I blow where I will;
you hear my sound
but nobody knows
where I come from
or Where I go. JONh 3.8
Now I imagine death
like a native house
a thousand year
Now I imagine death
the uncovered sky
in order to
penetrate the truth.
Only the men
who recognize death
may perceive life truly. D.L.
I am everywhere and nowhere. Time belongs to me and, old age will not be able to creep up on me and hurt me because I have ceased playing hide-and-seek and even if I am going to play, my eyes won’t closed anymore.
The stream of time won’t tear me to pieces or annihilate.
I don’t want any meal and I am frankly surprised, why the people waste so much time searching for it.
An expensive thing, a slender (slim) courtesan (prostitute). wealth and a white, nice house can’t attract me either.
I don’t want any horse, even if it will be the quickest (fastest) and galloping (running) without touching his feet on the earth.
Why do I need the horse? Before you close your eyes, I have run around the world and returned to you. I am the poorest, nothing belongs to me and I possess anything, but I consider myself the richest, because I see the whole world like the blooming flowers of lotus, the stars billion times as large as the sun, scattered in the endless space, like huge shining islands, extinct craters and Galaxies dancing in the world and sounding the symphony without end.
Envy does not gnaw at my soul. Megalomania can not trouble me because I know every thing reflects its shade in this world. I am full of the eternal beauty and virtue caring them in my variegated bag.
On a few men. who see me, will be bestowed my presents.
I am an inexhaustible kindness and live in everyone. I blow, sing about kindness and don’t request anything. A long, terrible winter can’t frighten me when you are (shrunk) shivering with cold like sparrows. Don’t be troubled, listen to my songs brought from the strange isles.
I pity two planes grieved by love. They live at a distance of one step. I tried to sway their branches bent to the ground but in vain.
I carry lost dreams in my bag and bestow on the poets, who have lifted (raised) ceiling above the stars. They will take them for a walk to the distant worlds by the sunny boat, then bring them to (the) holy life.
I desire a blossoming garden of cherry come to light and you recognize him, he is ashamed of his beauty and fruit bearing branches. That’s why he has hidden in the inaccessible mountain a long way (at a long distance) from this country.
I help people muse and dream, break out of the thin walls of terrestrial (earthly) existence which are painted by the cynic's (flexible) pliable hand run up the stairs of the sky, leave this world for a time.
I chill the old trees which are faded by heat, the sweating peasants working in the fields, when the land is cracked and the streets of towns are short of breath, the dogs pant, their tongues hanging out and dwellers thirst for fresh air. I’ll blow out, gather the clouds in the wellkins, go in front and show the way the rain drops to the earth.
At that time everyone thanks the rain for his drops laughing sincerely and no one remembers me, but I bear a grudge against nobody.
It would be better to do kind things in utter stillness than in noise
I won’t forsake you and will be beside you always, everywhere, every time. Don’t be afraid, when everyone will. abandon you in your truth.
Don’t kill love in your hearth. Don’t catch the hope in your hand like a broken saber. Time is yours. You are towers and tired, blue pigeons sleep on the domes.
Don’t bend. your body at the knees, because the height of the tower won’t be full. It will be destroyed. Don’t forget.
Don’t forget, that not only this world is looking at you.
I am free quietly, if I want to live in the hat, I will.
I’ll caress the moon or the flowers of the daisy plated in the girls’ hair when I wish.
I am caring strange, celestrial water and sunrays for the men. who are hungry and thirsty. Open me a door. The guest is coming. Don’t block my way.
I write novels, poems and build temples. I have blown and unchanged, swayed the branches of lilac bent down (leaned down) from the future life since Genesis.
I play with children and drive out the clouds appearing in their eyes a great distance away.
I know that the trace of flying birds find his shelter in someone's life. It can't vanish into space.
I understand the twittering of birds, the moan of flowers and carry the lost dreams from star(s) to star(s).
I know why dry leaves whisper or the old garden tells us fairy-tales, at the gate of death. why the blue eyed violate grown on the hill gazing at the stars all night(s?)
I know where the white clouds are swimming. Would you like to know? Leave your house. Search for me.