Be of love a little more careful than of anything.
Forgetfulness is like a song
That, freed from beat and measure, wanders.
Forgetfulness is like a bird whose wings are reconciled,
Outspread and motionless, --
A bird that coasts the wind unwearyingly.
Forgetfulness is rain at night,
Or an old house in a forest, -- or a child.
Forgetfulness is white, -- white as a blasted tree,
And it may stun the sybil into prophecy,
Or bury the Gods.
I can remember much forgetfulness.
In The Desert
In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter -- bitter," he answered;
"But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart."
The only calibration that counts is how much heart people invest, how much they ignore their fears of being hurt or caught out or humiliated. And the only thing people regret is that they didn't live boldly enough, that they didn't invest enough heart, didn't love enough. Nothing else really counts at all.
Lamentation of the Borderguard
I do not want to be a borderguard, said the borderguard.
I don't want to be a bodyguard.
I don't want to be a guardian angel.
I don't want to be a guide.
I want not to be a grinder.
I don't want to be a garnet.
I don't want to be a guerdon.
I don't want to be a gaud.
But my own unwillingness is grinding and grounding me
and I'm standing on guard, in my own octagonal garden.
I don't want to be a watchman, answered the watchman.
I don't want to be a guardsman.
I don't want to be a watchguard.
But my own unwillingnesss is watching over me,
standing alone, wavering in the wind.
I'm the door-keeper, observed the porter.
But nobody asked me
about my will.
© Translation: Gali-Dana Singer and Ashraf Noor