"Like the evening among the silent trees.."

"STRAY birds of summer come to my window to sing and fly away. And yellow leaves of autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sigh.
O TROUPE of little vagrants of the world, leave your footprints in my words.
THE world puts off its mask of vastness to its lover. It becomes small as one song, as one kiss of the eternal.
IT is the tears of the earth that keep her smiles in bloom.


THE mighty desert is burning for the love of a blade of grass who shakes her head and laughs and flies away.
IF you shed tears when you miss the sun, you also miss the stars.
THE sands in your way beg for your song and your movement, dancing water. Will you carry the burden of their lameness?

HER wistful face haunts my dreams like the rain at night.
ONCE we dreamt that we were strangers. We wake up to find that we were dear to each other.

SORROW is hushed into peace in my heart like the evening among the silent trees.."

By: Rabindranath Tagore

Diamanda Galas - Gloomy Sunday

An Onion For My Love.

Valentine By Carol Ann Duffy

Not a red rose or a satin heart.

I give you an onion.
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love.

Here.
It will blind you with tears
like a lover.
It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief.

I am trying to be truthful.

Not a cute card or a kissogram.


I give you an onion.
Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,
possessive and faithful
as we are,
for as long as we are.

Take it.
Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring,
if you like.

Lethal.
Its scent will cling to your fingers,
cling to your knife.

The Voice by Andree Chedid

The Voice by Andree Chedid

Where is the distant voice
That speaks like my soul?

Buried beneath daylight's clamor
Gold and the seasons

Beneath groaning streets
And the ferment of cities

In my grave of care
And blond laughter

In what bare tomb must I lie
To summon the voice
That speaks like my soul?

Down You Go..

All I need

Great song with well matched video !

A Girl By Ezra Pound

The tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms,
The tree has grown in my breast-
Downward,
The branches grow out of me, like arms.

Tree you are,
Moss you are,
You are violets with wind above them.
A child - so high - you are,
And all this is folly to the world.

By-Ezra Pound