A good poem I think!

I think you'll enjoy this poem by Brazilian, Mario de Andrade (Sao Paulo 1893-1945), poet, novelist, essayist and musicologist.

I’m not sure if de Andrade wrote the original in English or if in Portuguese, who translated it.

And I certainly know that I have many more years behind me than are ahead!! So I can relate to this poem. Not quite sure about the title though.  

                                                            …///…

MY SOUL HAS A HAT

I counted my years
& realized that I have
Less time to live by,
Than I have lived so far.

I feel like a child who won a pack of candies: at first he ate them with pleasure
But when he realized that there was little left, he began to taste them intensely.

I have no time for endless meetings
where the statutes, rules, procedures & internal regulations are discussed,
knowing that nothing will be done.

I no longer have the patience
To stand absurd people who,
despite their chronological age,
have not grown up.

My time is too short:
I want the essence,
my spirit is in a hurry.
I do not have much candy
In the package anymore.

I want to live next to humans,
very realistic people who know
How to laugh at their mistakes,
Who are not inflated by their own triumphs
& who take responsibility for their actions.
In this way, human dignity is defended
and we live in truth and honesty.

It is the essentials that make life useful.
I want to surround myself with people
who know how to touch the hearts of those whom hard strokes of life
have learned to grow with sweet touches of the soul.

Yes, I'm in a hurry.
I'm in a hurry to live with the intensity that only maturity can give.
I do not intend to waste any of the remaining desserts.

I am sure they will be exquisite,
much more than those eaten so far.
My goal is to reach the end satisfied
and at peace with my loved ones and my conscience.

We have two lives
& the second begins when you realize you only have one.

                                                                        Mario de Andrade

Love in poetry and song

It is not often that I am at a loss for words. But now, today, three years after Magucha died, there is a numbness, a weariness - I am finding it difficult to find the words to express the inexpressible. I mean three years, in the great scheme of things, is but a blink in time. Not to me though.

My belief: It cannot be that courage, friendship, intuition, empathy are all the result of chance or chemistry alone. This just doesn’t make any sense to me!

My belief: I cannot hold to the theory that love is just the result of hormonal juices, or synaptic chemical transfer.

That love – and I don’t just mean the “boy meets girl” initial attraction. I mean that love, that friendship, that companionship, that unquestioning acceptance of the “other”. This is rare and worth holding onto with everything at one’s disposal.

  

I like to believe that we had this – Magucha and I.

As always in times of high emotion I turn to the poets. Their understanding of the frailness of the human condition; their unique use of words have a restorative power that I find brings me peace. 

The 19^thCentury American poet, Henry Longfellow, I can relate to – he married twice. Each time his wife died – one in very tragic circumstances. But he was a great poet and apparently a very kind and gentle man.

Amongst many he wrote the poem, “A Shadow” – the last lines of which are:-

“Be comforted; the world is very old,

And generations pass, as they have passed,

A troop of shadows moving with the sun;

Thousands of times has the old tale been told;

The world belongs to those who come the last,

They will find hope and strength as we have done.”

So be it.

Be suspicious of what you want

Many non-Muslims (like me) may have never heard of Rumi. He was a poet and a mystic in the Sufi tradition. He was born 30th September 1207 in Balkh, Afghanistan and died on 17th December 1273 (I think in Konya, Turkey).

Rumi must have been a great man – many people, and not just Sufi Muslims, read his works today. Some of his poems are great fun. He obviously had a great irreverence for life and his union with God – life was fun and there to be enjoyed!

I think this quote is worth repeating (I am using a translation of his poems by Coleman Barks called ‘The essential Rumi’):

From something called ‘On Resurrection Day’ –

On Resurrection Day your body testifies against you.
You hand says, “I stole money.”
Your lips, “I said meanness.”
Your feet, “I went were I shouldn’t.”
Your genitals, “Me too.”

That is so good! I wonder how many of us can relate to that verse?

In another poem he writes:-

I plot to get what I want
And end up in prison.

I dig pits to trap others
And fall in.

I should be suspicious
of what I want.


How very true! To me this just shows that no matter who we are and what culture we were born into we are basically the same – members of the species Homo Sapiens. Those born centuries ago had more time to observe human nature and think about why we get into the trouble we often find ourselves in.

Today we are rushed and so have little time for contemplation; so little time to read the lessons learned by others – more is the pity.