Sufi poem

The moths and the flame
By Farid ud-Din Attar

English version by
Afkham Darbandi and Dick Davis

Original Language
Persian/Farsi

Muslim / Sufi
12th Century

Moths gathered in a fluttering throng one night
To learn the truth about the candle light,
And they decided one of them should go
To gather news of the elusive glow.
One flew till in the distance he discerned
A palace window where a candle burned --
And went no nearer: back again he flew
To tell the others what he thought he knew.
The mentor of the moths dismissed his claim,
Remarking: "He knows nothing of the flame."
A moth more eager than the one before
Set out and passed beyond the palace door.
He hovered in the aura of the fire,
A trembling blur of timorous desire,
Then headed back to say how far he'd been,
And how much he had undergone and seen.
The mentor said: "You do not bear the signs
Of one who's fathomed how the candle shines."
Another moth flew out -- his dizzy flight
Turned to an ardent wooing of the light;
He dipped and soared, and in his frenzied trance
Both self and fire were mingled by his dance --
The flame engulfed his wing-tips, body, head,
His being glowed a fierce translucent red;
And when the mentor saw that sudden blaze,
The moth's form lost within the glowing rays,
He said: "He knows, he knows the truth we seek,
That hidden truth of which we cannot speak."
To go beyond all knowledge is to find
That comprehension which eludes the mind,
And you can never gain the longed-for goal
Until you first outsoar both flesh and soul;
But should one part remain, a single hair
Will drag you back and plunge you in despair --
No creature's self can be admitted here,
Where all identity must disappear.

As seen here: http://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/A/AttarFaridud/mothsflame.htm

NQOTD

My nephew has joined the fray....

As I pull into a convenience store:

JCrew1: "Is today dress like Jesus day?"

Me: "Uhm, why do you ask?"

JCrew1: "I saw a person wearing girl shoes and a beard".

My favourite line is...

Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty
Wi bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murdering pattle.

Happy birthday, Bobbie Burns

http://www.worldburnsclub.com/poems/translations/554.htm

SQOTD

As we were getting out of the car:

Squink: "You know, mom's are better than chocolate cake?"

Me: "We are?"

Squink: "Yeah, but not to eat!"

Palettes of famous painters and my favourtie shorts

This post on How To Be A Retronaut reminded me of how I often would wait for my aunt to toss her painting clothes out so I could save her "palettes" and wear them... my favourite were a pair of pants that had been my grandfathers and which she had turned into cut offs...

urls:
http://www.howtobearetronaut.com/2011/01/pallettes-of-famous-painters/
http://www.annecoe.com/portfolio/index.html

btw - I think I am in awe of the palette that belonged to Georges Seurat