old-songs

Like vanishing dew,a passing apparitionor the sudden flashof lightning -- already gone --thus should one regard one's self.

sick of it whatever it's called sick of the namesI dedicate every pore to what's here

Dream Song:The heavens Go with me.

In the cherry blossom's shadethere's no such thingas a stranger.

as jolaha ka maram na jana, jinh jag ani pasarinhh tana;dharti akas dou gad khandaya, chand surya dou nari banaya;sahastra tar le purani puri, ajahu bine kathin hai duri;kahai kabir karm se jori, sut kusut bine bhal kori;No one could understand the secret of this weaver who, coming into existence, spread the warp as the world; He fixed the earth and the sky as the pillars, and he used the sun and the moon as two shuttles; He took thousands of stars and perfected the cloth; but even today he weaves, and the end is difficult to fathom.Kabir says that the weaver, getting good or bad yarn and connecting karmas with it, weaves beautifully.

Dream Song:In the heavens A noise, Like the rustling of the trees.

Never forget:we walk on hell,gazing at flowers.

The plants and flowersI raised about my hutI now surrenderTo the willOf the wind

tahiya hote pavan nahin pani, tahiya srishti kown utpati;tahiya hote kali nahin phula, tahiya hote garbh nahi mula;tahiya hote vidya nahin Veda, tahiya hote shabd nahin swada;tahiya hote pind nahin basu,nahin dhar dharni na pavan akasu;tahiya hote guru nahin chela, gamya agamya na panth duhela.Sakhi: avigati ki gati ka kahown, jake gawn na thawngun bihuna pekhana, ka kahi lijai nawnIn that state there is no air or water, and no creation or creator; There is no bud or flower, and no fetus or semen; There is no education or Vedas, and no word or taste; There is no body or settlement, and no earth, air or space; There is no guru or disciple, and no easy or difficult path.Sakhi: That state is very strange. I cannot explain it. It has no village or resting place. That state is without gunas (qualities). What name can on give it?

A falcon hovers at the edge of the sky.Two gulls drift slowly up the river.Vulnerable while they ride the wind,they coast and glide with ease.Dew is heavy on the grass below,the spider's web is ready.Heaven's ways include the human:among a thousand sorrows, I stand alone.

Song for the Puberty Rite of a Girl Named Cowaka:A poor man takes the songs in his hand And drops them near the place where the sun sets. See, Cowaka, run to them and take them in your hand, And place them under the sunset.

Song after Battle:As the young men went by I was looking for him. It surprises me anew That he has gone. It is something To which I cannot be reconciled.Owls hoot at me. Owls hoot at me. That is what I hear In my life. Wolves howl at me. Wolves howl at me. That is what I hear In my life. -American Indian Songs

Dream Song of Thunders:Sometimes I go about pitying Myself, While I am carried by the wind Across the sky.

Children I implore youget out of the burning house nowthree carts wait outsideto save you from a homeless liferelax in the village squarebefore the sky everything's emptyno direction is better or worseeast is just as good as westthose who know the meaning of thisare free to go where they want

Steam Lodge Song of the Sun Dance Ceremony:A voice, I will send. Hear me! The land All over, A voice I am sending! Hear me! I will live!

Dream Song:As my eyes Search the prairie, I feel the summer in the spring. Whenever I pause The noise Of the village.