A Song of Dispair.

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This one is Pablo Neruda's award winning creation. Nobel prize for Literature has been awarded to him and this poem indeed has a great contribution for this honor. 

A Song of Despair

The memory of you emerges from the night around me.
The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea.

Deserted like the dwarves at dawn.
It is the hour of departure, oh deserted one!

Cold flower heads are raining over my heart.
Oh pit of debris, fierce cave of the shipwrecked.

In you the wars and the flights accumulated.
From you the wings of the song birds rose.

You swallowed everything, like distance.
Like the sea, like time. In you everything sank!

It was the happy hour of assault and the kiss.
The hour of the spell that blazed like a lighthouse.

Pilot's dread, fury of blind driver,
turbulent drunkenness of love, in you everything sank!

In the childhood of mist my soul, winged and wounded.
Lost discoverer, in you everything sank!

You girdled sorrow, you clung to desire,
sadness stunned you, in you everything sank!

I made the wall of shadow draw back,
beyond desire and act, I walked on.

Oh flesh, my own flesh, woman whom I loved and lost,
I summon you in the moist hour, I raise my song to you.

Like a jar you housed infinite tenderness.
and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar.

There was the black solitude of the islands,
and there, woman of love, your arms took me in.

There was thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit.
There were grief and ruins, and you were the miracle.

Ah woman, I do not know how you could contain me
in the earth of your soul, in the cross of your arms!

How terrible and brief my desire was to you!
How difficult and drunken, how tensed and avid.

Cemetery of kisses, there is still fire in your tombs,
still the fruited boughs burn, pecked at by birds.

Oh the bitten mouth, oh the kissed limbs,
oh the hungering teeth, oh the entwined bodies.

Oh the mad coupling of hope and force
in which we merged and despaired.

And the tenderness, light as water and as flour.
And the word scarcely begun on the lips.

This was my destiny and in it was my voyage of my longing,
and in it my longing fell, in you everything sank!

Oh pit of debris, everything fell into you,
what sorrow did you not express, in what sorrow are you not drowned!

From billow to billow you still called and sang.
Standing like a sailor in the prow of a vessel.

You still flowered in songs, you still brike the currents.
Oh pit of debris, open and bitter well.

Pale blind diver, luckless slinger,
lost discoverer, in you everything sank!

It is the hour of departure, the hard cold hour
which the night fastens to all the timetables.

The rustling belt of the sea girdles the shore.
Cold stars heave up, black birds migrate.

Deserted like the wharves at dawn.
Only tremulous shadow twists in my hands.

Oh farther than everything. Oh farther than everything.

It is the hour of departure. Oh abandoned one!

Pablo Neruda.

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Pablo Neruda - July 12, 1904 – September 23, 1973. Nobel Prize for Literature in 1971.

His original name is Neftalí Ricardo Reyes Basoalto. Pablo Neruda is his pen name, he chose this name in honor of the famous Czech poet Jan Neruda. He was a Chilean communist writer and politician and had occupied many diplomatic posts and served as a senator for the Chilean communist party during his lifetime. But he reflects very different persona through his poetry. 

Neruda was accomplished in a variety of styles ranging from erotically charged love poems like his collection Twenty Poems of Love and a Song of Despair, surrealist poems, historical epics, and overtly political manifestos.

Neruda always wrote in green ink as it was the color of "esperanza" (hope). It was mentioned on so much occasions, Neruda was influenced by Rabindranath Tagore's work.

No great man can become great without surviving tough times. I told this because I love this story of Neruda - When Conservative Chilean President González Videla outlawed communism in Chile in 1948, a warrant was issued for Neruda's arrest. Friends hid him for months in a house basement in the Chilean port of Valparaíso. Later, Neruda escaped into exile through a mountain pass near Maihue Lake into Argentina. Years later, Neruda was a close collaborator to socialist President Salvador Allende. When Neruda returned to Chile after his Nobel Prize acceptance speech, Allende invited him to read at the Estadio Nacional before 70,000 people.

After going through many of his poems this one became my favorite.
In the wave-strike over unquite stones

In the wave-strike over unquiet stones
the brightness bursts and bears the rose
and the ring of water contracts to a cluster
to one drop of azure brine that falls.
O magnolia radiance breaking in spume,
magnetic voyager whose death flowers
and returns, eternal, to being and nothingness:
shattered brine, dazzling leap of the ocean.
Merged, you and I, my love, seal the silence
while the sea destroys its continual forms,
collapses its turrets of wildness and whiteness,
because in the weft of those unseen garments
of headlong water, and perpetual sand,
we bear the sole, relentless tenderness.
Also, The Song of Dispair is a spellbound creation. Along with Neruda, Nicolas Guillen and Ernesto Cardenal are Latin America's feathers in hat.


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Maveric Prowles
Had Rumbling Bowles
That thundered in the night.
It shook the bedrooms all around
And gave the folks a fright.
The doctor called;
He was appalled
When through his stethoscope
He heard the sound of a baying hound,
And the acrid smell of smoke.
Was there a cure?
'The higher the fewer'
The learned doctor said,
Then turned poor Maveric inside out
And stood him on his head.
'Just as I though
You've been and caught
An Asiatic flu -
You musn't go near dogs I fear
Unless they come near you.'
Poor Maveric cried.
He went cross-eyed,
His legs went green and blue.
The doctor hit him with a club
And charged him one and two.
And so my friend
This is the end,
A warning to the few:
Stay clear of doctors to the end
Or they'll get rid of you. 

- Spike Milligan

A Character.

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I marvel how Nature could ever find space
For so many strange contrasts in one human face:
There's thought and no thought, and there's paleness and bloom
And bustle and sluggishness, pleasure and gloom.

There's weakness, and strength both redundant and vain;
Such strength as, if ever affliction and pain
Could pierce through a temper that's soft to disease,
Would be rational peace--a philosopher's ease.

There's indifference, alike when he fails or succeeds,
And attention full ten times as much as there needs;
Pride where there's no envy, there's so much of joy;
And mildness, and spirit both forward and coy.

There's freedom, and sometimes a diffident stare
Of shame scarcely seeming to know that she's there,
There's virtue, the title it surely may claim,
Yet wants heaven knows what to be worthy the name.

This picture from nature may seem to depart,
Yet the Man would at once run away with your heart;
And I for five centuries right gladly would be
Such an odd such a kind happy creature as he. 

- William Wordsworth.

Endless Time by Rabindranath Tagore.

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Time is endless in thy hands, my lord.
There is none to count thy minutes.

Days and nights pass and ages bloom and fade like flowers.
Thou knowest how to wait.

Thy centuries follow each other perfecting a small wild flower.

We have no time to lose,
and having no time we must scramble for a chance.
We are too poor to be late.

And thus it is that time goes by
while I give it to every querulous man who claims it,
and thine altar is empty of all offerings to the last.

At the end of the day I hasten in fear lest thy gate be shut;
but I find that yet there is time.

The Oldest Wine - Rumi.

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I guess he should be the oldest poet that I have ever able to know. Born on September 30, 1207 in Balkh, Greater Iran,now in Afghanistan, he has displayed his mystic and, what's the word, yes, Ruhani gesture since his early childhood. You can get a fragrance of Urdu, Persian, hindi, in his compositions.

Commonly known as Rumi, his real name is

Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Balkhī also known as Jalāl ad-Dīn Muḥammad Rūmī.

 His doctrine advocates unlimited tolerance, positive reasoning, goodness, charity and awareness through love. To him and to his disciples all religions are more or less truth. He was a vivid traveler and crossed many waters.During this period, Rumi also travelled to Damascus where he met one dervish. It was his meeting with the dervish Shams-e-Tabrizi that completely changed Rumi's life.
Rumi's love for, and his bereavement at the death of, Shams found their expression in an outpouring of music, dance, and lyric poems, Diwan-e-Shams-e-Tabrizi. He himself went out searching for Shams and journeyed again to Damascus. There, he realized:

Why should I seek? I am the same as
He. His essence speaks through me.
I have been looking for myself!
There are so much interesting things about Rumi's life. But here I am absolutely focused on his compositions. Although, there are so many, here are some of my favorites. So, its time to go in some trans.

Let Me Be Mad.!!

O incomparable Giver of life, cut reason loose at last!
Let it wander grey-eyed from vanity to vanity.
Shatter open my skull, pour in it the wine of madness!
Let me be mad, as You; mad with You, with us.
Beyond the sanity of fools is a burning desert
Where Your sun is whirling in every atom:
Beloved, drag me there, let me roast in Perfection!
When the Rose is Gone from Mathanwi  by Rumi.
When the rose is gone and the garden faded
you will no longer hear the nightingale's song.
The Beloved is all; the lover just a veil.
The Beloved is living; the lover a dead thing.
If love withholds its strengthening care,
the lover is left like a bird without care,
the lover is left like a bird without wings.
How will I be awake and aware
if the light of the Beloved is absent?
Love wills that this Word be brought forth

I Throw it All Away.

You play with the great globe of union,
you that see everyone so clearly
and cannot be seen. Even universal

intelligence gets blurry when it thinks
you may leave. You came here alone,
but you create hundreds of new worlds.

Spring is a peacock flirting with
revelation. The rose gardens flame.
Ocean enters the boat. I throw
it all away, except this love for Shams.

My Burning Heart..

My heart is burning with love
All can see this flame
My heart is pulsing with passion
like waves on an ocean

my friends have become strangers
and I’m surrounded by enemies
But I’m free as the wind
no longer hurt by those who reproach me

I’m at home wherever I am
And in the room of lovers
I can see with closed eyes
the beauty that dances

Behind the veils
intoxicated with love
I too dance the rhythm
of this moving world

I have lost my senses
in my world of lovers

The Mystic Poet - Kabir

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Some of my favorite Dohas by Sant Kabir ji. Over the time I am reading these and getting one of the fabulous feeling called Love. 

Each word is so so deep, so much intense that I get goose bumps sometimes.  I should put the translation in english that I found over the internet.

Pothi Padh Padh Kar Jag Mua, Pandit Bhayo Na Koye
Dhai Aakhar Prem Ke, Jo Padhe so Pandit Hoye
Meaning -  **
Reading books where everyone died, none became anymore wise
One who reads the word of Love, only becomes wise 

Dukh Mein Simran Sab Kare, Sukh Mein Kare Na Koye                                                    
Jo Sukh Mein Simran Kare, Tau Dukh Kahe Ko Hoye                                 
In anguish everyone prays to Him, in joy does none
To One who prays in happiness, how sorrow can come

Kabira Khara Bazaar Mein, Mange Sabki Khair
Na Kahu Se Dosti, Na Kahu Se Bair
Kabira in the market place, wishes welfare of all
Neither friendship nor enmity with anyone at all

Jaise Til Mein Tel Hai, Jyon Chakmak Mein Aag
Tera Sayeen Tujh Mein Hai, Tu Jaag Sake To Jaag
Just as seed contains the oil, fire's in flint stone
Your temple seats the Divine, realize if you can

Bada Hua To Kya Hua, Jaise Ped Khajoor
Panthi Ko Chaya Nahin, Phal Laage Atidoor
In vain is the eminence, just like a date tree
No shade for travelers, fruit is hard to reach

Sayeen Itna Deejiye, Ja Mein Kutumb Samaye
Main Bhi Bhookha Na Rahun, Sadhu Na Bhookha Jaye
Give so much, O God, suffice to envelop my clan
I should not suffer cravings, nor the visitor go unfed

Dheere Dheere Re Mana, Dheere Sub Kutch Hoye
Mali Seenche So Ghara, Ritu Aaye Phal Hoye
Slowly slowly O mind, everything in own pace happens
The gardiner may water with a hundred buckets, fruit arrives only in its season

Aisee Vani Boliye, Mun Ka Aapa Khoye
Apna Tan Sheetal Kare, Auran Ko Sukh Hoye
Speak such words, sans ego's ploy
Body remains composed, giving the listener joy

Bura Jo Dekhan Main Chala, Bura Naa Milya Koye
Jo Munn Khoja Apnaa, To Mujhse Bura Naa Koye
I searched for the crooked man, met not a single one
Then searched myself, "I" found the crooked one.

Chalti Chakki Dekh Kar, Diya Kabira Roye
Dui Paatan Ke Beech Mein,Sabit Bacha Na  
Looking at the grinding stones, Kabir laments
In the duel of wheels, nothing stays intact.

Face to Face..

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One of the outstanding work by Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore.

Day after day, O lord of my life,
shall I stand before thee face to face.
With folded hands, O lord of all worlds,
shall I stand before thee face to face.

Under thy great sky in solitude and silence,
with humble heart shall I stand before thee face to face.

In this laborious world of thine, tumultuous with toil
and with struggle, among hurrying crowds
shall I stand before thee face to face.

And when my work shall be done in this world,
O King of kings, alone and speechless
shall I stand before thee face to face.

The Satyyaa..

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It is the over the top feeling and excitement I am getting since last few days. I know why this is because, these days I am totally drowned in portraits, reading some of the magnificent books of all times, and grasping the  thoughts of one of the best thinkers of human times. 

Also, currently I am involved on one of my lifetime projects in association with one international group, The Eden : Rabindranath Tagore. Its truly ineffable knowing him. 

Thus, this made me think why I am not compiling all this treasure for my personal delight. So, this led the creation of Satyyaa.. 

Mithyaa is all about me, my values, my buddies, my world. Satyyaa would be everything about all the polymaths whom I am able to study, to know and feel. 

There will be so much here, poems, excerpts, essays. Everything by them. Yes, certainly I shall express my thoughts little intermittenly.

I donot know what kind of following I shall be getting but I certainly wish to share this with everyone who'll visit Satyyaa. 

So, lets get started. 

Shantanu   --- <^>----