I am a wild woman
by Melissa Clary I am a wild woman I know, in spite of myself and in spite of what I've been told that there's beauty in every age no matter how old I am a wild woman I've learned what it means to be a life bearer to bear children to create art to plant seeds of love I am a wild woman from the depths of the dirt underneath my fingernails to the height of my very soul I am one with the Earth the winds from the four directions whisper through my skin I am a wild woman and the spirit of every wild woman coalesces in me for we are each wild women and we are all the spirit of the wild woman I will follow the voice in my heart I am a wild woman I sing from my heart I dance with the stars I howl at the moon I love uncontrollably I am a wild woman from the deepest, darkest, most sacred part of me I am fearless I cry in strength I open my arms to the sky and welcome the rain I am a wild woman I nurture, love and protect I stand, strongly, silently, sweetly for my brothers I walk dutifully, prayerfully, joyfully upon the mother and I will not be stopped I am a wild woman. Rah Guzar - The Path - 1973 Rwp
Once again that path is in front of me. Once again the wounds are laid bare. Many pleasant memories Are associated with this path. While walking on this path Evening turned into dawn. The branches of the trees swayed with joy When she looked at them. Her slight smile Made the morning flowers bloom. Now when I pass on this path I feel a burning in my eyes. Dilawar Hassan Der Pfad Wieder einmal sehe ich den Pfad vor mir. Wieder einmal liegen die Wunden offen. Viele freudige Erinnerungen Sind mit diesem Pfad verbunden. Wir wanderten auf ihm In der Dämmerung des Abends. Die Zweige der Bäume neigten sich voll Freude Wenn ihr Blick sie streifte. Ihr leichtes Lächeln Brachte die Blumen im Morgentau zum Blühen. Wenn ich heute diesen Pfad beschreite, Fühle ich ein Brennen in den Augen. Übersetzung von Hilde-Habiba No, I wasn't meant to love and be loved.
If I'd lived longer, I would have waited longer. Knowing you are faithless keeps me alive and hungry. Knowing you faithful would kill me with joy. Delicate are you, and your vows are delicate, too, so easily do they break. You are a laconic marksman. You leave me not dead but perpetually dying. I want my friends to heal me, succor me. Instead, I get analysis. Conflagrations that would make stones drip blood are campfires compared to my anguish. Two-headed, inescapable anguish!-- Love's anguish or the anguish of time. Another dark, severing, incommunicable night. Death would be fine, if I only died once. I would have liked a solitary death, not this lavish funeral, this grave anyone can visit. You are mystical, Ghalib, and, also, you speak beautifully. Are you a saint, or just drunk as usual? Mirza Ghalib The drop dies in the river of its joy Pain goes so far it cures itself In the spring after the heavy rain the cloud disappears That was nothing but tears In the spring the mirror turns green holding a miracle Change the shining wind The rose led us to our eyes Let whatever is be open. Mirza Ghalib [Translated by W. S. Merwin and Aijaz Ahmed] Come that my soul has no repose
Has no strength to bear the injustice of waiting Heaven is given in return for the life of this world But that high is not in proportion to this intoxication Such longing has come from your company That there is no control over my tears Suspecting torment, you are indifferent to me So no love resides in these clouds of dust From my heart has lifted the meaning of pleasure Without blossoms, there is no spring in life You have pledged to kill me at last But there is no determination in your promise You have sworn by the wine, Ghalib There is no faith in your avowal Mirza Ghalib aashiqi sabr talab aur tamanna betaab dil ka kya rang karoon khoon-e-jigar hone tak Translation: Love demands patience and yearning restless What colour shall my heart be, when its bleeds. Mirza Ghalib |
AIR AND ANGELS
by John Donne Twice or thrice had I loved thee, Before I knew thy face or name; So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame, Angels affect us oft, and worshipped be; Still when, to where thou wert, I came, Some lovely glorious nothing I did see. But since my soul, whose child love is, Takes limbs of flesh, and else could nothing do, More subtle than the parent is, Love must not be, but take a body too; And therefore what thou wert, and who, I bid love ask, and now That it assume thy body I allow, And fix itself to thy lip, eye, and brow. Whilst thus to ballast love I thought, And so more steadily to have gone, With wares which would sink admiration, I saw I had love's pinnace overfraught Every thy hair for love to work upon Is much too much, some fitter must be sought; For, nor in nothing, nor in things Extreme and scatt'ring bright, can love inhere. Then as an angel, face and wings Of air, not pure as it, yet pure doth wear, So thy love may be my love's sphere. Just such disparity As is 'twixt air and angel's purity, 'Twixt women's love and men's will ever be. (dedicated to me by Muhammad Shafique)
THE GOOD MORROW by John Donne I wonder by my troth, what thou and I Did, till we loved ? were we not wean'd till then ? But suck'd on country pleasures, childishly ? Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers' den ? 'Twas so ; but this, all pleasures fancies be ; If ever any beauty I did see, Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee. And now good-morrow to our waking souls, Which watch not one another out of fear ; For love all love of other sights controls, And makes one little room an everywhere. Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone ; Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown ; Let us possess one world ; each hath one, and is one. My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears, And true plain hearts do in the faces rest ; Where can we find two better hemispheres Without sharp north, without declining west ? Whatever dies, was not mix'd equally ; If our two loves be one, or thou and I Love so alike that none can slacken, none can die. (dedicated to me by Muhammad Shafique) A VALEDICTION FORBIDDING MOURNING.
by John Donne AS virtuous men pass mildly away, And whisper to their souls to go, Whilst some of their sad friends do say, "Now his breath goes," and some say, "No." [1] So let us melt, and make no noise, 5 No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move ; 'Twere profanation of our joys To tell the laity our love. Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears ; Men reckon what it did, and meant ; 10 But trepidation of the spheres, Though greater far, is innocent. Dull sublunary lovers' love —Whose soul is sense—cannot admit Of absence, 'cause it doth remove 15 The thing which elemented it. But we by a love so much refined, That ourselves know not what it is, Inter-assurèd of the mind, Care less, eyes, lips and hands to miss. 20 Our two souls therefore, which are one, Though I must go, endure not yet A breach, but an expansion, Like gold to aery thinness beat. If they be two, they are two so 25 As stiff twin compasses are two ; Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show To move, but doth, if th' other do. And though it in the centre sit, Yet, when the other far doth roam, 30 It leans, and hearkens after it, And grows erect, as that comes home. Such wilt thou be to me, who must, Like th' other foot, obliquely run ; Thy firmness makes my circle just, 35 And makes me end where I begun. (dedicated to me by Muhammad Shafique) Zum Bearbeiten hier klicken.
Where have you hidden,
Beloved, and left me moaning? You fled like the stag after wounding me; I went out calling you, but you were gone. Why, since you wounded this heart, don’t you heal it? And why, since you stole it from me, do you leave it so, and fail to carry off what you have stolen? St John of the Cross |