Mount Avarim
Shalom, Mount Avarim. Blessed be your slopes.
Somewhere on you the greatest of men was gathered,
Sacred bones now buried deep in your side.
If you do not know him, ask the Red Sea,
Ask the green bush, ask Sinai, and they will tell you:
“He was not a man of words, but he did God’s work.”
I have vowed to visit you soon, God willing.
Translated by Robert Mezey
poem by Yehudah HaLevi
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Related quotes
Cups Without Wine
Cups without wine are low things
Like a pot thrown to the ground,
But brimming with the juice, they shine
Like body and soul.
Translated by Robert Mezey
poem by Yehudah HaLevi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Hayloft
Through all the pleasant meadow-side
The grass grew shoulder-high,
Till the shining scythes went far and wide
And cut it down to dry.
Those green and sweetly smelling crops
They led the waggons home;
And they piled them here in mountain tops
For mountaineers to roam.
Here is Mount Clear, Mount Rusty-Nail,
Mount Eagle and Mount High;--
The mice that in these mountains dwell,
No happier are than I!
Oh, what a joy to clamber there,
Oh, what a place for play,
With the sweet, the dim, the dusty air,
The happy hills of hay!
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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The Golden Calf
When Israel heard the fiery law,
From Sinai's top proclaimed;
Their hearts seemed full of holy awe,
Their stubborn spirits tamed.
Yet, as forgetting all they knew,
Ere forty days were past;
With blazing Sinai still in view,
A molten calf they cast.
Yea, Aaron, God's anointed priest,
Who on the mount had been
He durst prepare the idol-beast,
And lead them on to sin.
Lord, what is man! and what are we,
To recompense thee thus!
In their offence our own we see,
Their story points at us.
From Sinai we have heard thee speak,
And from mount Calv'ry too;
And yet to idols oft we seek,
While thou art in our view.
Some golden calf, or golden dream,
Some fancied creature-good,
Presumes to share the heart with him,
Who bought the whole with blood.
Lord, save us from our golden calves,
Our sin with grief we own;
We would no more be thine by halves,
But live to thee alone.
poem by John Newton
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Bush warbler
again the bush warbler
perhaps another stroke
of good luck coming
inspired by
Bush warbler:
shits on the rice cakes
on the porch rail.
Translated by Robert Hass
Matsuo Basho
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Blowing stones
Blowing stones
along the road on Mount Asama,
the autumn wind.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Matsuo Basho
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Your grave
If I could visit your grave
I could have been very much brave
You parted early in surprise
Just breaking holy promise
You sent me away to build future
You wanted me by your side for sure
I was strong enough to sustain any pain
As you were my only main concern
You knew it in advance
You only waited for chance
You had one excuse under disguise
You acted tough but very wise
Had I been by your side at end time?
I could have gone mad sometimes
Torn off all cloths and ran amuck in forest
As you departure was tough endurance test
I hardly came to know your last breath
You were buried deep under ground after death
Made sweet home to sleep and stay away
I could hardly make it in time to reach the way
How could I visit now your grave?
How will gather strength to be brave?
My eyes have gone barren and complete dry
I have no more courage to stand before and cry
All golden pages are written on heart
Our meetings under tree were unique art
We loved to live last moment
Now I can only dream and resent
I miss you love and can stand nowhere
I can come to visit but will it be fair?
People may laugh at your deception
You had parted without according me reception
I would love to be buried along side
I shall lay not far but little wide
I shall express only one wish
"God take me away and finish"
How would I live without her?
Who will solace me and wipe my tears?
I long secretly for last words to hear
I shall just lay on ground with my ears
I shall pick the pulse and sense
Just may know how much you feel tense
I shall love to be known as dead man
Even though technically I am no more to be called human
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Staying at an inn
Staying at an inn
where prostitutes are also sleeping--
bush clover and the moon.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Matsuo Basho
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Bush warbler
Bush warbler:
shits on the rice cakes
on the porch rail.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Matsuo Basho
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Alankar(Decor) -40
A Visit To My Village(Chaucerian Roundel)
Till my last ken it was green, green alone
Looked just for God's tread carpeted sacred
Or an attire godly live emerald
Much a velvet thought even now I'm prone
To feel the heaven for me descended
Till my last ken it was green, green alone
Such be, changing are not people alone
Even the paddy fields to houses changed
Last trip here to say there were all paved
'Till my last ken it was green, green alone'
poem by Indira Renganathan
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oh yes, Mr. Shaun, the Bible was not written in English
The Gospel of Christ and, in general,
the Holy Bible are written with the inspiration of God.
The Prophets and the Apostles
have recorded in written form
a portion of the oral teaching of the Old Testament
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
These are the original languages of the Holy Bible from' which all the translations have been derived. God's inspiration is confined to the original languages and utterances, not the many translations. There are 1,300 languages and dialects into which the Holy Bible, in its entirety or in portions, has been
translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated.translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated.
This does not mean that the translations do not convey the meaning of the Bible for spiritual uprightness of the readers in their own language. On the contrary the Bible should be spread and preached to 'all nations'. The missionaries in foreign lands learn the language or the dialect of. the new area into which they bring the Bible and other religious teachings. For example, the missionaries from Constantinople, Saints Cyril and Methodios, sent to Christianize the Slavic peoples in the 9th century, first translated the Bible and the ritual books into the language of the people.
yes, Mr. Shaun, my friend the Bible was not written in English.IT was written in HEBREW, ARAMAIC, and GREEK....
But i like it written in English too, how i wish it were written in such a
language,
with a sense of class
and fashionable disguise,
for without it, how could i ever understand, God,
oh, my, God!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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First Date Tree Saeeded By Abdul Rahman The Firs
You are the apple of my eye,
My heart's delight:
I am remote from my valley,
To me you are the Burning Bush of Sinai!
You are a houri of the Arabian Desert,
Nursed by the Western breeze.
I feel homesick in exile,
You feel homesick in exile:
Prosper in this strange land!
May the morning dew quench your thirst!
The world presents a strange sight:
The vision's mantle is torn apart—
May valour struggle with the waves if it must,
The other side of the river is not to be seen!
Life owes itself to the heat of one's soul:
Flame does not rise from dust.
The Syrian evening's fallen star
Shined brighter in the exile's dawn.
There are no frontiers for the Man of Faith,
He is at home everywhere.
[Translated by the Editors]
*
That blood of pristine vigour is no more;
That yearning heart's power is no more;
Prayer, fasting, hajj, sacrifice survive,
But in thee nature's old dower is no more.
[Translated by Naim Siddiqui]
Not: These verses from Abdul Rahman the First
are quoted in Tarikh al Muqqari. The
following Urdu poem is a liberal
translation (the tree mentioned here was
planted in Madinatut Zahra)
poem by Allama Muhammad Iqbal
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I Look Up At The Sky/And Wait For A Poem
I LOOK UP AT THE SKY/ AND WAIT FOR A POEM
I look up at the sky
And wait for a poem-
The deep dark green of this park surrounds me -
I have been blessed by so much
I have been given so much in my life-
This cool beautiful Yerushalmi night
All I am is thanking God.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Is Nothing Sacred
If a love as strong as ours
Couldnt make it all the way,
Can anything make sense at all?
If a love so deep and true
Couldnt stand the test of time,
Then mount everest could slide,
And jeruselem could fall.
Is nothing sacred anymore?
Is forever just another word?
Is a promise something people used to keep
When love was worth fighting for?
If we can say good-bye,
If we can say good-bye,
Is nothing sacred anymore?
If we can say good-bye
Is nothing sacred anymore?
I can hear the final words
Every sentence that was said
Dont know what turned our lives around.
It doesnt matter who was right,
Theres no justice in a dream.
Never thought a heart could break
Without making any sound.
Is nothing sacred anymore?
Is forever just another word?
Is a promise something people used to keep
When love was worth fighting for?
If we can say good-bye,
If we can say good-bye,
Is nothing sacred anymore?
If we can say good-bye
If we can say good-bye
Is nothing sacred anymore?
Our love was as certain as the dawn,
As solid and save as any love could be.
Our love was the star you wished upon,
And you thought that I saved you,
Couldve sworn that you saved me.
Is nothing sacred anymore?
Is forever just another word?
Is a promise something people used to keep
When love was worth fighting for?
If we can say good-bye,
If we can say good-bye,
Is nothing sacred anymore?
Is nothing sacred anymore?
Is forever just another word?
Is a promise something people used to keep
When love was worth fighting for?
If we can say good-bye,
If we can say good-bye,
Is nothing sacred anymore?
If we can say good-bye,
If we can say good-bye...
Is nothing sacred anymore...
Is nothing sacred anymore...
Is nothing sacred anymore...
song performed by by Meat Loaf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Trinity Of Carnatic Music 2-Muthuswamy Dhikshitar
Blessed Yogi when blessed
Blessed was your cognizant mastery
To be blessed from the sacred depths
Devi Ganga to treasure you with Rama-Veena
Blessed later when the Lord of Tiruttani
Blessed was 'you' with your vibhakti kritis
To be blessed from the heavenly treasury
'GuruGuha' to treasure you in bouffant compendium
Blessed your sanskrit lexicon when blessed
Blessed Navavarna kritis blossomed in stacks
To be blessed then planetary nine in seven talas
Extended seventy two Kartas issuing varieties aplenty
Blessed your peripatetic journey when blessed
Blessed Amrithavarshini pattered driving drought
To be blessed you then to sing to Madurai Meenakshi
'Meenalochani Pasamochani'to board you of Her abode
Blessed scholar with blessed knowledge
Blessed verbarian, blessed musician
To be blessed is we O'Guru, by your soul
Devis and deities from your resort of music
poem by Indira Renganathan
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The Greens Of These Trees These Leaves
THE GREENS OF THESE TREES THESE LEAVES
The greens of these trees these leaves
The many shades of green-
Olive green and deep dark green and yellow green
And greens I see but have no name for-
So many shades of light and beauty in green
And I with my eyes loving them all
And delighted and made happy by them all-
Wondering why and how God's world
Has so so much Beauty
Just in green alone -
And being deep in happiness
At being alive
And loving them more
In regretting why and how
I will not one day soon
be able to see them again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Man has made 32 million laws since the Commandments were handed down to Moses on Mount Sinai... but he has never improved on God's law.
quote by Cecil B. DeMille
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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With my father
With my father
I would watch dawn
over green fields.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Kobayashi Issa
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Note on Paul Celan,2010
Shalom Shalom Shalom Shulammite
Your ashes in wind death blown skull
Sing storms of justice and breeze of peace
In wells you hid your black milk of dawns
In spells of sky they burnt your fingers
Maestro Mefisto orchestra manifesto
Sought evil necklace around his neck
Too heavy for the soul to fly
Stone cut pearls of you ashen voice
Stone cut drawing of your powdered bones
Stone cut inscription your beauty glows
Shalom Shalom Shalom Shulemite
Bring peace on my soul Shalom
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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A caterpillar
A caterpillar,
this deep in fall--
still not a butterfly.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Matsuo Basho
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The Reveille
Trumpets of the Lancer Corps
Sound a loud reveille;
Sound it over Sydney shore,
Send the message far and wide
Down the Richmond River side.
Boot and Saddle, mount and ride,
Sound a loud reveille.
Whither go ye, Lancers gay,
With your bold reveille?
O'er the ocean far away
From your sunny southern home,
Over leagues of trackless foam
In a foreign land to roam,
With your bold reveille.
When we hear our brethren call,
Sound a clear reveille.
Then we answer, one and all,
Answer that the world may see,
Of the English stock are we,
At their side we still will be,
Sound a bold reveille.
English troops are buried deep.
Sound a soft reveille.
In this foreign land asleep,
Underneath Majuba Hill,
Lying sleeping very still,
Nevermore those squadrons will
Answer to reveille.
Onward without fear or doubt,
Sound a bold reveille.
'Till that shame is blotted out.
While our Empire's bounds are wide,
Britons all stand side by side,
Boot and saddle, mount and ride.
Hear the bold reveille.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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