Sunday, December 26, 2010
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.
A robin redbreast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage.
A dove-house fill'd with doves and pigeons
Shudders hell thro' all its regions.
A dog starv'd at his master's gate
Predicts the ruin of the state.
A horse misused upon the road
Calls to heaven for human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted hare
A fibre from the brain does tear.
A skylark wounded in the wing,
A cherubim does cease to sing.
The game-cock clipt and arm'd for fight
Does the rising sun affright.
Every wolf's and lion's howl
Raises from hell a human soul.
The wild deer, wand'ring here and there,
Keeps the human soul from care.
The lamb misus'd breeds public strife,
And yet forgives the butcher's knife.
The bat that flits at close of eve
Has left the brain that won't believe.
The owl that calls upon the night
Speaks the unbeliever's fright.
He who shall hurt the little wren
Shall never be belov'd by men.
He who the ox to wrath has mov'd
Shall never be by woman lov'd.
The wanton boy that kills the fly
Shall feel the spider's enmity.
He who torments the chafer's sprite
Weaves a bower in endless night.
The caterpillar on the leaf
Repeats to thee thy mother's grief.
Kill not the moth nor butterfly,
For the last judgement draweth nigh.
He who shall train the horse to war
Shall never pass the polar bar.
The beggar's dog and widow's cat,
Feed them and thou wilt grow fat.
The gnat that sings his summer's song
Poison gets from slander's tongue.
The poison of the snake and newt
Is the sweat of envy's foot.
The poison of the honey bee
Is the artist's jealousy.
The prince's robes and beggar's rags
Are toadstools on the miser's bags.
A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.
It is right it should be so;
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know,
Thro' the world we safely go.
Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
The babe is more than swaddling bands;
Every farmer understands.
Every tear from every eye
Becomes a babe in eternity;
This is caught by females bright,
And return'd to its own delight.
The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar,
Are waves that beat on heaven's shore.
The babe that weeps the rod beneath
Writes revenge in realms of death.
The beggar's rags, fluttering in air,
Does to rags the heavens tear.
The soldier, arm'd with sword and gun,
Palsied strikes the summer's sun.
The poor man's farthing is worth more
Than all the gold on Afric's shore.
One mite wrung from the lab'rer's hands
Shall buy and sell the miser's lands;
Or, if protected from on high,
Does that whole nation sell and buy.
He who mocks the infant's faith
Shall be mock'd in age and death.
He who shall teach the child to doubt
The rotting grave shall ne'er get out.
He who respects the infant's faith
Triumphs over hell and death.
The child's toys and the old man's reasons
Are the fruits of the two seasons.
The questioner, who sits so sly,
Shall never know how to reply.
He who replies to words of doubt
Doth put the light of knowledge out.
The strongest poison ever known
Came from Caesar's laurel crown.
Nought can deform the human race
Like to the armour's iron brace.
When gold and gems adorn the plow,
To peaceful arts shall envy bow.
A riddle, or the cricket's cry,
Is to doubt a fit reply.
The emmet's inch and eagle's mile
Make lame philosophy to smile.
He who doubts from what he sees
Will ne'er believe, do what you please.
If the sun and moon should doubt,
They'd immediately go out.
To be in a passion you good may do,
But no good if a passion is in you.
The whore and gambler, by the state
Licensed, build that nation's fate.
The harlot's cry from street to street
Shall weave old England's winding-sheet.
The winner's shout, the loser's curse,
Dance before dead England's hearse.
Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born,
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.
Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.
We are led to believe a lie
When we see not thro' the eye,
Which was born in a night to perish in a night,
When the soul slept in beams of light.
God appears, and God is light,
To those poor souls who dwell in night;
But does a human form display
To those who dwell in realms of day.
- William Blake
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Friday, December 10, 2010
You know how this is:
if I look at the crystal moon,
at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now, if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you
little by little.
If suddenly you forget me do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners that passes through my life,
and you decide to leave me
at the shore of the heart where I have roots,
remember that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off to seek another land.
But if each day,
you feel that you are destined for me with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love,
ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.
- Pablo Neruda
Monday, December 6, 2010
If you come knockin' late at night
She'll let you in her mouth
If the words you say are right
If you pay the price
She'll let you deep inside
But there's a secret garden she hides
She'll let you in her car
To go drivin' 'round
She'll let you into the parts of herself
That'll bring you down
She'll let you in her heart
If you got a hammer and a vise
But into her secret garden, don't think twice
You've gone a million miles
How far'd you get
To that place where you can't remember
And you can't forget
She'll lead you down a path
There'll be tenderness in the air
She'll let you come just far enough
So you know she's really there
Then she'll look at you and smile
And her eyes will say
She's got a secret garden
Where everything you want
Where everything you need
Will always stay
A million miles away
- Bruce Springsteen (Secret Garden)
- ´By taking risks,´ she said to Brida. ´By risking failure, disappointment, disillusion, but never ceasing your search for love. As long as you keep looking, you will triumph in the end.´
- Paulo Coelho (Brida)
Friday, December 3, 2010
And Chu Lai responded:“Within my soul there is no rancor. But if he is not truly sorry, it is better for him to recognize now that he is mad at me. If I had accepted his apology, we would be creating a false state of harmony, and this would further increase the anger of your husband.”
- Paulo Coelho
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Persoane care, intr-un anumit moment al existentei lor, au avut puterea de a visa la ziua de maine alaturi de persoana iubita, dar care au experimentat gustul amar al unui vis pierdut. Iar acum prefera sa nu isi mai faca 'planuri', de teama unui alt esec.
'Sa nu ai nici o asteptare, pentru a nu fi dezamagit' - asta a devenit motto-ul vietii lor. Ba chiar unii iti spun direct: "nu iti pune baza pe mine!" ca si cum ar stii ca ei la randul lor vor dezamagi, sau poate chiar au dezamagit deja.
Tuturor acestora le spun asa: dragii mei, nu imi pun baza in voi, ci in Dumnezeu si in tot ce exista frumos pe lumea asta. Nu e nevoie sa va simtiti impovarati. Fericirea mea nu depinde de voi, ci de mine. Iar fericirea asta o simt si o traiesc clipa de clipa...si ieri, si azi....si maine.
Si nu mi-e teama sa visez.
"- Remember the Aleph. Remember what you felt at that moment. The explanations and responses will not be sufficient. They will confuse you even more with that which is already so complex. Simply forgive me.
- I do not know why I have to forgive the man I love.
Hilal searches for inspiration on the golden walls, the columns, the people coming at this hour of the morning, the flames of the lit candles.
- I forgive the girl I was, not because I want to become a saint but because I do not want to endure this hatred. This tiresome hatred.
This was not what I expected.
- You may not forgive everyone and everything, but forgive me.
- I forgive everything and everyone. I forgive you because I love you and you do not love me. I forgive you because you reject me and I am losing my power.
She closes her eyes and raises her hands towards the ceiling.
- I am liberated from hatred by means of forgiveness and love. I understand that suffering, when it cannot be avoided, helps me to advance towards glory.
Hilal speaks softly but the acoustics of the church are so perfect that everything she says seems to echo throughout the four corners. But my experience tells me that she is channelling the spirit of a child.
The tears I shed, I forgive.
The suffering and disappointments, I forgive.
The betrayals and lies, I forgive.
The slandering and scheming, I forgive.
The hatred and persecution, I forgive.
The punches that were given, I forgive.
The shattered dreams, I forgive.
The dead hopes, I forgive.
The disaffection and jealousy, I forgive.
The indifference and ill will, I forgive.
The injustice in the name of justice, I forgive.
The anger and mistreatment, I forgive.
The neglect and oblivion, I forgive.
The world with all its evil, I forgive.
She lowers her arms, opens her eyes and places her hands on her face.
I move closer to kiss her, but she makes a signal with her hands.
- I have not finished yet.
She closes her eyes and looks up.
Grief and resentment, I replace with understanding and agreement.
Revolt, I replace with music that comes from my violin.
Pain I replace with oblivion.
Revenge, I replace with victory.
I will be able to love above all discontentment.
To give even when I am stripped of everything.
To work happily even when I find myself in the midst of all obstacles.
To dry tears even when I am still crying.
To believe even when I am discredited.
She opens her eyes, puts her hands on my head and says with an authority that comes from above:
- Thy will be done. Thy will be done."
Paulo Coelho (O Aleph)
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Insa de multe ori intervine (asa-zisa) ratiune care te sfatuieste 'de bine' zicandu-ti, fie prin propria voce, fie prin vocile unor prieteni - binevoitori de altfel- 'hai, lasa, ca n-o fi chiar asa, hai sa incerc, cine stie, poate de data asta iese altfel.'
Mda. Macar sa nu ma mai mir ca n-a iesit.
Sa nu zici ca nu ti-am zis !
Show must go on :))
M-am apropiat: era un ghiocel ca un capac de sticla, modelat sub forma florii. Scria pe el 'Izvorul Alb'.
M-am minunat atunci. Nu stiam ca in Valea Plangerii cresc flori.
Acum insa stiu secretul vaii. Lacrimile sunt pentru flori...