Tell me, O Swan, your ancient tale

Foto: © wak

Tell me, O Swan, your ancient tale.
From what land do you come, O Swan? to what shore will you fly?
Where would you take your rest, O Swan, and what do you seek?

Even this morning, O Swan, awake, arise and follow me!
There is a land where no doubt nor sorrow have rule: where the terror of Death is no more.
There the woods of spring are a-bloom, and the fragrant scent ‘He is I’ is borne on the wind:
There the bee of the heart is deeply immersed, and desires no other joy.

Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941) nach Kabir (1440 – 1518)

Mache deine Seele zu einem duftenden Rosengarten

 

Foto: © wak

Du bist ganz Seele.
Der Rest ist nur Fleisch und Knochen.
Also mache deine Seele
zu einem duftenden Rosengarten,
denn Dornengestrüpp
taugt bloß als Brennholz.

Dschalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi (1207 – 1273)

Die Seele, ein duftender Rosengarten

Du bist ganz Seele.
Der Rest ist nur Fleisch und Knochen.
Also mache deine Seele
zu einem duftenden Rosengarten,
denn Dornengestrüpp
taugt bloß als Brennholz.

Dschalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi (1207 – 1273)

Tell me, O Swan …

Tell me, O Swan, your ancient tale.
From what land do you come, O Swan? to what shore will you fly?
Where would you take your rest, O Swan, and what do you seek?

Even this morning, O Swan, awake, arise and follow me!
There is a land where no doubt nor sorrow have rule: where the terror of Death is no more.
There the woods of spring are a-bloom, and the fragrant scent ‘He is I’ is borne on the wind:
There the bee of the heart is deeply immersed, and desires no other joy.

Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941) nach Kabir (1440 – 1518)

Awake, arise and follow me

Tell me, O Swan, your ancient tale.
From what land do you come, O Swan? to what shore will you fly?
Where would you take your rest, O Swan, and what do you seek?

Even this morning, O Swan, awake, arise and follow me!
There is a land where no doubt nor sorrow have rule: where the terror of Death is no more.
There the woods of spring are a-bloom, and the fragrant scent ‘He is I’ is borne on the wind:
There the bee of the heart is deeply immersed, and desires no other joy.

Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941) nach Kabir (1440 – 1518)