Post by merkaba on Feb 24, 2010 23:02:55 GMT -5
Let by my intuition, I went from a homepage where I was buying clothes, using their links, on 3 clicks a frontpage turned up: Deepak Chopra: The way to happines…I could recall his name in connection to mj, but I thought he was a hip-hopper *lol*, but now I could see he is a spirituel author, as I was landed on a book store.
I googled mj and Deepak, and ended up with an article written by Deepak, it was written on the 26 th of june, and he spoke about mj and their freindship. He also mentioned that mj had been reading Tagore last time they spoke.
This Rabidranath Tagore kept summing in my head for a couple of days, so I googled it and on two clicks I ended up with a list of, as I recall, 8-10 poems.
One of them catched my eye at once as the Title was: We are to Play the Game of Death….
OMG, I thougth, that must be a clue.
But It was a beautiful beautiful love poem, but in my opinion it can also show the spirituel awakening many people feels now. That the push of death has opened our eyes, when his songs failed to arouse us!
At least that´s how I felt about it.
We are to Play the Game of Death.
We are to play the game of death to-night, my bride and I.
The night is black, the clouds in the sky are capricious, and the
waves are raving at sea.
We have left our bed of dreams, flung open the door and come out,
my bride and I.
We sit upon a swing, and the storm winds give us a wild push from
behind.
My bride starts up with fear and delight, she trembles and clings
to my breast.
Long have I served her tenderly.
I made for her a bed of flowers and I closed the doors to shut
out the rude light from her eyes.
I kissed her gently on her lips and whispered softly in her ears
till she half swooned in languor.
She was lost in the endless mist of vague sweetness.
She answered not to my touch, my songs failed to arouse her.
To-night has come to us the call of the storm from the wild.
My bride has shivered and stood up, she has clasped my hand and
come out.
Her hair is flying in the wind, her veil is fluttering, her
garland rustles over her breast.
The push of death has swung her into life.
We are face to face and heart to heart, my bride and I.
There are several poems who makes sense to me, tell me what you think! Deepak also mentioned Rumi in his article, I have not read so much Rumi, and I must admit that I haven´t looked in to it concerning this. But they do have one thing in common, they are both great LOVE poets.
This one reminds me of This is it song! I wondered about the words known you for a Thousand years, and never seen your face before, and I was wondering if the song could be about reincarnation.
And if mj was looking for a love he had known for many ages, somehow they seperated, and when he finally found her, he felt Grand. Because he now was able to be ”The Light of the World” .
Tell me if this be all true, my lover, tell me if this be true.
When these eyes flash their lightning the dark clouds in your
breast make stormy answer.
Is it true that my lips are sweet like the opening bud of the
first conscious love?
Do the memories of vanished months of May linger in my limbs?
Does the earth, like a harp, shiver into songs with the touch of
my feet?
Is it then true that the dewdrops fall from the eyes of night
when I am seen, and the morning light is glad when it wraps my
body round?
Is it true, is it true, that your love travelled alone through
ages and worlds in search of me?
That when you found me at last, your age-long desire found utter
peace in my gentle speech and my eyes and lips and flowing
hair?
Is it then true that the mystery of the Infinite is written on
this little forehead of mine?
Tell me, my lover, if all this be true.
Well does this ring a bell? It´s also Tagore, but I don´t remember from where. And by the way, many of Tagore´s poems were in fact songs, turned in to poems.
In the night the song came to me; but you were not there.
It found the words for which I had been seeking all day. Yes, in the
stillness a moment after dark they throbbed into music, even as the stars
then began to pulse with light; but you were not there. My hope was to sing
it to you in the morning; but, try as I might, though the music came, the
words hung back, when you were beside me.
Here is a ling: www.ebooksread.com/authors-eng/rabindranath-tagore/the-fugitive-01v/1-the-fugitive-01v.shtml
There are several e-books….Read in The Gardener and the Lover´s gifts. I´ll print some other poems later….There are several.
I googled mj and Deepak, and ended up with an article written by Deepak, it was written on the 26 th of june, and he spoke about mj and their freindship. He also mentioned that mj had been reading Tagore last time they spoke.
This Rabidranath Tagore kept summing in my head for a couple of days, so I googled it and on two clicks I ended up with a list of, as I recall, 8-10 poems.
One of them catched my eye at once as the Title was: We are to Play the Game of Death….
OMG, I thougth, that must be a clue.
But It was a beautiful beautiful love poem, but in my opinion it can also show the spirituel awakening many people feels now. That the push of death has opened our eyes, when his songs failed to arouse us!
At least that´s how I felt about it.
We are to Play the Game of Death.
We are to play the game of death to-night, my bride and I.
The night is black, the clouds in the sky are capricious, and the
waves are raving at sea.
We have left our bed of dreams, flung open the door and come out,
my bride and I.
We sit upon a swing, and the storm winds give us a wild push from
behind.
My bride starts up with fear and delight, she trembles and clings
to my breast.
Long have I served her tenderly.
I made for her a bed of flowers and I closed the doors to shut
out the rude light from her eyes.
I kissed her gently on her lips and whispered softly in her ears
till she half swooned in languor.
She was lost in the endless mist of vague sweetness.
She answered not to my touch, my songs failed to arouse her.
To-night has come to us the call of the storm from the wild.
My bride has shivered and stood up, she has clasped my hand and
come out.
Her hair is flying in the wind, her veil is fluttering, her
garland rustles over her breast.
The push of death has swung her into life.
We are face to face and heart to heart, my bride and I.
There are several poems who makes sense to me, tell me what you think! Deepak also mentioned Rumi in his article, I have not read so much Rumi, and I must admit that I haven´t looked in to it concerning this. But they do have one thing in common, they are both great LOVE poets.
This one reminds me of This is it song! I wondered about the words known you for a Thousand years, and never seen your face before, and I was wondering if the song could be about reincarnation.
And if mj was looking for a love he had known for many ages, somehow they seperated, and when he finally found her, he felt Grand. Because he now was able to be ”The Light of the World” .
Tell me if this be all true, my lover, tell me if this be true.
When these eyes flash their lightning the dark clouds in your
breast make stormy answer.
Is it true that my lips are sweet like the opening bud of the
first conscious love?
Do the memories of vanished months of May linger in my limbs?
Does the earth, like a harp, shiver into songs with the touch of
my feet?
Is it then true that the dewdrops fall from the eyes of night
when I am seen, and the morning light is glad when it wraps my
body round?
Is it true, is it true, that your love travelled alone through
ages and worlds in search of me?
That when you found me at last, your age-long desire found utter
peace in my gentle speech and my eyes and lips and flowing
hair?
Is it then true that the mystery of the Infinite is written on
this little forehead of mine?
Tell me, my lover, if all this be true.
Well does this ring a bell? It´s also Tagore, but I don´t remember from where. And by the way, many of Tagore´s poems were in fact songs, turned in to poems.
In the night the song came to me; but you were not there.
It found the words for which I had been seeking all day. Yes, in the
stillness a moment after dark they throbbed into music, even as the stars
then began to pulse with light; but you were not there. My hope was to sing
it to you in the morning; but, try as I might, though the music came, the
words hung back, when you were beside me.
Here is a ling: www.ebooksread.com/authors-eng/rabindranath-tagore/the-fugitive-01v/1-the-fugitive-01v.shtml
There are several e-books….Read in The Gardener and the Lover´s gifts. I´ll print some other poems later….There are several.