Rumi, translated by Jonathan Star in Rumi: In the Arms of the Beloved
I searched both worlds,
but never found joy without you.
I have seen many wonders,
but never one like you.
I pressed my soul’s ear
to countless doors,
but never heard words as sweet as yours.
O Saaqi, sweet sight of my eyes,
I’ve never seen one like you
in all of Persia or Arabia.
Pour the wine that takes me beyond myself,
for this petty existence
brings nothing but fatigue.
Rest now, my soul,
leave behind your religion
and your empty show of faith.
Remember when you had no religion?
Remember when all you had was Him?
Insomniac passing anhypnic nights in writing, translation, music, mathematics, programming and whatever else captures my attention or alleviates agrypnia.
This consists mostly of quotations of things that stand out to me or reflect what's on my mind; occasionally I also post original, often more personal, content as well, which may be found under the "personal" tag. Anything posted under "translations" is also original work and may broadly be taken as personal as well as I seldom tackle a work that does not speak to or for me in some way.
Henry Miller, The Rosy Crucifixion, vol. I, Sexus, bk. 1, cap. 1 (1949)My body is heavy as lead when I throw it into bed. I pass immediately into the lowest depth of dream. This body, which has become a sarcophagus with stone handles, lies perfectly motionless; the dreamer rises out of it, like a vapor, to circumnavigate the world. The dreamer seeks vainly to find a form and shape that will fit his ethereal essence. Like a celestial tailor, he tries on one body after another, but they are all misfits. Finally he is obliged to return to his own body, to reassume the leaden mould, to become a prisoner of the flesh, to carry on in torpor, pain and ennui.
Antonin Artaud (via rawforms)We must wait and seize the images that arise in us, naked, natural, excessive, and follow these images to the very end
Franz Kafka, A Little Fable (via stuff—n—things)Alas.” said the mouse, “the world is growing smaller every day. At the beginning it was so big that I was afraid, I kept running and running, and I was glad when at last I saw walls far away to the right and left, but these long walls have have narrowed so quickly that I am in the last chamber already, and there in the corner stands the trap that I must run into.” “You only need to change your direction,” said the cat, and ate it up.
Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451How do you get so empty? Who takes it out of you?
E. M. Cioran, The Trouble With Being Born (via ludimagister)There are nights that the most ingenious torturers could not have invented. We emerge from them in pieces, stupid, dazed, with neither memories nor anticipations, and without even knowing who we are. And it is then that the day seems useless, light pernicious, even more oppressive than the darkness.
Ralph Waldo Emerson, Journals, October 1841.
“What are you doing Zek?” said Judge Webster to his eldest boy.
“What are you doing, Daniel?”
A tolerably correct account of most of our activity today.