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jannah
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« on: Apr 27, 2010 09:16 AM »


Another seasonal thread Smiley
----------

Spring, by Rumi

Again the violet bows to the lily.
Again, the rose is tearing off her gown.

The green ones have come from the other world,
tipsy like the breeze up to some new foolishness.

Again, near the top of the mountain
the anemone's sweet features appear.

The hyacinth speaks formally to the jasmine.
Peace be with you. And peace to you, lad.
Come walk with me in the meadow.

The Friend is here like water in the stream,
like a lotus on the water.

The ringdove comes asking, Where,
where is the Friend? With one note
the nightingale indicates the rose.

Many things must be left unsaid because it is late,
but whatever conversation we have not had
tonight, we will have tomorrow.
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« Reply #1 on: Apr 27, 2010 09:23 AM »

Like the ground turning green
in a spring wind.
Like birdsong beginning inside the egg.
Like this universe coming into existence,
the lover wakes and whirls in a dancing joy
then kneels down in praise.

--Rumi
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« Reply #2 on: Apr 27, 2010 09:28 AM »

The springtime of Lovers has come

     The springtime of Lovers has come,
that this dust bowl may become a garden;
the proclamation of heaven has come,
that the bird of the soul may rise in flight.
The sea becomes full of pearls,
the salt marsh becomes sweet as kauthar,
the stone becomes a ruby from the mine,
the body becomes wholly soul.

Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
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« Reply #3 on: Apr 27, 2010 09:31 AM »

The Music We Are by (who else!) Rumi Smiley

Did you hear that winter’s over? The basil
and the carnations cannot control their

laughter. The nightingale, back from his
wandering, has been made singing master

over the birds. The trees reach out their
congratulations. The soul goes dancing

through the king’s doorway. Anemones blush
because they have seen the rose naked.

Spring, the only fair judge, walks in the
courtroom, and several December thieves steal

away, Last year’s miracles will soon be
forgotten. New creatures whirl in from non-

existence, galaxies scattered around their
feet. Have you met them? Do you hear the

bud of Jesus crooning in the cradle? A single
narcissus flower has been appointed Inspector

of Kingdoms. A feast is set. Listen: the
wind is pouring wine! Love used to hide

inside images: no more! The orchard hangs
out its lanterns. The dead come stumbling by

in shrouds. Nothing can stay bound or be
imprisoned. You say, “End this poem here,

and wait for what’s next.” I will. Poems
are rough notations for the music we are.
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« Reply #4 on: Apr 20, 2011 07:14 AM »

Although autumn was very cruel, behold the
faithfulness of spring!
Whatever autumn took in pillage, spring has
come and replaced.
I speak of roses, nightingales and the beauties of
the garden as a pretext — why do I do it?
For the sake of Love’s Jealousy — at any rate, I
am describing God’s graces.

--Rumi
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« Reply #5 on: Apr 11, 2012 05:33 PM »

A Prayer in Spring
Robert Frost (1915)


Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day;
And give us not to think so far away
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here
All simply in the springing of the year.

Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,
Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;
And make us happy in the happy bees,
The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.

And make us happy in the darting bird
That suddenly above the bees is heard,
The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,
And off a blossom in mid air stands still.

For this is love and nothing else is love,
The which it is reserved for God above
To sanctify to what far ends He will,
But which it only needs that we fulfil.
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