Transactions with beauty

Lovers find secret places
inside this violent world
where they make transactions
with beauty.

Reason says, Nonsense. I have walked and measured the walls here. There are no places like that.

Love says, There are.

-Rumi, from Secret Places

That Moment

 

 

"That Moment

That moment you are drunk on yourself
You are withered, withered like autumn leaves.
That moment you leap free of yourself
Winter to you appears in the dazzling robes of spring.
All disquiet springs from the search for quiet;
Look for disquiet and you will come suddenly upon a field of quiet.
All illnesses spring from the scavenging for delicacies;
Renounce delicacies, and poison its...elf will seem delicious to you.
All disappointments spring from your hunting for satisfactions;
If only you could stop, all imaginable joys
Would be rolled like pearls to your feet."
- Jalal-ud-Din Rumi
(Translated by Andrew Harvey)

 

 

Homenagem a Senhora Dona Ana

 

CELEBRANDO O MATERNO

 

Nesse dia a minha homenagem a minha Mãe, senhora Dona Ana que escreve poesia, mora no Brasil, lê as noticias do mundo, uma carta minha de tres anos atras e me aconselha na sua bela caligrafia que

 

“O Tempo relaciona em grãos diferentes os mesmos pareceres

 e tudo vem e vai no Tempo Certo.”

 

A minha querida mãe poeta aos noventa e quatro e a todas as mães, homens e mulheres, crianças brincando com bonecas e com servir o chá de mentirinha pra aprender no fazer, para os pais no acordar da madrugada, no buscar da escola, os costureiros, cozinheiros, plantas lançando semente, musgos na chuva da rocha, lobas na colheita, coelhos e macaquinhos, nós todos que cuidamos pro ser dos seres com carinho de especie e cuidado de mãe sem sempre saber porque. Mas sabendo sempre o que fazer.

Na minha vida de licença poetica e no privilegio de conhecer minha Mãe agora,  de poder traduzir sua poesia, literal e na ancestria faze-la minha e virtual!

Do poeta Rumi:

“Viaja...”

Todas as trilhas desaparecem; você diz “Viaja...”,

Volto pra te implorar que fiques; você já não está.

As brisas ao meu redor tem sua fragrancia

Florzinhas desabrocham, palavras suas.

- Jalal-ud-Din Rumi

 ( tradução livre minha)

 

CELEBRATING THE MATERNAL

Today I honor my Mother, Dona Ana, the one who writes poetry and lives in Brasil, reads the news of the world, a letter I wrote three years ago and tells me in counseling, in her most precise and beautiful calligraphy that

“In different grains

time sprouts the same sayings and semblances

all comes and goes

in their times of certainty…”

To my dear poet mother at ninety four and to all mothers, men and women, children playing with dolls and serving tea of make-believe in practice, to fathers awake at dawn, fetching kids from school, to the seamstresses, the cooks, to plants shooting seeds, moss in the rain of rock, wolverines in harvest, rabbits and monkeys, all of us who care for being, with tenderness of species and maternal care, not always knowing why.  But always knowing how.

In my life of poetic license and in the privilege of knowing my Mother now, so that I can translate her poetry, literally, and in ancestry make it my own and virtual! 

 

Travel On

 All tracks vanished; you said 'Travel on'

 I turned to beg you stay; you had gone.

 Winds pressed round me that smelled of you

 Small flowers blossomed, words from your mouth.

 - Jalal-ud-Din Rumi

 (Translated by Andrew Harvey from A Year of Rumi)