Zehaal-E-Miskeen | This Sufi poem is written by Amir Khusro in Persian and Brij Bhasha. Brij Bhasha is a dialect of Hindi. In the first verse, the first line is in Persian, the second in Brij Bhasha, the third in Persian again, and the fourth in Brij Bhasha.
–

Zehaal-e-miskeen makun taghaful,
Duraye naina banaye batiyan.

Do not overlook my misery,
by blandishing your eyes and weaving tales,

Ke taab-e-hijran nadaram ay jaan,
Na leho kahe lagaye chatiyan.

My patience has over-brimmed, O sweetheart!
why do you not take me to your bosom.

Shaban-e-hijran daraz chun zulf,
Wa roz-e-waslat cho umer kotah.

Long like curls in the night of separation
short like life on the day of our union.

Sakhi piya ko jo main na dekhun,
To kaise kaTun andheri ratiyan.

My dear, how will I pass the dark dungeon night
without your face before.

Yakayak az dil do chashm-e-jadu,
Basad farebam baburd taskin.

Suddenly, using a thousand tricks
the enchanting eyes robbed me of my tranquil mind.

Kisay pari hai jo ja sunave,
Piyare pi ko hamari batiyan,

Who would care to go and report
this matter to my darling.

Cho shama sozan cho zaraa hairan,
Hamesha giryan be ishq an meh.

Tossed and bewildered, like a flickering candle,
I roam about in the fire of love.

Na nind naina na ang chaina,
Na aap aaven na bhejen patiyan,

Sleepless eyes, restless body,
neither comes she, nor any message.

Bahaq-e-roz-e-visaal-e-dilbar,
Ke daad mara gharib Khusro.

In honour of the day I meet my beloved
who has lured me so long, O Khusro!

Sapet man ke varaye rakhun,
Jo jaye pauN piya ke khatiyan.

I shall keep my heart suppressed
if ever I get a chance to get to her trick.

Hauser performing Benedictus from The Armed man: A Mass for Peace

“This is “Sweet Sue” – composed by Victor Young in 1928 and considered one of the most recorded pop songs of the pre-rock era.  Django Reinhardt and Oscar Alemán recorded this tune in the 30’s…”

My hour of freedom, is it coming?
I call to it: it’s time, it’s time!
Above the sea, forever roamıng,
I beckon every sail and clime.
Mantled by storms, with waves contending,
Upon the sea’s free crossway wending,
When shall I start my freedom’s flight?
Dull shore that gives me no delight,
It’s time to leave you for the ocean,
That swells beneath a Southern sky,
And in my Africa to sigh
For sombre Russia, for the portion
Of love and suffering I incurred
And where I left my heart interred.

— “Eugene Onegin” by Alexander Pushkin
Chapter |, stanza 50

Sami Yusuf, born in Tehran…

The multi talented Tommy Emmanuel. He can play any kind of music you want. How about some blues…

Chased by the vernal beams, already
Down the surrounding hills the snow
Has run in turbid streams that eddy
On to the flooded fields below;
Nature, not yet from sleep returning,
Greets with smile the new year’s morning.
The skies shine with a bluish sheen,
Transparent still, the woods turn green,
Lending the trees a downy cover,
The bee flies from its waxen comb,
Bringing the meadows’ tribute home.
The dales dry out and colour over.
Herds low, the hush of darkness brings
The nightingale that newly sings.

“Eugene Onegin” by Alexander Pushkin
Chapter VII Stanza 1

Won’t somebody tell me
What is the soul of a man

Well I’ve travelled to different countries
I’ve travelled to the foreign land
I found nobody could tell me
Tell me what is the soul of a man

I want somebody to tell me
Answer me if you can
I want somebody to tell me
Tell me what is the soul of a man

Well I saw a crowd talking
I just came up in time
Teaching the lawyer and the doctor
A man ain’t nothing but his mind

Well I want somebody to tell me
Answer me if you can
I want somebody to tell me
Tell me what is the soul of a man
Yes what is the soul of a man

Well I read the Bible often
I tried to read it right
As far as I can understand
It’s nothing but a burning light
God, I want somebody to tell me
Why don’t you answer me if you can

I want somebody to tell me
Tell me what is the soul of a man
I want somebody to tell me
Answer me if you can
I want somebody to tell me
Tell me what is the soul of a man
Oh, what is the soul of a man

https://lyricstranslate.com/en/mne-tebja-uzhe-ne-nado-mne-tebya-uzhe-ne-nado-i-dont-need-you-anymore.html

A journey fell before us, without us… Rumi

Haiku Sequence

Any Ocean

high summer,
the jacaranda shedding her glory –
lilac carpet

the final bloom,
branches heavy with seed pods;
hanging on for dear life

a lonely dirt track
to only God knows where;
the horse before the cart

one and the same;
the devil you know
and the devil you don’t

behind Bashō’s field
of withered dreams;
the fountain of all suns!

your eyes;
as blue as robin’s eggs,
as deep as any ocean…

28 02 2026

Democracy is coming, to the USA…

put under dreams..

Forwarded from Pepe Escobar’s Telegram channel:
“If you are boiling with rage at all this dementia, here’s the antidote.”

“Iranian Fever” captures that sophisticated court energy, music, luxury, intrigue, and the particular electricity of spaces where power and art collide. This is jazz for elegant complexity, for understanding that influence doesn’t always announce its…