Ghalib, a poet (1797-1869)
For the raindrop, joy is in entering the river -
Unbearable pain becomes its own cure.
Travel far enough into sorrow, tears turn to sighing;
In this way we learn how water can die into air.
When, after heavy rain, the stormclouds disperse,
Is it not that they've wept themselves clear to the end?
If you want to know the miracle, how wind can polish a mirro,
Look: the shining glass grows green in spring.
It's the rose's unfolding, Ghalib, that creates the desire to see-
In every color and circumstance, may the eyes be open for what
comes.
Unbearable pain becomes its own cure.
Travel far enough into sorrow, tears turn to sighing;
In this way we learn how water can die into air.
When, after heavy rain, the stormclouds disperse,
Is it not that they've wept themselves clear to the end?
If you want to know the miracle, how wind can polish a mirro,
Look: the shining glass grows green in spring.
It's the rose's unfolding, Ghalib, that creates the desire to see-
In every color and circumstance, may the eyes be open for what
comes.
Comments
Such a gift to have experienced before the "unbearable pain," which did, eventually, years later, "become its own cure."
Every line is so meaningful.
For me, it seems to be a poem about experiencing the oneness or unity of all things...the material, spiritual, emotional