Symphony Of Love

The Garden of Love /From Hidden music By rumi

2019-03-23T17:45:00.001+01:00

Music:
kit kat theme-Rajeh Daoud

The garden of love
From Rumi: Hidden Music
translated by Maryam Mafi & Azima Malita
With love you cannot bargain
there, the choice is not yours.
Love is a mirror, it reflects
only your essence, if you have the
courage to look in its face.
To the parched lips of those who
are willing to surrender
Love will bring the wine that
changes darkness into vision,
cruelty into compassion and dust
into precious incense.
Love means to reach for the sky
and with every breath to tear a
hundred veils. Love means to step
away from the ego, to open the eyes
of inner vision and not to take this
world so seriously.

Like a thief, reason sneaked in and
sat amongst the lovers
eager to give them advice.
They were unwilling to listen, so
reason kissed their feet
and went on its way.
When you plant a tree
every leaf that grows will tell
you, what you sow will bear fruit.
So if you have any sense my friend,
don’t plant anything but love, you
show your worth by what you seek.
Water flows to those who want
purity. Wash your hands of all
desires and come to the table of love.
If you can’t smell the fragrance
don’t come into the garden of Love.
if you are unwilling to undress
don’t enter into the stream of
Truth. Stay where you are, don’t
come our way.

From the heart of the lovers, blood
flows like a vast river. Our body is
the windmill, and love, the water.
Without water the mill cannot turn.
Can the essence and the scent
be separate?
Whisper to me intimately, like a
lover for tenderness is rare in this
world.
It is difficult to convey the magic of
love to those who are made of dust.

When you see the face of anger
look behind it and you will see the
face of pride. Bring anger and pride
under your feet, turn them into a
ladder and climb higher. There is
no peace until you become their
master. Let go of anger. It may taste
sweet but it kills. Don’t become it’s
victim, you need humility to climb to
freedom.
There is a thread from the heart to
the lips where the secret of life is
woven. Words tear the thread
but in silence the secrets speak.
Do you want me to tell you a
secret? The flowers attract the most
beautiful lover with their sweet
smile and scent.

To find a pearl dive deep into the
ocean, don’t look in the fountains.
To find a pearl you must emerge from
the water of life always thirsty.
Do not be flattered by reason,
reason is only the child of the
mind. But true friendship
in born out of love and is the water
of life.
My dear heart, never think you are
better than others. Listen to their
sorrows with compassion. If you
want peace, don’t harbour bad
thoughts, do not gossip and
don’t teach what you do not know.

Those who think the heart is only
in the chest take two or three steps
and are content. The rosary, the
prayer rug, and repentance are
paths that they mistake for the
destination.
Seek the wisdom that will untie
your knot. Seek the path
that demands your whole being.
Leave that which is not, but
appears to be, seek that which is,
but is not apparent.
You are searching the world for
treasure but the real treasure is
yourself. If you are tempted by
bread, you will find only bread.
What you seek for you become.

Your earthly lover can be very
charming and coquettish but never
very faithful. The true lover is the
one who on your final day
opens a thousand doors.
First, lay down your head,
then one by one let go of all
distractions. Embrace the light and
let it guide you beyond the winds of
desire. There you will find a spring
and nourished by its sweet waters
like a tree you will bear fruit
forever.
Why are you so afraid of silence,
silence is the root of everything.
If you spiral into its void
a hundred voices will thunder
messages you long to hear.

You have woken up late,
lost and preplexed
but don’t rush to your books
looking for knowledge.
Pick up a flute instead and
let your heart play.
Do not look back my friend,
no one knows how the world ever
began. Do not fear the future,
nothing lasts forever. If you dwell
on the past or the future you will
miss the moment.

The only soul You Know by C.S.lewis

2019-03-13T13:06:00.001+01:00

What can you ever really know of other people's souls — of their temptations,
their opportunities, their struggles? One soul in the whole creation you do know:
and it is the only one whose fate is placed in your hands.
If there is a God, you are, in a sense, alone with Him.
You cannot put Him off with speculations about your next door neighbours
or memories of what you have read in books.
C. S. Lewis

Kindness:The golden Chain by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

2019-02-25T16:10:00.000+01:00

To the world you might be one person,
but to one person, you might be the world.
Kindness is the golden chain by which
our world is bound together.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
The world is so empty if one thinks only of mountains, rivers
and cities;but to know someone who thinks and feels with us,
and who, though distant,is close to us in spirit, this makes
the earth for us an inhabited garden.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

You too are your past by Will Durant

2019-02-22T12:49:00.001+01:00

It is a mistake to think that the past is dead.
Nothing that has ever happened is quite without influence at this moment.
The present is merely the past rolled up and concentrated in this second of time.
You, too, are your past; often your face is your autobiography;
you are what you are because of what you have been; because of
your heredity stretching back into forgotten generations;
because of every element of environment that has affected you,
every man or woman that has met you, every book that you have read,
every experience that you have had; all these are accumulated in
your memory, your body, your character, your soul.
So with a city, a country, and a race; it is its past, and
cannot be understood without it.
Will Durant

Trees by Charles Simic

2019-02-20T11:02:00.001+01:00

Trees like country preachers
On their rostrums,
Their arms raised in blessing
Over the evening fields.
Every leaf now, every weed
Helping the night
Darken and quiet the world
For what's to come.
CHARLES SIMIC

Your Love by Rumi

2019-02-14T09:57:00.001+01:00

Your love lifts my soul from the body to the sky
And you lift me up out of the two worlds.
I want your sun to reach my raindrops,
So your heat can raise my soul upward like a cloud.
rumi

Be That With Me by rumi

2019-02-13T14:31:00.004+01:00

The way the night knows itself with the moon,
be that with me. Be the rose
nearest to the thorn that I am.
Rumi

Loving Too Much by Jodi Picoult

2019-01-25T17:31:00.000+01:00

I think you can love a person too much.
You put someone up on a pedestal, and all of a sudden, from that perspective,
you notice what's wrong - a hair out of place, a run in a stocking, a broken bone.
You spend all your time and energy making it right, and all the while,
you are falling apart yourself. You don't even realize what you look like,
how far you've deteriorated, because you only have eyes for someone else.
Jodi Picoult, Handle with Care

Be the sun or the Moon

2019-01-25T15:05:00.000+01:00

Everyone wants to be the sun to lighten up someone's life,
but why not be the moon, to brighten in the darkest hour?

New Year Poems:The New Year by Tagore/New Year’s Eve by A. E. Housman

2018-12-25T12:12:00.000+01:00
Music:
NNALE EN JEEVAN Cover -Rajesh Cherthala

The New Year
Tagore
LIKE FRUIT, shaken free by an impatient wind
from the veils of its mother flower,
thou comest, New Year, whirling in a frantic dance
amid the stampede of the wind-lashed clouds
and infuriate showers,
while trampled by thy turbulence
are scattered away the faded and the frail
in an eddying agony of death.
Thou art no dreamer afloat on a languorous breeze,
lingering among the hesitant whisper and hum
of an uncertain season.
Thine is a majestic march, o terrible Stranger,
thundering forth an ominous incantation,
driving the days on to the perils of a pathless dark,
where thou carriest a dumb signal in thy banner,
a decree of destiny undeciphered.

New Year’s Eve
A. E. Housman
The end of the year fell chilly
Between a moon and a moon;
Thorough the twilight shrilly
The bells rang, ringing no tune.
The windows stained with story,
The walls with miracle scored,
Were hidden for gloom and glory
Filling the house of the Lord.
Arch and aisle and rafter
And roof-tree dizzily high
Were full of weeping and laughter
And song and saying good-bye.

There stood in the holy places
A multitude none could name,
Ranks of dreadful faces
Flaming, transfigured in flame.
Crown and tiar and mitre
Were starry with gold and gem;
Christmas never was whiter
Than fear on the face of them.
In aisles that emperors vaulted
For a faith the world confessed,
Abasing the Host exalted,
They worshipped towards the west.

They brought with laughter oblation;
They prayed, not bowing the head;
They made without tear lamentation,
And rendered me answer and said:
‘O thou that seest our sorrow,
It fares with us even thus:
To-day we are gods, to-morrow
Hell have mercy on us.
‘Lo, morning over our border
From out of the west comes cold;
Down ruins the ancient order
And empire builded of old.

‘Our house at even is queenly
With psalm and censers alight:
Look thou never so keenly
Thou shalt not find us to-night.
‘We are come to the end appointed
With sands not many to run:
Divinities disanointed
And kings whose kingdom is done.
‘The peoples knelt down at our portal,
All kindreds under the sky;
We were gods and implored and immortal
Once; and to-day we die.’

They turned them again to their praying,
They worshipped and took no rest
Singing old tunes and saying
‘We have seen his star in the west,’
Old tunes of the sacred psalters,
Set to wild farewells;
And I left them there at their altars
Ringing their own dead knells.

Among the water-lilies by Khalil Gibran

2018-12-22T14:59:00.000+01:00
Music:
Ahebak - Hussain Al Jassmi - Violin Cover by Andre Soueid

Among the water-lilies
From"Jesus,The son Of man"
Khalil Gibran
Upon a day my beloved and I
were rowing upon the lake of sweet waters.
And the hills of Lebanon were about us.
We moved beside the weeping willows, and the reflections
of the willows were deep around us.
And while I steered the boat with an oar, my beloved took
her lute and sang thus:
What flower save the lotus knows the waters and the sun?
What heart save the lotus heart shall know both earth and sky?
Behold my love, the golden flower that floats 'twixt deep and high
Even as you and I float betwixt a love that has for ever been
And shall for ever be.
Dip your oar, my love,
And let me touch my strings.
Let us follow the willows, and let us leave not the water-lilies.
In Nazareth there lives a Poet, and His heart is like the lotus.
He has visited the soul of woman,
He knows her thirst is growing out of the waters,
And her hunger for the sun, though all her lips are fed.
They say He walks in Galilee.
I say He is rowing with us.
Can you not see His face, my love?
Can you not see, where the willow bough and its reflection meet,
He is moving as we move?
Beloved, it is good to know the youth of life.
It is good to know its singing joy.
Would that you might always have the oar,
And I my stringed lute,
Where the lotus laughs in the sun,
And the willow is dipping to the waters,
And His voice is upon my strings.
Dip your oar, my beloved,
And let me touch my strings.
There is a Poet in Nazareth
Who knows and loves us both.
Dip your oar, my lover,
And let me touch my strings.

Love Song :Best Rainer Maria rilke Poems On Love

2018-09-18T14:40:00.002+01:00
Music:
2CELLOS - Love Story

You who never arrived
Rainer Maria Rilke
You who never arrived
in my arms, Beloved, who were lost
from the start,
I don't even know what songs
would please you. I have given up trying
to recognize you in the surging wave of
the next moment. All the immense
images in me -- the far-off, deeply-felt landscape,
cities, towers, and bridges, and un-
suspected turns in the path,
and those powerful lands that were once
pulsing with the life of the gods--
all rise within me to mean
you, who forever elude me.

You, Beloved, who are all
the gardens I have ever gazed at,
longing. An open window
in a country house-- , and you almost
stepped out, pensive, to meet me. Streets that I chanced
upon,--
you had just walked down them and vanished.
And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors
were still dizzy with your presence and, startled, gave back
my too-sudden image. Who knows? Perhaps the same
bird echoed through both of us
yesterday, separate, in the evening...”

You, You Only, Exist
Rainer Maria Rilke
You, you only, exist.
We pass away, till at last,
our passing is so immense
that you arise: beautiful moment,
in all your suddenness,
arising in love, or enchanted
in the contraction of work.

To you I belong, however time may
wear me away. From you to you
I go commanded. In between
the garland is hanging in chance; but if you
take it up and up and up: look:
all becomes festival!

Love song
Rainer Maria Rilke
How can I keep my soul in me, so that
it doesn't touch your soul? How can I raise
it high enough, past you, to other things?
I would like to shelter it, among remote
lost objects, in some dark and silent place
that doesn't resonate when your depths resound.
Yet everything that touches us, me and you,
takes us together like a violin's bow,
which draws *one* voice out of two separate strings.
Upon what instrument are we two spanned?
And what musician holds us in his hand?
Oh sweetest song.

Du im Voraus verlorne Geliebte/ Ein Liebesgedicht Von Rainer maria Rilke

2018-09-13T18:07:00.000+01:00

Du im Voraus verlorne Geliebte
Rainer Maria Rilke
Du im Voraus
verlorne Geliebte, Nimmergekommene,
nicht weiß ich, welche Töne dir lieb sind.
Nicht mehr versuch ich, dich, wenn das Kommende wogt,
zu erkennen. Alle die großen
Bilder in mir, im Fernen erfahrene Landschaft,
Städte und Türme und Brücken und un-
vermutete Wendung der Wege
und das Gewaltige jener von Göttern
einst durchwachsenen Länder:
steigt zur Bedeutung in mir
deiner, Entgehende, an.
Ach, die Gärten bist du,
ach, ich sah sie mit solcher
Hoffnung. Ein offenes Fenster
im Landhaus —, und du tratest beinahe
mir nachdenklich heran. Gassen fand ich, —
du warst sie gerade gegangen,
und die Spiegel manchmal der Läden der Händler
waren noch schwindlich von dir und gaben erschrocken
mein zu plötzliches Bild. — Wer weiß, ob derselbe
Vogel nicht hinklang durch uns
gestern, einzeln, im Abend?

Nothing that's important is lost by Moguel Sousa tavares

2018-09-08T09:23:00.000+01:00

"And once again I believe that nothing that's important really becomes lost.
We just delude ourselves, thinking that we own the things, the moments and
the others. Still with me are all the dead persons who I loved, all the friends
who turned away, all the happy days that faded.
I lost nothing but the illusion that everything could be mine forever."
Miguel Sousa Tavares

Serenity by Ralph Waldo emerson

2018-09-04T12:50:00.000+01:00

But real action is in silent moments.
The epochs of our life are not in the visible facts of our choice
of a calling, our marriage, our acquisition of an office, and the like,
but in a silent thought by the wayside as we walk; in a thought which
revises our entire manner of life and says,—
"Thus hast thou done, but it were better thus".
Ralph Waldo Emerson

How weak Our Mind is by Guy De maupassant

2018-09-03T15:58:00.001+01:00

How weak our mind is; how quickly it is terrified and unbalanced
as soon as we are confronted with a small, incomprehensible fact.
Instead of dismissing the problem with: "We do not understand
because we cannot find the cause," we immediately imagine terrible
mysteries and supernatural powers.
Guy de Maupassant

Grateful memories by Robert Louis Stevenson

2018-09-01T17:44:00.000+01:00

Like a bird singing in the rain,
let grateful memories survive in time of sorrow.
Robert Louis Stevenson

A DIALOGUE by Ella Wehller Wilcox

2018-08-30T17:31:00.001+01:00

A DIALOGUE
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
HE
Let us be friends. My life is sad and lonely,
While yours with love is beautiful and bright.
Be kind to me: I ask your friendship only.
No Star is robbed by lending darkness light.
SHE
I give you friendship as I understand it,
A sentiment I feel for all mankind.
HE
Oh, give me more; may not one friend command it?
SHE
Look in the skies, ’tis there the star you’ll find;
It casts its beams on all with equal favour.
HE
I would have more than what all men may claim.
SHE
Then your ideas of friendship strongly savour
Of sentiments which wear another name.
HE
May not one friend receive more than another?
SHE
Not man from woman and still remain a friend.
Life holds but three for her, a father, brother,
Lover—against the rest she must contend.
HE
Against the universe I would protect you,
With my life even, nor hold the price too dear.
SHE
But not against yourself, should fate select you
As Lancelot for foolish Guinevere.
HE
You would not tempt me?
SHE
That is undisputed.
We put the question back upon the shelf.
My point remains unanswered, unrefuted
No man protects a woman from himself.
HE
I am immune: for once I loved with passion,
And all the fires within me burned to dust.
I think of woman but in friendly fashion:
In me she finds a comrade safe to trust.
SHE
So said Mount Peelée to the listening ocean:
Behold what followed! Let the good be wise.
Though human hearts proclaim extinct emotion,
Beware how high the tides of friendship rise.

The voice of love by George Eliot

2018-08-30T13:04:00.000+01:00

SHOULD I long that dark were fair?
Say, O song,
Lacks my love aught, that I should long?
Dark the night, with breath all flow’rs,
And tender broken voice that fills
With ravishment the listening hours:
Whisperings, wooings,
Liquid ripples and soft ring-dove cooings
In low-ton’d rhythm that love’s aching stills.
Dark the night,
Yet is she bright,
For in her dark she brings the mystic star,
Trembling yet strong, as is the voice of love,
From some unknown afar.
O radiant Dark! O darkly-fostered ray!
Thou hast a joy too deep for shallow Day.
George Eliot
Songs from “The Spanish Gypsy.” I. The Dark

Into quiet & tender joy by Fyodor Dostoevsk

2018-08-15T15:59:00.001+01:00

But it is possible, it is possible: the old grief, by a great mystery
of human life, gradually passes into quiet, tender joy;
instead of young, ebullient blood comes a mild, serene old age:
I bless the sun's rising each day and my heart sings to
it as before, but now I love its setting even more, its long
slanting rays, and with them quiet, mild, tender memories,
dear images from the whole of a long and blessed life--and
over all is God's truth, moving, reconciling, all-forgiving!
Fyodor Dostoevsky

Music :Rythmes of love and spirit/I WISH I COULD SPEAK LIKE MUSIC/

2018-07-31T16:08:00.000+01:00
Music:
Gabriel's Oboe(Ennio Morricone)-André Rieu

Is it any weakness, pray, to be wrought on by exquisite music?
to feel its wondrous harmonies searching the subtlest windings
of your soul, the delicate fibres of life where no memory can
penetrate, and binding together your whole being, past and present,
in one unspeakable vibration; melting you in one moment with all
the tenderness, all the love, that has been scattered through
the toilsome years, concentrating in one emotion of heroic
courage or resignation all the hard-learned lessons of
self-renouncing sympathy, blending your present joy
with past sorrow, and your present sorrow with all your past joy?
GEORGE ELIOT,Adam Bede

Music
John Vance Cheney
Take of the maiden's and the mother's sigh,
Of childhood's dream, and hope that age doth bless,
Of roses and the south wind's tenderness,
Of fir-tree's shadow, tint of sunset sky,
Of moon on meadow where the stream runs by,
Of lover's kiss, his diffident caress,
Of blue eyes' yellow, brown eyes' darker, tress,
Of echoes from the morning bird on high,
Of passion of all pulses of the Spring,
Of prayer from every death-bed of the Fall,
Of joy and woe that sleep and waking bring,
Of tremor of each blood-beat great and small;
Now, pour into the empty soul each thing,
And let His finger touch that moveth all.

Where Everything Is Music
Rumi
Don’t worry about saving these songs!
And if one of our instruments breaks,
it doesn’t matter.
We have fallen into the place
where everything is music.
The strumming and the flute notes
rise into the atmosphere,
and even if the whole world’s harp
should burn up, there will still be
hidden instruments playing.
So the candle flickers and goes out.
We have a piece of flint, and a spark.
This singing art is sea foam.
The graceful movements come from a pearl
somewhere on the ocean floor.
Poems reach up like spindrift and the edge
of driftwood along the beach, wanting!
They derive
from a slow and powerful root
that we can’t see.
Stop the words now.
Open the window in the center of your chest,
and let the spirit fly in and out.

I WISH I COULD SPEAK LIKE MUSIC
HAFIZ
I wish I could speak like music.
I wish I could put the swaying splendor
Of the fields into words
So that you could hold Truth
Against your body
And dance.
I am trying the best I can
With this crude brush, the tongue,
To cover you with light.
I wish I could speak like divine music.
I want to give you the sublime rhythms
Of this earth and the sky’s limbs
As they joyously spin and surrender,
Surrender
Against God’s luminous breath.
Hafiz wants you to hold me
Against your precious
Body
And dance,
Dance.

State of innocence by Georg Christoph Lichtenberg

2018-07-27T15:36:00.000+01:00

John Atkinson Grimshaw Art
We often have need of a profound philosophy to restore to our feelings
their original state of innocence, to find our way out of the rubble
of things alien to us, to begin to feel for ourselves and to speak
ourselves, and I might almost say to exist ourselves.
Georg Christoph Lichtenberg

Strong Woman May be your only Army by Nizar Qabani

2018-07-27T15:17:00.001+01:00

Don't be afraid of having a relationship with a strong woman.
There might come a day when she will be your only army.
Nizar Qabani

Walk with grief like a good friend by Rumi

2018-07-27T15:01:00.001+01:00

Walk with grief like a good friend.
Listen to what he says.
Sometimes the cold and dark of a cave
give the opening we most want.
Rumi

Flow,not fix by Thomas Wolfe

2018-07-14T10:45:00.000+01:00

The essence of belief is doubt,
the essence of reality is questioning.
The essence of Time is Flow, not Fix.
The essence of faith is the knowledge that all flows
and that everything must change.
The growing man is Man Alive, and his "philosophy"
must grow, must flow, with him.
The man too fixed today, unfixed tomorrow - and his body
of beliefs is nothing but a series of fixations.
Thomas Wolfe