Song

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Geboren in Syrië in 1930, Ali Ahmad Said Esber (Adonis) schreef veel gedichten in Arabisch. hij studeerde filosofie en had uitgesproken ideeën over Syrië, Lebanon, over religie en vrijheid, en over hoe het leven is en hoort te zijn. Hij heeft vele literaire onderscheidingen gekregen en gaf les in de Sorbonne, Damascus University, en the Lebanese University. Hij woont in Paris.

Song

By Adonis

Bells on our eyelashes
and the death throes of words,
and I among fields of speech,
a knight on a horse made of dirt.
My lungs are my poetry, my eyes a book,
and I, under the skin of words,
on the beaming banks of foam,
a poet who sang and died
leaving this singed elegy
before the faces of poets,
for birds at the edge of sky.

Translated from Arabic by Khaled Mattawa

Lied

Belletjes aan onze wimpers
en de stuiptrekkingen van woorden,
en ik te midden van velden van spraak,
een ridder op een paard van modder.
Mijn longen zijn mijn poëzie, mijn ogen – een boek,
en ik, onder de woorden-vel,
op de stralende oevers van schuim,
een dichter die zong en stierf
en liet deze geblakerde elegie achter
in het aangezicht van dichters,
voor vogels aan de rand van de hemel.

Don Quichotte https://flic.kr/p/anX9W9

Nederlandse vertaling: Anna Krasko

Copyright Credit: Adonis, “Song” from Selected Poems, translated by Khaled Mattawa.

Copyright © 2010 by  Adonis. Reprinted by permission of Yale University Press.

Bron: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/55317/song-56d236c840ba5

Adonis Interview: Religion Corrupted Poetry (4:30)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oa7XaOoF3W4

Cover image: Marc Chagall – Don Quichot https://nl.pinterest.com/pin/558516791271995597/

Wie het ook is, die me hierheen bracht (gedicht)

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door Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

De hele dag denk ik erover, en dan, ’s nachts, praat ik erover.
Waar kom ik vandaan, en wat is de bedoeling voor me om hier te zijn?
Ik heb geen idee.
Mijn ziel komt ergens anders vandaan, daar ben ik van overtuigd,
en ik ben van plan daarheen terug te keren.
Deze dronkenschap begon in een andere kroeg.

Als ik daar terugkom,
zal ik volkomen nuchter zijn. En ondertussen,
zit ik als een vreemde vogel uit een verre land in deze volière.
De dag komt dat ik wegvlieg,
maar wie is het nu in mijn oor die mijn stem hoort?
Wie spreekt woorden uit mijn mond?

Wie kijkt naar buiten met mijn ogen? Wat is de ziel?
Ik kan niet ophouden met de vragen.
Als ik maar één slokje van een antwoord kon proeven,
zou ik uit deze gevangenis voor dronkaards kunnen ontsnappen.
Ik ben hier niet uit eigen wil gekomen, en ik kan ook niet op deze manier weg.
Wie het ook is, die me hierheen heeft gebracht, zal me ook weer naar huis moeten brengen.

Deze poëzie. Ik weet nooit wat ik ga zeggen.
Ik plan het niet.
Wanneer ik buiten het spreken erover ben,
word ik heel stil en zeg ik bijna niets.

Whoever Brought Me Here

by Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi  

All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I’m sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.

This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place,
I’ll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
I’m like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?

Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking.
If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn’t come here of my own accord, and I can’t leave that way.
Whoever brought me here, will have to take me home.

This poetry. I never know what I’m going to say.
I don’t plan it.
When I’m outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.

Bron: All Poetry https://allpoetry.com/Whoever-Brought-Me-Here-

Vertaling en foto’s: Anna Krasko

Blue Sky after Rain

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Blue Sky after Rain

Silence, peace and the Hidden

Everywhere,
there are those who know
the Hidden, the Source,
the conscious soul of the universe
weaving intelligence through life,
birthing kindness,
and the common spirit of the people,
bringing the inspiration to change our world
with insights so profound they can’t be said,
as though the universe were knowing
what it is to live our human life,
its inner poetry of realization
gifting us new meaning,
as all the while,
the cry of birds in the soft, early light
is blended through the colour of the sky,
the rain, and the rolling, languid swell
of the nearby river,
making tide bells clang and echo
all across the bay.

One intelligence underlies all life,
one universal soul breathes
through every heart,
and all is woven with the stars,
and sometimes we can almost hear
the fleeting, beautiful, and always silent
song of the eternal,
a hidden flower of light,
intuition, a silent poetry of realization
revealing the eternal becoming human
for the brief timespan of a life.

Subtle harmonies becoming visible
as fluid patterns of light,
the haunting cry of seagulls
playing with gentle winds above the river,
the sound of river bells heard
inside my heart,
the conscious eternal helping me find
an inner path into its hidden garden,
a place of silence deep inside me
where illuminations of new meaning
sometimes bring a fleeting moment,
a glimpse, no more, of wisdom,
while it suddenly begins to rain.

Paul Mulliner 2026

Cover image: Photo by Colin Watts on Unsplash

Pattern in a Botanical Garden in Utrecht

So Let Us Speak

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So let us speak of death.
Not in a covert way
With muffled metaphors
That bind to time in Space.

What’s it for you in song?
When form lets go and formless wave
Can’t be contained by eyes?
Where does it stand in Now?
Or rather, if not Now
How is it even real?
(What is real?)

Or is death a trick,
One of the poles
Supporting magic screen
Of sights and sounds?
And all these words should fly and fade
And be scattered in the winds…
The senses seem to dull,
Does it invite the Quiet,
Compels to look inside?
And yet, the ancient Sokar’s tale
Shows us how Ra — Sun’s path
Of death brings us new Light.
The cycle does not stop
Until, perhaps, it’s broken by a stronger light,
As wisemen tell us who are watching stars,
Feet firmly on the ground…

The steaming tea of words, of questions, seep
Through a fresh crack in my favourite cup.

See, in the very core of immortality
There stands a parent tree,
It nourishes the seedlings,
Feeds them light and mindful caress,
Even if it gets later weakened by the storms…
Now tell me, where is that death?
Does it somehow dwell
Between One’s In and Out breath?

      ***

I asked to speak of death,
But now with all my heart I wish
To hear you speaking of Sea,
Of beaches and of trees,
Of you, will you, please, do…

Anna Krasko 2026

P.S. voor mijn onvoorstelbaar mooie familie, dank dat je naast me staat, zit, bent en jouw tranen, lachen en het Zijn met me deelt

Mitakuye Oyasin, wij zijn allemaal familie 

 

Foto: Anna Krasko

Iets binnenin, dat helpt ons te verbinden

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Something Inside

Helps us connect

Something inside,
a spacious intelligence,
the silent voice of the timeless,
the conscious space
with no boundary
across the Universe
and in our deep inner core,
dissolves all separation
into itself.

Whenever we hold
a steady inward gaze,
we find it, quietly knowing
all there is to be known,
aware of itself inside
all of us everywhere,
it emerges into our life
as intuition
and knows
every moment
of our experience
of being human.

It’s generating all life
everywhere
by transforming itself
into complex streams
of woven biochemistry,
clusters of molecular
wave patterns like music
inside the orchestration
of every living cell.

. . .

(fragment from Something Inside by Paul Mulliner)

Revolve.

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(door Abhishek Singh)

“Revolve”

Agni: Why does the mind suffer, Satyavarya, the one with truth?

Shiva let the swirling clouds speak on his behalf.

“In a world which spins, naturally the mind will too.”

Agni : What may bring relief to the mind then?

Shiva: Stillnes.

Agni: How may I find that?

“You must enter chaos to embrace it”

Agni: …and upon finding it what will I know?

Shiva: “That everything is an expansion of each other.

Interwoven.

chaos emanates from stillness and stillness from chaos.”

Upon realizing this, you will not demean the mind, the body or even desires. You’d look at them as all interconnected, aiming towards a bigger goal.

You would look at that spinning not as dizzying but as an ecstatic dance merging back with creation.

A moment of peace from the furnace of your own making.

So, in a world which spins, the mind will too.

Let go of the fences and dance in ecstasy to the silent humming of the stars far across and to the rhythms of the sun within.

Revolve.

* * *
I want to say this to you,
it’s the most important thing ever,
working alone, or for family,
in silence or in chaos,
without reward, overwhelmed,
anxious, unseen or confused…

…you’re loved.

On a road chosen or on the one abandoned,
in fleeting happiness or in searing grief,
In meeting or in parting,
Bereft of clouds or with their weight,
As one or many, in presence or absence…

…you’re loved.

Abhishek Singh https://www.instagram.com/abhiart/p/C5NXPn_JUDk/

The Morning Glory

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Vanochtend kwam er een heel intens gevoel en dit gedicht (of een soort aanroeping?) Spreekt grote realiteit met de kleinere realiteit hier? Indringend, met de stem die vanaf alle muren en plafonds weerkaatst. Met een groots gevoel van dankbaarheid en verbinding.

I feel grateful that there is a place,
clean, soft, dry,
When my body asks for rest so I can lie,
When my eyes are tired, and close.

And I feel so thankful to be with you,
The wonderous Exalted One,
The life-bringing Divine,
The hall, the player, and the music,
All three are Thine,
And Thine is the glory.

I feel thankful for the simple gifts
Of delicious foods and sweet drinks.
Nothing short of wonder, all within reach,
Sustained are all my Relations
Without failing or breach.

And I feel thankful to be with you,
The wonderous Exalted One,
The life-bringing Divine,
Every imaginable colour is Thine,
And Thine is the glory
In the realm of No Time.

And I gaze in awe
At your green coves full of refreshing shades,
At your blue straights
With the tremble of ripples and the rustle of waves,
At the golden streams of light
Nourishing my every cell,
At sandy dunes and mountainous heights.

And I feel so thankful to be with you,
The wonderous Exalted One,
The life changing Divine,
The Dance, the Dream and the Breath are Thine,
And Thine is the glory.

Anna Krasko 2025

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All the Silence and the Starlight

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All the Silence and the Starlight

Now and forever

Like a hidden flower of light,
the silent whisper of a universal soul
brings meaning,
writing a poetry of silence into every moment,
and when thought dissolves
in dreamy trance,
or we gaze sometimes across the midnight sky,
we know we’re part of something
larger than ourselves,
something no words can ever say
but every heart somehow knows,
an intelligence that brings beauty to flowers
and the honk of geese to winter skies,
an endless song of silence
joining every leaf and every human heart,
the eternal becoming human
for the brief duration of a life.

We’re here just a short while in this world
and in every fleeting moment
a poetry of light is gardening our heart,
unfolding silent harmonies
all across our endless inward sky
with sentience, intelligence and meaning,
a compass to steer our life
helping us see more clearly,
like we have new eyes to know
life is larger than it seems,
more beautiful than we can say in words,
while every moment fades to memory
like shadows fading into mist
that lingers on an endless ocean.

The conscious silence
brings something of its gentle grace
to our reflective inner moments,
revealing all the wisdom underneath
the surface of the everyday,
the knowing that can’t be said,
the unwritten poetry blended through
the conscious fabric of our world,
the poetry of insight
writing itself into the moment,
the gentle intelligence of the universe
breathing into our life,
its silence whispering
always
in our heart.

Paul Mulliner 2024

Source: https://medium.com/the-howling-owl/all-the-silence-and-the-starlight-37298e9d46f4

Image: photo by Sadman Sakib on Unsplash

Soms is het Lied … Zichtbaar als Licht

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And Sometimes the Song

Is visible as light

Live like the star filled sky
breathes through your heart
and brings its silence
to your every moment,
as though all experience
inside every leaf
and every blade of grass
is in your bones
and in your dreams,
as though consciousness
throughout the universe
knows every human life within itself
like waves appearing
in an endless ocean.

And for all the times
we might have been
maybe kinder in this world,
or brought more joy
to those we loved
in all the fleeting moments
of our human life,
we might hope
the silent song of life itself
dissolves all separation
in our heart
and brings us to the silence
of the starlight
and the beauty
of the here and now.

We’re the inexpressible
looking at the world
and seeing itself
become life
and moments of experience,
and its silent song of love
is sometimes visible
as conscious light
that fills our heart
and joins us to the stars.

Paul Mulliner 2023

Photo by Becca Tapert on Unsplash

En Soms is het Lied … Zichtbaar als Licht

(door Paul Mulliner)

Leef als de sterbeschilderde hemel
ademt door je hart
en brengt zijn stilte
in elk moment van je,
alsof al de ervaring
die binnen elk blaadje is,
en elke grasspriet ook
te vinden is in al je botten
en in jouw dromen,
alsof bewustzijn
van het hele universum
in zich het leven kent van elk mens
als golven die verschijnen
in een oceaan die geen einde kent.

En voor al de keren
die wellicht wij waren
iets aardiger in deze wereld
of brachten iets meer vreugde
aan die van wie we hielden
in alle vluchtige momenten
van ons mensenleven,
wij zouden kunnen hopen
dat stille lied van het leven zelf
lost op elke scheiding in ons hart
en brengt ons naar de stilte
van het sterlicht
en de schoonheid
van het hier en nu.

Wij zijn onnoemelijk iets
dat in de wereld kijkt
en zichzelf ziet
die leven wordt en ook
momenten van ervaring,
en zijn stille liefdeslied
kun je soms zien
als licht dat bewust is
dat ons hart vult
en brengt ons samen met de sterren.

Paul Mulliner 2023

Everything is possible

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On the way to a different world, between the worlds,
Mist-ery world masterly erasing roads and meadows,
majestic cities, if only for a while…

A tree-trio, a world in a world, singing its own
Unhurried song of roots, trunks, branches (which you can’t ear-hear),
Accompanied by an extravagant but gentle melody of birds
celebrating, or so it seemed.

An emerald, lime, silent forest-world devoid of civilization
Save for an occasional cyclist, a perfect scene
For mushrooms of all colours and sizes, giggling, playing hide-and-seek…

At a green patch beside the crossroads – a clover, proud,
Receiving: drizzle, sending: its rich magenta light,
In full glory, the last one, standing its ground…

If I ask a question in my language – confused, slow,
Maybe stubborn, insensitive, fantastically dumb,
If you could bear to give an answer infused with irony and patience,
Driven by comprehension, consciousness can expand…

As you pass the old friend willow, saying gooddays, it sighs,
sways in response, touches your sleeve, hair, cheek.
It makes you stop, hand on your heart, and smile
and breathe deep, and live –
Long – and prosper.

Everything is possible.

Anna Krasko 2022