XI SONGS OF LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP
Let all f(r)iends be loved
The same river in us, the whirling
Cup and reference to have unclaimed
”What a black man said, white…..”
But none could tell how old you are
If we’ve been crazy, who haven’t been
And I have kept your belongings waiting
The reminiscence, if you need them,
I’ll be here wondering how
Estonians have so good spirits
And Omar was named after the Persian poet
While keeping the guest room for himself
Omar let you sleep in his own bed
In the name of fatherly love
Go tell your friends, I’ll write for them thrice
And to this reader, now let fiends be blessed
And Omar was named after the Persian poet
While keeping the guest room for himself
Omar let you sleep in his own bed
In the name of fatherly love
Go tell your friends, I’ll write for them thrice
And to this reader, now let fiends be blessed
”How often a thing has been
All-too-inhuman, damn those
Who tried to take our Florist away”
For the good star that sent you,
In the beginning
To wander like gypsies, a pain coming home
Like the half-brother in black and white
Even at the Patriarchs’ Ponds
When I have (not) listened to you,
I have (not) listened to the radio waves
That move below the waters of life
And who told me, and who told me
Even at the Patriarchs’ Ponds
When I have (not) listened to you,
I have (not) listened to the radio waves
That move below the waters of life
And who told me, and who told me
If there’s a decent path(os) at all
To make it up for you, God willing
Let us hope it was already settled
What happened then, to each of us
To become free from those chains
Let us hope it was already settled
What happened then, to each of us
To become free from those chains
Liberti(n)es and equality, the Saviour
With a prostitute and a line in the water
Who have not sinned, who have not sinned
Under this black empyrean, without rulers
No heir to the throne, Your Highness
Byzantine or Holy Roman
With a prostitute and a line in the water
Who have not sinned, who have not sinned
Under this black empyrean, without rulers
No heir to the throne, Your Highness
Byzantine or Holy Roman
Chorus:
Still I walk with the Apostles
The Word of Knight in my hand
Throwing nets in the sign of Pisces
Playing Songs of Love and Friendship
And oil from the lamp…..
While singing a nocturnal piece
Of everyday life, with real borders
And laurel wreaths in the middle
If our love is Aristotelian in form
"And it had to be purified first"
Greek heart and Finnish blood
And three lessons in loving [III]
Baby, I haven’t been a gentle man
”Estonian gypsy or some Italian
Sailor, almost a f(l)ight now”
Fraters, if you were broken
We were broken, too, and lost
Where tongues are a-bleeding
Tearfulness it comes through again
For the broken souls we’ve been
The Word of Knight in my hand
Throwing nets in the sign of Pisces
Playing Songs of Love and Friendship
And oil from the lamp…..
While singing a nocturnal piece
Of everyday life, with real borders
And laurel wreaths in the middle
If our love is Aristotelian in form
"And it had to be purified first"
Greek heart and Finnish blood
And three lessons in loving [III]
Baby, I haven’t been a gentle man
”Estonian gypsy or some Italian
Sailor, almost a f(l)ight now”
Fraters, if you were broken
We were broken, too, and lost
Where tongues are a-bleeding
Tearfulness it comes through again
For the broken souls we’ve been
Who were showing papers and wounds
Flowery on the march, not complaining
Flowery on the march, not complaining
Even if our friends have become too blind
For all that it’s worth, irritating, not calm
To be in contentment, who have not heard
While reading something, when listening
For all that it’s worth, irritating, not calm
To be in contentment, who have not heard
While reading something, when listening
Gardens or windows of light and spirit
A room where no one will tease you
In someone’s house that was dreamt up
With another collection of used books
To cultivate a land of men killing the soil
In someone’s house that was dreamt up
With another collection of used books
To cultivate a land of men killing the soil
The brethren who marched in the abyss
Oh their bleeding souls and poems
We all know where the word’s broken
The pangs of heartfelt love (as it was written)
And who poured the olden salt, so very thirsty
To those wounds bleeding, the wound
Chorus:
Still I walk with the Apostles
The Word of Knight in my hand
Throwing nets in the sign of Pisces
Playing Songs of Love and Friendship
We all know where the word’s broken
The pangs of heartfelt love (as it was written)
And who poured the olden salt, so very thirsty
To those wounds bleeding, the wound
Chorus:
Still I walk with the Apostles
The Word of Knight in my hand
Throwing nets in the sign of Pisces
Playing Songs of Love and Friendship
29th – 31st of March, 2017
For B.D. and the Estonian D I Y Masters,
For L.V. my betrothed and companion (or "open-letter-wife"),
To all the brethren who marched in the abyss with or without me
I respect all creeds, and that is in fact my crime in everyone’s eyes. The Christians do not listen to the good which I speak of the Nazarene, but reproach me for not speaking ill of the Jews and of Zoroaster. The magi do not listen to me when I praise their prophet, but want to hear me curse the Christ and the Buddha. For, when they assemble the flock of the faithful, it is not around love but around hatred; it is only in confrontation with others that they show their solidarity. They recognize themselves as brothers only by prohibitions and anathemas. And I, Mani, far from being the friend of all, shall soon find myself the enemy of all. My crime is wishing to reconcile. I shall pay for it. They will unite to condemn me.
-Amin Maalouf / Les Jardins de Lumière
(English translation by Dorothy S. Blair)
-Amin Maalouf / Les Jardins de Lumière
(English translation by Dorothy S. Blair)