Every crack on the inside is an opening on the outside
Month: février 2012
Poem by Hafiz
From my wonderful yoga teacher Louise Bloom
When
the violin
Can forget the past
It starts to sing
When the violin can stop worrying
About the future
You will become such a drunk laughing nuisance
Then God
Will lean down
And start combing you
Into His
Hair
When the violin can forget
Every wound caused by others
Then the heart starts Singing
Wild Man – lyrics from The album SNOW ,Kate Bush
In the wake of Kate’s new single « Wild Man », we’re very pleased to be able to publish the full lyrics for the song here:
They call you an animal, the Kangchenjunga Demon, Wild Man, Metoh-Kangmi.
Lying in my tent, I can hear your cry echoing round the mountainside.
You sound lonely.
While crossing the Lhakpa-La something jumped down from the rocks.
In the remote Garo Hills by Dipu Marak we found footprints in the snow.
The schoolmaster of Darjeeling said he saw you by the Tengboche Monastery.
You were playing in the snow. You were banging on the doors. You got up on the roof, Roof of the World.
You were pulling up the rhodedendrons. Loping down the mountain.
They want to know you. They will hunt you down, then they will kill you.
Run away, run away, run away…
While crossing the Lhakpa-La something jumped down from the rocks.
In the remote Garo Hills by Dipu Marak we found footprints in the snow.
We found your footprints in the snow. We brushed them all away…
From the Sherpas of Annapurna to the Rinpoche of Qinghai.
Shepherds from Mount Kailash to Himachal Pradesh found footprints in the snow.
You’re not a langur monkey nor a big brown bear – You’re the Wild Man.
They say they saw you drowned near the Rongbuk Glacier.
They want to hunt you down. You’re not an animal.
The Lamas say you’re not an animal.
Here’s an ancient archetypal poem, the « Song of Amergin. » These are some of Ireland’s oldest known verses illustrating the Celtic sense of a symbiotic and seamless relationship between the natural and the divine.
I am the wind on the sea;
I am the ocean wave;
I am the sound of the billows;
I am the seven-horned stag;
I am the hawk on the cliff;
I am the dewdrop in sunlight;
I am the fairest of flowers;
I am the raging boar;
I am the salmon in the deep pool;
I am the lake on the plain;
I am the meaning of the poem;
I am the point of the spear;
I am the god that makes fire in the head;
Who levels the mountain?
Who speaks the age of the moon?
Who has been where the sun sleeps?
Who, if not I?
A new dutch felt book is out recently.
Don’t shy away from the Dutch language this is a very inspiring picture book.
Order information http://www.ellendesign.nl/viltboek
