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…

Sami Yusuf was born in Tehran..

Even in hell, if you are with me,
I would not want to leave.

And if I find myself in heaven without you,
Those wide fields will be confining to my breathing heart.

Rumi; “Soul Fury”, Coleman Barks; translation

The Valley of Lightning

daylight approaching;
the vampire’s ball coming
to an ignominious end!

the pouch of plenty;
the secret is wanting no more
than is necessary

a time of war;
the veils of illusion
torn aside!

moving through the world
as if in a dream; when pain
and suffering is all

walking
through the valley of lightning;
every fear assuaged…

16 03 2026

Dear friends, may the spirit of Nowruz renew your soul and refresh your path.

Blues tunes from the deep south

Omar Bashir from Iraq;

A Change is Gonna Come !! Yes sing it brothers !

Every word of this. pic.twitter.com/biIzdVa097
— Dr Vira Ameli | ویرا عاملی (@viraameli) April 18, 2026

This is the singer and sing writer’s page and link to full song:https://t.co/b6h17Y3jEP

— Dr Vira Ameli | ویرا عاملی (@viraameli) April 18, 2026

Thank you for those videos, amarynth. I’m not a fan of rap music, but the powerful words make you put aside the medium.

Happy Victory Day ! “If for every Soviet who died in the Second World War a minute of silence was declared, the world would be silent for 50 years” (quote from the stalkerzone)

More from “the Greatest Dixieland band I ever heard”

Daby Touré – Kunta;

The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.

Don’t go back to sleep.

You must ask for what you really want.

Don’t go back to sleep.

People are going back and forth across the doorsill where the two worlds touch.

The door is round and open.

Don’t go back to sleep.

~ Rumi

thank you for that poem cronetoo..

Yankee go Home;
https://space4peace.blogspot.com/2026/07/sunday-song-with-bonus.html

This guy came to the Folk Festival in our town this year. Great band. Americans should have stuck to making great music, as I remember you saying cronetoo;

Until We Meet Again

Have I done something to upset you?
What has caused your departure?
Did I become too used to your presence?
                                                                                                                Did I take you for granted?

Whatever I did, I take it back!
A moment of foolishness,
Of stupid pride;
If only I could.

All of the days and nights
we spent together; how can
I ever forget them?

How can I ever forget you?

I will carry on without you,
Though the pain of your absence
I will wear like a scar forever.

But I will not speak of my suffering,
I will not make a spectacle of myself,
No, I will bear all in silence,
And I will dedicate every breath,
Every beat of my heart to you!

Now I understand, now I truly know;
The Angel of Love cannot be held;
Though my heart screams it wants
To more than anything!

I remember our mornings most of all;
Bright sunlit mornings with your laughter
in my ears, your face near, your eyes
Looking into mine.

And our nights;
borne away on ecstatic wings;
Nights where nothing else and
No other existed but us!

Fly, fly free;
Wherever your heart may lead.
And I will be there in Spirit beside you…                                                                                                                until we meet again, my love, my dear.

lost mind

dealey plaza

mass murder

pray for gaza

snortin Kool Aid

snortin cocaine

mass delusion

clearly insane

need patriots

need more money

acting tough

acting funny

talking nonsense

spreading fiction

creating chaos

causing friction

claiming god

claiming chosen

disagreement

assets frozen

front row freak show

front row psychosis

inflicting death

diagnosis

partition Russia

military operation

ruble rubble

miscalculation

extreme blowback

NATO demilitarization

impotent liars

destruction of fake nations

quick strike decapitation

west asia rising

lasting humiliation

no compromising

killing women

pathetic cowards

sacrificing children

every hour

vampires baal

closing sale

few resources

empty oil wells

boots on ground

lack of staffing

truthful lies

orwell laughing

drunk on hubris

madness calling

empire dying

empire falling

need for new way

something different

time of changes

time of significance

intifada inshallah

no more murder

pray for gaza

Peace and blessings to you

The Song of the Wind

O’er the moor,
across the heath,
This heart it
moans and wails!
My snaking path,
with chaos wrought;
A shipwrecked dawn,
an ocean pale.

From whence I’ve come
and whither I go;
To follow and behold
My face you’d dare?
The wild main,
forsaken once,
Has taken all
and laid you bare;

The booming weald
may sing my praise,
Rejoice in
my caress;
But that which madmen
dared to dream,
I’ve come
to repossess!

Hearken to
my haunting strain;
Rising from the ruins,
Rising from thee.
When the heart has been emptied
and nothing remains…
Rise from the ruins,
Rise and be free!

would not open … deleted …

Already Resting Here
by Sanjiv Manifest | Feb 18, 2026

The day opens without explanation, and something is already resting here,

needing no name.

Nothing begins.
Nothing settles.

The shoreline keeps its curve.
The sky does not hurry.

Light touches the water
as it always has —

even the waves
do not announce themselves.

A horizon, already quiet.
The tide moving without intention.

Morning,
arriving …

Autumn Leaves – Richard Galliano Tangaria Quartet;

Palestine Will Be Free – Rimbiana;

The Defiler

Just when everything
felt so swell,
He ambled in
without a care.
He’s turned my heaven
into a hell –
He’s the defiler
of all that’s fair!

He’ll never insult
or revile you,
He’s never abrasive,
or appears uncouth;
But don’t let him
beguile you –
He’s the despoiler
and the defacer of truth!

He presents with a smile
and a song you may know,
                                                                                                                                            He plays right into
your soft-plumed pride;
He’ll convince you there’s a place
you simply must go,
And before long you agree
to go along for the ride.

You’re lulled into sleep,
where you wake in chains;
There’s a column ahead
With you hindmost.
And the dog and the dogcart
and the one at the reins,
All pay you no heed,
as you give up the ghost.

Whether you wake,
or whether you sleep;
Whether hearty and hale
Or weak and infirm,
Whether you laugh,
or whether you weep;
None are immune
To the invisible worm!

“I’ve many a name
And many a shape,
I was there at the beginning,
I’ll be there at the end;
Ive been tasked with administering
This vast landscape,
I am nobody’s enemy
Nor am I friend.

“So the ages pass
In my kingdom of light,
Where anxiety shadows
Every pleasure and joy.
Where the throngs await
Both day and night,
For a crumb from my table,
or some brand new toy.

“And what do I care
For the man who delves,
Into his own heart
And ignores my advice;
When most are reluctant
To help themselves,
And settle for a simple
Throw of the dice?”

“I am the defiler,
Of all things fair.
I know you’ll always
Remember me;
But at the end of the day
I really don’t care…
Should you unravel
My game and walk free.”

Haiku Sequence

The Old Childless Couple

lame duck posturing;
to be or not to be?
again and again

wall of death;
twin lasers slicing and grinding
men to dust!

merciful and quick,
the less you struggle the better;
the butcher’s blade

time’s unhalting march,
sixty years or sixty seconds?
the blink of an eye

the old childless couple,
an otherwise perfect marriage;
a walk by the seaside…

Tchaikovsky – Hymn of the Cherubim;

The Depths of a Dream

the sucking sounds
of the whirlpool, fading like a memory
in the depths of a dream…

players,
each understanding the game differently;
all in a row!

the youngest daughter,
sweetest of the crop;
had to be my luck!

falling to that traitor, doubt
was never an option, but this
is more than I bargained for!

the old man’s dead;
praise the old man and
raise your glasses!

a humble kingdom left behind,
a humble kingdom found;
no longer the Prince!

a pair of pigeons;
the tender timbres of their secret
whisperings…

the faintest creaking
of bamboo beyond the tentacles
of wind and rain

06 10 2026

georgia deagel

guide stones calling

the greater israel

last dance for vampires baaling

reduction population

disintegration of the exceptional nation

natural laws we must abide

reap the whirlwind and angry tide

increased speed

for the insane

lost control

circling drain

Yemen coming

Saud going

empire flailing

resistance growing

white world gone mad

a foretold tale

free Palestine
from this hell

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

The Crow’s Lullaby

“Mother crow, mother crow, why do you squawk so?
There’s no mistaking your fear, your torment and woe,
As I walk on by, way down here below;
Mother crow, mother crow, why do you squawk so?”

“Upon yonder mountain,” the mother crow sings;
“I’ve seven cute children; behold my old nest!
Good babies with big, round eyes filled with zest,
Upon yonder mountain,” the mother crow sings.

“My wings are worn ragged, my beak torn to shreds,
Seeking morsels in the shallows of the old river bed,
Neath the beech and the oak just to keep each one fed,
My wings are worn ragged, my beak torn to shreds!”

“Ne’er a moment of rest or a sliver of peace.
If e’er I should find myself dispossessed,
Of the ones that I loved, of the ones I’ve been blessed;
Ne’er a moment of rest or a sliver of peace!

What will I do when the raging storm breaks,
When the high winds they blow, and the floodwaters churn?
Should my children be taken and never return?
What will I do when the raging storm breaks?

And where will I go, how will I hide,
From the hawk on the high wind and the silent winged owl;
How will I protect them from hunters on the prowl?
Where will I go, and how will I hide?”

“Upon yonder mountain,” the mother crow sings;
“My round-eyed good babies all seven you’ll see,
You’ll then understand what it means to be me!
Upon yonder mountain! the mother crow sings…

“Mother crow, mother crow, how you squawk so,
There’s no mistaking your fear, your torment and woe.
I now understand, way down here below…
Mother crow, mother crow, why you squawk so!”