En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Those birds

Those birds outside your window at dawn
singing all at once fit to bust –

did you know they migrate from Islam
in the fighting season?

They’re all Sufis: they sleep all night
with the Beloved; and in the morning

they exchange the jokes they heard,
the pillow talk from the night before sleep;

then the blackbird and the thrush
weave these into stories which they sing

all day; then at night the nightingale
makes them all into one beautiful poem

about being intoxicated into song
by the wine of Shiraz; the rose-water wafers;

and how those who say
that one cannot be intoxicated

by the longing for the One
have proved themselves wrong

and proved the nightingale right
as you can know in yourself

when the nightingale sings of this
to the heart’s light pulsing in the stars.

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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By The Arno

THE oleander on the wall
Grows crimson in the dawning light,
Though the grey shadows of the night
Lie yet on Florence like a pall.

The dew is bright upon the hill,
And bright the blossoms overhead,
But ah! the grasshoppers have fled,
The little Attic song is still.

Only the leaves are gently stirred
By the soft breathing of the gale,
And in the almond-scented vale
The lonely nightingale is heard.

The day will make thee silent soon,
O nightingale sing on for love!
While yet upon the shadowy grove
Splinter the arrows of the moon.

Before across the silent lawn
In sea-green mist the morning steals,
And to love's frightened eyes reveals
The long white fingers of the dawn

Fast climbing up the eastern sky
To grasp and slay the shuddering night,
All careless of my heart's delight,
Or if the nightingale should die.

poem by Oscar Wilde
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From The Break The Nightingale

From the brake the Nightingale
Sings exulting to the Rose;
Though he sees her waxing pale
In her passionate repose,
While she triumphs waxing frail,
Fading even while she glows;
Though he knows
How it goes -
Knows of last year's Nightingale
Dead with last year's Rose.

Wise the enamoured Nightingale,
Wise the well-beloved Rose!
Love and life shall still prevail,
Nor the silence at the close
Break the magic of the tale
In the telling, though it shows -
Who but knows
How it goes! -
Life a last year's Nightingale,
Love a last year's Rose.

poem by William Ernest Henley
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A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square

That certain night, the night we met,
There was magic abroad in the air.
There were angels dining at the ritz,
And a nightingale sang in berkeley square.
I may be right, I may be wrong,
But Im perfectly willing to swear
That when you turned and smiled at me,
A nightingale sang in berkeley square.
The moon that lingered over londontown
Poor puzzled moon, he wore a frown.
How could he know that we two were so in love?
The whole darn world seemed upside down.
The streets of town were paved with stars,
It was such a romantic affair.
And as we kissed and said goodnight,
A nightingale sang in berkeley square.
~interlude~
When dawn came stealing up, all gold and blue
To interrupt our rendez-vous,
I still remember how you smiled and said,
Was that a dream? or was it true?
Our homeward step was just as light
As the dancing of fred astaire,
And like an echo far away
A nightingale sang in berkeley square.

song performed by by Nat King Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square

When two lovers meet in Mayfair, so the legends tell,
Songbirds sing; winter turns to spring.
Every winding street in Mayfair falls beneath the spell.
I know such enchantment can be, 'cos it happened one evening to me:
That certain night, the night we met,
There was magic abroad in the air,
There were angels dining at the Ritz,
And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.
I may be right, I may be wrong,
But I'm perfectly willing to swear
That when you turned and smiled at me
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.
The moon that lingered over London town,
Poor puzzled moon, he wore a frown.
How could he know we two were so in love?
The whole darn world seemed upside down
The streets of town were paved with stars;
It was such a romantic affair.
And, as we kissed and said 'goodnight',
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square
When dawn came stealing up all gold and blue
To interrupt our rendezvous,
I still remember how you smiled and said,
"Was that a dream or was it true?"
Our homeward step was just as light
As the tap-dancing feet of Astaire
And, like an echo far away,
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square
I know 'cos I was there,
That night in Berkeley Square.

song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At Night When The World Is Sleeping

at night when the world is sleeping
i have learned to sing inside the chamber of my heart
i have become this nightingale
a black nightingale singing the songs of the full moon
at night i have become this bleeding heart
blood dripping on the floor of the house

at night i beg the moon to listen
to the songs of the black nightingale
i beg the moon
to see the blood from my heart dripping
i beg the floor to understand and for a time being
when sadness and mourning reigns in the house of my body
to keep this bleeding heart
like sands on the floor of its hands.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Small Nightingale

Nightingale Nightingale
I am a little bird

Nightingale Nightingale
I am a little bird

Oh! god save me!
Oh! lord save me!

I have tried to save myself but i failed to?

Nightingale Nightingale
I am a sorrowful bird

Nightingale Nightingale
I am a sorrowful bird

Oh! god forget about this;
Listen about the frog

The frog was jealous of me as i sing so well
He wants me to die

Nightingale Nightingale
I am a little bird

BUT, I am a dying bird
BUT, I am a dying bird.

Oh! god save me!
Oh! lord save me!

poem by Abhishek Nair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Morning Please Dont Come

(tom springfield)
Duet with tom springfield
Morning please dont come
Surely you see that my lover is sleeping
Morning please dont come
Let the night linger on
When the stars have left the sky
We must say fond goodbye
Make the night a little longer
Morning please dont come
Starshine glow a little stronger
Morning please dont come
Day dont break for you will take
My love away from me
Try to hold back the sun
I beg you morning please dont come
Sing sweet nightingale
Sing me a song of a night never-ending
Sing sweet nightingale
And Ill try to pretend
That tomorrows nowhere near
And theres nothing to fear
Make the night a little longer
Morning please dont come
Starshine glow a little stronger
Morning please dont come
Day dont break for you will take
My love away from me
Try to hold back the sun
I beg you morning please dont come
Try to hold back the sun
I beg you morning please dont come
Try to hold back the sun
I beg you morning please dont come

song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bird Raptures

The sunrise wakes the lark to sing,
The moonrise wakes the nightingale.
Come darkness, moonrise, everything
That is so silent, sweet, and pale,
Come, so ye wake the nightingale.

Make haste to mount, thou wistful moon,
Make haste to wake the nightingale:
Let silence set the world in tune
To hearken to that wordless tale
Which warbles from the nightingale.

O herald skylark, stay thy flight
One moment, for a nightingale
Floods us with sorrow and delight.
To-morrow thou shalt hoist the sail;
Leave us tonight the nightingale.

poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Secret Language Of Birds, Pt. Ii

No buzz words, fuzzy fudge words,
So freeze those goalposts, don't take the admiral on board.
This hardy's not for kissing
Expression, no explosion,
Or whispered promises in clich or in rhyme.
Instead let's talk the secret language of birds.
Right time but the wrong idea.
Well, you're making it all sound just the same.
Try taking it up a key like that nightingale
Still over there in berkeley square.
Do we have problems of communication?
There's something i don't know and you can't explain it to me.
Let's talk the secret language of birds.
Step out of the circus now.
Learn a new trick and make it stick.
Try taking it up a key like that nightingale
Still over there in berkeley square.
Finger tracing on misty window:
I'm reading loud and clear this salacious semaphore,
As you leave me standing at the station.
Give it to me ---- the big dawn chorus:
No whispered promises in clich or in rhyme.
Let's talk the secret language of birds.
Right time but the wrong idea.
Well, you're making it all sound just the same.
Try taking it up a key like that nightingale
Still over there in berkeley square.

song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let The Night Sleep

Let the night sleep
Sleep for ever deep
With the night I sleep
Beyond the world to peep
Universe will sleep
Plants and trees
Birds and bees
Stars and moon
To sleep very soon!
Fruits and flowers
Joy with showers
Will sleep with me and the night
Not to keep the life very tight!
No dawn of the day
Right upto the dooms day!
Sleep permanent
In the world impermanent
I'll sleep without light
My agonies will sleep
My worries will sleep
My pains will sleep
My sins will sleep!

While in sleep
I am pure
I am peace
I am noble!

While my body is asleep
Awake my soul I keep
Sleep akin to death
Death akin to sleep in mirth?

Let the night sleep
Sleep for ever deep
With night I sleep
Sleep to eternity
Soul to merge in Divinity!

poem by Subbaraman N V
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nightingale’s Song

A delegation of birds petitioned God

“Why is it you never chastise the nightingale? ”

God bid nightingale to speak;

“My way, she explained is different
March to June I sing
The other nine months, while others
Continue chirping, I am silent”

Sing your sweet songs beloved
While your Brethren clatter about
But know when to be silent...
That God may speak to you

(Inspired by Rumi)

ROTMS

poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beauty of Nature

I went to the garden and drank some ale
And heard the wailing of the nightingale

Blooming there also was a beautiful rose
But, unlike the birds, it had no woes

It looked so happy, so vigorous, so proud
Standing alone and above the crowd.

The narcissus also was looking very grand,
Had a tulip in waiting with a cup in hand

The iris there also lashing its tongue
Scolding them all, whether old or young,

And holding a flask was there a lass
Pouring red wine in everyone's glass

And there was Hafiz singing his song
Telling us to come and sing along.

By Hafiz

poem by Lawrence Hiung
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Juliet: Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear;
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree:
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
Romeo: It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
No nightingale. Look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east.
Night‘s candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
Juliet: Yon light is not daylight, I know it, I:
It is some meteor that the sun exhal‘d,
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,
And light thee on thy way to Mantua.
Therefore stay yet; thou need‘st not to be gone.
Romeo: Let me be ta‘en, let me be put to death;
I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
I‘ll say yon grey is not the morning‘s eye,
‘Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia‘s brow;
Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads.
I have more care to stay than will to go:
Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.
How is‘t, my soul? let‘s talk; it is not day.
Juliet: It is, it is: hie hence, be gone, away!
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.
Some say the lark makes sweet division;
This doth not so, for she divideth us.
Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes,
O, now I would they had changed voices too!
Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
Hunting thee hence with hunt‘s-up to the day.
O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.
Romeo: More light and light; more dark and dark our woes!

line from Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Poet And The Bird

Said a people to a poet---' Go out from among us straightway!
While we are thinking earthly things, thou singest of divine.
There's a little fair brown nightingale, who, sitting in the gateways
Makes fitter music to our ears than any song of thine!'

The poet went out weeping---the nightingale ceased chanting;
'Now, wherefore, O thou nightingale, is all thy sweetness done?'
I cannot sing my earthly things, the heavenly poet wanting,
Whose highest harmony includes the lowest under sun.'

The poet went out weeping,---and died abroad, bereft there---
The bird flew to his grave and died, amid a thousand wails:---
And, when I last came by the place, I swear the music left there
Was only of the poet's song, and not the nightingale's.

poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Go Away Nightingale

Who is this that wake
me up before dawn,
with songs as of those
that mourn?

Oh, nightingale.
Go.
Go away

Go away,
to the old that is
nigh unto death.
Your song beseem them.

Go away.
To the crowd beneath
the earth.
They need a shallow friend.

Go away.
your sonorous voice
do not befit a good day.

You sing to me at night.
You sing to me before dawn.

Go away
For when i need you to sing,
you are always on flight.

poem by Enebeli Ifyprada
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One Morning In May

One morning, one morning, one morning in may
I spied a young couple, they were making their way
One was a maiden so bright and so fair
And the other was a soldier and a brave volunteer
Good morning, good morning, good morning said he
And where are you going my pretty lady
Im goig out a walkin on the banks of the sea
Just to see the waters gliding hear the nightingale sing
Now they had not been standing but a minute or two
And out of his knapsack a fiddle he drew
And the tune that he played made the valleys all ring
Oh hark cried the maiden hear the nightingale sing
Oh maiden fair maiden tis time to give oer
Oh no kind soldier please play one tune more
For Id rather hear your fiddle at the touch of one string
Than to see the waters gliding hear the nightingale sing
Oh soldier kind soldier will you marry me
Oh no pretty maiden that never shall be
Ive a wife in london and children twice three
Two wives and the armys too many for me
Well Ill go back to london and Ill stay there for a year
Its often that Ill think of you my little dear
And if ever I return it will be in the spring
Just to see the waters gliding hear the nightingale sing
To see the waters gliding hear the nightingale sing

song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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