Saturday, June 11, 2016

Imadeddin Nasimi - With love made drunk

7 Holy Poets of Alevism -  Pir Sultan Abdal, Teslim Abdal, Virani, Nesimi, Hatayi, Sitki Baba, Kul Himmet (from left)

 At love's most sumptuous feast was I with love made drunk -
Is not this why to me besotted seems the monk?

Of love I took a draught, I worship at its shrine;
Think not, a pious one, that I am drunk with wine.

Love leaves me dazed and sick, I stagger, overcome,
Whene'er to its embrace, enchanted, I succumb.

I am a drunkard, aye, but wine to me seems weak;
Upon the couch of love sweet solace do I seek.

When man, by Nature's will, did first appear on earth
A dram of love did he receive from her at birth.

Wind, water, fire and flame, the world is drunk with love,
The devil and the ghost, the serpent and the dove.

The earth, and heaven too, this would I say on oath,
So trust my words, I pray, are sots and drunkards both.

The sky reels drunkenly; the stars, half-swooning, wink -
Of love's sweet-scented wine a cupful did they drink.

And so in paradise did Eve, and Adam too,
Men, angels, houris, sprites, the faithless and the true;

Kings, prophets, holy men, Mukhtar and Suleiman,
And Noah of the Ark, and Jesus - everyone;

The Shah Mardan, Kerrar, the heathen, the devout,
Those who are firm of faith and also those who doubt;

Apostles, saints and seers, the scorned and the extolled,
The sages and the fools, the young, the very old.

The zealous Mufti claims his share in open glee;
The Ghadi holy one in the revelry.

The tavern-keeper drinks, the tavern haunter too,
The dervish and the priest wax maudlin o'er the brew.

The infidels, the giaours partake of love with zest;
All lovers are alike, none differ from the rest.

The outcast Angel drinks who waits at Heaven's door;
The mystic tries a sip and, thirsting, calls for more.

Love's fumes are wondrous strong, and though the cup be small,
He who doth fill it full, may reel and, stumbling, fall.

A drop will make one faint, one's limbs to wax 'twill turn,
With passion's melting fire one's heart 'twill sear and burn.

The voices in the inn are hoarse and shrill with wine;
The flute and tambourine, carousing, moan and whine.

There is a city where love reigns and lovers dwell;
Come, knock upon its gate, and enter for a spell.

No man who there abides, the morning sober meets:
The city walls are drunk, the market-place, the streets.

Alone the drunkards leave upon this earth a trace.
Mansour was right, for love doth all of life embrace.

Our hearts reflect the glow upon mount Sinai;
We who are drunk with love can happy live and die.

The Universe is drunk, for drunk 'tis meant to be -
Thus holds the keeper of both time and destiny.

The sun itself is drunk, else would it give no light;
'Tis clear to Nasimi, no veil obscures his sight.

The secret has he probed of love's mad drunkenness,
And now in flaming words his knowledge doth confess.

 English version by Irina Zheleznova Original Language Persian/Farsi

Friday, June 10, 2016

Antonio Machado - Blessed vision!

   Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—blessed vision!—
that a fountain flowed
here in my heart.
I said: Why, O water, have you come
along this secret waterway,
spring of new life,
which I have never tasted?

     Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—blessed vision!—
that I had a beehive
here in my heart;
and the golden bees
were making
from all my old sorrows
white wax and sweet honey.

     Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—blessed vision!—
a blazing sun shone
here in my heart.
It was blazing because it gave heat
from a red home,
and it was sun because it gave light
and because it made me weep.

      Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—blessed vision!—
that it was God I had
here in my heart.  


Thursday, June 9, 2016

Nisargadatta Maharaj - The source of everything

 Q: What is the source of consciousness?

Maharaj : Consciousness itself is the source of everything.

Q: Can there be life without consciousness?

Maharaj : No, nor consciousness without life. They are both one.
But in reality only the Ultimate is. The rest is a matter of name and form. And as long as you cling to the idea that only what has name and shape exists, the Supreme will appear to you non existing.

When you understand that names and shapes are hollow shells without any content whatsoever, and what is real is nameless and formless, pure energy of life and light of consciousness, you will be at peace -- immersed in the deep silence of reality.

~ Nisargadatta I Am That Chapter 13

Wednesday, June 8, 2016

Jnaneshwar - kingdom of Stillness

A Shevanti flower bursts forth
With a thousand petals,
Yet it does not become anything
But a Shevanti flower,

Similarly, the auspicious drums
Of ever-new experiences
May be sounding,
But in the kingdom of Stillness,
Nothing is heard.

All of the senses may rush simultaneously
Toward the multitude of sense objects,
But, just as, in a mirror,
One's vision only meets one's vision,
The rushing senses only meet themselves.

The sensible universe is only the vibration of the Self.

One who has attained this wisdom
May say whatever he likes;
The silence of his contemplation
Remains undisturbed.

His state of actionlessness
Remains unaffected,
Even though he performs countless actions.

Whether he walks in the streets
Or remains sitting quietly,
He is always in his own home.

He may perform actions,
But he has no goal to attain.
Do not imagine
That if he did nothing,
He would miss the goal.

He does not allow room
For either remembering or forgetting;
For this reason,
His behavior is not like that of others.

His rule of conduct is his own sweet will.
His meditation is whatever he happens to be doing.
The glory of liberation
Serves as a seat cushion
To one is such a state.

God Himself is the devotee;
The goal is the path.
The whole universe is one solitary Being.

Amritanubhav (The Nectar of Mystical Experience)
additional verses
traduction Swami Abhayananda


Sunday, June 5, 2016

Rumi - Lo!

Into my heart’s night
Along a narrow way
I groped; and lo! the light,
An infinite land of day.


Daniel Ladinsky - Die before you die

Ironic, but one of the most intimate acts
of our body is

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

Have wings that feared ever
touched the Sun?

I was born when all I once
feared – I could

 From ‘Love Poems From God’ by Daniel Ladinsky.
Copyright © 1999 by Daniel Ladinsky


Franz Wright - God’s Silence

Empty me of the bitterness and disappointment
of being nothing but myself
Immerse me in the mystery of reality
Fill me with love for the truly afflicted
that hopeless love, if need be
make me one of them again -
Awaken me to the reality of this place
and from the longed-for or remembered place
And more than this, behind each face
induct, oh introduce me in -
to the halting disturbed ungrammatical soundless
words of others’ thoughts
not the drivel coming out of our mouths
Blot me out, fill me with nothing but consciousness
of the holiness, the meaning
of these unseeable, all
these unvisitable worlds which surround me:
others’ actual thoughts - everything
I can’t perceive yet

know it is there.


Herman Hesse - No escape

There is no escape. You can’t be a vagabond and an artist and still be a solid citizen, a wholesome, upstanding man. You want to get drunk, so you have to accept the hangover. You say yes to the sunlight and pure fantasies, so you have to say yes to the filth and the nausea. Everything is within you, gold and mud, happiness and pain, the laughter of childhood and the apprehension of death. Say yes to everything, shirk nothing. Don’t try to lie to yourself. You are not a solid citizen. You are not a Greek. You are not harmonious, or the master of yourself. You are a bird in the storm. Let it storm! Let it drive you! How much have you lied! A thousand times, even in your poems and books, you have played the harmonious man, the wise man, the happy, the enlightened man. In the same way, men attacking in war have played heroes, while their bowels twitched. My God, what a poor ape, what a fencer in the mirror man is- particularly the artist- particularly myself!

 There’s no reality except the one contained within us. That’s why so many people live an unreal life. They take images outside them for reality and never allow the world within them to assert itself.”