As out of the deep womb of a mountain Is born a swift-running stream; So out of the aching depths of my heart Has come forth joyous love, The perfume of the world. Through the sunlit valleys rush the waters, Entering lake upon lake, Ever wandering, never still; So is my love, Emptying itself from heart to heart. As the waters move sadly Through the dark, cavernous valley; So has my love become dull Through the shame of easy desire. As the tall trees are destroyed By the strong rush of waters That have nourished their deep roots, So has my love torn cruelly The heart of its rejoicing. I have shattered the very rock on which I grew. And as a wide river Now escapes to the dancing sea, whose waters know no bondage; So is my love in the perfection of its freedom. O, rejoice! There is thunder among the mountains, And long shadows lie across the green face of the valley. The rains Bring forth green shoots Out of the dead stumps of yesterday. High among the rocks An eagle is building his nest. All things are great with Life. O friend, Life fills the world. Thou and I are in eternal union. Life is as the waters That satisfy the thirst of kings and beggars alike: The golden vessel for the king, For the beggar the potters vessel Which breaks to pieces at the fountain. Each holds his vessel dear. There is loneliness, There is fear of solitude, The ache of a dying day, The sorrow of a passing cloud. Life, destitute of love, Wanders from house to house, With none to declare its loveliness. Out of the granite rock Is fashioned a graven image Which men hold sacred; But they tread carelessly the rock On the way That leads to the temple. What can you know of happiness, If in the vale of misery you have not walked? What can you know of freedom, If against your bondage you have not cried aloud? What can you know of love, If from the entanglement of love you have not sought deliverance? I saw the flowers blossom In the dark hours of a still night.
Posted on: Fri, 03 Oct 2014 00:33:28 +0000
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