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Mirza Ghalib - The drop dies in the river

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An interesting Poem from Ivan Good notes from him at the foot.

 

 

Here's your Daily Poem from the Poetry Chaikhana --

 

 

 

 

 

The drop dies in the river

By Mirza Ghalib(1797 - 1869)

English version by W. S. Merwin and Aijaz Ahmad

The drop dies in the riverof its joypain goes so far it cures itselfin the spring after the heavy rain the clouddisappearsthat was nothing but tearsin the spring the mirror turns greenholding a miracleChange the shining windthe rose led us to our eyeslet whatever is be open

 

 

 

 

 

 

-- from East Window: Poems from Asia, Translated by W. S. Merwin

Amazon.com / Photo by SPazzo_1493 /

 

 

 

 

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Thought for the Day:

Belief isn't very nourishing.Direct perception is what the soul craves.

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Here's your Daily Music selection --

Baird Hersey & Prana with Krishna Das

Gathering in the Light

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Hi Alan -Ghalib was the pen name of Mirza Asad Ullah Khan. He was court poet to the last Mughal Emperor in Delhi.Mirza Ghalib was born in Agra to a Turkish family that had originally relocated to Samarkand to avoid political upheaval in Turkey. His grandfather then moved to India in the late 1700s.Ghalib's life bridged several cultures, traditions, languages, and social strata. He is called the last of India's classical poets, and the first of the moderns. He was of Turkish descent, but an Indian poet. He was a court poet writing in Persian, but is best known for his couplets written in the popular local tongue of Urdu. He wrote at the end of the Mughal Empire and the beginning of British rule in India. His poetry spoke to Muslims and Hindus alike. His willingness to wrestle with modern doubts in his writing have caused some to call him an atheist, while his mystical love

poetry makes him a favorite of Sufis.==I love every line of this poem, but the line I keep rereading is--the rose led us to our eyesThe rose is both that which is beautiful in nature, but in Sufi poetry it is also a symbol for the Beloved, the Heart of hearts, God. Truly seeing Beauty, we witness ourselves seeing... and only then do we come to witness ourselves. The rose is not merely beautiful; it tells us of the beauty we are in ourselves. And then we bloom!let whatever is be openIvan

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New on the Poetry Chaikhana BlogIn addition to the daily poem, other recent blog posts include:

The Imaginal Cell Story - by Nori Huddle - and in that realization is the shout of the birth of the butterfly! More

Movie - Kashf: The Unveiling - Comments (2) "Takes us on a journey exploring the mystical side of Islam." More

The Tale of the Sands - Comments (3) Encountering the desert, a stream must remember its true nature in order to pass beyond it. Our greatest difficulties become our most profound teachers. More

 

 

 

 

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Ivan M. Granger's original poetry, stories and commentaries are 2002 - 2008 by Ivan M. Granger.All other material is copyrighted by the respective authors, translators and/or publishers.

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