Tag: jasmine

  • The Wind, One Brilliant Day

    By Antonio Machado

    The wind, one brilliant day, called
    to my soul with an odor of jasmine.

    ‘In return for the odor of my jasmine,
    I’d like all the odor of your roses.’

    ‘I have no roses; all the flowers
    in my garden are dead.’

    ‘Well then, I’ll take the withered petals
    and the yellow leaves and the waters of the fountain.’

    the wind left. And I wept. And I said to myself:
    ‘What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you?’

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  • Without the eyes…

    By Rumi

    Without the eyes – two clouds – the lightning of the heart:
    The fire of God’s threat, how could it be allayed?
    How would the herbage grow of union, sweet to taste?
    How would the fountains all gush forth with water pure?
    How would the rosebed tell its secret to the meadow?
    How would the violet make contracts with jasmine?
    How would the plane tree lift its hands in prayer, say?
    How would the trees’ heads toss free in the air of Love?
    How would the blossoms shake their sleeves in days of spring
    To shed their lovely coins about the garden wide?
    How would the tulip’s cheek be red like flames and blood?
    How would the rose draw out its gold now from its purse?
    How would the ringdoves call like seekers, “Where, oh where?”
    How would the stork repeat his laklak from his soul,
    To say: “O Helper high, Thine is the kingdom, Thine!”
    How would the dust reveal the secrets of its heart?
    How would the sky become a garden full of light?

    Translated by Annemarie Schimmel

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  • Garden Of Nostalgia

    Passing the dark corridors
    of old longings
    I inhaled Jasmine and roses
    wiped my tears and walked to the
    garden of nostalgia.
    Rosaline and Anton
    were dancing.
    And I cannot recall who
    was playing music.
    The passionate soulful
    and melancholic music.
    My poems,
    my unwritten poems are
    running like live blood through
    this image.
    Maybe it is the ache
    of missing you and knowing
    that this spring nor on
    any spring to come,
    would you smile with me at
    Rosaline and Anton.
    And I savor all the
    graceful movements in
    the garden of nostalgia
    because your poet heart
    is beating in me and
    Rosaline and Anton can dance forever,
    they will dance forever
    as you grab my hand
    and dance away in the
    garden of nostalgia while
    the blossoms pour like rain
    and the red apple in my hand is
    shared only with you.
    “Forever and always”,
    you say.

    Hydeh Aubon (4/4/08)