|I was dead, then alive;
weeping then laughing.
The power of love came into me,
and I became fierce like a lion,
then tender like the evening star.
The water of life is here!
I’m drinking it.
But I had to come this long way to know it.
Birdsong brings relief to my longing.
I am just as ecstatic as they are,
but with nothing to say!
Please, oh soul, practice some song,
or somethingthrough me.
I’m like an ant that’s gotten into the granary,
ludicrously happy, and trying to lug out
a grain that’s way to big.
In the orchard and rose garden…
I long to see your face.
O Great Lover, the flowers are blooming
with the scent of Your presence.
You arouse me with Your touch
although I can’t see Your hands.
You have kissed me with tenderness
although I haven’t seen Your lips.
It is You who keeps me alive.
Perhaps the time will come when You will tire of kisses.
I shall be happy even for insults from You.
I only ask that You keep some attention on me.
I wait with silent passion for one gesture, one glance from You.
Because of Your love
I have lost my sobriety.
I am intoxicated by the madness of love.
In this fog I have become a stranger to myself.
I’m so drunk I’ve lost the way to my house.
In my garden I see only Your face.
I inhale Your fragrance.
If I see You…I will laugh out loud (with delight)
or fall silent (I’ve been deeply touched)
or explode into a 1000 pieces.
And if I don’t…
I will be caught in the cement and stone of my own prison.
But what can stay hidden?
Love’s secret is always lifting its head out from under the covers.
“Here I am!”
Today, like every other day,
we wake up empty and frightened.
Don’t open the door to the study and begin reading.
Take down a musical instrument.
Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.
“I would love to kiss You!”
“The price of kissing is your life.”
Now my loving is running toward my life shouting,
“What a bargain, let’s buy it!”
The minute I heard my first love story
I started looking for You,
not knowing how blind that was.
Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere.
They’re in each other all along.
The soul is so near that you can’t see it!
But reach for it…
don’t be a jar full of water whose rim is always dry.
Don’t be the rider who gallops all night
and never sees the horse that is beneath him.
The inner soul, that presence of which
most know nothing about, which poets are so ambiguous;
I married that one to the Beloved!
(While writing this journal-letter, I listened to the soundtrack of
“Memoirs of a Geisha”…especially the last track, #18 “Sayuri’s Theme
and End Credits.”. I kept repeating it while I wrote. You might enjoy
listening to that particular piece of music while you read along. Enjoy!)