The Gift - Hafiz.

Why
Just ask the donkey in me
To speak to the donkey in you,

When I have so many other beautiful animals
And brilliant colored birds inside
That are all longing to say something wonderful
And exciting to your heart?

Let's open all the locked doors upon our eyes
That keep us from knowing the Intelligence
That begets love
And a more lively and satisfying conversation
With the Friend.

Let's turn loose our golden falcons
So that they can meet in the sky
Where our spirits belong --
Necking like two
Hot kids.

Let's hold hands and get drunk near the sun
And sing sweet songs to God
Until He joins us with a few notes
>From His own sublime lute and drum.

If you have a better idea
Of how to pass a lonely night
After your glands may have performed
All their little magic
Then speak up sweethearts, speak up,
For Hafiz and all the world will listen.

Why just bring your donkey to me
Asking for stale hay
And a boring conference with the idiot
In regards to this precious matter --
Such a precious matter as love,

When I have so many other divine animals
And brilliant colored birds inside
That are all longing
To so sweetly
Greet
You!

-- Hafiz.

Trammels of Analysis.

Floating, drifting
on the blue bourbon stubbornness.
Your wiseacre finiteness,
thudding from one clear sky to another,
hacking at every silver cloud
in an attempt to clear the
imaginary smog.

When will you close
those shrewd eyes
and see
the flesh of your dream.
The supernova of your being
glowing right within.
And the lacerated bits of gossamer
left behind from those tender clouds
by your guarded plow?

Jalaluddin Rumi

Don't turn from the delight
that is so close at hand!
Don't find some lame excuse
to leave our gathering.
You were a lonely grape
and now you are sweet wine.
There is no use in trying to be come a grape again.

---

Hold to the reins of love and don't be afraid.
Hold to the real behind the false and don't be afraid.

You must know
that the beloved you seek is none other than you.
Hold to this truth and don't be afraid.

---

Don't be like a sparrow
jumping from branch to branch
While you look for love here and there
The fire I lit inside you
will only grow cold.

---

O Saqi, free us from the façade of this world.
Bring wine--Barrels full!
Our eyes see too straight--
straight past the truth.

---

The mountain of your imagination
amounts to no more than a few crumbs of bread.
All your coming and going
was no more than an excuse.
For a lifetime
you listened to the story of my heart,
But to you it was just a fairy tale.
---

Me gustas cuando callas.

Me gustas cuando callas porque estás como ausente,
y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te toca.
Parece que los ojos se te hubieran volado
y parece que un beso te cerrara la boca.
.
Como todas las cosas están llenas de mi alma
emerges de las cosas, llena del alma mía.
Mariposa de sueño, te pareces a mi alma,
y te pareces a la palabra melancolía.
.
Me gustas cuando callas y estás como distante.
Y estás como quejándote, mariposa en arrullo.
Y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te alcanza:
Déjame que me calle con el silencio tuyo.
.
Déjame que te hable también con tu silencio
claro como una lámpara, simple como un anillo.
Eres como la noche, callada y constelada.
Tu silencio es de estrella, tan lejano y sencillo.
.
Me gustas cuando callas porque estás como ausente.
Distante y dolorosa como si hubieras muerto.
Una palabra entonces, una sonrisa bastan.
Y estoy alegre, alegre de que no sea cierto.

- Pablo Neruda

I like you when you go quiet, because it's as if you were absent,
And you hear me from far away and my voice doesn't touch you.
It seems as if you eyes had flown away
And it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth.

As all things are filled with my soul
You emerge from the things, filled with my soul.
You are like my soul, a butterfly of dream,
And you resemble the word melancholy.


I like you when you go quiet, and you seem distant.
It sounds as though you were lamenting, a butterfly cooing a lullaby.
And you hear me from far away, and my voice does not reach you:
Let me go mute in your silence.

And let me talk to you with your silence
That is bright as a lamp, simple as a ring.
You are like the night, quiet and constellated.
Your silence is that of a star, as far-off and plain.

I like you when you go quiet, for it's as though you were absent,
distant and aching, as though you had died.
One word then, one smile, is enough.
And i am happy, happy that it's not true.

- Pablo Neruda

Death of question mark.

I looked at her,
a sinuous tensile figure
trying to sustain the
one footed subjugation
of a gaping hole.

And she looked back,
those beckoning
intrigue blues,
tempting me to dive
and drown myself.

When I plucked her malleable spine
and lifted her high to my lips
wanting to melt into those blues,
she had already died
and there was standing
in front of me,
perfectly balanced
on the solid whole,
an exclamation personified !

Spelunking.

I love it,
love it,
when you come eagerly
through the dark mouth
spelunking down the bat cave.

Stirring curiously the shivering nakedness
where no one's welcome
and not one has ever been suffered,
but you...

Nailing carabiners at every fracture, you enter
the bowels of gloom even I dare not peep into,
and carve on the fleshy tender inside walls,
so gently with your scalpel of care and your eyes closed
the meditative chants about others and their suffering.

I love it... And you ?

Beat it, Milksop.

Fears,
well crafted in the curdled underneath,
suckling on years of circumspection.

Dreams sequester in the wrinkle slowly creeping
on the well moisturized brow,
struggling to dissipate the "what if" perspiration.

Fears,
persuasive, that one can always
close the venetians,
slouch in the subdued plaid
scraps of the sun,
flip the incandescent bulb,
and continue reading.


Well... I don't think so.

The Civil Cuffs.

We’re hiding,
You and me,
Primitive and carnal
Munch and Murakami
Under the white uniform coats
Yours with golden trimmings
Spotless, that cling.
They bundled you early,
And me too,
security is paramount and
instinct incidental,
We were told.

The pattern now is colorful
and adventurous,
and your fingers on mine,
are mutinous.
But even the revolution is tame
And quite frankly acceptable.

No one’s ready
Not even me yet
Or you
For the white rabbit unreined
The insidious vagabond
Reality, where
we swim naked
The hot blue turbulence,
And the coats lie wishful,
bundled on the shore.

ही शुभ्र फुलांची ज्वाला.

पाउस कधीचा पडतो
झाडांची हलती पाने
हलकेच जाग मज अाली
दु:खाच्या मंद सुराने.

डोळ्यात उतरले पाणी
पाण्यावर डोळे फिरती
रक्ताचा उडला पारा
या नितळ उताणीवरती.

पेटून कशी उजळेना
ही शुभ्र फुलांची ज्वाला
ताऱ्यांच्या प्रहरापाशी
पाउस असा कोसळला.

संदिग्ध घरांच्या अोळी
अाकाश ढवळतो वारा
माझ्याच किनाऱ्यावरती
लाटांचा अाज पहारा.

This flame of Dazzling flowers

Been raining for a while
On trees the moving leaf
I'm woken up so gently
by a faint note of grief.

Into eyes, descends the water
On water cruise the eyes
the blood boils over
onto this pristine precipice.

How come it hasn't flared up
the flame of dazzling flowers
the way the rain has poured
near the starry hours.

Nebulous rows of houses
the sky whisked by the gale
Today on my own shores
the waves stand sentinel.

The Stripper

The persistence of memory, and reverie
shines hot in the smelly music
from under the fiddle of your petal whisper

They tar and feather those dreams
with Bad girl and sordid drooling.

Yet you are a delicate purple symphony
after I sing.