This is Dimitar’s Haiku;
which was the last post on the previous thread:

By Dimitar:
Haiku, four days on…

last moments of sunset
reflected on water;
gold on cloud

way out here, in a
distant corner of the woods;
forgetting who one is

someone once said
something along those lines –
even they weren’t close

beneath my kimono,
a gift for my lover,
my quickening step…

uncovering the
secret way soul has of
being with the mystery

“O Fortuna!
Velut luna,
Statu variabilis,
Semper crescis
Aut decrescis.
Vita detestabilis
Nunc obdurat
Et tunc curat.
Ludo mentis aciem:
Egestatem,
Potestatem,
Dissolvit ut glaciem.
Sors immanis
Et inanis,
Rota tu volubilis.”

O Fortune!
Changeable like the moon,
Ever waxing
Or waning.
Hateful Life
Can be hard sometimes,
And then soothing.
A line laid down
from a gamble of the mind:
First Poverty,
Then Power,
But all melting like ice.
Immanent Fate,
You are mindless,
You are like a rolling wheel.
(Carmina Burana)

two giant rivers,
ineluctably wrestling in thy
middle depths

whistling sands,
a windswept procession –
your footsteps no more

the young samurai;
back hand single slash –
a hundred kills and counting!

Après un rêve
by Gabriel Fauré
https://youtu.be/XTOkWD6xvTI?si=xyO_4povAZx1OCws
“After a Dream”
by Romain Bussine
English translation
by Richard Stokes:

In sleep made sweet by a vision of you
I dreamed of happiness, fervent illusion,
Your eyes were softer, your voice pure and ringing,
You shone like a sky that was lit by the dawn;

You called me and I departed the earth
To flee with you toward the light,
The heavens parted their clouds for us,
We glimpsed unknown splendours, celestial fires.

Alas, alas, sad awakening from dreams!
I summon you, O night, give me back your delusions;
Return, return in radiance,
Return, O mysterious night!

Thousands of children like these have been killed. Latest figure I’ve seen is 4506 children killed. Countless more buried under the rubble in Gaza. How long can this be allowed to continue ?

From Palestine with Love
From Palestine with Pain;
https://nahidaexiledpalestinian.com/2023/11/08/hear-o-world/

They killed them while they were sleeping;
https://nahidaexiledpalestinian.com/

dear sudhi, others, all…forgive me, i’m hoping this isn’t too far OT….

when making french onion soup this evening, chopping onions, stirring onions for hours, i was reminded of indian cuisine.  years ago a university friend shared her mother’s, grandmother’s & aunts recipes, as well as the methods & keys to help them sing.   it was a joy & a gift i’ve cherished all these years.   first the spices, then slowly methodically the ritual of bringing the onions to a state such required for french onion soup.  the difference being no spices or herbs (which next time i’ll change & as the clarified butter warms i’ll add thyme, some chilis, black pepper.  & stirring stirring i puzzled where or when the french had stumbled upon across this very indian way of building a dish’s bricks & patina?  it almost seems foreign to french cuisine, the slow unhurried bluesy entry into an essentially inexpensive way to use fall’s produce.   where stamp collectors follow maps to wend their way through history, i follow an older order, that of food shared over the fire as traders, warriors or survivors put what little they had left or scavenged into the pot & fire & the combined lessons have marked history the globe over in a most savoury delicious way.   blessings

Dark is the Night (TềMHas Ho4b, lit. Dark Night)

This is a famous Soviet song associated with the Great Patriotic War. It was originally performed by Mark Bernes in the 1943 war film Two Soldiers. The song was composed by Nikita Bogoslovsky (1913-2004), lyrics by Vladimir Agatov, especially for the film Two Soldiers. In the film, Bernes is a soldier who recalls his wife and baby at night while singing the song. The official experts were keen to accuse Bogoslovsky of propagating “Philistine” sentimental tunes. Though ostracized by the authorities, the song became a symbol of the war years for millions of Soviet people.
Dark Is the Night has been described as “a gentle lyrical song imbued with a feeling of
homesickness and expressing devotion to one’s beloved” which helped reveal the personal side of the war.

Haiku Sequence;

A Bride for Yoguro

September babies;
his extended family now
has a new girl

the hearts of children,
docile and precious, believe
in their make-believe

no customers,
rice cakes in November;
a good idea at the time

a bride for Yogoro,
it must be someone his
mother approves of

the palace rises
in beauty only against
the ugliness of
the dwellings of the
destitute

Remembering ioan, The Age-old Question;

I’d Like to Know

I’d like to know what the star knows,
And why it trembles by day and by night?
Is death overcome, is sorrow undone –
That the star it shines so clear and so bright?

I’d like to see what the star sees;
It must be something wondrous and grand!
The ocean’s expanse, the moon’s silver lance –
Shadows in flight across the land.

I’d like to know how the star knows
Its place in the vast assembly above?
To burn so bright by day and by night –
To cleave to the will of the One True Love!

I’d like to be, like the star free,
Living in the moment in a state of play;
To do as I please, shooting the breeze,
Sharing tales of the Ancient of Days!

I’d like to know what the star knows,
And why it trembles by day and by night?
Is death overcome, is sorrow undone,
That the star it shines so clear and so bright?

“In Jerusalem” from The Butterfly’s Burden.
by Mahmoud Darwish

In Jerusalem, and I mean within the ancient walls,
I walk from one epoch to another without a memory
to guide me. The prophets over there are sharing
the history of the holy … ascending to heaven
and returning less discouraged and melancholy, because love
and peace are holy and are coming to town.
I was walking down a slope and thinking to myself: How
do the narrators disagree over what light said about a stone?
Is it from a dimly lit stone that wars flare up?
I walk in my sleep. I stare in my sleep. I see
no one behind me. I see no one ahead of me.
All this light is for me. I walk. I become lighter. I fly
then I become another. Transfigured. Words
sprout like grass from Isaiah’s messenger
mouth: “If you don’t believe you won’t be safe.”
I walk as if I were another. And my wound a white
biblical rose. And my hands like two doves
on the cross hovering and carrying the earth.
I don’t walk, I fly, I become another,
transfigured. No place and no time. So who am I?
I am no I in ascension’s presence. But I
think to myself: Alone, the prophet Muhammad
spoke classical Arabic. “And then what?”
Then what? A woman soldier shouted:
Is that you again? Didn’t I kill you?
I said: You killed me … and I forgot, like you, to die.

English translation by Fady Joudah

“To Our Land” from The Butterfly’s Burden.
by Mahmoud Darwish

To our land,
and it is the one near the word of god,
a ceiling of clouds
To our land,
and it is the one far from the adjectives of nouns,
the map of absence
To our land,
and it is the one tiny as a sesame seed,
a heavenly horizon … and a hidden chasm
To our land,
and it is the one poor as a grouse’s wings,
holy books … and an identity wound
To our land,
and it is the one surrounded with torn hills,
the ambush of a new past
To our land, and it is a prize of war,
the freedom to die from longing and burning
and our land, in its bloodied night,
is a jewel that glimmers for the far upon the far
and illuminates what’s outside it …
As for us, inside,
we suffocate more!

English translation by Fady Joudah

Could Life Be No More Than This?

If there were no beginning,
If there were no end,
No fear of birth,
And death, a friend.
No need for dismay
Or atonement due;
There’d be nothing to flee
And nothing to pursue.

If there were no future,
If there were no past,
No good, nor hope
Of making it last.
If there were no evil
to disavow;
Life would be no more
That what it is now.

If there were no heaven,
If there were no hell,
If there were no power,
No magical spell.
Nothing to deter you
From keeping your vow;
Life would be no more
That what it is now.

If there were nowhere to go,
And nothing to be,
If there were nothing to know
And nothing to see.
If there were nothing to prove,
No why or how…
Life would be no more
Than what it is right now!

Palestine
by Mahmoud Darwish

This land gives us
all that makes life worth living:
April’s blushing advances,
the aroma of bread at dawn,
a woman’s haranguing of men,
the poetry of Aeschylus,
love’s trembling beginning,
moss on a stone
mothers dancing on a flute’s thread
and the invaders’ fear of memories.

This land give us
all that makes life worth living:
September’s rustling end,
a woman leaving forty behind with her apricots,
an hour of sunlight in prison,
clouds reflecting swarms of insects,
a people’s applause for those who laugh at their erasure,
and the tyrant’s fear of songs.

This land give us
all that makes life worth living:
Lady Earth, mother of all beginnings and endings,
She was called Palestine
and she is still called Palestine.
My Lady, because you are my Lady, I deserve life.

Haiku + Tanka Sequence;

The Intelligence of a Crow

pseudo teachers,
schooling man in the art of death;
a beggar’s excess

sunken monument
beneath the murky waters –
means nothing to fish

the fledgeling will always
choose a piece of bread over
the peace of God,
and so condemn itself
to choking on that which it
cannot swallow

a hundred evil phantoms
feasting on a dead and rotting bird;
the way of the three worlds

the intelligence of a crow;
the thirsty for God
live for today

he who is in love
with imagined fancies, will
always proclaim a
lover of the Gracious
as his enemy!

By Nahida exiled Palestinian

GLOBAL INTIFADA

As Palestine gasps for survival

She breathes Life, into a dying world

* * *

A weary world,

With a tainted soul and confused identity

Lost, oppressed, depressed and downtrodden

Seeking a way out of chronic misery:

Mega corporations

Money swindlers, arms dealers

Ego promoters, mind controllers

Slavery to addiction, illusion of liberty

Erased Masculinity, disfigured femininity

Stolen childhood, lopsided morality

Lying politicians, impotent jurisdiction

Fake democracy

Genocidal barbarity

Delusional superiority

Normalised depravity

Dehumanised  humanity

and on, and on, and on

As Palestine gasps for freedom

She kindles faith and hope

Into the soul of a despairing humanity

Infuses passion of liberation

Into the heart of an occupied world

* * *
Are we dreaming?
Is that really true?

Are we awakened yet?

A small tiny nation with no means at all

Facing superpowers armed with might, and hate

Are these people crazy?

Have they lost their minds?

Facing tanks with meek means

Embracing death with open arms

Offering life to those who follow

Either a life of dignity

Or the glory of martyrdom

Succumbing to non but the One Most High

Grinning as they say goodbye

Hearts full of love

And faith sky high

* * *

Enchanted

Oscillating between anger and adoration

Overriding guilt and shame

Hearts of mankind align

Throb in perplexing harmony

And deep admiration

Chanting in unison

Palestine will be Free
From the River to the Sea
Free Free Palestine
Free Free Palestine

Zainab Mohamed – Heroes of Gaza;

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jnWF2Clf2qg&t=54s

The Secret Dwelling Place of Soul

my cry of agony,
wordless as a beast’s,
goes out into the night

this dark night;
when will it end, when will
it begin to ease?

pain is the
hidden purifier of the
human heart

beyond all but love
lies the secret dwelling
place of soul

The Times they Are a-Changin’
– Bob Dylan
https://youtu.be/90WD_ats6eE?si=snmkdfvEFu2YFcee

The Lioness

Within the family my mother was always known as “The Lioness” Born in 1936, one of 11 children of Irish immigrant laborer and washerwoman, 2 died in the Clydebank Blitz, she, her mother and 2 brothers were found stumbling from the wreckage of their slum housing carrying their dead infant twins

At 18 she married my father, a 24 year old bricklayer, I was the 2nd child born in my mothers bed in a cold water “single end” which was slum accommodation, one room, one fireplace, one light, one power outlet and one cold water tap .The communal toilets were outside on a bucket system (emptied every night). Yet by the time I was 14 she had given birth to 5 more children, bought a large home in a good suburb and started a driving school that was a gold mine for the next 30 years until she retired and one of my brothers runs it to this day.In retirement she and my father bought a home in a friendly coastal town and traveled the globe to visit grandchildren and other far flung members of our extended clan.

My violent nature and disregard for authority had me living among the other outcasts from the age of 15. After 30 years in Africa during which I had no contact with my family I moved to a croft on a bleak though beautiful Scottish Island, there is a stream with many small waterfalls and pools 10 paces from the front door of this old stone cottage. A supermarket chain delivers groceries to the village hall 5 miles away once a month, free public transport means no need for a car, life is good.

Alzheimer’s.

My youngest brother (a bricklayer)has acted as a carer for my parents since my mother first showed symptoms of this disease, recently he asked for my help moving them from their coastal town to a home in his neighborhood. My mother would take daily panic attacks where she would have to get home to avert some disaster or other, even surrounded by her treasures and mementos she would not recognize “home” and walk or take public transport until she and my father were hopelessly lost and must be rescued. The trouble is that no memories of these events formed and within an hour or a day they would go out and do the same thing again and again while claiming never to have been lost in their entire lives. I was to be Judas and stay with them for a few weeks then move the to the new house and refuse to take the back to the old one. It was better that they resented me than the son they relied on for their daily care.

One day my mother escaped on her own and I finally tracked her down to a large shopping mall nearby, where I tried to persuade her to return home. She cried out to strangers for help as this strange man (me) was trying to hurt her, my wife says I look exactly like the older Charlie Manson, what were people to think? What would I think  under similar circumstances?

A woman called  Pamela Smith had just come from a hair salon and was running into the mall without a coat because she was going to buy one for a job interview she had the next day and the light rain was spoiling her hair. But she stopped, understood what was happening and walked my mother all the way back home while promising to protect her from me.For the first time in my life I cried like a baby in public, from utter helplessness to shedding tears at the kindness of a stranger who rescued me, I weep even now at the memory.

My father and brother are two of the best men I have ever known, but their lives and that of my brothers wife are slowly being destroyed by my mothers behavior, even in insanity she still has a powerful personality and will lash out with her walking stick when she can not have her way. Yet to put her in a care facility would be worse for my father. All their good options are gone and the least worst option is where we are now. My bleak island home is surrounded with moorland, if she got lost here she might never be found.

The moral of the story is this, leave a living will, explain your wishes in writing for when you no longer can, my mother would never have wanted this. Remember the kindness of strangers, try to be a kind stranger.

Thank you for giving me a voice Amarynth.

dear archeon, thank you for sharing your family’s journey & your profound sorrow & grief.🕊️  may your mother soon find her way to peace of mind.  🪽  you, archeon, & your family are in my prayers, nestled with the martyrs, heroes & innocents of palestine.  blessings.

my father had what was suspected to be alzheimer’s, back then an autopsy was needed for an accurate diagnosis.   my father had a living will.  40yrs ago in canada a living will activated when an individual had a diagnosis of certain death…comatose on life support from a head-on collision; a diagnosis of an incurable cancer, heart disease with certain death prognosis, a number of other diseases termed terminal.  terminal being the hinge.  if the person was in robust physical shape & able to navigate a medical review board which my father (a sergeant major in tanks: dunkirk, dieppe, normandy) did numerous times with precision (just as he also passed frequent driving examinations with⭐️ flying colours).  he was repeatedly determined to be of sound mind.  it was only when he locked my mother out of the house in the middle of the night in a 20 below blizzard & the neighbours called 911 that the ‘authorities’ intervened & placed him ‘in care’ which was a locked cell in isolation.  he stayed ‘in care & isolated’ until he was found on the floor alongside the locked door, having died from dehydration & hypothermia.  my brother, a qc, had run twisted circles trying to intervene to ensure his well being & wishes to be invoked but to no avail.  i suppose all that’s sorted now…this was back in the day when we hovered between draconian care of humanity & the value of each & every life to the present where we are expected to rationalize genocide.

thank you, dear archeon, while there is little we can do in such times as these i hope my visualizations of serenity & well being may drift through dreams to you, your beloved lioness & to gaza our world’s beloved lioness.  🙏🏿

God bless you archeon.

In view of the American Holiday… I speculate as to the timing of “truce zone Gaza” with respect to the “optic” juxtaposition ‘tween a laden table of excess and the genocide – the Big Screen display of murder as the porkers feast…  I bear a sympathy for Burroughs, as I’ve said…the pervert learned sodomy in the ranch school on the Mesa, they say…the place where they invented the bomb…in that respect Heaven has a fine sense of the future, style, and sends us forecasts… And Heaven’s Opinions… Burroughs as one of the host of prophets… Withal the old fella saw the future in the streets and alleys and jails… his journey in an eerie way mimics mine, though I passed on the sodomy. Sometimes the ruling classes product unsatisfactory sons, who tell the commoners the news.

Thus A Thanksgiving Prayer

http://academic.brooklyn.cuny.edu/modlang/carasi/thanksgivingprayer.htm

(It is offensive, as an honest opinion tends to be, Caution!)

It is notable too that the poem was written a long time ago…tictictic…and here we are at or near the last stop…prescient fella.

(I can’t bear adding the picture of feasting pigs…see yandex if you wish)

Best! P

Rome COLLAPSED broke.
Hitler went FOR broke.
Britannia didn’t KNOW it was broke.
USSR ended up DEAD broke.
Isreal will be MADE broke.
America will EXPLODE broke 😄

Massenet: Thaïs: Méditation

GAMBIA
by Sona Jobarteh

Peace knows stability
and progress welcomes it
Hospitality and happiness
are the faces of the country
The Gambia is a good country
Wherever you are,
never let yourself forget
Your homeland Gambia
Truth is, if you forget your homeland
It means you forgot yourself

Let’s come together and be united
That’s the way forward
for the benefit for all

People of the Gambia;
this is the beautiful land
People of the Gambia;
this is the peaceful land
People of the Gambia;
this is the land of our people
People of the Gambia;
there is nothing that compares to this land
People honour this country
because it is blessed

The home of Peace… everyone say “Gambia”
The home of Blessings… everyone say “Gambia”
The home of Humility… everyone say “Gambia”
The home of Family
everyone say “Gambia”

Sudhi, I saw Sona Jobarteh live in concert at our annual Folk Music Festival last summer. Unique musician and quite the story teller.

Driftin Blues;

Real Kazotsky :

The Beatles- Here comes the Sun:

A “Buffalo Soldier”; one distinguished in battle as having “fought like a cornered buffalo”.

treed; an archaic term for ‘under attack’

mistletoe; a symbol of fertility, life

nighthawk; the nightjar,or in this case, its ‘song of redemption’…

Buffalo Soldier

I live in a cabin up by the woods,
There’s an old grey rock where we buried the goods.
He used to be my own true beau;
He lived like a cornered buffalo!

Winter had past, it was early spring,
I knew he was heading back to the ring.
Said he had ‘someplace he had to go’;
He felt like a wounded buffalo.

I received a letter, now not long past,
How his luck had changed, this time it would last.
How my babe and I would finally be freed;
My love he loved like a buffalo treed!

Well, there we were by the hot water spring,
When an ill wind brought the chill that it brings;
They’d found his trail of blood in the snow,
He’d fought like a maddened buffalo!

I still remember, I’ll never forget,
Back to the time when we first met;
How we kissed underneath the mistletoe –
My love took the field like a buffalo!

’Tis a sad but a holy thing to love;
Wisdom for fools and morning doves.
My love he stood at six feet tall,
And yet he fell like the buffalo falls.

We live in a cabin up off the range,
There’s an old grey rock where we buried the change.
When I tell myself I’ll let him go,
My heart it bouts like a buffalo!

At times far-off a church bell rings.
At certain hours the nighthawk sings.
Few there were that went toe to toe…
My love he fought like a buffalo.

Redemption Song
– Bob Marley

Old pirates, yes, they rob I
Sold I to the merchant ships
Minutes after they took I
From the bottomless pit
But my hand was made strong
By the hand of the Almighty
We forward in this generation
Triumphantly

Won’t you help to sing
These songs of freedom?
‘Cause all I ever have
Redemption Songs
Redemption Songs

Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery
None but ourselves can free our minds
Have no fear for atomic energy
Cause none of them can stop the time
How long shall they kill our prophets
While we stand aside and look? Ooh!
Some say it’s just a part of it
We’ve got to fulfil the Book

Won’t you help to sing
These songs of freedom?
‘Cause all I ever have
Redemption Songs
Redemption Songs

Dekhechi rupsagarey moner manush kancha sona :

“In the ocean of Beauty”

I dive down into the depth of the ocean of forms,
hoping to gain the perfect pearl of the formless.
No more sailing from harbour to harbour
with this my weather-beaten boat.
The days are long passed when
my sport was to be tossed on waves.
And now I am eager to die into the deathless.
Into the audience hall by the fathomless abyss
where swells up the music of toneless strings
I shall take this harp of my life.
I shall tune it to the notes of forever,
and when it has sobbed out its last utterance,
lay down my silent harp at the feet of the silent.

– A Bengali song translated by Rabindranath Tagore

Revolving Door
– Abel Korzeniowski

“The Second Coming”
by William Butler Yeats

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert

A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

The Motorcycle Diaries
by Gustavo Santaolalla

the cunning of man’s mind
spells disaster and death, yet
the soul’s quest endures

Esbjörn Svensson Trio

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D7KXq6RJ0PA

EL CHE!

…..

At 1:20 + Previously unknown planetary system follows what seems to be Fibonacci Sequence.  https://youtu.be/sxfTEmJ-CZE

They image the new 6 planets! FFO! Zeeeboffins !

Best! P

one moire time…

That’s better… 😉

P

“Hasta Siempre, Comandante,”
(“Until Forever, Commander” in English)
by Cuban composer Carlos Puebla
https://youtu.be/0k8xMiZp588?si=hfSUg5K69Jn5VigS
We learned to love you
from the historical heights
where the sun of your bravery
laid siege to death
Chorus:
Here lies the clear,
dear transparency
of your beloved presence,
Commander Che Guevara
Your glorious and strong hand
over History it shoots
when all of Santa Clara
awakens to see you
[Chorus]
You come burning the breeze
with springtime suns
to plant the flag
with the light of your smile
[Chorus]
Your revolutionary love
leads you to new undertaking
where they are waiting for the firmness
of your liberating arm
[Chorus]
We will carry on
as we followed you then
and with Fidel we say to you:
“Until forever, Commander!”

Let’s see if this works…a bit of ol’timeywestern, more eastern ahrekonz, wisdom about critical water-ways…like the straits and the Red Sea!

Best! P

If the deluded West
is hell bent on boarding
the still-sinking Titanic
whilst dancing with abandon
on its top deck, then so be it 😉

“If wishes were horses,
beggars would ride.
If turnips were bayonets,
I’d wear one by my side” 😄

While my guitar gently Weeps
– The Beatles

Do not stand
By my grave, and weep.
I am not there,
I do not sleep—
I am the thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints in snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle, autumn rain.
As you awake with morning’s hush,
I am the swift, up-flinging rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight,
I am the day transcending night.
Do not stand
By my grave, and cry—
I am not there,
I did not die.

— Clare Harner, The Gypsy, December 1934
Forwarded from https://t.me/VanessaBeeley

🕊️ thank you for this, dear sudhi.  🙏🏿

Neurosurgeon, Eben Alexander’s takeaway from his Near Death Experience, (one of them) “…You are deeply loved, cherished forever, you have nothing to fear, you are cared for…”

“Harvard Neurosurgeon Dies, shown why we reincarnate and EVIDENCE of Heaven”;

to see the Friend,
sew your eyes together and so
unsee the world!

Soul Will Not Feel Torn (The Hidden Teachings of Rumi)

Take this piece of bread from me and Soul will not
feel torn.
That one who wanders in search of your love will find a
home.

That one who wears me as a cloak will never be naked.
And that one who takes me as a cure will not be
abandoned.

That one who sees me as his mission will not be without
a quest.
A rock that becomes a gem will never be just a rock.

The direction true seekers turn will never be a wasteland.
And the book of the Silent Ones will not be found in an
outer book.

From these tears, my eyes are givers of wine, but,
Unless a seeker’s eyes become intoxicated, he will not be a
wine-seller.

Lovers become sick, but they will not die.
The moon becomes thin, but never a (distant) star.

Be silent now and not too upset because
The self that becomes a lover is never misled by the lower
self.

Buying bread

It is necessary to

feed the poor.

……………

Interesting poster from Comrade Z https://repository.library.brown.edu/studio/item/bdr:89429/

It may occur to some people that the poster might be up-dated to apply to the several junctions of conflict, ahem.  😉

Best! P

Tatiana Kurtukova – Matushka (Mother)

“Mother” (lyrics and music by Pyotr Andreev)

A wreath of wild flowers,
A flower in the morning dew,
A nightingale’s whistle,
A sip of birch sap.
Listen to the silence to your heart’s content,
Along the path into the thick forest,
Chat to your heart’s content with the birch tree
About him and about love.
Mother Earth,
White birch tree,
For me, Holy Russ
For others, a pain in the ass

How many more years do I
have to ask the cuckoo, and tell fortunes
about my maiden love
with a daisy.
Cold spring water,
In the honeycomb of fresh honey,
In an open field on a dark night
In the starry sky, drowned.
Mother Earth,
White birch tree,
For me, Holy Russ
For others, a pain in the ass

🌹”Babul”(father)
by Amir Khusrow
Translation-
Why did you part me from yourself, dear father, why?
You’ve given houses with two stories to my brothers,
And to me, a foreign land? Why dear father, why?
We (daughters) are just cows tied to your peg,
Will move on to where ever you drive us to, dear father.
We are just flower-buds of your garden,
And are asked for, in every household, dear father.
We are just birds from your cage,
Will fly off when its dawn again, dear father.
I’ve left at home, alcoves full of dolls;
And parted from my friends too, dear father.
When my palanquin passed beneath the terrace,
My brother fainted and fell, dear father.
As I remove the curtain from the palanquin,
I see we’ve reached the beloved’s house, dear father.
Why did you part me from yourself, dear father, why?

Song: “Kahe ko byhe Bides” (why did you wed me abroad, O venerable father)
Movie: Umrao Jaan (1981)
Lyrics: Amir Khusrow
Music: Mohammed Zahur Khayyam
Singer: Jagjit Kaur
https://youtu.be/ibM4HzAp9Ms?si=aHKCzcdKUwUEyc-E

Bab’Aziz: The Prince who Contemplated his Soul

– How can death be end of something that doesn’t have a beginning?
Hassan, my son, don’t be sad at my wedding night.
– Your wedding night?
– Yes. My marriage with eternity.”

C. Wright Mills an’ me might agree, I guess you could say it’s a kind of Zen thing… Yup

> https://www.motorcycle.com/events/marty-dickerson-interview-78633.html

Best! P

Okay, not that fast. Just last year, 2007, two months shy of 81, you went a bit faster.

MD: This was a 1950 Rapide owned by Steve Hamel from Wisconsin who had set a record of 155. He let me ride it and I ran a two-way average of 151.685 and a 154.456 on the return run.

Talking Heads –
Road to Nowhere

Overall Meaning:
The lyrics of Trio Mandili’s song Kakhuri express a plea to someone to look up and notice the beauty around them. The opening lines, “Da ukar, chemo chonguro; Da ukar, genatsvalebi,” translate to “Look up, my dear friend; Look up, you’re changing.” The lyrics go on to ask why the person is not noticing what is right in front of them as they go on with their life. The phrase “Gogov aket maikhede/ Sait migirbis tvalebi?” asks, “Why are you not looking at the beauty of the world around you?”

The chorus, “Haralale dariv darale/ Harali haralale dariv darale” repeats the phrase multiple times, which is a typical feature of Georgian folk songs. The lines essentially mean “Let’s move on, with joy and energy.” The beauty of the natural setting in the song is further emphasized in the verse “Ts’qeshi ts’avala masalistvis/ Khe mochts’eri khevshtsia,” which means “I’m going to the field to bring corn/ The forest is filled with chirping of birds.”
https://sonichits.com/video/Trio_Mandili/Kakhuri

Beautiful women and music! Thank you Sudhi …

When the rain is blowing in your face and the world is getting on your case,

I could offer you a warm embrace, to make you feel my love,

When the evening shadows and the stars appear and there is no one there to dry your tears,

I could hold you for a million years, to make you feel my love,

I know you haven’t made your mind up yet, but I would never do you wrong,

I’ve known it from the moment that we met,

There is no doubt in my mind where you belong,

I’d go hungry, I’d go black and blue,

I’d go crawling down the avenue,

No there is nothing I wouldn’t do,

To make you feel my love,

The storms are raging on a rolling sea,

and on the highway of regrets,

The winds of change are blowing wild and free

But you ain’t seen nothing like me yet

I could make you happy

Make your dreams come true

Do anything you want me to

I would go to the ends of the earth for you

To make you feel my love

Bob Dylan

Lama Bada Yatathna
by Mawshahat Andalousyia

Translation:
Graceful she was when she arrived,
beauty and glory stepped aside;
my beloved is mesmerizing,
and although I would sacrifice my soul for her,
is she willing to love me back?
She imprisoned me in a garden beyond mountains by the way she looks at me,
She seemed like a proud tree branch
that leans towards its roots after hearing love songs, and achieving richness.
I am dazzled by my promises
and my confusions,
I have no one to ask for mercy,
but you, you .. the queen of love.
http://karenepetersen.com/Site/Blog/Entries/2011/8/19_Lamma_Bada_Notation_and_Lyrics.html

Lama Bada Yatathana
by Talia

‘Eagles or Ravens’
– Maxim Fadeev & Grigory Leps

https://www.songtell.com/maksim-fadeev-grigory-leps/eagles-or-ravens

In the City it has been discovered that new and improved leadership has arrived!

Shades of ‘Yes,  Minister’ … ?

Dean Martin – Everybody Loves Somebody

Softly, so casual,

Lovely, so light, so light.

The cruel sky lets fall

Something one does not fight.

Men before perishing

See with unwounded eye

For once a gentle thing

Fall from the sky.

~~ Joy Davidman Lewis

The poem is based on the experience of men fighting the Spanish Civil War. It is entitled

“Snow in Madrid”

Gustavo Santaolalla –
Endless Flight (Babel)

Well shucks… https://www.instagram.com/reel/CzYKGPiNKBA/?igshid=NGEwZGU0MjU5Mw%3D%3D

Bird raises Red Flag!

It’s inevitable, even or especially the birds know…

All human myths, stories and legends native to human cultures since the dawn of time, reflect the saga of the Journey of Soul, or the Hero’s Journey. This journey began in the Ocean of Love and Mercy, when Soul enjoyed the fruits of Heaven and lived a life of ease, until God the Father saw that It needed a different attitude in order to be of any use to IT, the Spiritual Hierarchy, and Its fellow Souls. Soul was sent to the dual universes, administered by Its chief appointee, the Lord of the Negative Worlds, under whose jurisdiction Soul would remain until It became aware of the spiritual laws of life and began to work consciously within the same.

The chief spiritual law is the Law of Love, (simply put, Soul must be willing to give of Itself without expectation of reward), out of which the rest of the laws falling into the categories of the Laws of Wisdom – the laws that speak of divine power and how it manifests in the universe,  the Laws of Freedom – practical laws that afford a smoother passage through everyday life, and the Laws of Charity – the laws that bring Soul a greater capacity to love – enable Soul to cease creating needless karma for Itself, and thus find Its way off the endless wheel of death and rebirth.

Key to Soul’s emancipation is “the Friend”, to use Rumi’s term, that Being which as is near to Soul “as Its own heartbeat”, and which Soul must engage in order to receive instructions insofar as the steps it needs to take in order to free Itself, avoid needless karma etc. No Soul is ever forgotten or alone in God’s Universes, and so “the Friend” appears in some form or another to every Soul, in all of God’s universes, and in whatever conditions and circumstances Soul may find Itself in. However, the Friend can only point the way, it remains for Soul to walk the spiritual path to God of Its own volition. And each Soul’s path will be unique. A further note on the Friend; the Friend is a manifestation of Divine Spirit, and may take a form or any number of forms that will be familiar to the individual, thus the Friend will appear in a different form to an Inuit of Alaska, a pygmy of Africa and/or a tribesman from the Amazon, and so on.

As mentioned, of prime importance to walking the spiritual path back home to God is Soul’s understanding and compliance with the spiritual laws of life such as the Law of Karma, the Law of Silence and the Law of Economy. Pertaining to the Law of Economy, Soul learns to align Its wishes, hopes and dreams with that of Divine Spirit. Thus it is said that the Universes are sustained by acts of personal sacrifice. This is how Soul’s growth is gauged, It begins to think not for Its own welfare but for the welfare of others first, and in doing so, finds that Its personal needs are taken care of. “Not my will but thine” in action.

One more point of interest, there is an irony here, for so often It happens that when Soul gains freedom from the wheel of death and rebirth and establishes Itself to one of the higher planes, It so often chooses to return to this world (or others like it), in order to help other Souls find their way back into the Heavenly Kingdom.

The Dreams of the Night

Early in the morning, before the day breaks,
The ocean it bids the shore goodbye;
The dreams of the night, washed up on the beach,
Are stranded like fish, waiting to die.

The fisherman hauls in his nets to see,
Wondering what the night’s catch will yield?
Gulls are a squawking while the fish they are threshing,
As the sun fills the sky with its crimson shield.

My love she weeps but doesn’t say why;
She said her heart I never can know.
All through the day and all through the night,
That is the place that no one may go!

Early in the morning, before the day breaks,
The ocean it bids the shore goodbye;
The dreams of the night, washed up on the beach
Stranded like fish, are waiting to die…

Main to piya say naina lada aayi ray –
Ustad Shujat Hussain Khan
Poetry by Amir Khusrow

Translation –
Hey, I’ve just had an affair with my darling,
Don’t care what the neighborhood girls say;
Just had an affair with my darling.
Oh, his beautiful face, charming like an idol,
I’ve just made a place in the bottom of his heart.
I, Khusrow, give my life to Nizamuddin in sacrifice,
I’ve just had him call me his most favourite disciple;
Don’t care what the neighbourhood girls say,
Just had an affair with my darling.

Image pretty girl, from Lowell Thomas, presumably taken in 1919..

 

Melina Mercouri –
“Ta Pediá tou Pireá”

“Never on Sunday”, also known by its original Greek title “Ta Pediá tou Pireá” is a popular song written by Manos Hatzidakis and first sung by Melina Mercouri in the film of the same name, directed by Jules Dassin and starring Mercouri.

Gentle on my Mind –
Glen Campbell

Some art is not pleasant. But we witness the ugly as well as the beauty.

mostly just for the records of this time.

somewhere in the zone 404

on the threshold of love,
the mortal self flickering like
the last glimmer of a dying lamp…

Die Krähe
by Franz Schubert
From Winterreise (1827)

https://www.songtell.com/franz-schubert/die-kr-he

English translation © Richard Wigmore –
A crow has come with me
from the town,
and to this day
has been flying ceaselessly about my head.

Crow, you strange creature,
will you not leave me?
Do you intend soon
to seize my body as prey?

Well, I do not have much further to walk
with my staff.
Crow, let me at last see
faithfulness unto the grave.