I could stay for hours under the sun
to contemplate bouquets of primroses,
to listen to the buzzing of insects,
To contemplate their petals, the shape of hearts,
I could stay for hours if no one comes,
to absorb the happiness of such delicate flowers,
Ah, wasting your time is always winning it,
Wasting your time, it’s an art, it’s a work,
It takes the help of God and wild nature,
To understand the soul of things, symbols,
I could stay for hours in the sun.
Contemplating primrose bouquets.
Je pourrais rester des heures sous le soleil
à contempler des bouquets de primevères,
à écouter le bourdonnement des insectes,
à contempler leurs pétales en forme de cœur,
Je pourrais rester des heures si nul ne vient,
à absorber le bonheur des fleurs si délicates,
Ah, perdre son temps, c’est toujours le gagner,
Perdre son temps , c’est un art, c’est une œuvre,
Il faut l’aide de Dieu et de la nature sauvage,
Pour comprendre l’âme des choses, des symboles,
Je pourrais rester des heures sous le soleil.
À contempler des bouquets de primevères.
When you see a white sail in the harbor of Brest,
A sail under a burning sun,
It’s a nagging sail,
She has not the tranquility of a sail on the Nile,
Her mind is not at peace, her conscience torments her,
This sail flees life; it does not enjoy life,
So are most of the things we like
In This country.
Quand vous voyez une voile blanche dans la rade de Brest,
Une voile sous un soleil ardent,
C’est une voile agaçante,
Elle n’a pas la tranquillité d’une voile sur le Nil,
Son esprit n’est pas en paix, sa conscience la tourmente,
Cette voile fuit la vie, elle n’en profite pas,
Il en est ainsi de la plupart des choses que nous aimons
En ce pays.
Devrais-je feindre l'ignorance pour cacher mes sentiments,
Ou devrais-je vraiment m'en soucier, incapable de feindre?
Tant de courage pour affronter l'inconnu,
Pourtant muet devant elle, le cœur en peine.
Qui est-elle, demandez-vous, avec ce sourire éclatant,
Oui, elle en effet, une vision si divine,
Dans le couloir, je l'ai contemplée un moment,
Avec des cheveux comme des rubis, une beauté si fine.
Son sourire, un phare, reste dans mes pensées,
Pourquoi, je me demande, mon cœur incline-t-il ainsi?
Pourquoi elle, le désir de mon âme, de multiples façons,
Pourquoi elle, avec qui je souhaite être, mais ne sais pas.
Elle est merveilleuse, j'ose le proclamer,
Car je l'ai vue danser avec une passion débridée,
Une rougeur ornant ses joues, une flamme pourpre,
Ma conviction s'est approfondie, sans nom mais nommée.
Les jours passent, et je me contente seulement de dire 'Bonjour',
Voulant avouer, mais aussi prendre mon temps.
La confusion m'envahit, les émotions débordent,
Pourtant, la clarté chuchote, guidant où aller.
La question persiste, comment faire les choses bien,
Dans cette danse des cœurs, sous la douce lumière de l'amour.
One spring day,
An angel plays,
A magical play...
She made me sit
On the back of a butterfly...
Huuuh huuuh huuuh
Oye yea yea!!!
Hmm hmm hmm...
I hum...
Hsss hsss hss,
The breeze sings
Hearing our songs
The flowers dance
O, those lovely moves,
dancing angels they are, proved
Put us into a trance
at the very first glance;
Enchanting event,
The angels' dance
Red, blue, orange, purple and yellow
The vibrant colours paint the plain meadow
When my butterfly choses a purple one
The one which is my favourite, I silently grin
Wow!!! Never seen the flowers this close
Oh oh!!! Heavenly hues on their clothes
Couldn't narrate their cherubic colors
"Queens of the earth", certainly they are
Savouring the nectar of the flowers
The Butterfly has got more power
Now she is ready to reach the towers
Hurray!!! The sky is now ours
My soul outreaches the sky
Looks alike, the lows and highs
When I see the Earth and beyond
My wavering mind lands on the ground
When our soul discerns the almighty
Our mind becomes very light
Purpose of life, it perceives
Contentented life it achieves
July -09- 2023
gingerbread cottage was waiting for the right family
their kids were too loud
there was no discipline
this was not happening
she showed them her meanness
this family ran out screaming
why are you so picky? realtor asked after they had left
next couple was too old, stodgy, set in their ways
she was irritated that they were still alive, let alone looking at houses
gave the wife chills up the back of her neck
I am never going to sell you! lamented the realtor
gingerbread finally found a couple she liked
she thought she could tolerate them
they were giggling and fun
unfortunately, they set a fire in her closet
Why the translation? Because French is a pretty language.
mon petit chou is a term of endearment “my little cabbage.”
Leaning in—
Listening
To small things,
Big issues.
Work consumes
Your time.
Occasionally,
A buffet
From
My little cabbage.
Small talk,
Big conversation—
About Jesus.
9/24/2021
**
Se penchant—
Écoute
Aux petites choses,
Gros problèmes.
Le travail consomme
Ton temps.
Parfois,
Un buffet
De
Mon petit chou.
Banalités,
Grande conversation—
A propos de Jésus.
24/09/2021
BITS AND PIECES
Bits and pieces they say makes the whole
A whole of what I can't help but ask
Bits and pieces of pain - despondence
Bits and pieces of lies - distrust
Bits and pieces of self - egocentricity
Whatever be your chosen assort.
So,
The bits and pieces you chose to gather
In mind do bear the responsibility of
that the bits and pieces you then do sow
To lend from the French "des choses"
Are the sort of dribs and drabs ......
You should feel no fear to harvest.
Yahweh you stay forever the same
You are the God, that play's no game
Yet the world is forever, giving you blame
Forgive me the Lord, I feel ashamed.
All we do is complain,
Forever speaking about our pain
Driving ourselves insane
Forgive me Lord,
This time, I will take the blame.
I will not play the Devil's cruel games
Nor will I let him into the hall of fame
For he belongs in the furnace of flames
Whereby, He can no longer invade a man's brain.
Forgive me, Lord, You are not to be blame
You are not a God who choses to play games
You my Creator belong on the walls of Fame
Your Name, The Great I AM
Should be written on our lips
And on the walls of fame
Whereby, never removed but there it remains.
I ask God – “Why me?”
When I lose some sweet dream
What did I do to fail?
Was I wrong in some way?
Did I neglect or forsake?
Did disappointment betray?
I ask God – “ Why?”
I ask God – “When will it happen?”
Often worrying about the time
When will I get the answer…
To some prayer that I’ve prayed
Many more times than I like
Hoping for the right answer
Yet, I wait… stressing about the pressure
I ask God – “What should I do?”
Expecting His answer to show me
The truth, the way, the light
But I find, so many times, that
I have to struggle with patiently waiting
For the answer to come from a time
When He choses to reveal His reply
I ask God – and I sometimes question
The answer, especially if it’s negative
Yet, I know, God knows the best
And I must let go and let God
If I expect to be filled with the inner
Peace that comes from knowing
God is always the One in control!
I simply don't understand, like why? Why couldn't she see through the pain and bull in me to the good in me? Why do good things have to fall apart when someone doesn't understand what you're going through. I write when my heart is heavy and I write some deep , but man my heart is so heavy right now I don't know how to go about things right now. And if youre wondering. Yes this is a break-up im talking about. The tears are not stopping for some reason. I dont know whatbto do except put this steel to my dome and make me see crome. You see? I still have it!!! Writing was always my outlet, but now as I got older, I became a person wjo apparently no one choses anymore just cause of the way I am.
so they
say god
took
a day
of rest
making
the world
i am
in no way
saying
i am
god
because
i don't
create
or
make
poems
instead
intaking
the breath
of my Muse
who
choses
my words
and so
said
today
take
a day
off and
r
e
s
t
Peopel Like me who are lonly..
Always find someone..Or something
A memory ..a character on tv..
A person in a dream..
A unknown once seen..
A pet or a thing..
Anything to make me smile..
To keep to be alive...
Lonlyness is unbarabel..
Untellabel..unseenabel...
But life is empty ...
Heart is lonly....
We live in a selfish world..
Where love is just a feeling ..
I guess everyone is lonly ..
May be hiding it there own way..
With a smile on there face..
life has become a mix of everything of everything ..
mind choses but heart decide ...
to make things right..
Beacuse life is not only about surviving ...
but allong...For all these years..
I have been a life surviver..
Than a lifeliver..!
Dilupa wijegunasekara
2018/12/10
Taking Bare of Your Self
Reflecting on the silent moments when the Self absorbs itself
Tim is called preposterous a villain and contentious narcissist
He looks into the mirror ponders on ponds of accusations
Yet hurts no others rejects a portion of what he recovers
No aggression no hurting others no transgressions he simply
Choses to take a good honest look at the prism of his meaning
The surface surges with a splatter as he views beyond the
Grimace of distortion salvages and abandons faulty grins
In the nude he dives into the wrinkled waters of salty tears
Mediates in breathless meditation sheds weight and anger
Takes care of his truth at the bottom of uncertain sediments
Strips groundless fearsome fathom fragments and thus retrieves
Bystanders do not like that he appears to be marvelling when
He only begs to differ from others and himself before he rises
Dissents consents dissolves ambivalence does not retaliate
False censorship of crowds that cannot will not wish to see
When onlookers label in projection and throw a stone he catches
What matters to him and walks away with kindness towards himself
20th July 2018
We Chose in our Actions
We aren’t Choses-in-action
But we all Chose in our Actions
We all want to Succeed
The desire for success is almost universal
Yet to find anyone that crave failure
We all crave Success.
Today is the Master of Tomorrow
Tomorrow doesn’t determine itself
We judge it right from now. Great Grace.
The things we daily do
The way we daily deal
All show the true state of our expectations; But
We all crave success.
@JANUARY 2018/©M.H.O.G Unveiled
Je suis fier/fière – Translation of Oodgeroo Noonuccal’s “I am Proud” by T. Wignesan
Je me trouve noir de peau parmi les blancs
Et je suis fier.
Fier de ma race et fier de la couleur de ma peau.
Je suis abattu et pauvre,
Je porte les vêtements usés et déchirés de l’homme blanc,
Mais n’y pensez pas même un instant que j’ai honte.
Des lances ne pouvaient pas nous protéger contre les fusils et
nous étions vaincus,
Mais quelques choses y restent qu’ils ne pouvaient pas
arracher de nous ni de les détruire.
Nous étions vaincus mais non pas dompté,
On nous avait obligé d’obéir mais nous nous restions digne.
N’y pensez pas d’ôter mon esprit d’indépendence comme
certains blancs se soumettant aux autres.
Je suis fier,
Bien que humble et pauvre et sans abri
A l’égal de Christ.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
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