tłumaczenia piosenek i wierszy – Joanna Chołuj vel JCLady Łada

tlum z Monday Harvey Shapiro

tlum z
Monday Harvey Shapiro

——————-

Poniedzialek

———————

Wszyscy mysla ze przeszlosc jest
rzeczywista

Okno i czaszka

Przyjmuja swiatlo. Przeszlosc je
przenika

Ot tak – nie do odroznienia

Halucynogenna, lekka, jak bez wagi

Nie spiac tej nocy, zobaczyl pokoj

Welniany gesto-tkany, jak gniazdo

krzesel, stoly i dywan

Przeszlosc przez nie filtrowala

Nie miala zadnego zapachu, zadnego

Uczucia. Nie moglbys

powiedziec tego w ciszy

Przeszlosc wniknela

Jak woda w ziarna piasku.

Bez jednego poruszenia.

Nie moglbys podniesc zaluzji.

——————

Tlum z W.H. Auden, Novelist

——————————

Powiesciopisarz

——————————-

Wcisniety w talent jak w przyciasny
mundur

Ranga poety dobrze znana jest

Moga zaskoczyc nas jak grom z
jasnego nieba

Umrzec za mlodu lub zyc samotnie i
dlugo

Moga przedzierac sie do przodu jak
husaria lecz

on musi wyrwac sie z okowow
chlopiecego daru i

nauczyc jak byc pelnym i dziwnym
jak byc tym

po ktorym nikt nie wazy sie pojawic

Gdyz zaspokoic aby najmniejsze swe
pragnienia

stac musi sie tym wszystkim co
nudne, i poddany

prostackim skargom kochac, pomiedzy
sprawiedliwymi

Byc sprawiedliwym, pomiedzy
Brudnymi brudnym

I w jego wlasnej miernej osobie
jesli to potrafi

ze zbrodniami czlowieka pogodzic
sie z nudow

—————-

tlum z W.H. Auden, Epitafium na czesc Tyrana

—————————-

Perfekcja pewnego rodzaju byla tym
czego szukal

A poezja ktora wymyslil byla latwa
do zrozumienia,

Znal on ludzkie szalenstwo, tak jak
spod swojej dloni.

I prawdziwie pociagaly go armia I
flotylle.

Gdy sie smial szanowani senatorzy
wybuchali smiechem

A gdy zaplakal male dzieci marly na
ulicach

——————————-

tlum z Lady Lasarus Sylvia Plath

————————–

Pani Lazarz

————————

Znowu to zrobilam

Raz na dziesiec lat

Udaje mi sie –

Cos w rodzaju cudu, moja skora

Jasna jak Nazistowski abażur

Moja prawa stopa

Obciaznik do papieru,

Moja twarz nijaka, piekna

Zydowska posciel

Zdrap te serwetke

O moj wrogu.

Czy ja przerazam? –

Nos, oczodoly, pelne uzebienie?

Kwasny oddech

znikna w przeciagu jednego dnia

Wkrotce potem cialo

pozerac bedzie grobu pieczara

Oswojona ze mna

A ja jestem usmiechnieta kobieta.

Mam tylko trzydziesci lat.

I jak kot moge umrzec jeszcze
dziewiec razy

To jest Numer Trzy

Co za bzdura

unicestwiac kazda dekade

Coz za milion ognikow

Tlum chrupiacy orzeszki

pcha sie aby zobaczyc

Potem odwin mnie reke i noge –

Wielki striptiz

Panowie, panie

To sa moje rece

Moje kolana

Moge byc skora i koscia,

Mimo wszystko, jestem ta sama,
identyczna kobieta.

Gdy zdarzylo sie to po raz
pierwszy, mialam dziesiec lat.

To byl wypadek

Za drugim razem chcialam

aby to trwalo i nie chcialam wrocic

Sturlalam sie zamknieta

Jak muszla.

Musieli mnie wolac i wolac

I wyjac ze mnie robactwo jak
lepiace sie perly

Umieranie

jest sztuka, jak wszystko inne.

Robie to wyjatkowo dobrze

Robie to tak aby poczuc sie jak w
piekle

Robie to po to aby poczuc ze zyje.

Moglbys moze powiedziec ze mam do
tego powolanie

Dosc latwo robi sie to w celi.

Dosc latwo robic to zostac w niej

To teatralny

Comeback w pelni dnia

Do tego miejsca, tej samej twarzy i
tego brutalnego

rozbawionego krzyku

Cud!

To mnie nokautuje

Jest oplata

Za ogledziny moich blizn, jest
oplata

Za osluchanie mojego serca –

Ono naprawde bije

I jest oplata, bardzo duza oplata

Za slowo albo dotyk

Czy odrobine krwi

Lub za fragment mojego wlosa lub
moich ubran

Tak wiec, tak wiec, Herr Doktor

Wiec, Herr Wrog

Ja jestem twoim dzielem

Jestem twoja cenna,

Z czystego zlota dziecina

Ktora roztapia sie we wrzasku

Odwracam sie i plone

Nie mysl ze nie doceniam twojego
zainteresowania

Popiol popiol –

Ty grzebiesz i mieszasz

Cialo, kosc, nic tam nie ma

Ciasto mydla,

Obraczka malzenska

Zlote nadzienie

Herr Bog, Herr Lucyfer

Strzez sie

Z popiolow

Wstaje rudowlosa

I
polykam mezczyzn jak powietrze

——————————

………………………………………

………………………………………………………

……………….

Rumi,
persian poetry, sufism

May the blessings which flow in all weddings
Niechaj błogosławieństwa które unoszą się na wszystkich weselach
be gathered, God, together in our wedding! zostaną zebrane, Boże, wszystkie
razem na naszym weselu!
The blessings of the Night of Power, / błogosławieństwa Nocy Siły
the month of fasting / miesiąca postu
the festival to break the fast / festiwalu zerwania postu
the blessings of the meeting of Adam and Eve / błogosławieństwa spotkania Adama
i Ewy
the blessings of the meeting of Joseph and Jacob / błogosławieństwa spotkania
Józefa i Jakuba
the blessings of gazing on the paradise of all abodes / błogosławieństwa
spojrzenia na raj wszystkich ..
and yet another blessing which cannot be put in words: / i jeszcze jedno
błogosławieństwo którego nie można wyrazić w słowach
the fruitful scattering of joy / owocne rozproszenie radości
of the children of the Shayak / dzieci Shayaka
and our eldest! / i naszych najstarszych!

In companionship and happiness / w radosnym
zgromadzeniu i w szczęściu
may you be like milk and honey / bądź jak mleko i miód
in union and fidelity, / w jedności i wierności
just like sugar and halva. / tak jak cukier i hałwa
May the blessings of those who toast / Niechaj błogosławieństwo tych którzy
spełniają toast
and the one who pours the wine /
anoint the ones who said Amen and
the one who said the prayer.

Translation by
Franklin D. Lewis Rumi Past and present, east and west

………………………………………….

This Marriage – Ode 2667

May these vows and this marriage be blessed.
May it be sweet milk,
this marriage, like wine and halvah.
May this marriage offer fruit and shade
like the date palm.
May this marriage be full of laughter,
our every day a day in paradise.
May this marriage be a sign of compassion,
a seal of happiness here and hereafter.
May this marriage have a fair face and a good name,
an omen as welcome
as the moon in a clear blue sky.
I am out of words to describe
how spirit mingles in this marriage.

Kabir
Helminski "Love
is a Stranger" Threshold Books, 1993

At every instant and from every
side, resounds the call of Love:
We are going to sky, who wants to come with us?
We have gone to heaven, we have been the friends of the angels,
And now we will go back there, for there is our country.
We are higher than heaven, more noble than the angels:
Why not go beyond them? Our goal is the Supreme Majesty.
What has the fine pearl to do with the world of dust?
Why have you come down here? Take your baggage back. What is this place?
Luck is with us, to us is the sacrifice!…
Like the birds of the sea, men come from the ocean–the ocean of the soul.
Like the birds of the sea, men come from the ocean–the ocean of the soul.
How could this bird, born from that sea, make his dwelling here?
No, we are the pearls from the bosom of the sea, it is there that we dwell:
Otherwise how could the wave succeed to the wave that comes from the soul?
The wave named ‚Am I not your Lord’ has come, it has broken the vessel of the
body;
And when the vessel is broken, the vision comes back, and the union with Him.

Eva
de Vitray-Meyerovitch, ‚Rumi
and Sufism’ trans. Simone Fattal
Sausalito, CA: Post-Apollo Press, 1977, 1987

Our death is our wedding with
eternity.
What is the secret? "God is One."
The sunlight splits when entering the windows of the house.
This multiplicity exists in the cluster of grapes;
It is not in the juice made from the grapes.
For he who is living in the Light of God,
The death of the carnal soul is a blessing.
Regarding him, say neither bad nor good,
For he is gone beyond the good and the bad.
Fix your eyes on God and do not talk about what is invisible,
So that he may place another look in your eyes.
It is in the vision of the physical eyes
That no invisible or secret thing exists.
But when the eye is turned toward the Light of God
What thing could remain hidden under such a Light?
Although all lights emanate from the Divine Light
Don’t call all these lights "the Light of God";
It is the eternal light which is the Light of God,
The ephemeral light is an attribute of the body and the flesh.
…Oh God who gives the grace of vision!
The bird of vision is flying towards You with the wings of desire.

(Mystic
Odes 833)

I’ve said before that every
craftsman
searches for what’s not there
to practice his craft.

A builder looks for the rotten
hole
where the roof caved in. A water-carrier
picks the empty pot. A carpenter
stops at the house with no door.

Workers rush toward some hint
of emptiness, which they then
start to fill. Their hope, though,
is for emptiness, so don’t think
you must avoid it. It contains
what you need!
Dear soul, if you were not friends
with the vast nothing inside,
why would you always be casting you net
into it, and waiting so patiently?

This invisible ocean has given
you such abundance,
but still you call it "death",
that which provides you sustenance and work.

God has allowed some magical
reversal to occur,
so that you see the scorpion pit
as an object of desire,
and all the beautiful expanse around it,
as dangerous and swarming with snakes.

This is how strange your fear of
death
and emptiness is, and how perverse
the attachment to what you want.

Now that you’ve heard me
on your misapprehensions, dear friend,
listen to Attar’s story on the same subject.

He strung the pearls of this
about King Mahmud, how among the spoils
of his Indian campaign there was a Hindu boy,
whom he adopted as a son. He educated
and provided royally for the boy
and later made him vice-regent, seated
on a gold throne beside himself.

One day he found the young man
weeping..
"Why are you crying? You’re the companion
of an emperor! The entire nation is ranged out
before you like stars that you can command!"

The young man replied, "I
am remembering
my mother and father, and how they
scared me as a child with threats of you!
‚Uh-oh, he’s headed for King Mahmud’s court!
Nothing could be more hellish!’ Where are they now
when they should see me sitting here?"

This
incident is about your fear of changing.
You are the Hindu boy. Mahmud, which means

Praise to the End, is the
spirit’s
poverty or emptiness.

The mother and father are your
attachment
to beliefs and blood ties
and desires and comforting habits.
Don’t listen to them!
They seem to protect
but they imprison.

They are your worst enemies.
They make you afraid
of living in emptiness.

Some day you’ll weep tears of
delight in that court,
remembering your mistaken parents!

Know that your body nurtures the
spirit,
helps it grow, and gives it wrong advise.

The body becomes, eventually,
like a vest
of chain mail in peaceful years,
too hot in summer and too cold in winter.

But the body’s desires, in
another way, are like
an unpredictable associate, whom you must be
patient with. And that companion is helpful,
because patience expands your capacity
to love and feel peace.
The patience of a rose close to a thorn
keeps it fragrant. It’s patience that gives milk
to the male camel still nursing in its third year,
and patience is what the prophets show to us.

The beauty of careful sewing on
a shirt
is the patience it contains.

Friendship and loyalty have
patience
as the strength of their connection.

Feeling lonely and ignoble
indicates
that you haven’t been patient.

Be with those who mix with God
as honey blends with milk, and say,

"Anything that comes and
goes,
rises and sets, is not
what I love." else you’ll be like a caravan fire left
to flare itself out alone beside the road.

Rumi
VI (1369-1420) from ‚Rumi
: One-Handed Basket Weaving

"NOONE" says it
better:

What is the mi’raj¹² mi’raj according to Islamic
tradition is the ascend of Muhammad to heavens from the Al Aksa mosque in
Jerusalem. of the heavens?
Non-existence.
The religion and creed of the lovers is non- existence.

Masnavi
VI 233

These spiritual window-shoppers,

who idly ask, ‚How much is that?’ Oh, I’m just looking.
They handle a hundred items and put them down,
shadows with no capital.

What is spent is love and two
eyes wet with weeping.
But these walk into a shop,
and their whole lives pass suddenly in that moment,
in that shop.

Where did you go? "Nowhere."

What did you have to eat? "Nothing much."

Even if you don’t know what you
want,
buy _something,_ to be part of the exchanging flow.

Start a huge, foolish project,
like Noah.

It makes absolutely no
difference
what people think of you.

Rumi,
‚We
Are Three‚, Mathnawi
VI, 831-845

I died from
minerality and became vegetable;

And From vegetativeness
I died and became animal.

I died from
animality and became man.

Then why fear
disappearance through death?

Next time I
shall die

Bringing forth
wings and feathers like angels;

After that,
soaring higher than angels –

What you
cannot imagine,

I shall be
that.

***

Soul receives
from soul that knowledge, therefore not by book

nor from
tongue.

If knowledge
of mysteries come after emptiness of mind, that is

illumination
of heart.

If thou wilt
be observant and vigilant, thou wilt see at every moment the response to thy
action. Be observant if thou wouldst have a pure heart, for something is born
to thee in consequence of every action.

I said, ‚Thou
art harsh, like such a one.’ ‚Know,’ he
replied, ‚That I am harsh for good, not from rancor and
spite. Whoever enters saying, "This I," I smite
him on the brow; For this is the shrine of Love,
o fool! it is not a sheep cote! Rub thine
eyes, and behold the image of the heart.’

Make yourself
free from self at one stroke!

Like a sword
be without trace of soft iron;

Like a steel
mirror, scour off all rust with contrition.

A Star Without
a Name

When a baby is
taken from the wet nurse,

it easily
forgets her

and starts
eating solid food.

Seeds feed
awhile on ground,

then lift up
into the sun.

So you should
taste the filtered light

and work your
way toward wisdom

with no
personal covering.

That’s how you
came here, like a star

without a
name. Move across the night sky

with those
anonymous lights.

(Mathnawi III,
1284-1288)

"Say
I am You" Coleman Barks Maypop, 1994

God has given
us a dark wine so potent that,
drinking it, we leave the two worlds.

God has put
into the form of hashish a power
to deliver the taster from self-consciousness.

God has made
sleep so
that it erases every thought.

God made
Majnun love Layla so much that
just her dog would cause confusion in him.

There are
thousands of wines
that can take over our minds.

Don’t think
all ecstacies
are the same!

Jesus was lost
in his love for God.
His donkey was drunk with barley.

Drink from the
presence of saints,
not from those other jars.

Every object,
every being,
is a jar full of delight.

Be a
conoisseur,
and taste with caution.

Any wine will
get you high.
Judge like a king, and choose the purest,

the ones
unadulterated with fear,
or some urgency about "what’s needed."

Drink the wine
that moves you
as a camel moves when it’s been untied,

and is just
ambling about.

Mathnawi IV,
2683-96
The
Essential Rumi, Coleman Barks

Gone to the Unseen

At last you have departed
and gone to the Unseen.
What marvelous route did you take from this world?

Beating your wings and
feathers,
you broke free from this cage.
Rising up to the sky
you attained the world of the soul.
You were a prized falcon trapped by an Old Woman.
Then you heard the drummer’s call
and flew beyond space and time.

As a lovesick
nightingale, you flew among the owls.
Then came the scent of the rosegarden
and you flew off to meet the Rose.

The wine of this fleeting
world
caused your head to ache.
Finally you joined the tavern of Eternity.
Like an arrow, you sped from the bow
and went straight for the bull’s eye of bliss.

This phantom world gave
you false signs
But you turned from the illusion
and journeyed to the land of truth.

You are now the Sun –
what need have you for a crown?
You have vanished from this world –
what need have you to tie your robe?

I’ve heard that you can
barely see your soul.
But why look at all? –
yours is now the Soul of Souls!

O heart, what a wonderful
bird you are.
Seeking divine heights,
Flapping your wings,
you smashed the pointed spears of your enemy.

The flowers flee from
Autumn, but not you –
You are the fearless rose
that grows amidst the freezing wind.

Pouring down like the
rain of heaven
you fell upon the rooftop of this world.
Then you ran in every direction
and escaped through the drain spout . . .

Now the words are over
and the pain they bring is gone.

Now you have gone to rest

in the arms of the Beloved.

"Rumi
– In the Arms of the Beloved", Jonathan Star
New York 1997

How did you get away?
You were the pet falcon of an old woman.
Did you hear the falcon-drum?
You were a drunken songbird put in with owls.
Did you smell the odor of a garden?
You got tired of sour fermenting
and left the tavern.

You went like an arrow to
the target
from the bow of time and place.
The man who stays at the cemetery pointed the way,
but you didn’t go.
You became light and gave up wanting to be famous.
You don’t worry about what you’re going to eat,
so why buy an engraved belt?

I’ve heard of living at
the center, but what about
leaving the center of the center?
Flying toward thankfulness, you become
the rare bird with one wing made of fear,
and one of hope. In autumn,
a rose crawling along the ground in the cold wind.
Rain on the roof runs down and out by the spout
as fast as it can.

Talking is pain. Lie down
and rest,
now that you’ve found a friend to be with.

"These
Branching Moments", Coleman Barks
Copper Beech Press, 1988

He Comes

He comes, a moon whose
like the sky ne’er saw, awake or dreaming.
Crowned with eternal flame no flood can lay.
Lo, from the flagon of thy love, O Lord, my soul is swimming,
And ruined all my body’s house of clay!

When first the Giver of
the grape my lonely heart befriended,
Wine fired my bosom and my veins filled up;
But when his image all min eye possessed, a voice descended:
‚Well done, O sovereign Wine and peerless Cup!’

Love’s mighty arm from
roof to base each dark abode is hewing,
Where chinks reluctant catch a golden ray.
My heart, when Love’s sea of a sudden burst into its viewing,
Leaped headlong in, with ‚Find me now who may!’

As, the sun moving,
clouds behind him run,
All hearts attend thee, O Tabriz’s Sun!

R. A.
Nicholson

‚Persian
Poems‚, an Anthology of verse translations
edited by A.J.Arberry, Everyman’s Library, 1972

Poor copies out of
heaven’s originals,
Pale earthly pictures mouldering to decay,
What care although your beauties break and fall,
When that which gave them life endures for aye?

Oh never vex thine heart
with idle woes:
All high discourse enchanting the rapt ear,
All gilded landscapes and brave glistering shows
Fade-perish, but it is not as we fear.

Whilst far away the
living fountains ply,
each petty brook goes brimful to the main
Since baron nor fountain can for ever die,
Thy fears how foolish, thy lament how vain!

What is this fountain,
wouldst thou rightly know?
The Soul whence issue all created things.
Doubtless the rivers shall not cease to flow,
Till silenced are the everlasting springs.

Farewell to sorrow, and
with quiet mind
Drink long and deep: let others fondly deem
The channel empty they perchance may find,
Or fathom that unfathomable stream.

The moment thou to this
low world wast given,
A ladder stood whereby thou might’st aspire;
And first thy steps, which upward still have striven,
From mineral mounted to the plant; then higher

To animal existence;
next, the Man,
With knowledge, reason, faith. Oh wondrous goal!
This body, which a crumb of dust began-
How fairly fashioned the consummate whole!

Yet stay not here thy
journey: thou shalt grow
An angel bright and home far off in heaven.
Plod on, plunge last in the great Sea, that so
Thy little drop make oceans seven times seven.

‚The Son of God!’ Nay,
leave that word unsaid,
Say: ‚God is One, the pure, the single Truth.’
What though thy frame be withered, old, and dead,
If the soul keep her fresh immortal youth?

R. A.
Nicholson

‚Persian
Poems‚, an Anthology of verse translations
edited by A.J.Arberry, Everyman’s Library, 1972

DEPARTURE

Up, O ye lovers, and
away! ‚Tis time to leave the world for aye.
Hark, loud and clear from heaven the from of parting calls-let none delay!
The cameleer hat risen amain, made ready all the camel-train,
And quittance now desires to gain: why sleep ye, travellers, I pray?
Behind us and before there swells the din of parting and of bells;
To shoreless space each moment sails a disembodied spirit away.
From yonder starry lights, and through those curtain-awnings darkly blue,
Mysterious figures float in view, all strange and secret things display.
From this orb, wheeling round its pole, a wondrous slumber o’er thee stole:
O weary life that weighest naught, O sleep that on my soul dost weigh!
O heart, toward they heart’s love wend, and O friend, fly toward the Friend,
Be wakeful, watchman, to the end: drowse seemingly no watchman may.

R. A.
Nicholson

‚Persian
Poems‚, an Anthology of verse translations
edited by A.J.Arberry, Everyman’s Library, 1972

REMEMBERED
MUSIC

‚Tis said, the pipe and
lute that charm our ears
Derive their melody from rolling spheres;
But Faith, o’erpassing speculation’s bound,
Can see what sweetens every jangled sound.

We, who are parts of
Adam, heard with him
The song of angels and of seraphim.
Out memory, though dull and sad, retains
Some echo still of those unearthly strains.

Oh, music is the meat of
all who love,
Music uplifts the soul to realms above.
The ashes glow, the latent fires increase:
We listen and are fed with joy and peace.

R. A.
Nicholson

‚Persian
Poems‚, an Anthology of verse translations
edited by A.J.Arberry, Everyman’s Library, 1972

"God, in spite of the skeptics,
Caused spiritual gardens with sweet flowers to grow
In the hearts of His friends.
Every rose that is sweet-scented within,
That rose is telling of the secrets of the Universal.
Their scent, to the confusion of the skeptics,
Spreads around the world, rending the veil." ……….Rumi (Mathnawi)

THE SPIRIT OF
THE SAINTS

There is a Water that
flows down from Heaven
To cleanse the world of sin by grace Divine.
At last, its whole stock spent, its virtue gone.
Dark with pollution not its own, it speeds
Back to the Fountain of all purities;
Whence, freshly bathed, earthward it sweeps again,
Trailing a robe of glory bright and pure.

This Water is the Spirit
of the Saints,
Which ever sheds, until itself is beggared,
God’s balm on the sick soul; and then returns
To Him who made the purest light of Heaven.

R. A.
Nicholson

‚Persian
Poems‚, an Anthology of verse translations
edited by A.J.Arberry, Everyman’s Library, 1972

THE TRUE SUFI

What makes the Sufi?
Purity of heart;
Not the patched mantle and the lust perverse
Of those vile earth-bound men who steal his name.
He in all dregs discerns the essence pure:
In hardship ease, in tribulation joy.
The phantom sentries, who with batons drawn
Guard Beauty’s place-gate and curtained bower,
Give way before him, unafraid he passes,
And showing the King’s arrow, enters in.

R. A.
Nicholson

‚Persian
Poems‚, an Anthology of verse translations
edited by A.J.Arberry, Everyman’s Library, 1972-

THE UNSEEN
POWER

We are the flute, our
music is all Thine;
We are the mountains echoing only Thee;
And movest to defeat or victory;
Lions emblazoned high on flags unfurled-
They wind invisible sweeps us through the world.

R. A.
Nicholson

‚Persian
Poems‚, an Anthology of verse translations
edited by A.J.Arberry, Everyman’s Library, 1972

THE PROGRESS
OF MAN

First he appeared in the
realm inanimate;
Thence came into the world of plants and lived
The plant-life many a year, nor called to mind
What he had been; then took the onward way
To animal existence, and once more
Remembers naught of what life vegetive,
Save when he feels himself moved with desire
Towards it in the season of sweet flowers,
As babes that seek the breast and know not why.
Again the wise Creator whom thou knowest
Uplifted him from animality
To Man’s estate; and so from realm to realm
Advancing, he became intelligent,
Cunning and keen of wit, as he is now.
No memory of his past abides with him,
And from his present soul he shall be changes.
Though he is fallen asleep, God will not leave him
In this forgetfulness. Awakened, he
Will laugh to think what troublous dreams he had.
And wonder how his happy state of being
He could forget, and not perceive that all
Those pains and sorrows were the effect of sleep
And guile and vain illusion. So this world
Seems lasting, though ’tis but the sleepers’ dream;
Who, when the appointed Day shall dawn, escapes
From dark imaginings that haunted him,
And turns with laughter on his phantom griefs
When he beholds his everlasting home.

R. A.
Nicholson

‚Persian
Poems‚, an Anthology of verse translations
edited by A.J.Arberry, Everyman’s Library, 1972

REALITY AND
APPEARANCE

‚Tis light makes colour
visible: at night
Red, greene, and russet vanish from thy sight.
So to thee light by darness is made known:
Since God hat none, He, seeing all, denies
Himself eternally to mortal eyes.
From the dark jungle as a tiger bright,
Form from the viewless Spirit leaps to ligth.

R. A.
Nicholson

‚Persian
Poems‚, an Anthology of verse translations
edited by A.J.Arberry, Everyman’s Library, 1972

DESCENT

I made a far journey
Earth’s fair cities to view,
but like to love’s city
City none I knew

At the first I knew not
That city’s worth,
And turned in my folly
A wanderer on earth.

From so sweet a country
I must needs pass,
And like to cattle
Grazed on every grass.

As Moses’ people
I would liefer eat
Garlic, than manna
And celestial meat.

What voice in this world
to my ear has come
Save the voice of love
Was a tapped drum.

Yet for that drum-tap
From the world of All
Into this perishing
Land I did fall.

That world a lone spirit
Inhabiting.
Like a snake I crept
Without foot or wing.

The wine that was
laughter
And grace to sip
Like a rose I tasted
Without throat or lip.

‚Spirit, go a journey,’
Love’s voice said:
‚Lo, a home of travail
I have made.’

Much, much I cried:
‚I will not go’;
Yea, and rent my raiment
And made great woe.

Even as now I shrink
To be gone from here,
Even so thence
To part I did fear.

‚Spirit, go thy way,’
Love called again,
‚And I shall be ever nigh thee
As they neck’s vein.’

Much did love enchant me
And made much guile;
Love’s guile and enchantment
Capture me the while.

In ignorance and folly
When my wings I spread,
From palace unto prison
I was swiftly sped.

Now I would tell
How thither thou mayst come;
But ah, my pen is broke
And I am dumb.

A..J. Arberry

‚Persian
Poems‚, an Anthology of verse translations
edited by A.J.Arberry, Everyman’s Library, 1972

I am part of the load / Jestem częścią ładunku
Not rightly balanced / Nieprawidłowo wyważonego
I drop off in the grass, / Spadam na trawę
like the old Cave-sleepers, to browse / jak dawni śpiący w Jaskini, aby paść
się
wherever I fall. gdziekolwiek upadnę

For hundreds of thousands
of years I have been dust-grains / Przez setki tysiące lat byłem kurzem-ziarnem
floating and flying in the will of the air, / dryfującym i latającym wedle woli
podmuchu powietrza
often forgetting ever being / często zapominającym że kiedykolwiek byłem
in that state, but in sleep // w tym stanie, ale we śnie
I migrate back. I spring loose / migruję z powrotem. Wykwitam swobodnie
from the four-branched, time -and-space cross, / Z cztero-gałęzistego, czasu i
przestrzeni krzyża
this waiting room./ tej poczekalni

I walk into a huge pasture / Wchodzę na wielkie
pastwisko
I nurse the milk of millennia / karmię się mlekiem mileniów

Everyone does this in different ways. / Każdy czyni
to na wiele sposobów
Knowing that conscious decisions / Wiedząc że te rozsądne decyzje
and personal memory / i osobista pamięć
are much too small a place to live, / są zbyt ciasnym mieszkaniem
every human being streams at night / każde stworzenie ludzkie spływa w nocy
into the loving nowhere, or during the day, / ku kochającemu nigdzie, albo
podczas dnia
in some absorbing work. / ku jakiejś absorbującej pracy

(Mathnawi, VI
216-227)
Rumi,
‚We Are Three’