Talking Through the Door (1)
You said, Who’s at the Door?
I said, Your slave.
You said, What do you want?
To see you and bow.
We talked through the door. I claimed a great love and that I had given up what the world gives to be in that love.
You said, Such claims require a witness. I said, this longing, those tears.
You said, Discredited witnesses,
I said, Surely not.
You said, Who did you come with?
This majestic imagination you gave me.
Why did you come?
The musk of your wine was in the air.
What is your intention?
Friendship.
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Hablando a través de la Puerta
Preguntaste ¿Quién está en la Puerta?
Respondí Tu esclavo.
Dijiste ¿Qué Quieres?
Verte y postrarme.
Hablamos a través de la puerta. Yo expresaba sentir un gran amor y haber desistido de querer lo que el mundo brinda para vivir en ese amor.
Tu dijiste tales declaraciones requieren un testigo. Yo dije este anhelo, esas lágrimas.
Tu dijiste, Testigos desacreditados,
Yo dije, Seguro que no.
Tu dijiste, ¿Con quien vienes?
Con esta imaginación esplendorosa que me diste.
¿Porque viniste?
El almizcle de tu vino flotaba en el aire.
¿Cual es tu intención?
Amistad. |
2017 Commentary: You can't find this door if you haven't smelled the musk. Be still and feel the longing behind all wanting.
Comentario: No puedes encontrar esta puerta si no has olido el almizcle. Quédate quieto y siente ese anhelo que es mucho más profundo que todo lo demás que queremos.
The psychologist Carl Jung had a dream were he was walking up a mountain trail. He came to a small church and went inside. He saw a yogi seated in deep meditation. Somehow Jung know that the man was dreaming, that he Jung was his dream, and that when the yogi woke up he would be dead.
ReplyDeleteThis brings to mind the words of Walt Whitman,
Trippers and askers surround me,
People I meet, the effect upon me of my early life or the ward and city I live in, or the nation,
The latest dates, discoveries, inventions, societies, authors old and new,
My dinner, dress, associates, looks, compliments, dues,
The real or fancied indifference of some man or woman I love,
The sickness of one of my folks or of myself, or ill-doing or loss or lack of money, or depressions or exaltations,
Battles, the horrors of fratricidal war, the fever of doubtful news, the fitful events;
These come to me days and nights and go from me again,
But they are not the Me myself.
Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am,
Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary,
Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm on an impalpable certain rest,
Looking with side-curved head curious what will come next,
Both in and out of the game and watching and wondering at it.
Backward I see in my own days where I sweated through fog with linguists and contenders,
I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait.
I believe in you my soul...