unask

 

Within the eyes of every creature

Creatures rise and creatures vanish;
I alone am real, Arjuna,
looking out, amused, from deep
Within the eyes of every creature.

I am the goal, the root, the witness,
Home and refuge, dearest friend,
Creation and annihilation,
Everlasting seed and treasure.

I am the radiance of the sun, I
Open or withhold the rainclouds,
I am Immortality and
Death, am being and non-being.

All your thoughts, all your actions,
All your fears and disappointments,
Offer them to me, clear-hearted;
Know them all as passing visions.

Let your thoughts flow past you, calmly;
Keep me near, at every moment;
Trust me with your life, because I
Am you, more than you yourself are.

Bhagavad Gita, transl. Stephen Mitchell

 

 

 

When, in the white sickroom

When, in the white sickroom in the Charité,
I woke up, towards morning,
I heard a blackbird. Then, I knew:
It's better. Already for quite a while
I had no more of the death fear, since, for sure, nothing
Is missing, just as long as
I am missing from myself.

Now, I have made it: I can take joy
In all the blackbird songs. Those after me as well.

 

Als ich in weissem Krankenzimmer der Charité
Aufwachte gegen Morgen zu
Und eine Amsel hörte, wusste ich
Es ist besser. Schon seit geraumer Zeit
Hatte ich keine Todesfurcht mehr, da ja nichts
Mir fehlen kann, vorausgesetzt
Ich selber fehle. Jetzt gelang es mir, mich zu freuen
Alles Amselgesanges nach mir auch.

Bertold Brecht (transl. Tom Davis)

 

 

a break, for a week; the next post will be on July 4th

 

 

 

 

 

the honey of the hungry

O Kali
cut my head
reveal the thousand suns
of your glory
of my glory

let them nurture the world
let my blood become
the honey of the hungry
let my thoughts become
the dance of the forms

Oh Kali, Kali,
I melt in tears
no more self
just salty water
running through an empty form
warm as Love
warm as Light

Marifa

 

 

 

overflowing flowers

‘Brother,’ I said, ‘I need your blind statue eyes
To see the rainbow’s overflowing flowers;
Your deaf ears, so intent, to hear what gospels
Hum round its whispering gallery; a thin hand
To shade me shyly from the Deity.’

Andrew Young

 

 

 

the stain of love

 

I lie here thinking of you:—

the stain of love
is upon the world!
Yellow, yellow, yellow
it eats into the leaves,
smears with saffron
the horned branches that lean
heavily
against a smooth purple sky!
There is no light
only a honey-thick stain
that drips from leaf to leaf
and limb to limb
spoiling the colors
of the whole world—

you far off there under
the wine-red selvage of the west!

 

William Carlos Williams