Full Consciousness

Artist: Don Lawler; located at the Purdue Arboretum, Pickett Memorial Park

You are carrying me, full consciousness, god that has desires,

all through the world.

Here, in this third sea,

I almost hear your voice: your voice, the wind,   

filling entirely all movements;

eternal colors and eternal lights,

sea colors and sea lights.

   Your voice full of white fire

in the universe of water, the ship, the sky,

marking out the roads with delight,

engraving for me with a blazing light my firm orbit:

a black body

with the glowing diamond in its center.

~ Juan Ramón Jiménez 

(Translated by Robert Bly)

Dios

Credit: emilyharriet

I feel God travel with me,
when the sun sets and on the sea,
together we walk as it grows dark.
We are all together but walk like orphans.

But I feel God and he gives color
to my life.  He is kind and sad,
like those who attend the sick and dying;
He whispers like a lover in distress.
His heart must hurt for his creation.

Oh, my God, though I have just come to you,
I love so much as it grows dark,
and in the balance within the heart,
I weigh and weep for frail Creation.

And you, what do you weep for … you who love
with your immense and whirling heart?
I consecrate you, God, because you love so much;
because you never smile; because your heart
must ache as Time continues.

~ Cesar Vallejo
(translated by Robert Bly)

Dios

Credit: emilyharriet

I feel God travel with me,
when the sun sets and on the sea,
together we walk as it grows dark.
We are all together but walk like orphans.

But I feel God and he gives color
to my life.  He is kind and sad,
like those who attend the sick and dying;
He whispers like a lover in distress.
His heart must hurt for his creation.

Oh, my God, though I have just come to you,
I love so much as it grows dark,
and in the balance within the heart,
I weigh and weep for frail Creation.

And you, what do you weep for … you who love
with your immense and whirling heart?
I consecrate you, God, because you love so much;
because you never smile; because your heart
must ache as Time continues.

~ Cesar Vallejo
(translated by Robert Bly)

Things to Think

Photo credit: sante1 from morguefile.com

Think in ways you've never thought before.

If the phone rings, think of it as carrying a message

Larger than anything you've ever heard,

Vaster than a hundred lines of Yeats.

Think that someone may bring a bear to your door,

Maybe wounded and deranged; or think that a moose

Has risen out of the lake, and he's carrying on his antlers

A child of your own whom you've never seen.

When someone knocks on the door,

Think that he's about

To give you something large: tell you you're forgiven,

Or that it's not necessary to work all the time,

Or that it's been decided that if you lie down no one will die.

~ Robert Bly

Things to Think

Photo credit: sante1 from morguefile.com

Think in ways you've never thought before.

If the phone rings, think of it as carrying a message

Larger than anything you've ever heard,

Vaster than a hundred lines of Yeats.

Think that someone may bring a bear to your door,

Maybe wounded and deranged; or think that a moose

Has risen out of the lake, and he's carrying on his antlers

A child of your own whom you've never seen.

When someone knocks on the door,

Think that he's about

To give you something large: tell you you're forgiven,

Or that it's not necessary to work all the time,

Or that it's been decided that if you lie down no one will die.

~ Robert Bly

A Home in Dark Grass

In the deep fall, the body awakes,
And we find lions on the seashore—
Nothing to fear.
The wind rises, the water is born,
Spreading white tomb-clothes on a rocky shore,
Drawing us up
From the bed of the land.

We did not come to remain whole.
We came to lose our leaves like the trees,
The trees that are broken
And start again, drawing up on great roots;
Like mad poets captured by the Moors,
Men who live out
A second life.

That we should learn of poverty and rags,
That we should taste the weed of Dillinger,
And swim in the sea,
Not always walking on dry land,
And, dancing, find in the trees a saviour,
A home in the dark grass,
And nourishment in death.

~ Robert Bly
- Robert Bly

A Home in Dark Grass

In the deep fall, the body awakes,
And we find lions on the seashore—
Nothing to fear.
The wind rises, the water is born,
Spreading white tomb-clothes on a rocky shore,
Drawing us up
From the bed of the land.

We did not come to remain whole.
We came to lose our leaves like the trees,
The trees that are broken
And start again, drawing up on great roots;
Like mad poets captured by the Moors,
Men who live out
A second life.

That we should learn of poverty and rags,
That we should taste the weed of Dillinger,
And swim in the sea,
Not always walking on dry land,
And, dancing, find in the trees a saviour,
A home in the dark grass,
And nourishment in death.

~ Robert Bly
- Robert Bly