Life and Existence

Talking XX
And then a scholar said, "Speak of Talking."
And he answered, saying:
You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts;
And when you can no longer dwell in the solitude of your heart you live in your lips,
and sound is a diversion and a pastime.
And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered.
For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words many indeed unfold its wings but
cannot fly.
There are those among you who seek the talkative through fear of being alone.
The silence of aloneness reveals to their eyes their naked selves and they would
escape.
And there are those who talk, and without knowledge or forethought reveal a truth
which they themselves do not understand.
And there are those who have the truth within them, but they tell it not in words.
In the bosom of such as these the spirit dwells in rhythmic silence.
When you meet your friend on the roadside or in the market place, let the spirit in you
move your lips and direct your tongue.
Let the voice within your voice speak to the ear of his ear;
For his soul will keep the truth of your heart as the taste of the wine is remembered
When the color is forgotten and the vessel is no more.

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?

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?

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?

Reason and Passion XV
And the priestess spoke again and said: "Speak to us of Reason and Passion."
And he answered saying:
Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon which your reason and your judgment wage
war against passion and your appetite.
Would that I could be the peacemaker in your soul, that I might turn the discord and
the rivalry of your elements into oneness and melody.
But how shall I, unless you yourselves be also the peacemakers, nay, the lovers of all
your elements?
Your reason and your passion are the rudder and the sails of your seafaring soul.
If either your sails or our rudder be broken, you can but toss and drift, or else be held
at a standstill in mid-seas.
For reason, ruling alone, is a force confining; and passion, unattended, is a flame that
burns to its own destruction.
Therefore let your soul exalt your reason to the height of passion; that it may sing;
And let it direct your passion with reason, that your passion may live through its own
daily resurrection, and like the phoenix rise above its own ashes.
I would have you consider your judgment and your appetite even as you would two
loved guests in your house.
Surely you would not honour one guest above the other; for he who is more mindful of
one loses the love and the faith of both.
Among the hills, when you sit in the cool shade of the white poplars, sharing the peace
and serenity of distant fields and meadows - then let your heart say in silence, "God
rests in reason."
And when the storm comes, and the mighty wind shakes the forest, and thunder and
lightning proclaim the majesty of the sky, - then let your heart say in awe, "God moves
in passion."
And since you are a breath In God's sphere, and a leaf in God's forest, you too should
rest in reason and move in passion.

Self-Knowledge XVII
And a man said, "Speak to us of Self-Knowledge."
And he answered, saying:
Your hearts know in silence the secrets of the days and the nights.
But your ears thirst for the sound of your heart's knowledge.
You would know in words that which you have always know in thought.
You would touch with your fingers the naked body of your dreams.
And it is well you should.
The hidden well-spring of your soul must needs rise and run murmuring to the sea;
And the treasure of your infinite depths would be revealed to your eyes.
But let there be no scales to weigh your unknown treasure;
And seek not the depths of your knowledge with staff or sounding line.
For self is a sea boundless and measureless.
Say not, "I have found the truth," but rather, "I have found a truth."
Say not, "I have found the path of the soul." Say rather, "I have met the soul walking
upon my path."
For the soul walks upon all paths.
The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed.
The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless petals.

Self-Knowledge XVII
And a man said, "Speak to us of Self-Knowledge."
And he answered, saying:
Your hearts know in silence the secrets of the days and the nights.
But your ears thirst for the sound of your heart's knowledge.
You would know in words that which you have always know in thought.
You would touch with your fingers the naked body of your dreams.
And it is well you should.
The hidden well-spring of your soul must needs rise and run murmuring to the sea;
And the treasure of your infinite depths would be revealed to your eyes.
But let there be no scales to weigh your unknown treasure;
And seek not the depths of your knowledge with staff or sounding line.
For self is a sea boundless and measureless.
Say not, "I have found the truth," but rather, "I have found a truth."
Say not, "I have found the path of the soul." Say rather, "I have met the soul walking
upon my path."
For the soul walks upon all paths.
The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed.
The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless petals.

Good and Evil XXII
And one of the elders of the city said, "Speak to us of Good and Evil."
And he answered:
Of the good in you I can speak, but not of the evil.
For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?
Verily when good is hungry it seeks food even in dark caves, and when it thirsts, it
drinks even of dead waters.
You are good when you are one with yourself.
Yet when you are not one with yourself you are not evil.
For a divided house is not a den of thieves; it is only a divided house.
And a ship without rudder may wander aimlessly among perilous isles yet sink not to
the bottom.
You are good when you strive to give of yourself.
Yet you are not evil when you seek gain for yourself.
For when you strive for gain you are but a root that clings to the earth and sucks at her
breast.
Surely the fruit cannot say to the root, "Be like me, ripe and full and ever giving of
your abundance."
For to the fruit giving is a need, as receiving is a need to the root.
You are good when you are fully awake in your speech,
Yet you are not evil when you sleep while your tongue staggers without purpose.
And even stumbling speech may strengthen a weak tongue.
You are good when you walk to your goal firmly and with bold steps.
Yet you are not evil when you go thither limping.
Even those who limp go not backward.
But you who are strong and swift, see that you do not limp before the lame, deeming it
kindness.
You are good in countless ways, and you are not evil when you are not good,
You are only loitering and sluggard.
Pity that the stags cannot teach swiftness to the turtles.


In your longing for your giant self lies your goodness: and that longing is in all of you.
But in some of you that longing is a torrent rushing with might to the sea, carrying the
secrets of the hillsides and the songs of the forest.
And in others it is a flat stream that loses itself in angles and bends and lingers before
it reaches the shore.
But let not him who longs much say to him who longs little, "Wherefore are you slow
and halting?"
For the truly good ask not the naked, "Where is your garment?" nor the houseless,
"What has befallen your house?"

Good and Evil XXII
And one of the elders of the city said, "Speak to us of Good and Evil."
And he answered:
Of the good in you I can speak, but not of the evil.
For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?
Verily when good is hungry it seeks food even in dark caves, and when it thirsts, it
drinks even of dead waters.
You are good when you are one with yourself.
Yet when you are not one with yourself you are not evil.
For a divided house is not a den of thieves; it is only a divided house.
And a ship without rudder may wander aimlessly among perilous isles yet sink not to
the bottom.
You are good when you strive to give of yourself.
Yet you are not evil when you seek gain for yourself.
For when you strive for gain you are but a root that clings to the earth and sucks at her
breast.
Surely the fruit cannot say to the root, "Be like me, ripe and full and ever giving of
your abundance."
For to the fruit giving is a need, as receiving is a need to the root.
You are good when you are fully awake in your speech,
Yet you are not evil when you sleep while your tongue staggers without purpose.
And even stumbling speech may strengthen a weak tongue.
You are good when you walk to your goal firmly and with bold steps.
Yet you are not evil when you go thither limping.
Even those who limp go not backward.
But you who are strong and swift, see that you do not limp before the lame, deeming it
kindness.
You are good in countless ways, and you are not evil when you are not good,
You are only loitering and sluggard.
Pity that the stags cannot teach swiftness to the turtles.


In your longing for your giant self lies your goodness: and that longing is in all of you.
But in some of you that longing is a torrent rushing with might to the sea, carrying the
secrets of the hillsides and the songs of the forest.
And in others it is a flat stream that loses itself in angles and bends and lingers before
it reaches the shore.
But let not him who longs much say to him who longs little, "Wherefore are you slow
and halting?"
For the truly good ask not the naked, "Where is your garment?" nor the houseless,
"What has befallen your house?"

Joy and Sorrow chapter VIII
Then a woman said, "Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow."
And he answered:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your
tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with
knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which
has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you
are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the
greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that
the other is asleep upon your bed.
Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your
joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

Friendship IXX
And a youth said, "Speak to us of Friendship."
Your friend is your needs answered.
He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.
And he is your board and your fireside.
For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.
When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the "nay" in your own mind, nor do you
withhold the "ay."
And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;
For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and
shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.
When you part from your friend, you grieve not;
For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to
the climber is clearer from the plain.
And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.
For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net
cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.
And let your best be for your friend.
If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.
For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?
Seek him always with hours to live.
For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.
And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.
For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

Eating and Drinking chapter VI
Then an old man, a keeper of an inn, said, "Speak to us of Eating and Drinking."
And he said:
Would that you could live on the fragrance of the earth, and like an air plant be
sustained by the light.
But since you must kill to eat, and rob the young of its mother's milk to quench your
thirst, let it then be an act of worship,
And let your board stand an altar on which the pure and the innocent of forest and
plain are sacrificed for that which is purer and still more innocent in many.
When you kill a beast say to him in your heart,
"By the same power that slays you, I to am slain; and I too shall be consumed. For the
law that delivered you into my hand shall deliver me into a mightier hand.
Your blood and my blood is naught but the sap that feeds the tree of heaven."
And when you crush an apple with your teeth, say to it in your heart,
"Your seeds shall live in my body,
And the buds of your tomorrow shall blossom in my heart,
And your fragrance shall be my breath,
And together we shall rejoice through all the seasons."
And in the autumn, when you gather the grapes of your vineyard for the winepress,
say in you heart,
"I too am a vineyard, and my fruit shall be gathered for the winepress,
And like new wine I shall be kept in eternal vessels."
And in winter, when you draw the wine, let there be in your heart a song for each cup;
And let there be in the song a remembrance for the autumn days, and for the vineyard,
and for the winepress.

Eating and Drinking chapter VI
Then an old man, a keeper of an inn, said, "Speak to us of Eating and Drinking."
And he said:
Would that you could live on the fragrance of the earth, and like an air plant be
sustained by the light.
But since you must kill to eat, and rob the young of its mother's milk to quench your
thirst, let it then be an act of worship,
And let your board stand an altar on which the pure and the innocent of forest and
plain are sacrificed for that which is purer and still more innocent in many.
When you kill a beast say to him in your heart,
"By the same power that slays you, I to am slain; and I too shall be consumed. For the
law that delivered you into my hand shall deliver me into a mightier hand.
Your blood and my blood is naught but the sap that feeds the tree of heaven."
And when you crush an apple with your teeth, say to it in your heart,
"Your seeds shall live in my body,
And the buds of your tomorrow shall blossom in my heart,
And your fragrance shall be my breath,
And together we shall rejoice through all the seasons."
And in the autumn, when you gather the grapes of your vineyard for the winepress,
say in you heart,
"I too am a vineyard, and my fruit shall be gathered for the winepress,
And like new wine I shall be kept in eternal vessels."
And in winter, when you draw the wine, let there be in your heart a song for each cup;
And let there be in the song a remembrance for the autumn days, and for the vineyard,
and for the winepress.

Crime and Punishment chapter XII
Then one of the judges of the city stood forth and said, "Speak to us of Crime and
Punishment."
And he answered saying:
It is when your spirit goes wandering upon the wind,
That you, alone and unguarded, commit a wrong unto others and therefore unto
yourself.
And for that wrong committed must you knock and wait a while unheeded at the gate
of the blessed.
Like the ocean is your god-self;
It remains for ever undefiled.
And like the ether it lifts but the winged.
Even like the sun is your god-self;
It knows not the ways of the mole nor seeks it the holes of the serpent.
But your god-self does not dwell alone in your being.
Much in you is still man, and much in you is not yet man,
But a shapeless pigmy that walks asleep in the mist searching for its own awakening.
And of the man in you would I now speak.
For it is he and not your god-self nor the pigmy in the mist, that knows crime and the
punishment of crime.
Oftentimes have I heard you speak of one who commits a wrong as though he were
not one of you, but a stranger unto you and an intruder upon your world.
But I say that even as the holy and the righteous cannot rise beyond the highest which
is in each one of you,
So the wicked and the weak cannot fall lower than the lowest which is in you also.
And as a single leaf turns not yellow but with the silent knowledge of the whole tree,
So the wrong-doer cannot do wrong without the hidden will of you all.
Like a procession you walk together towards your god-self.
You are the way and the wayfarers.
And when one of you falls down he falls for those behind him, a caution against the
stumbling stone.


Ay, and he falls for those ahead of him, who though faster and surer of foot, yet
removed not the stumbling stone.
And this also, though the word lie heavy upon your hearts:
The murdered is not unaccountable for his own murder,
And the robbed is not blameless in being robbed.
The righteous is not innocent of the deeds of the wicked,
And the white-handed is not clean in the doings of the felon.
Yea, the guilty is oftentimes the victim of the injured,
And still more often the condemned is the burden-bearer for the guiltless and
unblamed.
You cannot separate the just from the unjust and the good from the wicked;
For they stand together before the face of the sun even as the black thread and the
white are woven together.
And when the black thread breaks, the weaver shall look into the whole cloth, and he
shall examine the loom also.
If any of you would bring judgment the unfaithful wife,
Let him also weight the heart of her husband in scales, and measure his soul with
measurements.
And let him who would lash the offender look unto the spirit of the offended.
And if any of you would punish in the name of righteousness and lay the ax unto the
evil tree, let him see to its roots;
And verily he will find the roots of the good and the bad, the fruitful and the fruitless,
all entwined together in the silent heart of the earth.
And you judges who would be just,
What judgment pronounce you upon him who though honest in the flesh yet is a thief
in spirit?
What penalty lay you upon him who slays in the flesh yet is himself slain in the spirit?
And how prosecute you him who in action is a deceiver and an oppressor,
Yet who also is aggrieved and outraged?
And how shall you punish those whose remorse is already greater than their misdeeds?


Is not remorse the justice which is administered by that very law which you would fain
serve?
Yet you cannot lay remorse upon the innocent nor lift it from the heart of the guilty.
Unbidden shall it call in the night, that men may wake and gaze upon themselves.
And you who would understand justice, how shall you unless you look upon all deeds in
the fullness of light?
Only then shall you know that the erect and the fallen are but one man standing in
twilight between the night of his pigmy-self and the day of his god-self,
And that the corner-stone of the temple is not higher than the lowest stone in its
foundation.

Crime and Punishment chapter XII
Then one of the judges of the city stood forth and said, "Speak to us of Crime and
Punishment."
And he answered saying:
It is when your spirit goes wandering upon the wind,
That you, alone and unguarded, commit a wrong unto others and therefore unto
yourself.
And for that wrong committed must you knock and wait a while unheeded at the gate
of the blessed.
Like the ocean is your god-self;
It remains for ever undefiled.
And like the ether it lifts but the winged.
Even like the sun is your god-self;
It knows not the ways of the mole nor seeks it the holes of the serpent.
But your god-self does not dwell alone in your being.
Much in you is still man, and much in you is not yet man,
But a shapeless pigmy that walks asleep in the mist searching for its own awakening.
And of the man in you would I now speak.
For it is he and not your god-self nor the pigmy in the mist, that knows crime and the
punishment of crime.
Oftentimes have I heard you speak of one who commits a wrong as though he were
not one of you, but a stranger unto you and an intruder upon your world.
But I say that even as the holy and the righteous cannot rise beyond the highest which
is in each one of you,
So the wicked and the weak cannot fall lower than the lowest which is in you also.
And as a single leaf turns not yellow but with the silent knowledge of the whole tree,
So the wrong-doer cannot do wrong without the hidden will of you all.
Like a procession you walk together towards your god-self.
You are the way and the wayfarers.
And when one of you falls down he falls for those behind him, a caution against the
stumbling stone.


Ay, and he falls for those ahead of him, who though faster and surer of foot, yet
removed not the stumbling stone.
And this also, though the word lie heavy upon your hearts:
The murdered is not unaccountable for his own murder,
And the robbed is not blameless in being robbed.
The righteous is not innocent of the deeds of the wicked,
And the white-handed is not clean in the doings of the felon.
Yea, the guilty is oftentimes the victim of the injured,
And still more often the condemned is the burden-bearer for the guiltless and
unblamed.
You cannot separate the just from the unjust and the good from the wicked;
For they stand together before the face of the sun even as the black thread and the
white are woven together.
And when the black thread breaks, the weaver shall look into the whole cloth, and he
shall examine the loom also.
If any of you would bring judgment the unfaithful wife,
Let him also weight the heart of her husband in scales, and measure his soul with
measurements.
And let him who would lash the offender look unto the spirit of the offended.
And if any of you would punish in the name of righteousness and lay the ax unto the
evil tree, let him see to its roots;
And verily he will find the roots of the good and the bad, the fruitful and the fruitless,
all entwined together in the silent heart of the earth.
And you judges who would be just,
What judgment pronounce you upon him who though honest in the flesh yet is a thief
in spirit?
What penalty lay you upon him who slays in the flesh yet is himself slain in the spirit?
And how prosecute you him who in action is a deceiver and an oppressor,
Yet who also is aggrieved and outraged?
And how shall you punish those whose remorse is already greater than their misdeeds?


Is not remorse the justice which is administered by that very law which you would fain
serve?
Yet you cannot lay remorse upon the innocent nor lift it from the heart of the guilty.
Unbidden shall it call in the night, that men may wake and gaze upon themselves.
And you who would understand justice, how shall you unless you look upon all deeds in
the fullness of light?
Only then shall you know that the erect and the fallen are but one man standing in
twilight between the night of his pigmy-self and the day of his god-self,
And that the corner-stone of the temple is not higher than the lowest stone in its
foundation.

A Poet's Death is His Life IV
The dark wings of night enfolded the city upon which Nature had spread a pure white
garment of snow; and men deserted the streets for their houses in search of warmth,
while the north wind probed in contemplation of laying waste the gardens. There in the
suburb stood an old hut heavily laden with snow and on the verge of falling. In a dark
recess of that hovel was a poor bed in which a dying youth was lying, staring at the
dim light of his oil lamp, made to flicker by the entering winds. He a man in the spring
of life who foresaw fully that the peaceful hour of freeing himself from the clutches of
life was fast nearing. He was awaiting Death's visit gratefully, and upon his pale face
appeared the dawn of hope; and on his lops a sorrowful smile; and in his eyes
forgiveness.
He was poet perishing from hunger in the city of living rich. He was placed in the
earthly world to enliven the heart of man with his beautiful and profound sayings. He
as noble soul, sent by the Goddess of Understanding to soothe and make gentle the
human spirit. But alas! He gladly bade the cold earth farewell without receiving a smile
from its strange occupants.
He was breathing his last and had no one at his bedside save the oil lamp, his only
companion, and some parchments upon which he had inscribed his heart's feeling. As
he salvaged the remnants of his withering strength he lifted his hands heavenward; he
moved his eyes hopelessly, as if wanting to penetrate the ceiling in order to see the
stars from behind the veil clouds.
And he said, "Come, oh beautiful Death; my soul is longing for you. Come close to me
and unfasten the irons life, for I am weary of dragging them. Come, oh sweet Death,
and deliver me from my neighbors who looked upon me as a stranger because I
interpret to them the language of the angels. Hurry, oh peaceful Death, and carry me
from these multitudes who left me in the dark corner of oblivion because I do not bleed
the weak as they do. Come, oh gentle Death, and enfold me under your white wings,
for my fellowmen are not in want of me. Embrace me, oh Death, full of love and
mercy; let your lips touch my lips which never tasted a mother's kiss, not touched a
sister's cheeks, not caresses a sweetheart's fingertips. Come and take me, by beloved
Death."
Then, at the bedside of the dying poet appeared an angel who possessed a
supernatural and divine beauty, holding in her hand a wreath of lilies. She embraced
him and closed his eyes so he could see no more, except with the eye of his spirit. She
impressed a deep and long and gently withdrawn kiss that left and eternal smile of
fulfillment upon his lips. Then the hovel became empty and nothing was lest save
parchments and papers which the poet had strewn with bitter futility.
Hundreds of years later, when the people of the city arose from the diseases slumber
of ignorance and saw the dawn of knowledge, they erected a monument in the most
beautiful garden of the city and celebrated a feast every year in honor of that poet,
whose writings had freed them. Oh, how cruel is man's ignorance!

You Burn Me in the Sorrow's Fire

However intensely you burn me in sorrow's fire.
If l am constantly burnt my heart will get purified and I will get closer to you.
After the drought shall I come the rain and


my heart will get touched by your kindness.

The drought will not remain and the dry tree
will again smile with flowers.
Once I've got your forehead's fire,
you beautiful one

I am sure to get the caressing Ganges' touch
the cool moon's feel.

Oh beneficent one! You remind me time and again
with the shock of a blow
You have thought of me again after all these days.

[Original: Tumi jotoi doho na; Translation: Abu Rushd]

You are always in my thoughts

You are always in my thoughts, oh my Lord.
I vainly look for you outside my heart.
You dwell inside me like life like the soul
You laugh while I erect a temple and install an Idol there
Like the wind, like light you permeate the world
Like the perfume ofa flower you encompass one's Being.
You are mercurial you are formless
I constantly see the miracle you unveil.
I am a partner day and night in your hide and seek Game.


[Original: Antore tumi acho chirodin; Translation: Abu Rushd]

You are always in my thoughts

You are always in my thoughts, oh my Lord.
I vainly look for you outside my heart.
You dwell inside me like life like the soul
You laugh while I erect a temple and install an Idol there
Like the wind, like light you permeate the world
Like the perfume ofa flower you encompass one's Being.
You are mercurial you are formless
I constantly see the miracle you unveil.
I am a partner day and night in your hide and seek Game.


[Original: Antore tumi acho chirodin; Translation: Abu Rushd]

Where Is The Peacock's Throne

'Where is the Peacock's Throne,
And where the Ruling Role? '
Question the Muslims, with tears in eyes,
And complain to Thee, O Lord of Paradise


Where is Khalid, the Hero of Hundred Fights,
And Tarik and Musa, Commanders bright?
No more is Hazrat Ali, with his Zulfiqar!
No more is Umar Khattab, with his Islami fervour!
No more are the soldiers brave and bold
Who had once conquered the entire world!


Where is Hasan, and where is Huseyn?
Where are the heroic Martyrs who gave
Their precious lives for Thy sake?
Where is that fervor of Faith?
And that might and main?
Gone from the orbit of Fate
Is the glorious Crescent!


Only darkness deep and down:
Pervades the horizon!

The War Drum

O come, come along!
There sounds the war-drum
from beyond the vast deep.


O come, come along!
Islam is about to die.
The devils have taken over,
they brag and rejoice,
they crush under their feet
the skulls of martyrs.


O come, come along! Die if you must,
but let not your manhood be disgraced!
Grab the crest of the gale
in the iron fist of a Muslim,
sound the horn and unfurl the flag.
The heroes are eager to fight,
listen not to the soft words of the cowards!
Your honour and life are at stake today!


O come, come along!
There sounds the war-drum
from beyond the vast deep.


O come, come along!
There you can hear the ringing of the weapons!
Alas, how can one stay away
and tolerate this disgrace?
O come, come along!


Your brothers look at you
with pensive eyes.
Oh, how ashamed it makes me feel!
Won't the sword flash out yet
in your hands?


Won't the flood in your veins
dance with joy
as you hear the war-drums beat?
O come, come along!


We are vigorous and full of life,
In our hands alone does the sword
find a fitting place!
Ignoble are they who fall in a faint
and kiss the ground with chains
around their neck. How dare a cur kick at a lion?
Will an elephant be moulded by a jackal?
There you can hear the ringing of the weapons
O come, come along!


There sound the war-drums, t



here sound the battle-cries!
There the lion-hearted heroes roar!
O come, come along!
Give up all sadness of the mind,
abandon your chest of wealth,
take up arms, and let your heart beat
with a noble rage!


O come, come along,
dance with joy, and fight for justice and truth!
come, brother, give up your life today
in the name of Allah!
See how the battle-cry of Faith
resound throughout the earth and the sky!
Hear the roars go up:
'No giving up today
Only taking over! '
Be ready now for the supreme sacrifice! .


Oh, all glory is about to disappear!
O come, come along!
There you can hear the ringing of the arms,
there you can hear the war-drums beat!
O come, come along!


Don your battle dress!
Will you hide your face in shame?
How far is the land
where everyday heroes celebrate
the festival of death
and spill gaily the blood of the foe?
Put on the attire of the brave
and rush to the land of those heroic people.
Today men of a captive land
go to secure the freedom of a free country!


O come, come along!
Say: Long live truth!
Long live the heroic and the noble!
Let the timids die!


As women hear the war-drums beat
they too laugh happily and clap their hands,
they too rush to the battle-field!
We want to fight!
We want to fight!


So beat the drum,
put your helmet on,
hold aloft the sword in your hand
For justice and truth we fight,
clad in crimson clothes are we!



O come, come along!
There sound the war-drums,
there they don the battle-dress!
O come, come along
There the bugler sounds the call for war
at the door of the seige,
there the canons break out in a song!
O come, come along!
There sound the war-drums,
there sound the battle-cries!
Come, raise your voice now
like the great Hazrat Ali's,
there is nothing to fear!


You will surely slay the false giant,
you will surely make truth prevail!
Have no fear as you march along
to kill your foe!


We are bold and fearless,
there is no timidity in our blood.
Holding high the standard of truth and justice
we shall destroy tile tyrants.
We are invincible,
we are full of love;
yet we can bear at ease our chest
before the sword!


The fighters are we,
we he long to the breed of real martyrs,
we gladly embrace death
fighting the tyrants.
Smilingly we receive the thrust
of the sword
On our breast.


We sing the victory of Freedom!
O come, come along!
There sound the war-drums
from beyond the vast deep! !


[Translation: Kabir Chowdhury]

The Resurgence (Islamic Lyric)

There sounds the drum!
There on the ruined tower, dark and blank,
Flutters the once-mighty flag.
Raise your head, mussalmans,
Gird your loins and advance
The call of the New Age has come.


With the Kalma on your lips
And the sabre swinging against your hips,
With the fiery enthusiasm of Islam ill your
Shake off your lethargy and start.
With the love of Allah in your soul
Answer the call and take up your role.


There is nothing for you to dread.
You have that glorious amulet,
The Holy Quran, tied round your neck.
A pity that you overslept
And missed the Fazr prayer.
Neither did you awaken
When the Zohr did beckon.
And the Asr prayer you whiled away
In idleness and play.
The call for the Mughrib has also sounded.
You must hurry now to the Esha prayer.


Some room is still available there,
We are not really
Creatures of pomp and luxury.
Our Calipha once ru.led over half the universe
Dressed in clothes no better than beggers.
Once we only desired death
In the cause of our faith,


But now such a people as our's
Are numbed in a drunken stupor
While outside there rages a violent storm.


We had nothing but a dry piece of bread,
But we had a mighty faith and none did we dread,
A noble spirit of sacrifice we possessed.
And we moved from place to place without sleep or rest,
Always as victors great.


Let us bring back to our life
That faith and spirit of sacrifice:
Let the cry of Allah-o-Akbar
Resound in the lips of all.
Let the world tremble again
At the sound of that clarion call.


[Translation: Kabir Chowdhury]

The Muslims No Longer Rise

The Muslims no longer rise
With the same old fervour of faith,
With which they conquered the world apace


Burnt and bleak is the bower of birds
whose chirpings changed the fate of worlds,
And during the days of revolt
The Obedience to Allah brought!


No more is Siddiq's Sincerity!
No more is Umar's Sacrifice!
No more is Bilal's Faith!
No more is Ali's Zulfiqar! N
No more are Martyrs now
For Allah's Cause, to fight with vow


Our arms no longer strong!
Khalid, Musa and Tarik are gone!
Gone is the peacock's Throne!
To-day the beggars play the ruling role !


Islam only in the books,
And the Muslims in the graves.


[Original in Bangla: Jage na she loye ar; Kazi Nazrul Islam
Translation: Mizanur Rahman]

The More I Take Muhammad's Name

The more I take Muhammad's name
The sweeter it seems to me.
Who knew before that in this name
So much of honey could be!


For the honey of this very name,
The bee of my mind doth hum and flirt
And for the love of this very name,
I have lost my hunger and thirst!


Dearest to me is this name,
Which, like Majnun, I take:
And the nightingale sings
In the rose-bower of my soul
For this name's sake!


For this very name I roam
And wend my way in life:
For this very name I do discard
Even the kingly throne!
May this name, a God! This blessed name
My mind perpetually pervade!