Archive for February 2012

You pray in the day, but sleep at night
During the night, dogs are awake.
They are better!
They cannot stop barking at night
While during the day they sleep on stones
They are better
They don't leave their master's door
Even if they are beaten with shoes.
They are better
Get up Bulleh Shah! Go find your love
otherwise dogs have won over you
They are better

ਬੁੱਲਿਆ, ਰਾਤੀਂ ਸੌਵੇਂ, ਦਿਨੇ ਪੀਰ ਸਦਾਵੇਂ, ਰਾਤ ਨੂੰ ਜਾਗਣ ਕੁੱਤੇ, ਤੈਂ ਥੀ ਉੱਤੇ
ਰਾਤੀਂ ਭੌਂਕਣੋ ਬਸ ਨਹੀਂ ਕਰਦੇ, ਦਿਨੇ ਜਾ ਰੋੜਾਂ ਵਿਚ ਸੁੱਤੇ, ਤੈਂ ਥੀ ਉੱਤੇ
ਖ਼ਸਮ ਆਪਣੇ ਦਾ...
ਯਾਰ ਆਪਣੇ ਦਾ ਦਰ ਨਹੀ ਛੱਡਦੇ, ਭਾਵੇਂ ੧੦੦ ੧੦੦ ਮਾਰਨ ਜੁੱਤੇ, ਤੈਂ ਥੀ ਉੱਤੇ
ਉੱਠ ਬੁੱਲਿਆ, ਚਲ ਯਾਰ ਮਨਾ ਲੈ, ਨਹੀ ਤਾ ਬਾਜ਼ੀ ਲੈ ਗਏ ਕੁੱਤੇ, ਤੈਂ ਥੀ ਉੱਤੇ

Reminds me of a poem by Mary Oliver

“The Sweetness of Dogs” by Mary Oliver

What do you say, Percy? I am thinking
the moon rise. It’s full tonight.
So we go
and the moon rises, so beautiful it
makes me shudder, makes me think about
time and space, makes me take
measure of myself: one iota
pondering heaven. Thus we sit, myself

of sitting out on the sand to watch

thinking how grateful I am for the moon’s
perfect beauty and also, oh! how rich
it is to love the world. Percy, meanwhile,
leans against me and gazes up
into my face. As though I were just as wonderful
as the perfect moon.

Also Bulleh Shah On Dancing

ਦਿਲ ਵਿਚ ਤਾਰ ਇਸ਼ਕ਼ ਦੀ ਵੱਜਦੀ,ਕਿਤੇ ਨਾਲੇ ਵੱਜਦੀ ਖੰਜਰੀ ਏ
ਬੁੱਲਿਆ, ਨੱਚ ਕੇ ਯਾਰ ਮਨਾ ਲੈਣਾ ਭਾਵੇਂ ਲੋਕ ਕਹਿਨ ਇਹ ਕੰਜਰੀ ਏ

English version who can not understand punjabi script.
Bullyea rati jaage dine peer sadave, raat nu jaagan kutte, tai thi utte.
Ratti bhaukno bass nahi karde, dine ja rora wich sutte, tai thi utte.
khasam apne da..
yaar apne da, darr nahi chhadde, bahve 100 100 maran jutte,tai thi utte.
uth Bullyea chal yaar mana lai, nahi ta bazi lai gaye kutte, tai thi utte.
Dil wich taar ishq di wajdi kite naale wajdi khanjri e.
oye Bullyea nach ke yaar mana laina bhave lok kehan ih kanjri e.

- The purpose of life is to sing
http://www.shivpreetsingh.com

Bob Hass is one of the poets who encouraged me when I started reading contemporary poetry. He introduced me to the poetry of Jane Hirshfield. Today I read the poem "A Supple Wreath Of Myrtle" From "Time and Materials" written by Bob Hass. First the poem, and then some of my thoughts.

A Supple Wreath Of Myrtle
Robert Hass

Poor Nietzsche in Turin, eating sausage his mother
Mails to him from Basel. A rented room,
A small square window framing August clouds
Above the mountain. Brooding on the form
Of things: the dangling spur
Of an Alpine columbine, winter-tortured trunks
Of cedar in the summer sun, the warp in the aspen's trunk
Where it torqued up through the snowpack.

"Everywhere the wasteland grows; woe
To him whose wasteland is within."

Dying of syphilis. Trimming a luxuriant mustache.
In love with the opera of Biznet.

This is a 12 line poem that introduced me to Nietzsche, a German philosopher whose most often quoted line is the following:

The wasteland grows. Woe to him who hides the wasteland within.

I am wondering what the context was. Nietzsche was probably thinking about the destruction from the war. That we are creating a bigger and bigger wasteland. The second Nietzsche line is more mysterious. To me it reads that there is so much waste outside, but that is not the cause of much woe. Much of human woe is caused from the wasteland that is within. There is the potential for the human soul to emerge from the surrounding wasteland. There is the hope for a pristine lotus from within.

The poem lays a contrast between this man -- who apparently enjoys sausage, his loving mother, beautiful trees (which he seems to find faults in), the luxury of an exaggerated mustache (seen on most pics of his I found), and the opera of Bizet -- and his philosophy which states "woe to the one who hides the wasteland within". Is it possible that onside and out Nietzsche is part of the wasteland, and his actions may imply that he doesn't care?

He is thinking of lofty things among the mundane. Observing the kinks in nature. At the same time, he is not in great shape. He is dependent on his mother for food. He is poor; he is dying in a room that he has rented.

Wreaths are obviously used in memory of someone who is loved that has departed. Myrtle is a plant that was sacred to the Greek goddess Aphrodite. It was also a symbol of love. Hass indicates through the title, that he loves both the aspects of this hero: the lofty external observations and the wasteland within.

Interestingly, I found a nice article by Brenda Hillman, Bob Hass' wife, picking this poem as one of her favorites of his poems. She says, "The poem suggests that the daily and the heroic are always intertwined."

Also found an interesting cartoon that goes well with the poem:

The Nietzsche Family Circus

"I think I am too sarcastic to believe in myself."

Philosophical poetry

“The Sweetness of Dogs” by Mary Oliver

Also Bulleh Shah On Dancing

SHIVPREET SINGH

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