Now...

I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you only because it's you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.

Suggested Rhythm: Her name is, George Jones

Religion in the East

There in Rangoon I understood that the gods
were enemies of the poor human being,
just as God is.
Gods of alabaster, lying down
like white whales,
gods gilded like wheat,
serpent gods coiled round
the crime of being born,
naked and elegant buddhas
smiling at the cocktail parties
of empty eternity
like Christ on his horrible cross,
all of them ready for anything -
to impose on us their heaven
by torture or pistol,
to buy our piety or fry our blood,
fierce gods made by men
to cover up their cowardice,
and that's how it all was there,
the whole world reeking of heaven,
of heavenly supermarkets.

Suggested read : Pablo Neruda

Suggested rhythm : "Khawaja tum hi ho", Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan

Thanks to Nina for this find !! its one of the rarest.

To My Party

You have given me fraternity toward the unknown man.
You have joined the strength of all the living.
You have given me the country again as in a birth.
You have given me the freedom that the loner cannot have.
You taught me to kindle kindness, like fire.
You have given me the rectitude that the tree requires.
You taught me to see the unity and the difference among mankind.
You showed me how one being's pain has perished in the victory of all.
You taught me to sleep in beds hard as my brothers.
You made me build on reality as on a rock.
You made me adversary of the evildoer and wall of the frantic.
You have made me see the world's clarity and the possibility of happiness.
You have made me indestructible because with you I do not end in myself.

Suggested read : Pablo Neruda

Suggested rythm : Imagine , Lennon

Fleas interest me so much

Fleas interest me so much
that I let them bite me for hours.

They are perfect, ancient, Sanskrit,
machines that admit of no appeal.

They do not bite to eat,
they bite only to jump;

they are the dancers of the celestial sphere,
delicate acrobats

in the softest and most profound circus;
let them gallop on my skin,

divulge their emotions,
amuse themselves with my blood,

but someone should introduce them to me.
I want to know them closely,
I want to know what to rely on.

Suggested read : Pablo Neruda

Suggested rythm : tAi tOmAr Ananda AmAr par - Pankaj Mallik - Rabeendra Sangeeth

Gentleman Alone

The young maricones and the horny muchachas,
The big fat widows delirious from insomnia,
The young wives thirty hours' pregnant,
And the hoarse tomcats that cross my garden at night,
Like a collar of palpitating sexual oysters
Surround my solitary home,
Enemies of my soul,
Conspirators in pajamas
Who exchange deep kisses for passwords.
Radiant summer brings out the lovers
In melancholy regiments,
Fat and thin and happy and sad couples;
Under the elegant coconut palms, near the ocean and moon,
There is a continual life of pants and panties,
A hum from the fondling of silk stockings,
And women's breasts that glisten like eyes.
The salary man, after a while,
After the week's tedium, and the novels read in bed at night,
Has decisively fucked his neighbor,
And now takes her to the miserable movies,
Where the heroes are horses or passionate princes,
And he caresses her legs covered with sweet down
With his ardent and sweaty palms that smell like cigarettes.
The night of the hunter and the night of the husband
Come together like bed sheets and bury me,
And the hours after lunch, when the students and priests are masturbating,
And the animals mount each other openly,
And the bees smell of blood, and the flies buzz cholerically,
And cousins play strange games with cousins,
And doctors glower at the husband of the young patient,
And the early morning in which the professor, without a thought,
Pays his conjugal debt and eats breakfast,
And to top it all off, the adulterers, who love each other truly
On beds big and tall as ships:
So, eternally,
This twisted and breathing forest crushes me
With gigantic flowers like mouth and teeth
And black roots like fingernails and shoes.

Suggested read : Neruda,Pablo (Translated by Mike Topp)

Suggested rythm: Californication - RHCP

Poetry

And it was at that age ... Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
no they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.

I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names,
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire,
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating plantations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.

And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry void,
likeness, image of mystery,
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke loose on the wind.


Suggested read : Neruda,Pablo

Suggested rythm: Swara Kakali - Ravi Shankar & Yehudi Menuhin