Tag Archives: Sun
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CRADLE MY HEART By Jalaluddin Rumi

 

Iman Maleki Painting

CRADLE MY HEART

Last night,
I was lying on the rooftop,
thinking of you.
I saw a special Star,
and summoned her to take you a message.
I prostrated myself to the Star
and asked her to take my prostration
to that Sun of Tabriz.
So that with his light, he can turn
my dark stones into gold.
I opened my chest and showed her my scars,
I told her to bring me news
of my bloodthirsty Lover.
As I waited,
I paced back and forth,
until the child of my heart became quiet.
The child slept, as if I were rocking his cradle.
Oh Beloved, give milk to the infant of the heart,
and don’t hold us from our turning.
You have cared for hundreds,
don’t let it stop with me now.
At the end, the town of unity is the place for the heart.
Why do you keep this bewildered heart
in the town of dissolution?
I have gone speechless, but to rid myself
of this dry mood,
oh Saaqhi, pass the narcissus of the wine.

Hush Don’t Say Anything to God:
Passionate Poems of Rumi
Translated by Shahram Shiva

 

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Romanian Voice; Two Poems by Nichita Stanescu

Of love

Nichita Stanescu received numerous poetry awards, of which the most important was the Herder Prize (1975) as well as a Nobel Prize nomination.

She remains bored and very beautiful
her black hair is angry,
her bright hand
for ages now has forgotten me,-
for ages too has forgotten itself,
hanging as it has from the neck of a chair.
In the lights I drown myself,
set my jaws against the coursing of the year.
I reveal my teeth to her
but she understands this is no smile-
sweet, illuminated creature
she reveals myself to me while
she remains bored and very beautiful
and for her alone I live
in the appalling world
of this inferior heaven.

Adolescents on the sea

This sea is covered with adolescents
learning to walk on waves, upright,
sometimes resting their arms on the currents,
sometimes gripping a stiff beam of sunlight.
I lie on the broad beach, an angled shape, cut perfectly,
and I ponder them like travelers landing.
An infinite fleet of yawls. I wait to see
a false step, or at least a grounding
up to knee in the diaphanous swell
beneath their measured progress, sounding.
But they are slim and calm – as well,
they’ve learned to walk on waves – and standing.

Nichita Stanescu (born Nichita Hristea Stănescu) (March 31, 1933, Ploieşti—December 13, 1983, Bucharest) was a Romanian poet and essayist. He is the most acclaimed contemporary Romanian language poet, loved by the public and generally held in esteem by literary critics.

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