SAND AND FOAM(first part)
The third time when she was given to choose between the hard and the easy, and she chose the easy.
And you are free when there is no sun and no moon and no star.
And now the sun threads upon me with a thousand feet that I may lie again in the dust of Egypt.
Your mind and my heart will never agree until your mind ceases to live in numbers and my heart in the mist.
It takes two of us to discover truth: one to utter it and one to understand it.
Let us not be particular and sectional. The poets mind and the scorpions tail rise in glory from the same earth.
Friendship is always a sweet responsibility, never an opportunity.
When two women talk they say nothing; when one woman speaks she reveals all of life.
And again I closed and opened my hand, and in its hollow stood a man with a sad face, turned upward.
Singing with the days and dreaming with the nights.
The difference between the richest man and the poorest is but a day of hunger and an hour of thirst.
The Sphinx spoke only once, and the Sphinx said, "A grain of sand is a desert, and a desert is a grain of sand; and now let us all be silent again."
When one is drunk with a vision, he deems his faint expression of it the very wine.
Should nature heed what we say of contentment no river would seek the sea, and no winter would turn to Spring. Should she heed all we say of thrift, how many of us would be breathing this air?
The voice of life in me cannot reach the ear of life in you; but let us talk that we may not feel lonely.
Every seed is a longing.
Love and doubt have never been on speaking terms.
Make me, oh God, the prey of the lion, ere You make the rabbit my prey.
And what was to my surprise he became angry with me because he had misled me.
And again I closed my hand, and when I opened it there was naught but mist.
The fifth time when she forbore for weakness, and attributed her patience to strength.
When you long for blessings that you may not name, and when you grieve knowing not the cause, then indeed you are growing with all things that grow, and rising toward your greater self.
He who would understand a woman, or dissect genius, or solve the mystery of silence is the very man who would wake from a beautiful dream to sit at a breakfast table.
But I heard a song of exceeding sweetness.
I stopped my guest on the threshold and said, "Nay, wipe not your feet as you enter, but as you go out."
Many a woman borrows a mans heart; very few could possess it.
I am ignorant of absolute truth. But I am humble before my ignorance and therein lies my honour and my reward.
Love that does not renew itself every day becomes a habit and in turn a slavery.
And I say to both my house and the road, "I have no past, nor have I a future. If I stay here, there is a going in my staying; and if I go there is a staying in my going. Only love and death will change all things."
Half of what I say is meaningless; but I say it so that the other half may reach you.
The devil died the very day you were born.
They say to me in their awakening, "You and the world you live in are but a grain of sand upon the infinite shore of an infinite sea."
And should you open your ears and listen, you would hear your own voice in all voices.
A madman is not less a musician than you or myself; only the instrument on which he plays is a little out of tune.
The significance of man is not in what he attains, but rather in what he longs to attain.
Only the dumb envy the talkative.
Is it not strange that most of us choose sucking rather than running?
If you sing of beauty though alone in the heart of the desert you will have an audience.
The song that lies silent in the heart of a mother sings upon the lips of her child.
If it were not for your guests all houses would be graves.
Inspiration will always sing; inspiration will never explain.
A great singer is he who sings our silences.
Lovers embrace that which is between them rather than each other.
But behold a marvel and a riddle!
The first time when I saw her being meek that she might attain height.
Though the wave of words is forever upon us, yet our depth is forever silent.
Love is a word of light, written by a hand of light, upon a page of light.
But you and all my neighbours agree that I always choose badly.
There is no struggle of soul and body save in the minds of those whose souls are asleep and whose bodies are out of tune.
Then I opened it and lo, the mist was a worm.
Your other self is always sorry for you. But your other self grows on sorrow; so all is well.
Forgetfulness is a form of freedom.
And the road says to me, "Come and follow me, for I am your future."
When it is a devil I commit an old sin, and he passes me by.
You most savoury meal is that which you eat at the other persons table;
One may not reach the dawn save by the path of the night.
Therefore, if you would understand him, listen not to what he says but rather to what he does not say.
When a mans hand touches the hand of a woman they both touch the heart of eternity.
He who can put his finger upon that which divides good from evil is he who can touch the very hem of the garment of God.
Betwixt the sand and the foam,
You dr９９lｉｂ•netink wine that you may be intoxicated; and I drink that it may sober me from that other wine.
And the seventh time when she sang a song of praise, and deemed it a virtue.
All our words are but crumbs that fall down from the feast of the mind.
But you are a slave to him whom you love because you love him,
And if it were not for the whiteness of some of us, some of us would be blind.
If I were to choose between the power of writing a poem and the ecstasy of a poem unwritten, I would choose the ecstasy. It is better poetry.
Once I said to a poet, "We shall not know your worth until you die."
If your heart is a volcano how shall you expect flowers to bloom in your hands?
Love is the veil between lover and lover.
And I closed and opened my hand again, and behold there was a bird.
I have never agreed with my other self wholly. The truth of the matter seems to lie between us.
No longing remains unfulfilled.
Should you care to write (and only the saints know why you should) you must needs have knowledge and art and music -- the knowledge of the music of words, the art of being artless, and the magic of loving your readers.
The real in us is silent; the acquired is talkative.
The reality of the other person is not in what he reveals to you, but in what he cannot reveal to you.
You are indeed charitable when you give, and while giving, turn your face away so that you may not see the shyness of the receiver.
The first word of God was a man.
They dip their pens in our hearts and think they are inspired.
Now you do not have to go through hell to meet an angel.
Do not the spirits who dwell in the ether envy man his pain?
Poetry is wisdom that enchants the heart.
We often sing lullabies to our children that we ourselves may sleep.
Poetry is not an opinion expressed. It is a song that rises from a bleeding wound or a smiling mouth.
If we could enchant mans heart and at the same time sing in his mind,
Space is not space between the earth and the sun to one who looks down from the windows of the Milky Way.
The sixth time when she despised the ugliness of a face, and knew not that it was one of her own masks.
Perhaps I have only mislaid it.
Should a tree write its autobiography it would not be unlike the history of a race.
And if it were not for the blackness of some of us, some of us would be dumb;
And in my dream I say to them, "I am the infinite sea, and all worlds are but grains of sand upon my shore."
How can you sing if your mouth be filled with food?
Thinking is always the stumbling stone to poetry.
Then in truth he would live in the shadow of God九九藏书.
You are blind and I am deaf and dumb, so let us touch hands and understand.
Every man loves two women; the one is the creation of his imagination, and the other is not yet born.
It was but yesterday I thought myself a fragment quivering without rhythm in the sphere of life.
We often borrow from our tomorrows to pay our debts to our yesterdays.
Forever.
Nay, we have not lived in vain. Have they not built towers of our bones?
Poetry is a deal of joy and pain and wonder, with a dash of the dictionary.
Seven times have I despised my soul:
Those who give you a serpent when you ask for a fish, may have nothing but serpents to give. It is then generosity on their part.
We are all beggars at the gate of the temple, and each one of us receives his share of the bounty of the King when he enters the temple, and when he goes out.
SAND AND FOAM(first part)
Then the sun gave me birth, and I rose and walked upon the banks of the Nile,
Words are timeless. You should utter them or write them with a knowledge of their timelessness.
The second time when I saw her limping before the crippled.
If winter should say, "Spring is in my heart," who would believe winter?
We were fluttering, wandering, longing creatures a thousand thousand years before the sea and the wind in the forest gave us words.
Trees are poems that the earth writes upon the sky. We fell them down and turn them into paper that we may record our emptiness.
You owe more than gold to him who serves you. Give him of your heart or serve him.
Long did I lie in the dust of Egypt, silent and unaware of the seasons.
I too am visited by angels and devils, but I get rid of them.
And he answered saying, "Yes, death is always the revealer. And if indeed you would know my worth it is that I have more in my heart than upon my tongue, and more in my desire than in my hand."
How can I lose faith in the justice of life, when the dreams of those who sleep upon feathers are not more beautiful than the dreams of those who sleep upon the earth? Strange, the desire for certain pleasures is a part of my pain.
You are even free when you close your eyes upon all there is.
Trickery succeeds sometimes, but it always commits suicide.
Paradise is there, behind that door, in the next room; but I have lost the key.
I heard the Sphinx, but I did not understand.
When it is an angel I pray an old prayer, and he is bored;
Now tell me, how could we ever meet at the same place and the same time?
How noble is the sad heart who would sing a joyous song with joyous hearts.
Humanity is a river of light running from the ex九*九*藏*书*网-eternity to eternity.
I would walk with all those who walk. I would not stand still to watch the procession passing by.
And I followed him. And we walked many days and many nights, yet we did not reach the Holy City.
I am forever walking upon these shores,
Now how can we express the ancient of days in us with only the sounds of our yesterdays?
Now I know that I am the sphere, and all life in rhythmic fragments moves within me.
Generosity is not in giving me that which I need more than you do, but it is in giving me that which you need more than I do.
When Life does not find a singer to sing her heart she produces a philosopher to speak her mind.
You are free before the sun of the day, and free before the stars of the night;
After all this is not a bad prison; but I do not like this wall between my cell and the next prisoners cell;
Only once have I been made mute. It was when a man asked me, "Who are you?"
If you would possess you must not claim.
When my cup is empty I resign myself to its emptiness; but when it is half full I resent its half-fullness.
Some of us are like ink and some like paper.
And he said, "Follow me, and you will reach the Holy City in a day and a night."
Your most radiant garment is of the other persons weaving;
Even the most winged spirit cannot escape physical necessity.
Sow a seed and the earth will yield you a flower. Dream your dream to the sky and it will bring you your beloved.
You are truly a forgiver when you forgive murderers who never spill blood, thieves who never steal, and liars who utter no falsehood.
Genius is but a robins song at the beginning of a slow spring.
Wisdom is poetry that sings in the mind.
And the sheep answered, "We would have been honoured to visit your house if it were not in your stomach."
Once I filled my hand with mist.
When you reach the heart of life you shall find beauty in all things, even in the eyes that are blind to beauty.
How shall my heart be unsealed unless it be broken?
Should you really open your eyes and see, you would behold your image in all images.
Remembrance is a form of meeting.
Our mind is a sponge; our heart is a stream.
Yet I assure you that I do not wish to reproach the warder not the Builder of the prison.
A truth is to be known always, to be uttered sometimes.
We shall never understand one another until we reduce the language to seven words.
My house says to me, "Do not leave me, for here dwells your past."
Now let us play hide and seek. Should you hide in my heart it would not be difficult to find you. But should you hide behind your own shell, tｗwｗ.９9ｌiｂ•ｎeｔhen it would be useless for anyone to seek you. A woman may veil her face with a smile.
We measure time according to the movement of countless suns; and they measure time by little machines in their little pockets.
Only great sorrow or great joy can reveal your truth.
And a slave to him who loves you because he loves you.
Give me an ear and I will give you a voice.
The first thought of God was an angel.
A sense of humour is a sense of proportion.
A poet is a dethroned king sitting among the ashes of his palace trying to fashion an image out of the ashes.
Now tell me, how can you separate yourself from the other person?
In vain shall a poet seek the mother of the songs of his heart.
How shall your hand be raised in blessing if it is filled with gold?
If you would be revealed you must either dance naked in the sun, or carry your cross.
Said a gracious wolf to a simple sheep, "Will you not honour our house with a visit?"
The fourth time when she committed a wrong, and comforted herself that others also commit wrong.
Many a doctrine is like a window pane. We see truth through it but it divides us from truth.
But the sea and the shore will remain
The very sun that gathered me cannot scatter me.
But we are all jealous of one another, which is another way of belittling the King.
Men who do not forgive women their little faults will never enjoy their great virtues.
Your most comfortable bed is in the other persons house.
My loneliness was born when men praised my talkative faults and blamed my silent virtues.
Frogs may bellow louder than bulls, but they cannot drag the plough in the field not turn the wheel of the winepress, and of their skins you cannot make shoes.
So do we all. How else should we sing?
Still erect am I, and sure of foot do I walk upon the banks of the Nile.
Every dragon gives birth to a St. George who slays it.
They say the nightingale pierces his bosom with a thorn when he sings his love song.
The high tide will erase my foot-prints,
We live only to discover beauty. All else is a form of waiting.
You cannot consume beyond your appetite. The other half of the loaf belongs to the other person, and there should remain a little bread for the chance guest.
On my way to the Holy City I met another pilgrim and I asked him, "Is this indeed the way to the Holy City?"
You see but your shadow when you turn your back to the sun.
And the wind will blow away the foam.
If you do not understand your friend under all conditions you will never understand him.
There is a space between mans imagination and mans attainment that may only be traversed by his longing.