Winterspring, nightfall, thawing.
Boys have lit a candle in a snowball house.
For the man in the evening train that rattles past,
it is a red memory surrounded by gray time,
calling, calling, out of stark woods just waking up.
And the man who is traveling never got home,
his life stayed behind, held by that lantern and that hour.
translated by Robert Bly
We met on the stone bridge,
the birches stood watch for us,
the river gleaming like an eel wound toward the sea.
We twisted together in order to create God,
there was a rustling in the grain,
and a wave shot out of the rye.
translated by Robert Bly
Awe resembles the bird that makes you quiet.
Awe and wonder put a lid on the kettle as soon as your love inside is boiling.
translated by Robert Bly
Midwinter. Snow.
I gave the birds a piece of bread.
And it didn’t affect my sleep.
translated by Robert Bly
Let us slip into
Sleep, into
The calm dream,
Just slip in–two bits
Of raw dough in the
Good oven
That we call night,
And so to awake
In the morning as
Two sound
Golden loaves!
translated by Robert Bly
Don’t go outside your house to see flowers.
My friend, don’t bother with that excursion.
Inside your body there are flowers.
One flower has a thousand petals.
That will do for a place to sit.
Sitting there you will have a glimpse of beauty
inside the body and out of it,
before gardens and after gardens.
translated by Robert Bly
Who is the luckiest in this whole orchestra? The reed.
Its mouth touches your lips to learn music.
All reeds, sugarcane especially, think only
of this chance. They sway in the canebrakes,
free in the many ways they dance.
Without you the instruments would die.
One sits close beside you. Another takes a long kiss.
The tambourine begs, Touch my skin so I can be myself.
Let me feel you enter each limb bone by bone,
that what died last night can be whole today.
Why live some soberer way, and feel you ebbing out?
I won’t do it.
Either give me enough wine or leave me alone,
now that I know how it is
to be with you in a constant conversation.
translated by Coleman Barks
A friend gladdens us when we are sad,
love sweetens us while we are in love.
When flowering strawberries scent the air,
when peppers ripen red in the night,
you sing and I will drink.
translated by Jaihiun Kim & Ronald B. Hatch
Here is Kabir”s idea: as the river gives itself into the ocean,
what is inside me moves inside you.
translated by Robert Bly
If I could make a stallion
of the crimson cloud that sails
darkened in the night,
I would fly nine thousand leagues
to be held in your arms
while you lie asleep.
But this I cannot do.
When you hear the rain fall,
take it for my tears
that I shed every night.
translated by Jaihiun Kim & Ronald B. Hatch
Being Present for the Moment
Website storys
Illustration, Concept Art & Comics/Manga
Singer, Songwriter and Author from Kyoto, Japan.
Singer, Songwriter and Author from Kyoto, Japan.
An online activist from Bosnia and Herzegovina, based in Sarajevo, standing on the right side of the history - for free Palestine.
A place where I post unscripted, unedited, soulless rants of a insomniac madman
Finding Inspiration
Off the wall, under the freeway, over the rainbow, nothin' but net.
A virtual cabaret of songs, stories and questionable life choices.
Artist by choice, photographer by default, poet and author by accident.
At Least Trying Too
A Journey of Spiritual Significance
Life in islamic point of view
Through the view point of camera...
L'essenziale è invisibile e agli occhi e al cuore. Beccarlo è pura questione di culo
In Kate's World
Leonard Durso 