Posts Tagged: Désir

“Go to the limits of your longing” – L’abîme en face

Gott spricht zu jedem nur, eh er ihn macht,
dann geht er schweigend mit ihm aus der Nacht.
Aber die Worte, eh jeder beginnt,
diese wolkigen Worte sind:

Von deinen Sinnen hinausgesandt,
geh bis an deiner Sehnsucht Rand;
gib mir Gewand.

Hinter den Dingen wachse als Brand,
daß ihre Schatten ausgespann
timmer mich ganz bedecken.

Laß dir alles geschehn: Schönheit und Schrecken.
Man muß nur gehn: Kein Gefühl ist das fernste.
Laß dich von mir nicht trennen.
Nah ist das Land,
das sie das Leben nennen.

Du wirst es erkennen
an seinem Ernste.

Gib mir die Hand.

God speaks to each of us as s/he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.

These are the words we dimly hear:

You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.

Flare up like flame
and make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don’t let yourself lose me.

Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.

Give me your hand.

(Rilke’s Book of Hours, I, 59)

    Rainer Maria Rilke

  Das Stunden-Buch

translation by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy

A Web of your own making

Love and Fear – Michael Leunig

There are only two feelings.
Love and fear.
There are only two languages.
Love and fear.
There are only two activities.
Love and fear.
There are only two motives,
two procedures two frameworks,
two results.
Love and fear.
Love and fear.

Amen.

Leunig

Seeds sent to me… Thomas Merton

It is God’s love that speaks to me in the birds and streams; but also behind the clamor of the city God speaks to me in His judgments, and all these things are seeds sent to me from His will.

If they would take root in my liberty, and if His will would grow from my freedom, I would become the love that He is, and my harvest would be His glory and my own joy.

Thomas Merton,Seeds of Contemplation

Rosée du matin

Truth’s star

Gentils coquelicots

J’ai descendu dans mon jardin
Pour y cueillir du romarin.

(Refrain)
Gentil coqu’licot, Mesdames,
Gentil coqu’licot, nouveau !

Pour y cueillir du romarin
J’ n’en avais pas cueilli trois brins
Qu’un rossignol vint sur ma main
Il me dit trois mots en latin
Que les homm’s ne valent rien
Et les garçons encor bien moins !
Des dames, il ne me dit rien
Mais des d’moisell’ beaucoup de bien.

« Même au soleil de midi, on peut trouver de l’ombre »

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