Evening Poetry, April 3

Spring Song II

by Jean Garrigue

And now my spring beauties,

Things of the earth,

Beetles, shards and wings of moth

And snail houses left

From last summer’s wreck,

Now spring smoke

Of the burned dead leaves

And veils of scent

Of some secret plant,

Come, my beauties, teach me,

Let me have your wild surprise,

Yes, and tell me on my knees

Of your new life.

You can find this poem in The Four Seasons: Poems.

Evening Poetry, March 21

Spring

(by Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks)

Again, the violet bows to the lily.
Again, the rose is tearing off her gown!

The green ones have come from the other world,
tipsy like the breeze up to some new foolishness.

Again, near the top of the mountain
the anemone’s sweet features appear.

The hyacinth speaks formally to the jasmine,
“Peace be with you.” “And peace to you, lad!
Come walk with me in this meadow.”

Again, there are sufis everywhere!
The bud is shy, but the wind removes
her veil suddenly, “My friend!”

The Friend is here like water in the stream,
like a lotus on the water.

The narcissus winks at the wisteria,
“Whenever you say.”

And the clove to the willow, “You are the one
I hope for.” The willow replies, “Consider
these chambers of mine yours. Welcome!”

The apple, “Orange, why the frown?”
“So that those who mean harm
will not see my beauty.”

The ringdove comes asking, “Where,
where is the Friend?

With one note the nightingale
indicates the rose.

Again, the season of Spring has come
and a spring-source rises under everything,
a moon sliding from the shadows.

Many things must be left unsaid, because it’s late,
but whatever conversation we haven’t had
tonight, we’ll have tomorrow.

You can find this in The Essential Rumi.