Dying and giving birth go on
inside the one consciousness,
but most people misunderstand
the pure play of creative energy,
how inside that, those
are one event.
Hverdags synes os Solen, skjøndt ei vi vove den skue,
Fængslet af Vane og Nat blænder dens Lys os for stærkt;
Saa den himmelske Dyd bekjendt os synes, skjøndt ukjendt,
Prismaets kløvende Glands see her i Støvet vi kun.
Islam had taught us, 'Show friendship to all' '
‘In times of hardship share each other's grief '
‘Extend hand to help, don't allow him to fall'
'When friends are afflicted partake in their pain'
If only so steadfast in our affections we could be
Khair-ul-Umam, we'd be called, to which all agree.
when the sun dips as if forever,
when streaks of feeling
silver the horizon's brow
and the waves start up in excitement,
frothing and insatiable,
my thoughts betray me
and i can barely feel the world...
I feel my heart melting
in the mildness like candles:
my veins are slow oil
and not wine,
and I feel my life fleeing
hushed and gentle like the gazelle.
Du som en Huusalf stille sysler inde
I Stuen, hvor der var saa hyggeligt;
Saa riig paa Hjerte er den tydske Qvinde,
Men altfor fattigt her mit danske Digt.
Du skal ikke troe al Snik og Snak,
Tænk, det er Løgn, og siig — mange Tak!
Du finder din Lykke i Kjøbenhavn,
Naar Du løber Fastelavn.
Du er Poet,
Du er Prophet,
Du er En, jeg aldrig har seet;
Men fra Hoved til Fødder
Er Du proppet med Lykkens Nødder.
What do we see here in the sand dunes of the white moon alone with our thoughts, Bill,
Alone with our dreams, Bill, soft as the women tying scarves around their heads dancing,
Alone with a picture and a picture coming one after the other of all the dead,
The dead more than all these grains of sand one by one piled here in the moon,
Piled against the sky-line taking shapes like the hand of the wind wanted,
What do we see here, Bill, outside of what the wise men beat their heads on,
