel my love

The storms are raging on the rollin' sea
And on the highway of regret
The winds of change are blowing wild and free
You ain't seen nothing like me yet

I could make you happy, make your dreams come true
Nothing that I wouldn't do
Go to the ends of the earth for you
To make you feel my love

Let's have some more Sappho!

He is more than a hero

He is a god in my eyes-
the man who is allowed
to sit beside you- he

who listens intimately
to the sweet murmur of
your voice, the enticing

laughter that makes my own
heart beat fast. If I meet
you suddenly, I can't

speak- my tongue is broken;
a thin flame runs under
my skin; seeing nothing,

hearing only my own ears
drumming, I drip with sweat;
trembling shakes my body

and I turn paler than
dry grass. At such times
death isn't far from me

In trutina mentis dubia
fluctuant contraria
lascivus amor et pudicitia
Sed eligo quod video
collum iugo prebeo
ad iugum tamen suave transeo

Dulcissime!

totam tibi subdo me...

Ovid, Heroides 15, Sappho to Phaon, lines 205 - 212 translated by Alexander Pope.

Return fair youth, return, and bring along
Joy to my soul, and vigour to my song:
Absent from thee, the poet's flame expires;
But ah! how fiercely burn the lover's fires?
Gods! can no prayers, no sighs, no numbers move
One savage heart, or teach it how to love?
The winds my prayers, my sighs, my numbers bear,
The flying winds have lost them all in air!
Oh when, alas! shall more auspicious gales
To these fond eyes restore thy welcome sails?
If you return - ah why these long delays?
Poor Sappho dies while careless Phaon stays.

from Ovid'd Amores

As yet sweet sleep sits heavy on your eyes,
And warbling birds forbid, as yet, to rise.
Stay, beautious Morning! For to love sick maids
And youths, how grateful are these dusky shades!
Ah stay, and do not from the blushing east,
With dawning glories break our balmy rest..........

The Morning heard my railing, and for shame
Blushed, that by force she must disturb my flame.
Bright Phoebus rushing forth, the glorious day
Drove the dim shades that hid our joys away.

Stetit puella
rufa tunica
si quis eam tetigit
tunica crepuit.

Eia!

Stetit puella
tamquam rosula
facie splenduit
os eius floruit

Eia!

---

There she stood,
a young girl
in a scarlet dress.
If anyone touched it
it rustled!

Eia!

There she stood,
a young girl,
like a rosebud.
Her face glorious
her mouth a blossom.

Eia!

...Oh what the heck, I'll post from the "purport" on the song from my Carmina Burana book (Carl Orff- Carmina Burana: Cantiones Profane- facing vocabularies, study materials and translation by Judith Lynn Sebesta)

------------

"In his De Arte Honeste Amandi, Andreas stated that "Love is a kind of innate suffering which is born out of the vision of and continual recollection of the beauty of the person of the opposite sex." Are we to think of this carmen as the picture the man has of his beloved which he continually recollects in her absence? Or are we to think of him as suddenly coming upon a woman whose beauty overwhelms him, so much that he hardly seems able to approach her; at most perhaps someone (si quis) -- but not himself -- might just touch her garment?"

It's worth knowing about Andreas Capellanus. I remember when I came back from India, the first thing I did was read up on him in the New York Public Library.

http://www.courses.fas.harvard.edu/~chauce...s/de_amore.html

This is the beginning of the romantic spirit in the West.

Wish I could show you the audio- Samuel Barber set this poem of James Joyce to music very well.

-----------

Rain has fallen all the day
O come among the laden trees
The leaves lie thick upon the way
Of mem'ries

Staying a little by the way
Of mem'ries shall we depart
Come, my beloved, where I may
Speak to your heart!

Un cygne avance sur l'eau
tout entouré de lui-même
comme un glissant tableau;

ainsi à certains instants
un être que l'on aime
est tout un espace mouvant

A swan moves over the water
surrounded by itself,
like a painting that glides;
thus, at times,
a being one loves
is a whole moving space.

(excerpt from "le cygne" by Rainer Maria Rilke, from Poèmes français).

I heard this one at a poetry reading- something about the last lines especially...

A Blessing
by James Wright

Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more,
They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slender one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl's wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.

http://www.people.ku.edu/~hlowe/poems.html#wright

...the past is a vulgar thief
it steals the laughter from your eyes,
tosses the broken edges of yesterday's heartache
into this remembrance
i dream of erasing painful memories with lingering
caresses from a steady hand

i rearrange the jagged stars of your past
i am the young boy smiling at you with love letter eyes
i carve your name into the soul of graying trees
i am your first slow dance, a trembling hand teetering on your waist
i replace the melancholy prayers on your lips with urgent kisses
i swear an oath to your beauty, become holy in your embrace...

~From elaborate signings by Kenneth Carroll

If some time your breast pauses, if something stops
moving, stops burning through your veins,
if the voice in your mouth escapes without becoming word,

Matilde my love, leave your lips half-open:
because that final kiss should linger with me,
it should stay still, forever, in your mouth,
so that it goes with me, too, in my death.

I will die kissing your crazy cold mouth,
caressing the lost buds of your body,
looking for the light of your closed eyes.

And so when the earth received our embrace
we will go blended in a single death, forever
living the eternity of a kiss.

Sonnet XCIII

~Pablo Neruda

Where beauty is, then there is ugliness;
where right is, also there is wrong.
Knowledge and ignorance are interdependent;
delusion and enlightenment condition each other.
Since olden times it has been so.
How could it be otherwise now?
Wanting to get rid of one and grab the other
is merely realizing a scene of stupidity.
Even if you speak of the wonder of it all,
how do you deal with each thing changing?

-Ryokan-

Aaj rung hai hey maan rung hai ri
Moray mehboob kay ghar rang hai ri
Sajan milaavra, sajan milaavra,
Sajan milaavra moray aangan ko
Aaj rung hai........
Mohay pir paayo Nijamudin aulia
Nijamudin aulia mohay pir payoo
Des bades mein dhoondh phiree hoon
Toraa rung man bhayo ri......,
Jag ujiyaaro, jagat ujiyaaro,
Main to aiso rang aur nahin dekhi ray
Main to jab dekhun moray sung hai,
Aaj rung hai hey maan rung hai ri.

What a glow everywhere I see, Oh mother, what a glow;
I’ve found the beloved, yes I found him,
In my courtyard;
I have found my pir Nizamuddin Aulia.
I roamed around the entire world,
looking for an ideal beloved;
And finally this face has enchanted my heart.
The whole world has been opened for me,
Never seen a glow like this before.
Whenever I see now, he is with me,
Oh beloved, please dye me in yourself;
Dye me in the colour of the spring, beloved;
What a glow, Oh, what a glow.

~Amir-Ul-Shaura Hazrat Khawaja Abul Hasan Amir Khusrau Dehlavi


It is almost impossible to translate the word rung into English. It is not colour, hue or anything like that. Maybe something like glow or brilliance or gorgeousness may come close to it. There are many different legends explaining the use of this word in the qawwali. Most of them point to the fact that Amir Khusrau sang these lines ecstatically when he came back to his mother after meeting Nizamuddin Aulia for the first time, after a long search for an ideal sufi master – this is the reason why the lines are addressed to the mother.
Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan does a beautiful version of this qawalli.

Mora jobana navelara, bhayo hai gulaal,
Kaisi dhar dini bikas mori maal.
Mora jobana navelara.......
Nijamudin aulia ko koyi samajhaaye,
Jyon jyon manaon, wo to rootha hi jaaye.
Mora jobana navelara......
Chudiyan phod palang pe daaron,
Is cholee ko doon main aag lagaai.
Sooni saij darawan laagay, virah agni mohay dus dus jaaye
Mora jobana navelara.......

My youth is budding, is full of passion;
How can I spend this time without my beloved?
Would someone please coax Nizamuddin Aulia,
The more I appease him, the more annoyed he gets;
My youth is budding……
Want to break these bangles against the cot,
And throw up my blouse into fire,
The empty bed scares me,
The fire of separation keeps burning me.
Oh, beloved. My youth is budding.

~Amir-Ul-Shaura Hazrat Khawaja Abul Hasan Amir Khusrau Dehlavi

Water which is too pure has no fish.

Ts'ai Ken T'an

Khusrau darya prem ka, ulti wa ki dhaar,

Jo utra so doob gaya, jo dooba so paar.

Oh Khusrau, the river of love
Runs in strange directions.
One who jumps into it drowns,
And one who drowns, gets across.

~Amir-Ul-Shaura Hazrat Khawaja Abul Hasan Amir Khusrau Dehlavi

Dilam dar aashiqui aawareh shud aawareh tar baada,
Tanam az bedilee beechareh shud beechareh tar baada.

My heart is a wanderer in love, may it ever remain so.
My life’s been rendered miserable in love,
may it grow more and more miserable.

~Amir-Ul-Shaura Hazrat Khawaja Abul Hasan Amir Khusrau Dehlavi

Not a poem, but anyway... read this in a magazine at the gym yesterday.

"Do you want me to tell you something really subversive? Love is everything it's cracked up to be. That's why people are so cynical about it. It really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for. And the trouble is, if you don't risk everything, you risk even more." - Erica Jong -

But mortal bliss will never come sincere,
Joy may lead, but grief brings up the rear.

Ovid

Of all the causes which conspire to blind
Man's erring judgment, and misguide the mind,
What the weak head with strongest bias rules,
Is PRIDE, the never failing voice of fools.
Whatever Nature has in worth denied,
She gives in large recruits of needful pride;
For as in bodies, thus in souls we find
What wants in blood and spirits, swell'd with wind:
Pride, where wit fails, steps in to our defence,
And fills up all the mighty void of sense..........
.......
A little learning is a dangerous thing:
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring:
There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,
And drinking largely sobers us again.

Pope

I hope this is not too bawdy, but it is so well done. Ovid's mistress comes to him at noon, translated by Richard Duke.

'Twas noon, when I, scorched with the double fire
Of the hot sun and my more hot desire,
Stretched on my downy couch at ease was laid,
Big with expectance of the lovely maid.
The curtains but half drawn, a light let in,
Such as in shades of thickest groves are seen;
Such as remains, when the sun flies away,
Or when night's gone, and yet it is not day.
This light to modest maids must be allowed,
Where shame may hope its guilty head to shroud.
And now my love, Corinna, did appear,
Loose on her neck fell her divided hair;
Loose as her flowing gown, that wantoned in the air.
In such a garb, with such a grace and mien,
To her rich bed came th' Assirian queen.
So Lais looked, when all the youth of Greece
With adoration did her charms confess.
Her envious gown to pull away I tried,
But she resisted still, and still denied;
But so resisted, that she seemed to be
Unwilling to obtain the victory.
So I at last an easy conquest had,
Whilst my fair combatant herself betrayed:
But when she naked stood before my eyes,
Gods, with what charms did she my soul surprise!
What snowy arms did I both see and feel!
With what rich globes did her soft bosom swell!
Plump as ripe clusters rose each glowing breast,
Courting the hand , and suing to be pressed!
What a smooth plain was on her belly spread,
Where thousand little loves and graces played!
What thighs! What legs! But why strive I in vain,
Each limb, each grace, each feature, to explain?
One beauty did through her whole body shine.
I saw, admired, and pressed it close to mine.
The rest, who knows not? Thus entranced we lay,
Till in each other's arms we died away.
O give me such a noon, ye gods, to every day!

I think it was this sort of thing that got Ovid exciled from Rome by Augustus(?)

This is good, how the good poet Ovid was compelled to shift his theme;

For mighty wars I thought to tune my lute,
And make my measures to my subject suit.
Six feet for every verse the Muse desighned,
But Cupid, laughing, when he saw my mind,
From every second verse a foot purloined.
...............
................
Thus I complained; his bow the stripling bent,
And chose an arrow fit for his intent.
The shaft his purpose fataly pursues;
"Now poet, there's a subject for thy Muse,"
He said - too well, alas, he knows his trade!
For in my breast a mortal wound he made.
Far hence, ye proud hexameters remove,
My verse is paced and travelled into love.
With myrtle wreaths my thoughtful brows enclose,
While in unequal verse I sing my woes.

For my part, I think it's ok.

Here's a moving expression of humility from As You Like It, it's prose, I know.

Orlando; I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts, wherein I confess me much guilty to deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my trial:
wherein if I be foiled, there is but one shamed that was never gracious; if killed, but one dead that is willing to be so: I shall do my friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me; the world no injury, for in it I have nothing: only in the world I fill up a place, which may be better supplied, when I have made it empty.

Traditional Ballad

Come all ye fair and tender ladies.
Take a warning how you court your men.
They're like a star on a summer's morning.
They first appear and then they're gone.

They'll tell to you some lovin' story
And then declare they love you well
And away they'll go to court some other
And leave you here in grief to dwell

I wish to God I'd never seen him
Or in my cradle I'd have died
To think a fair and tender lady
Was once in love and then denied.

I wish I was some little sparrow
One of those that flies so high
I'd fly away to my false lover
And when he'd speak I would deny.

Love is handsome, love is charming
Love is beauty while it's new
Loves grows old, love grows colder
It fades away like morning dew.

However deep your
Knowledge of the scriptures,
It is no more than a strand of hair
In the vastness of space;
However important appears
Your worldly experience,
It is but a drop of water in a deep ravine.

Tokusan

From Dante Alighieri's La Vita Nuova

A ciascun’alma presa e gentil core
Nel cui cospetto ven lo dir presente,
In ciò che mi rescrivan suo parvente,
Salute in lor segnor, cioè Amore.
Già eran quasi che atterzate l’ore
Del tempo che onne stella n’è lucente,
Quando m’apparve Amor subitamente,
Cui essenza membrar mi dà orrore.
Allegro mi sembrava Amor tenendo
Meo core in mano, e ne le braccia avea
Madonna involta in un drappo dormendo.
Poi la svegliava, e d’esto core ardendo
Lei paventosa umilmente pascea:
Appresso gir lo ne vedea piangendo.

To every loving, gentle-hearted friend,
to whom the present rhyme is soon to go
so that I may their written answer know,
greetings in Love’s own name, their lord, I send.
The third hour of the time was near at end
when every star in heaven is aglow:
‘twas then Love came before me, dreadful so
that my remembrance is with horror rent.
Joyous appeared he in his hand to keep
my very heart, and, lying on his breast,
my lady, veil-enwrapped and full asleep.
But he awakened her, and of my heart,
aflame, he humbly made her, fearful, taste:
I saw him, finally, in tears depart.

http://www.italianstudies.org/poetry/vnindex.htm

Sad And Lonely Times
Country Joe & The Fish

My love stands beside me
Through the rain, through the wind and the snow.
Through the bad and the good you know it's
Always understood that she's my love,
This I know, this I know.
So long sad and lonesome times,
So long lonely days.
So long sad and lonesome times,
Got my love here to show me the way.

My love stands beside me
I can't seem to find the words
Through the rain, through the wind and the snow.
To tell you how I care.
Through the bad and the good you know it's
But I want you and I
Always understood that she's my love,
Trust you and I love you, this I know
This I know.

And I want you and it's
And I want you and I
Always understood that she's my love,
Trust you and I love you, this I know,
This I know, this I know.

The god sits high, exalted on a throne
Of blazing gems, with purple garments on;
The hours, in order ranged on either hand,
And days, and months, and years, and ages stand.
Here spring appears with flow'ry chaplets bound;
Here summer in her wheaten garland crowned;
Here autumn the rich trodden grapes besmear;
And hoary winter shivers in the rear.
Phoebus beheld the youth from off his throne;
That eye, which looks on all, was fixed on one.
He saw the boy's confusion in his face,
Surpriz'd at all the wonders of the place;

Ovid

All these gentlemen were there inside
when she entered, utterly naked.
they had been drinking, and began to spit at her
recently come from the river, she understood nothing
she was a mermaid who had lost her way
the taunts flowerd over her glistening flesh
obscenities drenched her golden breasts
a stranger to tears, she did not weep
a stranger to clothes, she did not dress
they pocked her with cigarette ends and with burnt corks
rolled on the tavern floor with laughter
she did not speak, since speech was unknown to her
her eyes were the color of faraway love
her arms were matching topazes
her lips moved soundlessly in the coral light
and ultimately, she left by that door
scarcely had she entered the river than she was cleansed
gleaming once more like a white stone in the rain
and without a backward look, she swam once more
swam toward nevermore, toward dying.

~PABLO NERUDA

I hope everyone doesn't mind the rock n roll lyrics, but I always used to sing my favorite songs imagining that I was singing to that great unkown something that I grooved with loved with all my heart.... now, looking back, could it be it was Paramatma?

Velvet Underground
We're Gonna Have A Good Time Together
by Unknown

We're gonna have a real good time together
We're gonna have a real good time together
We're gonna have a real good time together
We're gonna dance and bawl and shout together
Sha-na-na-na-na -na-na-na-na-na ...

Meanwhile the gods the dome of Vulcan throng;
Apollo comes, and Neptune comes along;
With these gay Hermes trod the starry plain;
But modesty withheld the goddess train.
All heaven beholds imprison'd as they lie,
And unextinguish'd laughter shakes the sky.
Then mutual thus they spoke: Behold on wrong
Swift vengeance waits; and art subdues the strong!
Dwells there a god on all the Olympian brow
More swift than Mars, and more than Vulcan slow?
Yet Vulcan conquers, and the god of arms
Must pay the penalty for lawless charms.
Thus serious they; but he who gilds the skies,
The gay Apollo, thus to Hermes cries:
" Wouldst thou enchain'd like Mars. O Hermes lie,
And bear the shame like Mars to share the joy?"
" O envied shame! ( the smiling youth rejoin'd;)
And thrice the chains, and thrice more firmly bind;
Gaze all ye gods, and every goddess gaze,
Yet eager would I bless the sweet disgrace.

From Homer's Odyssey when Mars and Venus are caught having an ilicit affair.

I don't know whether or not I need to explain why I consider this a poem "maybe"
about Krishna. I have a feeling you all will understand.


----------------------------------

From An Atlas of the Difficult World

(Dedications)

I know you are reading this poem
late, before leaving your office
of the one intense yellow lamp-spot and the darkening window
in the lassitude of a building faded to quiet
long after rush-hour. I know you are reading this poem
standing up in a bookstore far from the ocean
on a grey day of early spring, faint flakes driven
across the plains' enormous spaces around you.
I know you are reading this poem
in a room where too much has happened for you to bear
where the bedclothes lie in stagnant coils on the bed
and the open valise speaks of flight
but you cannot leave yet. I know you are reading this poem
as the underground train loses momentum and before running
up the stairs
toward a new kind of love
your life has never allowed.
I know you are reading this poem by the light
of the television screen where soundless images jerk and slide
while you wait for the newscast from the intifada.
I know you are reading this poem in a waiting-room
of eyes met and unmeeting, of identity with strangers.
I know you are reading this poem by fluorescent light
in the boredom and fatigue of the young who are counted out,
count themselves out, at too early an age. I know
you are reading this poem through your failing sight, the thick
lens enlarging these letters beyond all meaning yet you read on
because even the alphabet is precious.
I know you are reading this poem as you pace beside the stove
warming milk, a crying child on your shoulder, a book in your hand
because life is short and you too are thirsty,
I know you are reading this poem which is not in your language
guessing at some words while others keep you reading
and I want to know which words they are.
I know you are reading this poem listening for something, torn
betwen bitterness and hope
turning back once again to the task you cannot refuse.
I know you are reading this poem because there is nothing else
left to read
there where you have landed, stripped as you are.

~Adrienne Rich

Jai!

Thanks, Satyabhama, for sharing that with us! I really liked that one alot. I could really identify with it.

Anyday

I will lean into you
And you can be the wind
I will open up my mouth
And you can come rushing in
You can rush in so hard
And make it so I can't breathe
I breathe too much anyway
I can do that anyday

I just wish I knew who you were
I wish you'd make yourself known
Probably you don't know I'm her
The woman you want to call home
I'll keep my ear to the wall
I'll keep my eye on the door
'Cause I've heard all my own jokes
And they're just not funny anymore
I laugh too much anyway
I can do that anyday

Have you ever been bent or pulled
Have you ever been played like strings
If I could see you I could strum you
I could break you
Make you sing
But I guess you can't really see the wind
It just comes in and fills the space
And everytime something moves
You think that you have seen its face
And I've always got my guitar to play
But I can do that anyday

--Ani DiFranco

The Joan Baez version of the traditional ballad:

Black, black, black is the colour of my true love's hair.
His lips are something wond'rous fair
The purest eyes and the bravest hands.
I love the grass whereon he stands.
I love my love and well he knows,
I love the ground whereon he goes
And if my love no more I see
my life would quickly fade away.
Black, black, black is the colour of my true love's hair.

"Asking Too Much"

I want somebody who sees the pointlessness
and still keeps their purpose in mind
I want somebody who has a tortured soul
some of the time
I want somebody who will either put out for me
or put me out of misery
or maybe just put it all to words
and make me say, you know
I never heard it put that way
make me say, what did you just say?
I want somebody who can hold my interest
hold it and never let it fall
someone who can flatten me with a kiss
that hits like a fist
or a sentence, that stops me like a brick wall
because if you hear me talking
listen to what I'm not saying
if you hear me playing guitar
listen to what I'm not playing
and don't ask me to put words
to all the spaces between notes
in fact if you have to ask, forget it
do and you'll regret it
I'm tired of being the interesting one
I'm tired of having fun for two
just lay yourself on the line
and I might lay myself down by you
but don't sit behind your eyes
and wait for me to surprise you
I want somebody who can make me
scream until it's funny
give me a run for my money
I want someone who can
twist me up in knots
tell me, for the woman who has everything
what have you got?
I want someone who's not afraid of me
or anyone else
in other words I want someone
who's not afraid of themself

do you think I'm asking too much?

--Ani DiFranco



"Falling Is Like This"

You give me that look that's like laughing
with liquid in your mouth
like you're choosing between choking
and spitting it all out
like you're trying to fight gravity
on a planet that insists
that love is like falling
and falling is like this

Feels like reckless driving when we're talking
It's fun while it lasts, and it's faster than walking
But no one's going to sympathize when we crash
They'll say "you hit what you head for, you get what you ask"
and we'll say we didn't know, we didn't even try
one minute there was road beneath us, the next just sky

I'm sorry I can't help you, I cannot keep you safe
I'm sorry I can't help myself, so don't look at me that way
we can't fight gravity on a planet that insists
that love is like falling
and falling is like this.

--Ani DiFranco

BLUE BOY


Lady called the blue boy, love,
She took him home
Made himself an idol, yes,
So he turned to stone
Like a pilgrim she travelled
To place her flowers
Before his granite grace
And she prayed aloud for love
To waken in his face
In his face, oh __________

Sometimes in the evening
He would read to her
Roll her in his arms
And give his seed to her
She would wake in the morning
Without him
And go to the window
And look out thru the pane
But the statue in her garden
He always looked the same
He looked the same, ah _________

Bring her boots of leather
And she will dance for him
Shyly from a feather fan
She'll glance for him
Here he comes after midnight
To find her again
He will come few times more
Till he finds a lady statue
Standing in a door
In her door, oh __________

--Joni Mitchell

"Bring Me To Life"
(feat. Paul McCoy)

how can you see into my eyes like open doors
leading you down into my core
where I’ve become so numb without a soul my spirit sleeping somewhere cold
until you find it there and lead it back home

(Wake me up)
Wake me up inside
(I can’t wake up)
Wake me up inside
(Save me)
call my name and save me from the dark
(Wake me up)
bid my blood to run
(I can’t wake up)
before I come undone
(Save me)
save me from the nothing I’ve become

now that I know what I’m without
you can't just leave me
breathe into me and make me real
bring me to life

(Wake me up)
Wake me up inside
(I can’t wake up)
Wake me up inside
(Save me)
call my name and save me from the dark
(Wake me up)
bid my blood to run
(I can’t wake up)
before I come undone
(Save me)
save me from the nothing I’ve become

Bring me to life
(I've been living a lie, there's nothing inside)
Bring me to life

frozen inside without your touch without your love darling only you are the life among the dead

all this time I can't believe I couldn't see
kept in the dark but you were there in front of me
I’ve been sleeping a thousand years it seems
got to open my eyes to everything
without a thought without a voice without a soul
don't let me die here
there must be something more
bring me to life

(Wake me up)
Wake me up inside
(I can’t wake up)
Wake me up inside
(Save me)
call my name and save me from the dark
(Wake me up)
bid my blood to run
(I can’t wake up)
before I come undone
(Save me)
save me from the nothing I’ve become

(Bring me to life)
I’ve been living a lie, there’s nothing inside
(Bring me to life)

--Evanescence

wow!

thank you tapati!

Probably my favorite song of ani difranco. Some of the lines really "get me" especially the "chorus" (...i meant, as is...) and the last four lines...

as is

you can't hide
behind social graces
so don't try
to be all touchy feely
cuz you lie
in my face of all places
but i've got no
problem with that really

what bugs me
is that you believe what you're saying
what bothers me
is that you don't know how you feel
what scares me
is that while you're telling me stories
you actually
believe that they are real

and i've got
no illusions about you
and guess what?
i never did
and when i said
when i said i'll take it
i meant,
i meant as is

just give up
and admit you're an a**hole
you would be
in some good company
i think you'd find
that your friends would forgive you
or maybe i
am just speaking for me

cuz when i look around
i think this, this is good enough
and i try to laugh
at whatever life brings
cuz when i look down
i just miss all the good stuff
when i look up
i just trip over things...

I'm Set Free
Lou Reed (V.U.)

I've been set free and I've been bound
To the memories of yesterday's clouds
I've been set free and I've been bound

And now I'm set free
I'm set free
I'm set free to find a new illusion

I've been blinded but
Now I can see
What in the world has happened to me
The prince of stories who walk right by me

And now I'm set free
I'm set free
I'm set free to find a new illusion

I've been set free and I've been bound
Let me tell you people
what I found
I saw my head laughing
rolling on the ground

And now I'm set free
I'm set free
I'm set free to find a new illusion

Diving Into You


diving into you

the great unknown
unknowing
what will I find
will you catch me
or let me fall and laugh
your golden laugh?
I land on cotton candy skies
and blue lies
beneath and around
everything I am or could ever be

I am wrapping
things up for
our rendezvous
wrapping up my life
as a present
hoping it's bright and shiny
enough
to please you
and that
the wrapping doesn't tear
in the fall

I'm ready for
my swan dive now
leaping into
that great unknown
unknowing
trusting you
to catch me
with love

Oh and one more..... as long as we're a rockin and a rollin
... for Krsna, of course....

I Found A Reason
Lou Reed via the Velvet Underground

Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa

I found a reason to keep living
Oh and the reason, dear, is you
I found a reason to keep singing
Oh and the reason, dear, is you

Oh I do believe
If you don't like things you live
For some place you never gone before

Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa

Honey, I found a reason to keep living
And you know the reason, dear it's you
And I've walked down life's lonely highways
Hand in hand with myself
And I realized how many paths have crossed between us

Oh I do believe
You're all what you perceive
What come is better that what came before

Oh I do believe
You're all what you perceive
What come is better that what came before

Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa
And you'd better come, come come, come to me
Come come, come to me

pa papa papa pa

If we're gonna do this, then let's go all out!

(lyrics of bernie taupin)

Don't wish it away
Don't look at it like it's forever
Between you and me i could honestly say
That things can only get better

And while i'm away
Dust out the demons inside
And it won't be long before you and me run
To the place in our hearts where we hide

And i guess that's why they call it the blues
Time on my hands could be time spent with you

Laughing like children, living like lovers
Rolling like thunder under the covers
And i guess that's why they call it the blues

Just stare into space
Picture my face in your hands
Live for each second without hesitation
And never forget i'm your man

Wait on me girl
Cry in the night if it helps
But more than ever i simply love you
More than i love life itself

JAYA SRI KRISHNA!

I'm more into songs than poems, and find them very very inspiring on lots of levels (sorry if this is out of place here, maybe we need a new thread on "Songs not about Krishna..." ?).

Anyway, this is one of my favourites. The words on the page without the music unfortunately look quite dull, but if you've ever heard the song you may know what I mean when I say I find it hypnotic

Listening to you, I get the music
Gazing at you, I get the heat
Following you, I climb the mountain
I get excitement at your feet
Right behind you, I see the millions
On you, I see the glory
From you, I get opinion
From you, I get the story

"See Me, Feel Me" - by The Who (part of the rock musical "Tommy")

good one!

I just wonder what poor Madhava must be thinking of this thread, from his place at the center of the universe (Krishna's hometown...)

Madhava-ji, I swear I tried to concentrate my crazy ideas in my new forum, but it seems my influence is spreading. My apologies.

It's probably my influence at work--that pagan, sahajiya vibe. On that note:




I was recently accused of being Maya Devi (elsewhere), and I know I'm a witch, but who are all these people sleeping in my lap?

I don't understand... is there something wrong with Durga Devi? I like her.

ayigirinandini nanditamedini visvavinodini nandinute
girivaravindhya shirodhinivasini vishnuvilaasini jisnunute
bhagavati he shitikanthakutumbini bhoorikutumbini bhoorikrute
jaya jaya he mahishaasuramardhini ramyakapardini shailasute


listen here

This song reminds me of the telugu movie "Saptapadi" where a kuchipudi/bharatanatyam dancer falls in love with a dark fluteplayer ( ). She is forced to marry a young brahmin who is a priest at a temple of Ardhanarisvara. On their wedding night, the dancer is distraught, but when the priest comes in to consummate the marriage, he has a vision of his new bride *as* Maheshvari! In the wedding chamber, he circumambulates her and throws flowers on her while singing the above song, and finally prostrates at her feet. He does not touch her after that, because she is Devi for him. Yes, and there is a happy ending too, when the fluteplayer comes to take her as his bride, and she gets into his boat and sails away (to the farther shore of the ocean of samsaara?)

excellent film! excellent song!

She who always remained
in the depth of my being,
in the twilight of gleams and of glimpses;

she who never opened her veils
in the morning light, will be
my final gift to You, my God,
folded in my final song.

Words have wooed yet failed to win her;
persuasion has stretched to her its eager arms
in vain.

I have roamed from country to country
keeping her in the core of my heart,
and around her have risen and fallen
the growth and decay of my life.

Over my thoughts and actions,
my slumbers and dreams,
she reigned yet dwelled alone and apart.

Many a man knocked at my door
and asked for her,
then turned away in despair.

There was none in the world who ever
saw her face to face
and she remained in her lonliness
waiting for Your glance.

~Tagore

Gift of Love

I am stitching a handkerchief.
In noonday heat birds sleep.
At dusk I'm still at it,
dazzled by shiny threads
stitching and unstitching,
to make it just right.
I'm scared my fingers
will spoil the whiteness,
this needle blunt yet driven by love.
It makes a home for my heart.
Loose threads turn into rock faults,
the needle dreams through them,
webs of color, wild trees, rosebushes.
I want to be so very close.
I want to breathe in each breath you lose.
How shall I give you this gift of love?
Will it please you?

Balamaniamma

+




Wow! Nice poem Sakhicharan

Among the worlds, among the sparkling suns,
There is one Star, whose name I chant as druthers…
It’s not because I love Her with romance,
But just because I languish with all others.

And when the doubts my reason undermines,
To Her with prays for answers I’m proceeding,
It’s not because She always brightly shines,
But just with Her the light is not of needing.

I.F. Annensky, 1901

I beg my pardons to readers and especially to late author for my flat language, in Russian this poem sounds fantastic, almost mystic.

There is a couple of previous translations into English, here and here. May be, you'll find them better...

My lover, capable of terrible lies
at night lay close to me
in a dream
that lied like truth.

I woke up, still deceived,
and caressed the bed
thinking it was my lover.

It's terrible. I grow lean
in loneliness,
like a water lily
gnawed by a beetle.

Kaccipettu Nannakaiyar

Just sit there right now
Don't do a thing
Just rest.

For your separation from God
is the hardest work in the world.

Let me bring you trays of food
And something
that you like to drink.

You can use my soft words
As a cushion
For your head.

~Hafiz
()

From Virgil's Aeneid book 4 when the Sibyl is possessed by Apollo to give oracle to Aenies. This is John Dryden's translation.

Now to the Mouth they come: Aloud she cries,
This is the time, enquire your destinies.
He comes, behold the god! Thus while she said,
( And shiv'ring at the sacred Entry staid)
Her colour chang'd, her face was not the same,
And hollow groans from her deep Spirit came.
Her hair stood up; convulsive rage possess'd
Her trembling limbs, and heav'd her lab'ring breast.
Greater than human kind she seem'd to look:
And with an accent, more than mortal , spoke.
Her staring eyes with sparkling fury rowl;
When all the god came rushing on her Soul.
Swiftly she turn'd, and foaming as she spoke,
Why this delay, she cry'd; the powers invoke.
Thy pray'rs alone can open this abode,
Else vain are my demands, and dumb the god.
She said no more:............

For all those who have hurt, and who have been hurt, along the way.....

"Hurt" - Johnny Cash

I hurt myself today
to see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
the only thing that's real
the needle tears a hole
the old familiar sting
try to kill it all away
but I remember everything
what have I become?
my sweetest friend
everyone I know
goes away in the end
and you could have it all
my empire of dirt

I will let you down
I will make you hurt

I wear this crown of thorns
upon my liar's chair
full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
beneath the stains of time
the feelings disappear
you are someone else
I am still right here

what have I become?
my sweetest friend
everyone I know
goes away in the end
and you could have it all
my empire of dirt

I will let you down
I will make you hurt

if I could start again
a million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way

That song is Johnny Cash doing a remake of a Nine Inch Nails! song (haha)
I am a big fan of 'American Recordings,' Johnny Cash.
Here is Johnny Cash covering Nick Lowe and Tom Waits respectively.

The beast in me
Is caged by frail and fragile bars
Restless by day
And by night rants and rages at the stars
God help the beast in me

The beast in me
Has had to learn to live with pain
And how to shelter from the rain

God help the beast in me

There's a place I know where the train goes slow
Where the sinner can be washed in the blood of the lamb

And there's room for the forsaken if you're there on time

You can hear the whistle, you can hear the bell

If you've lost all your hope, if you've lost all your faith
I know you can be cared for and I know you can be safe
And all the shamefuls and all of the whores
And even the soldier who pierced the side of the Lord
Is down there by the train
Down there where the train goes slow

Well, I've never asked forgiveness and I've never said a prayer
Never given of myself, never truly cared
I've taken the low road and if you've done the same
Meet me down there by the train
Down there by the train
Down there where the train goes slow

Description of Spring from Dryden's The Flower and the Leaf.

Now turning from the wint'ry signs, the sun
His course exalted through the Ram had run,
And whirling up the skies, his chariot drove
Through Taurus, and the lightsome realms of love,
Where Venus from her orb descends in showers,
To glad the ground, and paint the field with flowers:
When first the tender blades of grass appear,
And buds, that yet the blast of Eurus fear,
Stand at the door of life, and doubt to clothe the year:
Till gentle heat, and soft repeated rains
Make the green blood to dance within their veins:
Then, at their call, embolden'd out they come,
And swell the gems and burst the narrow room;
Broader and broader yet, their blooms display,
Salute the welcome sun, and entertain the day.
Then from their breathing souls the sweets repair
To scent the skies, and purge the unwholesome air:
Joy spreads the heart, and, with a general song,
Spring issues out, and leads the jolly months along.

From Ovid's Metamorphoses

Here dwelt the man divine, whom Samos bore,
But now self-banish'd from his native shore,
Because he hated tyrants, nor cou'd bear
The chains, which none but servile souls will wear.
He, tho' from Heav'n remote, to Heav'n cou'd move,
With strength of mind, and tread th' abyss above;
And penetrate, with his interior light,
Those upper depths, which Nature hid from sight:
And what he had observ'd, and learnt from thence,
Lov'd in familiar language to dispence. Dryden's translation

After that follows a lengthy discourse on Pythagorean philosophy and the translator observes a digression to the moral and natural philosophy of Pythagoras: on both which our auther enlarges; and which are the most learned and beautiful parts of the Metamorphoses.

Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita

mi ritrovai per una selva oscura,

che la diritta via era smarrita.

Ahi quanto a dir qual era è cosa dura

esta selva selvaggia e aspra e forte

che nel pensier rinova la paura!

Jing Ye Si (Li Bai)

Chuang qian ming yue guang
Yi shi di shang shuang
Ju tou wang ming yue
Di tou si gu xiang.

'Quiet night thoughts, by Li Bai (Tang Dynasty)

I saw bright moon ray
as if descending frost
lift head see bright moon
bow head think of home.

A book of verses underneath the bough,
A jug of wine, a loaf of bread - and thou
Beside me singing in the wilderness -
Ah wilderness were paradise enow!

Can't remember the auther.

It's from:

Edward Fitzgerald. 1809–1883
From Omar Khayyám
(http://www.bartleby.com/101/698.html)

...Some for the Glories of This World; and some
Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come;
Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go,
Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!


I looked up Longfellow while there as I'd remembered a similarity between some lines of his and those of Bhaktivinoda Thakur:

A Psalm of Life

What the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist

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 to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

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
Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

O excellent! I also came accross the Longfellow poem and felt Bhaktivinoda must have read it. Longfellow's one about the Blacksmith is also a good moral.

By the great poet and one of my favorites, Paul Simon-ji.

Slip slidin' away
Slip slidin' away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you're slip slidin' away

I know a man
He came from my home town
He wore his passion for his woman
Like a thorny crown
He said Delores
I live in fear
My love for you's so overpowering
I'm afraid that I will disappear

Slip slidin' away
Slip slidin' away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you're slip slidin' away

I know a woman
Became a wife
These are the very words she uses
To describe her life
She said a good day
Ain't got no rain
She said a bad day's when I lie in bed
And think of things that might have been

Slip slidin' away
Slip slidin' away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you're slip slidin' away

And I know a father who had a son
He longed to tell him all the reasons
For the things he'd done
He came a long way
Just to explain
He kissed his boy as he lay sleeping
Then he turned around and headed home again

Slip slidin' away
Slip slidin' away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you're slip slidin' away

God only knows
God makes his plan
The information's unavailable
To the mortal man
We work our jobs
Collect our pay
Believe we're gliding down the highway
When in fact we're slip slidin' away

Slip slidin' away
Slip slidin' away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you're slip slidin' away

Don't Despair...


Joseph to his father in Canaan shall return, don't despair walk on;
and Jacob's hut will brighten with flowers, don't despair walk on.

Aching hearts heal in time, vanished hopes reappear,
the disparate mind will be pacified, don't despair walk on.

As the spring of life grows the newly green meadow,
roses will crown the sweet nightingale's song, don't despair walk on

If the world does not turn to your whims these few days,
cosmic cycles are preparing to change, don't despair walk on.

If desperation whispers you'll never know God,
it's the talk of hidden games in the veil, don't despair walk on.

O heart, when the vast flood slashes life to its roots,
Captain Noah waits to steer you ashore, don't despair walk on.

If you trek as a pilgrim through sands to Kaabeh
with thorns lodged deep in your soul shouting why, don't despair walk on

Though oases hide dangers and your destiny's far,
there's no pathway that goes on forever, don't despair walk on.

My trials and enemies face me on their own,
but mystery always backs up my stand, don't despair walk on.

Hafez, weakened by poverty, alone in the dark,
this night is your pathway into the light, don't despair walk on.

Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.

Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feighning, most loving mere folly:
Then heigh-ho the holly!
This life is most jolly.


Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That dost not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As friend remember'd not.

Heigh-ho!....etc.

Orl. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love,
And thou, thrice crowned queen of night, survey
With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above,
Thy huntress' name, that my full life doth sway.

( Both from As You Like It )

Gray Room

Although you sit in a room that is gray,
Except for the silver
Of the straw-paper,
And pick
At your pale white gown;
Or lift one of the green beads
Of your necklace,
To let it fall;
Or gaze at your green fan
Printed with the red branches of a red willow;
Or, with one finger,
Move the leaf in the bowl--
The leaf that has fallen from the branches of the forsythia
Beside you...
What is all this?
I know how furiously your heart is beating.

~Wallace Stevens

POMEGRANATE

Sadness has its own fruit,
It's like pomegranates--
Have you looked inside?
Don't you see scarlet
Teardrops formed around
Each white pearl?

Why is it scarlet now
My friend?
Look at the tree of the pomegranate--
It's so modest and frail
It barely exists.
Its fruit wears the crown of its toil.
Does your heart look like the pomegranate
My friend?

~Avideh Shashaani

Reason to Love

Not verse, but a very funny quote from Oscar Wilde.

In matters of great importance, style and not sincerity is the main thing.