Thursday, October 13, 2005



Mystic is what they call me.
Hate is my only enemy;
I harbor a grudge against none.
To me the whole wide world is one.


I am before, I am after -
The soul for all souls all the way.
I'm the one with a helping hand
Ready for those gone wild, astray.


Let the deaf listen to the mute.
A soul is needed to understand them both.
Without listening we understood.
Without understanding we carried it out.
On this Way, the seekers wealth is poverty.
We loved, we became lovers.
We were loved, we became the beloved.
When all is perishing moment by moment
whose has time to be bored?


If I told you about a land of love,
friend, would you follow me and come?
In that land are vineyards
that yield a deadly wine-
no glass can hold it.
Would you swallow it as a remedy?

The people there must suffer.
Would you serve the sweetest drink to others
and take the bitter drink yourself?


I'm Yunus, mystic of sorrow.
Suffering wounds from top to toe,
In the Friend's hands I writhe in woe,
Come see what love has done to me.

(* so, tonight is also a poetry night, but unfortunately these are not mine. If they were mine, then... nevermind, damn tired now, need to rest. *)

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1 Noises:

At Friday, October 14, 2005 4:21:00 AM, Blogger Sphinx said...

Wow..thanx for posting this poetry. :-)

I had to move my blog.

Have a good one.



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