What has death and a thick body dances before what has no thick body and no death. The trumpet says: "I am you." The spiritual master arrives and bows down to the beginning student. Try to live to see this! ~ Kabir version by Robert Bly What follows is a video of three poems by Kabir, read by Robert Bly.
18 I talk to my inner lover, and I say, why such rush? We sense that there is some sort of spirit that loves birds and animals and the ants-- perhaps the same one who gave a radiance to you in your mother’s womb. Is it logical you would be walking around entirely orphaned now? The truth is you turned away yourself, and decided to go into the dark alone. Now you are tangled up in others, and have forgotten what you once knew, and that’s why everything you do has some weird failure in it.
I've spent the last couple of months reading mystic poets - Hafiz, Kabir, Mirabai, and Rumi, among others - and have been overtaken by the form known as the ghazal, specifically a variant of Robert Bly's conjuring, 6 stanzas of 3 lines each. Yes, I know that a lot that is being translated or written in English isn't the ghazal of Middle Eastern origin, but a modern English variant whose roots, one hopes, are sunk deep in the tradition of another culture. Many would disagree. But, there you are. This is some of what I've been up to. In fact, there will most probably be a collection forthcoming, after Yield to the Willow finally sees the light of day later this month. Never knew I had it in me. It would seem, however, that Kabir knew.
For this Friday, here is a full-length reading by Gerald Stern at Fishouse. It takes a bit to get started with a long intro and Stern taking some time to get to the mike (with many a nearly off-mike comment on the way), but it's worth the wait.
I also found part 1 of the Drexel Interview with Stern (which has been viewed by 3 people and I think I was 2 of them), with part 2 seemingly lost in the ether or just never posted, either at YouTube or on the Drexel page. Though it is only the first half, it is a solid, satisfying first half (about 15 minutes), which I highly recommend.
I've just begun reading the new Kabir translations by Arvind Krishna Mehrotra. Here is one of the poems from that collection which originally appeared in the New York Review of Books, who is also the publisher. I hope to report back on this collection sometime soon.
Except That It Robs You of Who You Are
Except that it robs you of who you are,
What can you say about speech?
Inconceivable to live without
And impossible to live with,
Speech diminishes you.
Speak with a wise man, there’ll be
Much to learn; speak with a fool,
All you get is prattle.
Strike a half-empty pot, and it’ll make
A loud sound; strike one that is full,
Says Kabir, and hear the silence.
Kabir, translated from the Hindi
by Arvind Krishna Mehrotra
"moon" and "blossoms"
empty babble
of a floating world
Kay Ryan interviewed, with James Billington, by Charlie Rose (now Charlie, if you'd only stop referring to her in the 3rd person as if she wasn't there ...)
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