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 Maaberuna

english arabic

Poems

 

J. Krishnamurti

 

The Immortal Friend

 

Oh! Listen,

I will sing to thee the song of my Beloved.

 

Where the soft green slopes of the still mountains

Meet the blue shimmering waters of the noisy sea,

Where the bubbling brook shouts in ecstasy,

Where the still pools reflect the calm heavens,

There thou wilt meet with my Beloved.

 

In the vale where the cloud hangs in loneliness

Searching the mountain for rest,

In the still smoke climbing heavenwards,

In the hamlet toward the setting sun,

In the thin wreaths of the fast disappearing clouds,

There thou wilt meet with my Beloved.

 

Among the dancing tops of the tall cypress,

Among the gnarled trees of great age,

Among the frightened bushes that cling to the earth,

Among the long creepers that hang lazily,

There thou wilt meet with my Beloved.

 

In the ploughed fields where noisy birds are feeding,

On the shaded path that winds along the full, motionless river,

Beside the banks where the waters lap,

Amidst the tall poplars that play ceaselessly with the winds,

In the dead tree of last summers lightning,

There thou wilt meet with my Beloved.

 

In the still blue skies,

Where heaven and earth meet,

In the breathless air,

In the morn burdened with incense,

Among the rich shadows of a noon-day,

Among the long shadows of an evening,

Amidst the gay and radiant clouds of the setting sun,

On the path on the waters at the close of the day,

There thou wilt meet with my Beloved.

 

In the shadows of the stars,

In the deep tranquility of dark nights,

In the reflection of the moon on still waters,

In the great silence before the dawn,

Among the whispering of waking trees,

In the cry of the bird at morn,

Amidst the wakening of shadows,

Amidst the sunlit tops of the far mountains,

In the sleepy face of the world,

There thou wilt meet with my Beloved.

 

Keep still, O dancing waters,

And listen to the voice of my Beloved.

 

In the happy laughter of children

Thou canst hear Him.

The music of the flute

Is His voice.

The startled cry of a lonely bird

Moves thy heart to tears,

For thou hearest His voice.

The roar of the age-old sea

Awakens the memories

That have been lulled to sleep

By His voice.

The soft breeze that stirs

The tree-tops lazily

Brings to thee the sound

Of His voice.

 

The thunder among the mountains

fills thy soul

With the strength

Of His voice.

In the roar of a vast city,

through the voices of the night,

The cry of sorrow,

The shout of joy,

Through the ugliness of anger,

Comes the voice of my Beloved.

 

In the distant blue isles,

On the soft dewdrop,

On the breaking wave,

On the sheen of waters,

On the wing of the flying bird,

On the tender leaf of the spring,

Thou wilt see the face of my Beloved.

 

In the sacred temple,

In the halls of dancing,

On the holy face of the sannyasi,

In the lurches of the drunkard,

With the harlot and with the chaste,

Thou wilt meet with my Beloved.

 

On the fields of flowers,

In the towns of squalor and dirt,

With the pure and the unholy,

In the flower that hides divinity,

There is my well-Beloved.

 

Oh! the sea

Has entered my heart,

In a day,

I am living an hundred summers.

O, friend,

I behold my face in thee,

The face of my well-Beloved.

 

This is the song of my love.

 

1928

***

 

From Darkness to Light

 

Listen!

 

Life is one.

It has no beginning, no end,

The source and the goal live in your heart.

You are caught up

In the darkness of its wide chasm.

 

Life has no creed, no belief,

It is of no nation, of no sanctuary,

Not bound by birth or by death,

Neither male nor female.

Can you bind the waters in a garment

Or gather the wind in your fists?

 

Answer, O friend.

 

Drink at the fountain of life.

Come,

I will show the way.

The mantle of Life covers all things.

***

 

The Song of Life

 

Love not the shapely branch,

Nor place its image alone in thy heart.

It dieth away.

 

Love the whole tree.

Then thou shalt love the shapely branch,

The tender and the withered leaf,

The shy bud and the full-blown flower,

The falling petal and the dancing height,

The splendid shadow of full love.

 

Ah, love Life in its fullness.

It knoweth no decay.

***

 

Pome XXIV

 

Viens avec moi tasseoir prs de la mer, ouvre ton cur, sois libre,

Je te parlerai dune paix intime,

Comme celle des profondeurs calmes.

Dune libert intime,

Comme celle de lespace.

Dun bonheur intime,

Comme celui des vagues qui dansent.

 

Vois, la lune trace un chemin de silence sur la mer sombre,

Ainsi, devant moi, lintelligence ouvre un sentier lumineux.

La douleur gmissante se cache sous la moquerie dun sourire,

Le poids dun amour prissable alourdit le cur,

La raison est due et la pense saltre.

 

Ah ! viens tasseoir prs de moi,

Ouvre ton cur, sois libre.

Comme la lumire que la course immuable du soleil ramne,

Lintelligence en toi viendra.

Les lourdes terreurs dune attente angoisse,

Sen iront de toi, comme les vagues reculent sous lassaut des vents.

Viens tasseoir prs de moi,

Tu sauras quelle intelligence donne un amour vrai.

 

Comme le vent chasse les nues aveugles,

La pense claire chassera tes prjugs stupides.

La lune est amoureuse du soleil

Et le rire des toiles remplit lespace.

Oui, viens tasseoir prs de moi,

Ouvre ton cur, sois libre.

~ Poems and Parables

Traduction de Ren Four

*** *** ***

 

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