Bespeak Oh Reverent Soul!
Bespeak Oh reverent soul! !
Tempest has falleth.
O’er the oceans of silence.
O'er the vapors of dream.
Nightingale sings peace.
A lover's seared heart whales.
Don’t you hear their call?
Through the canopies of trees?
Across the sandal forests.
Does not the breeze bring to you
The fragrance of lilies in your lover's garden?
Does not your heart desire to sing
In unison with the nightingale forgetting wrath and grievance?
Is your tongue so impure...?
That it shall stain the holy words of love?
Then what revere you soul possess?
What shall you speak?
Tempest too fallth o'er this heart...
Does clamor not roarth in thy chest?
poem by Lama Abbas
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Song of the Soul XXII
In the depth of my soul there is
A wordless song - a song that lives
In the seed of my heart.
It refuses to melt with ink on
Parchment; it engulfs my affection
In a transparent cloak and flows,
But not upon my lips.
How can I sigh it? I fear it may
Mingle with earthly ether;
To whom shall I sing it? It dwells
In the house of my soul, in fear of
Harsh ears.
When I look into my inner eyes
I see the shadow of its shadow;
When I touch my fingertips
I feel its vibrations.
The deeds of my hands heed its
Presence as a lake must reflect
The glittering stars; my tears
Reveal it, as bright drops of dew
Reveal the secret of a withering rose.
It is a song composed by contemplation,
And published by silence,
And shunned by clamor,
And folded by truth,
And repeated by dreams,
And understood by love,
And hidden by awakening,
And sung by the soul.
It is the song of love;
What Cain or Esau could sing it?
It is more fragrant than jasmine;
What voice could enslave it?
It is heartbound, as a virgin's secret;
What string could quiver it?
Who dares unite the roar of the sea
And the singing of the nightingale?
Who dares compare the shrieking tempest
To the sigh of an infant?
Who dares speak aloud the words
Intended for the heart to speak?
What human dares sing in voice
The song of God?
poem by Khalil Gibran
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The Three Maidens
There were three maidens met on the highway;
The sun was down, the night was late:
And two sang loud with the birds of May,
O the nightingale is merry with its mate.
Said they to the youngest, Why walk you there so still?
The land is dark, the night is late:
O, but the heart in my side is ill,
And the nightingale will languish for its mate.
Said they to the youngest, Of lovers there is store;
The moon mounts up, the night is late:
O, I shall look on man no more,
And the nightingale is dumb without its mate.
Said they to the youngest, Uncross your arms and sing;
The moon mounts high, the night is late:
O my dear lover can hear no thing,
And the nightingale sings only to its mate.
They slew him in revenge, and his true-love was his lure;
The moon is pale, the night is late:
His grave is shallow on the moor;
O the nightingale is dying for its mate.
His blood is on his breast, and the moss-roots at his hair;
The moon is chill, the night is late:
But I will lie beside him there:
O the nightingale is dying for its mate.
poem by George Meredith
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In the Spirit of Rumi-40-The Nightingale and the Rose
As cold winter turns to warming Spring,
two lovers return from their winter rest.
The first rose shyly blooms; .
the nightingale pours out its song.
These are the two most generous lovers in the world;
do they not deserve each other?
In the daytime, while the nightingale takes its rest,
renews its generous throat,
the rose opens to embrace the world with beauty;
In the nighttime, while the rose folds and rests in sleep,
waiting to drink that purest dew of dawn,
the nightingale tells the world of beauty;
So each speaks in turn; both speak of beauty;
one in sound, the other in silence.
This way, telling of their love to the sleeping other;
Do they prefer it thus? Or is their listening
as sensitive as a mother’s nighttime intuition,
hearing more clearly, inwardly, in rest?
Which is the Lover, which is the Beloved?
Does the nightingale return in spring
at the first perfume of the rose,
drifting from the hedge and garden
like the messages of Layla and Majnun?
Or does the rose wait impatiently to bloom in Spring
until it hears – its petals trembling as they listen –
the nightingale’s song from that liquid throat?
Which is the Lover, which is the Beloved?
Does it matter to the world?
It matters only if that love is not equal; full;
generous beyond all worldly measure;
and then the Lover has become the Beloved,
the Beloved has become the Lover..
You and I, on our prayer-mat each day,
seeking God within ourselves,
which is the Lover, which the Beloved?
Have we yet become each other,
equal, full, and generous beyond all worldly measure;
night and day, as nightingale and rose?
As nightingales and roses sing forever
of each other's love
eternally, the round world turning, turning..
l'amor che move il sole e l'altre stelle.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The soul, song of love
The soul, song of love
I sing from the bottom of my heart
The soul song, I sing I cry I laugh
I cheer I love enjoy
Too sing for you to hear me cry
Sweet heart listen be happy
Tune penetrate into flesh to bone
To feel to touch
To get to hold
The heart sings the soul, song of love
Just to let you know only you I love
Only you I sing only you can hear
For love for comfort
For peace and happiness
Hold and touch
The soul, song of you
The soul, the song belong to you
with the heart
poem by See Fee Lee
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Nightingale
(ferry/manzanera)
Before the morning comes, will I hear your song
Come little nightingale, I wont be here for long
When youre up there flying, do you care
If theres no one else around?
When your lover leaves you in the air
Do you waver, do you fall?
Now while the moon is high
Shall we, nightingale,
Duet all through the night
A pair of souls for sale
Stars cluster glistening
Captive till the dawn
Patiently listening
Theyve heard it all before
Should I stay here or should I go?
I couldnt bear to be alone
Was it really love I saw?
Oh, now Ill never know
What is this I hear?
I recognise that song
Sweet little nightingale I knew youd come along
Soon when the morning comes.
We will both be gone
So sing pretty nightingale
Lead, Ill follow on.
song performed by by Roxy Music
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the strips of woods [În arcane de pădure]
In the strips of woods, the darkness in a scary way is clinging.
Both the crowded leaves are silent and the slender trees, so high;
Night is dumb, and sad, and dying, sheltered by the opaque sky,
But the nightingale is singing, but the nightingale is singing.
In the strips of woods, the tempest in a scary way is spinning,
Sending down a flood of water and a crimson bolt of flame;
Why is harmony a nuisance and a fury without aim,
But the nightingale is singing, but the nightingale is singing.
In the strips of woods, the terror with the quietness is mingling,
Late aurora under foliage cannot come to light the moss,
For in front of it the darkness blocks the way and lies across –
But the nightingale is singing, but the nightingale is singing.
poem by Alexandru Macedonski, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Love is the inspiration
Love is the inspiration for the heart to sing a tune,
For the ear to hear,
For the soul to warm,
For the mouth to smile,
For the eyes to glisten.
Love is the inspiration for want,
For the soul to draw near another,
For the mouth to utter sweet words,
For the eyes to gaze upon,
For the heart to speak out.
Love is the inspiration for need,
For the mouth to touch,
For the eyes to close,
For the heart to race,
For the ear to burn.
Love is the inspiration for longing,
For the eyes to see only the one,
For the heart to cry out,
For the ear to hear whispers,
For the soul to join another forever.
Love is the inspiration for forever,
For the heart to be whole,
For the ear to always hear those words,
For the soul to have another,
For the mouth to speak the truth.
Love is the inspiration for the heart to seek God,
For the ear to hear his word,
For the soul to reach for him,
For the mouth to speak his truth,
For the eyes to always look upon him first,
For God is the inspiration for Love.
poem by Rabecca Welch
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Sing This Heart Back To Me
This heart that slept the beauty sleep
And dreamt of daylight drums of joy
This heart that dived abyss too deep
Sing this heart bring this heart
Bring this heart back to me
For there will be no more no heart
No no more heart
No no more heart to beat in me
This heart that leaped this heart that burned
In ashes smashed and crushed and rocked
This heart your heart it never learned
Sing this heart sink not this heart
Think not this heart belongs just to me
For there will be no more no heart
No no more heart
No no more heart to sing in me
This heart that shared your heart that dared
To see too much of the heart in me
Sing this heart bring this heart
Bring this heart back to me
For there will be no more no heart
No no more heart
No no more heart to dream in me
This heart your heart my heart toy heart
Sink not this heart choke not this heart
Sing this heart bring this heart
Bring this heart back to me
That I can cling to this heart
Sing to this heart
Bring my heart back to me
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Her love is my inspiration
Her love is my inspiration
Love is the inspiration for my heart to sing a tune,
love is the inspiration for my ear to hear,
love is the inspiration for my soul to warm,
love is the inspiration for my mouth to smile,
love is the inspiration for my eyes to glisten.
Love is the inspiration to draw my soul near another
love is the inspiration for my mouth to utter sweet words,
love is the inspiration for my eyes to gaze upon her,
love is the inspiration for my heart to speak out.
Love is the inspiration for need, love is the inspiration for my mouth to touch hers,
love is the inspiration for my eyes to close,
love is the inspiration for my heart to race,
love is the inspiration for my tears to burn.
Love is the inspiration for longing,
love is the inspiration for my eyes to see only her,
love is the inspiration for my heart to cry out,
love is the inspiration for my ear to hear her whispers,
love is the inspiration for my soul to join hers forever.
Love is the inspiration for forever,
love is the inspiration for my heart to be whole,
love is the inspiration for my ear to always hear those words,
love is the inspiration for my soul to have hers,
love is the inpiration for my mouth to speak the truth.
Love is the inspiration for my soul to seek life
love is the inspirationfor my ear to hear her words,
love is the inspiration for my soul to reach for her,
love is the inspiration for my mouth to speak her truths,
love is the inspiration for my eyes to always look upon her first,
For she is the inspiration for my Love.
Nathaniel Cole Buddington
poem by Nathan Buddington
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Ditty of First Desire
In the green morning
I wanted to be a heart.
A heart.
And in the ripe evening
I wanted to be a nightingale.
A nightingale.
(Soul,
turn orange-colored.
Soul,
turn the color of love.)
In the vivid morning
I wanted to be myself.
A heart.
And at the evening's end
I wanted to be my voice.
A nightingale.
Soul,
turn orange-colored.
Soul,
turn the color of love.
poem by Federico García Lorca
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The Nightingale
WHEN the moon a golden-pale
Lustre on my casement flings,
An enchanted nightingale
In the haunted silence sings.
Strange the song—its wondrous words
Taken from the primal tongue,
Known to men, and beasts, and birds,
When the care-worn world was young
Listening low, I hear the stars
Through her strains move solemnly,
And on lonesome banks and bars
Hear the sobbing of the sea.
And my memory dimly gropes
Hints to gather from her song
Of forgotten fears and hopes,
Joys and griefs forgotten long.
And I feel once more the strife
Of a passion, fierce and grand,
That, in some long-vanished life,
Held my soul at its command.
Ah, my Love, in robes of white
Standing by a moonlit sea,
Like a lily of the night,
Hast thou quite forgotten me?
Dost thou never dream at whiles
Of that silent, templed vale,
And the dim wood in whose aisles
Sang a secret nightingale?
Whither hast thou gone? What star
Holds thy spirit pure and fine?
In this world below there are
None like thee: and thou wert mine!
For a season all things last,
Love and Joy, and Life and Death;
Thou art portion of my past,
I of thine, whilst Time draws breath.
Fades the moonlight golden-pale,
And the bird has ceased to sing—
Ah, it was no nightingale,
But my heart—remembering.
poem by Victor James Daley
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My Heart Sings
My heart sings.
My heart sings the songs of happiness.
My heart sings the songs of joy.
My heart sings the songs of peace.
My heart sings the songs of the Blues.
My heart sings the songs of the Gospel.
My heart sings the songs of good news.
My heart cries a melody for all to hear.
My heart sings the harmonies of love.
My heart sings a song of beauty
that comes from the Thorne Birds
just before they die.
My heart sings songs to keep me alive.
My heart sings songs for as long as it beats.
My heart sings forever.
My heart sings haluwasa.
My heart sings.
poem by Jennifer Burns
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Peace in the Pearl
Bring together desire of peace
To make this pearl garden of ease
Try to win all the way narrow mind man
Peace is more precious than piece of land
Soul is not an alian to share sorrow and grief
A human himself an appearance of Adam and Eve
Christian, Jew, Hindu and Muslim infact
Harmony of heart and soul secret in holy act
Behold the law that grinds the poor soul
It is the crime by humanity as a whole
Raise your voice aloud and tear down
Differences, strife, hostility of your own
Feel sorry and confess of God's creatures
Seek peace and depart from evil preachers
Bring together desire of peace
To make this pearl garden of ease
poem by Faraz Ahmed memon
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A declaration of my love
A declaration of my love
~
It is to her laugh my heart smiles
Her playful nature my soul rejoices
She has more beauty than any portrait
She is ever growing and changing
Yet constant to my thoughts and love
My muse, sweet beauty cherish her name
Her eyes the warming tempest of desire
Hold me transfixed as the night
It is to her smile my heart sings
Her comforting touch I lay beside
What could be more beautiful I ask
Than who I love so entirely
That my heart, my love is sworn
poem by Matthew Holloway
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My Lover
No one conceals me like
No one reveals me like
My lover
No one can disconnect
No one can resurrect
Like my lover
My lover makes me weak
Gives me breath to speak
My lover takes me home
Cools the rolling stone
My lover's thorny kiss
The reason to exist
I wonder
No one can saturate
No one manipulates
Like my lover
The sensuality
It's immortality
My lover
My lover needs to seize
Bring me to my knees
Reads me like a prayer
Calls the spirit there
Secretly inspires
Strips me to desire
I wonder
No one can visualize
No one can make me rise
Like my lover
They dream of paradise
They'll never ever pay the price
My lover
song performed by by Melissa Etheridge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's The Lover
(rich donahue/patrick dollaghan)
He broke your heart and said goodbye
After promising forever
You wonder why you even tried
He was such a good pretender
The love you gave was all in vain
And nothing anyone can say
Could ever make you love that way again
It's the lover not the love
Who broke your heart last night
It's the lover not the dream
That didn't work out right
If you listen to your heart
You'll know it's true
It's the lover not the love
Who deserted you
Don't stop reachin' for the stars
Let tomorrow live inside you
And just remember who you are
Keep the faith and love will find you
A heart in love can lose it's true
Don't give up in time to find
The one who's right will come to you
It's the lover not the love
Who broke your heart last night
It's the lover not the dream
That didn't work out right
If you listen to your heart
You'll know it's true
It's the lover not the love
Who deserted you
It does no good to second guess
Whether love is wrong or right
If it was really meant to be
He'd be with you tonight
It's the lover not the love
Who broke your heart last night
It's the lover not the dream
That didn't turn out right
If you listen to your heart
You'll know it's true
It's the lover not the love
Who deserted you
song performed by by Tiffany
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wistful Words
O voluptuous lip, do whisper in my ear
What mine heart desires, what I want to hear
Love's soul in music, thy musical soul
To fill mine to overflow it full
With the meaning of love, thou soul's definition
The auger of truth our love in premonition
In those wistful words that lover's speak
I love you, I love you
For in those words thy soul and all souls seek
Life, and what's in life true….
My love, I'll say it too, I love you….
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Lover Be Thy Name
Lover, lover
Lover be thy name I say
Hey, hey, hey lover
Lover, lover
Lover be thy name
Everyday when the sun goes down
And all alone I face the night
I thinkof you and all that you've been
To me you've torn away a hole in my life
Don't try to be my sister, my mother, my friend
Cause it would never ever be the same
Hey, hey, hey
Lover be thy name
In the Middle of the night
Lover be thy name
In the middle of the night
Lover be thy name
Go live your life and I'll try live mine
But baby, if you see me out on the street
Walk away, turn away
Don'tlook in my eyes
Till I get my heart back on my feet
Don't wanna be your brother or the
Shoulder you lean on
Just to ease the burning pain
When I Call you there's no answer
When I had your love
I didn't know the words to say
Those words to make you stay
I should have said
Lover, lover
Lover be thy name
song performed by by Haddaway
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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O Lord My God! - -Carl Boberg
O Lord my God!
When I in awesome wonder
consider all the worlds
Thy hands have made
I see the stars,
I hear the rolling thunder,
The power throughout the universe displayed
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee;
How great Thou art, how great thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee,
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!
When through the woods and forest glades I wander
And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees;
When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur
And hear the brook and feel the geltle breeze;
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee;
How great Thou art, how great thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee,
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!
And when I think that God, His Son not sparing,
Sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in; -
That on the cross my burden gladly bearing,
He bled to take away my sin; -
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee;
How great Thou art, how great thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee,
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!
When Christ shall come with shout of acclamation
And take me home, what joy shall fill my heart!
Then I shall bow in humble adoration
And there proclaim, My God, How great Thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee;
How great Thou art, how great thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee,
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!
poem by Sangnam Nam
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The Withered Rose
O withered rose! How can I still call you a rose?
How can I call you the longing of nightingale's heart?
Once the zephyr's movement was your rocking cradle
In the garden's expanse joyous rose was your name
The morning breeze acknowledged your benevolence
The garden was like perfumer's tray by your presence
My weeping eye sheds dew on you
My desolate heart is concealed in your sorrow
You are a tiny picture of my destruction
You are the interpretation of my life's dream
Like a flute to my reed-brake I narrate my story
Listen O rose! I complain about separations!
poem by Allama Muhammad Iqbal
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