Poem

Sous la tonnelle, trois de jasmin se detachent,

Elles viennent se poser volentantes

sur la surface brulante du the vert

le prince des fluers ne se livre que rarement

et choisit uniquement la fin du jour

ou les suaves somnolences deviennent partage.

As I darkened my eyes with the dust of sadness...

I darkened my eyes

with the dust of sadness

until each of them was a sea full of pearls

All the tears which I shed for him

are not tears as many think but pearls...

I am complaining about the soul of the soul

but I'm no complainer; I'm simply saying how it is

My heart tell me it is distressed with him

bu I can only laugh at such pretended injuries.

Where is this "we" and this "I"?

By the side of the Beloved.

You made this "we" and this "I"

in order that you might play

this game of courtship with yourself

that all "you's" and "I's" might become one soul

and finally drown in the Beloved

Is it possible for the bodily eye to see you?

can thought comprehend your laughter or grief?

tell me now, can it possibly see you at all?

such heart has only borrowed things to live with.

The garden of love is green without limit

and yields many fruits other than sorrow or joy.

Love is beyond either condition:

without spring, without autumn, it is always fresh.

What is hope.................

What hope means

Hope is bright shining light which keeps darkness at the bay
Hope is gentle cold breeze on a hot summer day

Hope is to remain positive when going gets tough
hope is seeking more when others think u had enough

What hope means

Hope is dreaming of tomorrow
Hope is simmering under sorrow

Hope is sparkles when tears in our eyes
Hope is a beautiful thing & beautiful things never dies

What hope means

Hope is as light as a feather
Hope keeps all of us together

Hope is ubiquitous and free of cost
hope is the last thing ever lost.....

Vineet Bansal

I Am Going to Sleep

Teeth of flowers, hairnet of dew,
hands of herbs, you, perfect wet nurse,
prepare the earthly sheets for me
and the down quilt of weeded moss.

I am going to sleep, my nurse, put me to bed.
Set a lamp at my headboard;
a constellation; whatever you like;
all are good: lower it a bit.

Leave me alone: you hear the buds breaking through . . .
a celestial foot rocks you from above
and a bird traces a pattern for you

so you'll forget . . . Thank you. Oh, one request:
if he telephones again
tell him not to keep trying for I have left . . .

Alfonsina Storni