Later today I am going to be singing this beautiful poem by Guru Nanak at the Gurudwara. So I recorded something with just a piano -- no effects, just plain and simple live voice and piano.

It's hard to sing truth's essence But I have no other option I live as long as I sing as soon as I forget I die

Translation (just my interpretation)
Saache Naaye means "True Name"

O Mother! Why should I forget,
 What is the truth?

Singing that truth makes me live
forgetting it I die
that truth whose hunger makes
all pains go away

If I tired myself singing I couldn't value
the smallest iota of that truth
even if everyone together could sing
it would not become greater or smaller

That which never dies, no reason for despair
That which always gives to fill the hunger
that is the quality nothing else
there has never been nor will there

As big is the truth as its gift
the truth that makes night and day
who forgets the master truth,
Nanak, is deplorable

Gurbani: -

So kyo visrai meree maaye
Sacha saahib saachai naaye -

Aakha jeeva visrai mar jaao
Aakhan aukha saacha naao
Saache naam kee laagai bhook
Ut bookhai khaaye chaleeyeh dookh

So kyo visrai meree maaye
Sacha saahib saachai naaye

Saache naam kee til vadi-aayee
Aakh thake keemat nahee paayee
Je sabh milkai aakhanpayee
Vadaa na hovai ghaat na jaaye

Naa oh marai na hovai sog
Dedaa rahai na chookai bhog
Gun eho hor nahee koye
Naa ko hoaa naa ko hoye

Jevad aap tevad teree daat
Jin din karkai keetee raat
Khasam visaareh te kamjaat
Nanak naavai baajh sanaat

God grows weary of great kingdoms, but never of little flowers.

The woodcutter's axe begged for its handle from the tree. The tree gave it. 


"I give my whole water in joy," sings the waterfall, "though little of it is enough for the thirsty."

If you shed tears when you miss the sun, you also miss the stars. 

Listen, my heart, to the whispers of the world with which it makes love to you.

What you are you do not see, what you see is your shadow. 

I cannot choose the best. The best chooses me.

The leaf becomes flower when it loves.
The flower becomes fruit when it worships.

By plucking her petals you do not gather the beauty of the flower.

"I have lost my dewdrop," cries the flower to the morning sky that has lost all its stars.
 
 "How may I sing to thee and worship, O Sun?" asked the little flower.
"By the simple silence of thy purity," answered the sun.
  
From "Stray Birds" 
http://www.sacred-texts.com/hin/tagore/strybrds.htm

“Look at the beauty and perfection of nature. Everything in nature is so joyful, even though it doesn’t have the intelligence of a human being. All of creation is rejoicing. The most beautiful flowers are picked by people-torn by their stems. Some are made into garlands while others are trampled heedlessly. A flower has such a short life span, and yet it offers itself wholeheartedly to others; it even offers its own nectar to the bees -and yet it is happy. The stars are twinkling in the sky, the rivers are flowing blissfully, the branches of the trees are dancing in the wind, and the birds are bursting into song. You should ask yourself, ‘Why, then, do I feel so miserable living in the midst of all this joyful celebration?’”Ask the question, ‘why,’ repeatedly, and you will find the answer. The answer is that the flowers, stars, rivers, trees and birds do not have an ego; and, being egoless, nothing can hurt them. When you are egoless, you can only rejoice. Even occasions that would normally be painful are transformed into moments of joy.”

Amma

It is true that the flowers are singing.  What makes their singing beautiful is their lack of ego.

I am reading Robert Frost and reflecting upon this.  What's the point of loving flowers, which we can only see during the day. We must learn to appreciate the leaves which we hear rustle in the dark and bark which we can lean against in the dark. Flowers don't support you in the night. Barks do. You don't hear flowers rustle at night.  You hear leaves.  Frost may have been a slave to a springtime passion for the earth once; but now his has better appreciation. Leaves are his darker mood!  



Leaves Compared with Flowers
- Robert Frost

I slept all day.
The birds do thus
That sing a while
At eve for us

To have you soon
I gave away --
Well satisfied
To give -- a day

Life's not so short
I care to keep
The unhappy days;
I choose to sleep.



Other poems by Robert Frost

Butkada phir baad muddat ke magar raushan hua,
Noor-e-Ibrahim se aazaar ka ghar raushan hua!
Phir uthi aakhir sada tawhid ki Punjab se,
Hind ko ik mard-e-kamil ne jagaya khwab se!

(After and age, once again the temple became radiant;
Aazar’s house shone with the glory of Abraham.
Once again, the call of God’s unity arose from Punjab
From its dream Hind was awakened by a Perfect man.)

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

Joy is inexhaustible, unlike seriousness.

Music is the moonlight in the gloomy night of life.

Many young people get worked up about opinions that they will share in 20 years.

Too much trust is a foolishness, too much distrust a tragedy.

The German language is the organ among the languages. (Die deutsche Sprache ist die Orgel unter den Sprachen.)

A man never describes his own character so clearly as when he describes another.

We learn our virtues from our friends who love us; our faults from the enemy who hates us. We cannot easily discover our real character from a friend. He is a mirror, on which the warmth of our breath impedes the clearness of the reflection.

What a father says to his children is not heard by the world, but it will be heard by posterity.

I did some research on Jean Paul Richter and found that this was a German writer from the 18th century. I also found that Emerson quoted Richter as well; so I started looking for his writing so I could read it for myself. One book that I found to be an interesting tool to learn more about Richter's writing is "Wit, Wisdom and Philosphy of Jean Paul Richter" -- which can be found on google books:
Wit, Wisdom and Philosophy of Jean Paul Richter