Surub nurka inimene ennast,
kas ta üldse enam imestab?
Kas ta mõtleb,
mis on saanud vennast?
Ja et valgus silmi pimestab?
Kuidas saame oma vaatenurgast
näha täiust?
Nürinurga alt? Anna andeks!
Oma hingenurgast ma ei valgustanud piisavalt.
Meil on kiire! Mõelgem selle peale!
Selles ilmas ei saa harjuda!
Teeme terveks oma murtud hääle!
Siis saab vaikselt APPI KARJUDA!
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Vaimuelu-Juhan Viiding
Haa- see on tabav luuletus praeguseks.
sellega meenub kui ma ei leidnud õigel ajal kadunud Brigitte Lundblade kasseti pealt Bahai 19.PP vaimse osa jaoks pala mis ta soovis et ma makis mängiks
aga mul oli valmis see luuletus yhe Jüri Lina luulelavastuse kasseti peal.
ja otseselt kurja tahtmata mängisin vist osade hämmastuseks ette. Ei ma ei vaadanud nende nägusid, aga seda nad ei oodanud vist. Juhan Viidingut Bahai pühakirjadele inspireeritud palade asemel :) pärast loeti sõnad peale, igaks juhuks ja Valguskiires ilmusid juhendused.
Vaimuelu
Mismoodi on su vaimu seis?
ei seisa nigu.
kas tõstab pead ta ükskord meis
kui väike tigu?
kas tõuseb ta kui päikene
kui lõpeb öö
ja olles suur või väikene
teeb vaimse töö?
Või läheb mustaks mure läbi
Nii et on tuhat aastat häbi
sellega meenub kui ma ei leidnud õigel ajal kadunud Brigitte Lundblade kasseti pealt Bahai 19.PP vaimse osa jaoks pala mis ta soovis et ma makis mängiks
aga mul oli valmis see luuletus yhe Jüri Lina luulelavastuse kasseti peal.
ja otseselt kurja tahtmata mängisin vist osade hämmastuseks ette. Ei ma ei vaadanud nende nägusid, aga seda nad ei oodanud vist. Juhan Viidingut Bahai pühakirjadele inspireeritud palade asemel :) pärast loeti sõnad peale, igaks juhuks ja Valguskiires ilmusid juhendused.
Vaimuelu
Mismoodi on su vaimu seis?
ei seisa nigu.
kas tõstab pead ta ükskord meis
kui väike tigu?
kas tõuseb ta kui päikene
kui lõpeb öö
ja olles suur või väikene
teeb vaimse töö?
Või läheb mustaks mure läbi
Nii et on tuhat aastat häbi
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Poem by R. Kipling, IF
If
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!
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