Sunday, October 5, 2008

Qui Suis-Je?

Qui suis-je?
Une goutte de rosée sur une brin d’herbe?
Ou une rose souhaitant le printemps?
Ou une feuille étendue sur la mousse?
Non, juste une création de la Mère.

Qui suis-je?
Le vent tourbillonnant dans les forêts?
Ou l’oiseau planant dans le sphère céleste?
Ou la pluie fine humectant la terre?
Non, juste une création de la Mère.

Qui suis-je?
L’éléphant secouant la terre tremblante?
Ou le roi de la forêt faisant le lézard?
Ou l’écureuil, noix en main, se hâtant sur l’arbre?
Non, juste une création de la Mère.

Qui suis-je?
Une petite fourmi dans l’univers,
Une petite fille de la terre,
Une petite flamme du grand feu,
Juste une creation de la Mère.


A little cry of anguish
And then I feel
My heart swell up with tears
For I have been hurt again.
I cry out in rage:
Why me, when there are others
In this vast world,
Why should they give me only pain?

Pain, pain and pain,
What is this pain?
But a feeling in the heart
Of hard pins crushing it,
Taking out the blood
With a force unimaginable.
I cry out in rage,
For I have been hurt again.

What can I do
But bear this pain?
For to take revenge
Is not always sane;
I struggle to revive
That delicate heart of mine.
And to make it beat
With all past joys.

And I know
That never again
My heart shall be
Tremulous, plaintive,
But beating with strength
Unafraid, joyful,
Ready to give back
What it got from another.

The world is full of pain,
Surrounded by it,
Engulfed in it,
And vibrating with it.
But it too can be
Powerfully conquered
For pain doesn’t live
Where joy resides.


Beauty rested on the tall green trees,
It floated on the blue shimmering lake,
Beauty flew on the wings of the wind,
It hid in the curves of the blades of grass.

Beauty spread in the unending sky,
It mingled with the flocks of cloud,
Beauty slept in the breast of the birds,
It sweetly sang in their morning song.

Beauty covered the whole of Nature,
Never leaving a spot amiss,
Beauty dwelled in the heart of Nature,
Mother of bliss.