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Waste not fresh tears over old griefs.
Waste not fresh tears over old griefs.
She grieves sincerely who grieves unseen.
[Lat., Illa dolet vere qui sine teste dolet.]
She grieves sincerely who grieves unseen.
[Lat., Illa dolet vere qui sine teste dolet.]
Excess of grief for the dead is madness; for it is an injury to the living, and the dead know read more
Excess of grief for the dead is madness; for it is an injury to the living, and the dead know it not.
Let me moderate our sorrows. The grief of a man should not
exceed proper bounds, but be in proportion read more
Let me moderate our sorrows. The grief of a man should not
exceed proper bounds, but be in proportion to the blow he has
received.
[Lat., Ponamus nimios gemitus: flagrantior aequo
Non debet dolor esse viri, nec vulnere major.]
FIRE HAS LEFT THE HEARTH
Fire has left the hearth
Nautilus climbed from shell
Perfume flowed from read more
FIRE HAS LEFT THE HEARTH
Fire has left the hearth
Nautilus climbed from shell
Perfume flowed from bottle
Prisoner gone from cell
Butterfly flutterbied cocoon
nor hand restrained by glove
Jesus away from manger
Cage left by Spirit Dove.
Sparklings soared away from wand.
Chick's egg become the bird.
Omkar sung from out the throat
Violin's notes now heard.
Buddhist temple pine cone
tabernacle'd godlet seed
Shattered that it might manifest
thousand forests of fir tree
Eternal snow of mountain top
now nurses meadow flowers.
Shining never held by sun
relentless melts ice towers.
Love has left its
spring the heart
Is now a liquid pond
Host stolen from the chalice
consumed in mouth of God
Starlight abandoned star
a billion years ago
Left that tonight you
might
have its sight
and know
Know Love is forever
no drop of God ever dies
Lover not bound by form of love
God's bodies are not God's souls
(to his wife and children
on the death of Robert S)
(Baba Hari Das: is the author
of love is more powerful than
lover for love is not bound by
form).
Why wilt thou add to all the griefs I suffer
Imaginary ills, and fancy'd tortures?
Why wilt thou add to all the griefs I suffer
Imaginary ills, and fancy'd tortures?
He that conceals his grief finds no remedy for it
He that conceals his grief finds no remedy for it
Those things that hurt, instruct.
Those things that hurt, instruct.
My grief lies all within, And these external manners of lament Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells read more
My grief lies all within, And these external manners of lament Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells with silence in the tortured soul
