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#2696 - Thursday, January 11, 2007 - Editor: Jerry Katz

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  • Jerry Katz
    #2696 - Thursday, January 11, 2007 - Editor: Jerry Katz Nondual Highlights ... Gabriel Rosenstock Ganesh playing the uilleann pipes! From a sculpture park in
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      #2696 - Thursday, January 11, 2007 - Editor: Jerry Katz
       
      Nondual Highlights
       
       

       
       
      Gabriel Rosenstock
       
      Ganesh playing the uilleann pipes!
       
      From a sculpture park in Roundwood, Co. Wicklow, Ireland....
       
       
       

      The following are a few selections from Gabriel's new book...

      BLIAIN AN BHANDÉ

      Year of the Goddess

      poems in Irish with English translations

      Gabriel Rosenstock

      Why not envision a new eco-poetics grounded in a
      heritage thousands of years old which upholds that
      everything in the universe is sacred?
      --Francisco X. Alarcón

      Space, time and Borges now are leaving me …
      --J L Borges

      The progress of an artist is a continual self-sacrifice, a
      continual extinction of the personality.
      --T S Eliot

      Note

      One does not often think of the tripartite goddess who gave her blessed name to Ireland -  Éire, Banba, Fódla - not to mention other goddesses who have left their trace on the landscape, Danu of the Paps of Danu for instance.

      Devotional poetry in India goes by the name of bhakti. In the heel of the hunt, a bhakta does not really adore or pine for any god or  goddess; as with Mirabai’s love affair with Krishna, or Muktabai singing her own glistening Self; what is sought and what is praised is the brightness of eternal brightness, our shared Self, knowing neither birth nor death.

      Some words in this poem sequence are ‘shaded’ to allow for another reading of a line, or a faint echo, a game much cherished by the Celtic poets of yore. Thus, the reader sees the word as the world when written as world and encounters bhakti invocations such as ma (mother) hidden in the word mad!

          GR

      Advaita

      Advaita

      Sularbh ann don fhiolar

      before the eagle was

      Sularbh ann don mhuir

      before the sea

      Sularbh ann don dair

      before the oak was

      Is ann Duit

      You are

      Sularbh ann don loch

      before the lake was

      Sularbh ann don néal

      and the cloud

      Sularbh ann d’Éirinn

      before Ireland

      Is ann Duit

      You are

      Sularbh ann don dán seo

      before this poem was

      Chuisligh sé Ionat

      it pulsed in You

      Sularbh ann don ghrian is don ghealach

      before the sun and moon

      Is solas Sinn

      We are light

      Faic thairis

      nothing else

       

      ~ ~ ~
       
       

      Deireadh le saint

      A bhandé bhán an oighir

      Léigh an dán seo le Do bheola milse

      Chun go leáfaidh Thú

      Anois is ch

      oíche

      Santaím do dhofheictheacht

      Is deireadh le saint

       

      End of desire

      White goddess of ice

      Read this poem with Y

      our sweet lips

      So that You

      may melt

      Now and forever

      I long for Your invisibility

      The end of all desire

       

      ~ ~ ~

       

      Fíorchruth

      Tá D’fhíorchruth le b

      rath

      I gcantain na n-éan

      Is ina dtost fada

       

      True Form

      Y

      our true form is sensed

      In the song of birds

      And in their long silence

       
      ~ ~ ~
       

      Coillteán

      Ligeas d

      om féin bheith im choillteán

      Ar maos i mbainne is i gcodlaidín, gearradh mé

      D’fhonn na nótaí is airde, is binne a chanadh Dhuit

      Is bhíos i m’ain

      geal ainnis os comhair an tsaoil

      Chanas gur chailleas mo ghuth

      Is mo chiall

      Tá mo smig maol

      Triailfead cleas eile amárach

      Im ghréasaí br

      óg

      Sea, tosnód as an nua ag Do dhá throigh

       

      Castrato

      I allowed myself bec

      ome a castrato

      Steeped in milk, in opium, I was cut,

      To sing the highest, the sweetest notes for You

      What a miserable angel I was in the sight of the world

      I sang until I lost my voice

      And my senses

      My chin is bare

      I will try new tactics t

      omorrow

      Be a shoe

      maker

      Yes, begin all over again at Y

      our feet

       

      ~ ~ ~

       

      Mí an Mheithimh

      Tá mí an Mheithimh ag teannadh linn

      As cén áit?

      Nach Tusa an Meitheamh

      Nach Tú gach mí?

      Bí ag teannadh Linne, a mhí an Mheithimh …

      Crainn i mbun rinnfheithimh

       

      The month of June

      The month of June draws near

      Fr

      om where?

      Are You not June

      And every month?

      C

      ome, June, draw near to Us, June…

      Trees are in meditation

       

      ~ ~ ~

       

      further excerpts will be found in the Highlights from April 7, 2005, when this work was in progress: http://www.nonduality.com/hl2106.htm

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