Print

Print


Incidentally,

On the eve of Baisakhi*

ਵੈਸਾਖੁ ਸੁਹਾਵਾ ਤਾਂ ਲਗੈ ਜਾ ਸੰਤੁ ਭੇਟੈ ਹਰਿ ਸੋਇ ॥੩॥ Vaisaakh Suhaavaa Thaan
Lagai Jaa Santh Bhaettai Har Soe ||3|| (Ank/Page: 134 Sri Guru Granth
Sahib) - Wiki

April would only be endeared to the soul if a saint brings about a meeting
with The Lord.

"Mixing memory and desire"

CR

(*Baisakh is the month of April in Punjab (India) and 13th of April is the
day of a festival that celebrates the fruition of crops but also has many
associations of socio-religious sacrifices.)



On Sunday, April 10, 2016, Chanan Mittal <[log in to unmask]> wrote:

> But "all is always now," announce the Quartets.
>
> And this was prefigured too:
>
> "Who is the third who walks always beside you?
> When I count, there are only you and I together
> But when I look ahead up the white road
> There is always another one walking beside you
> Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded
> I do not know whether a man or a woman
> —But who is that on the other side of you?"
>
> The joy of Easter lingers in the air.
>
> CR
>
>
> On Sunday, April 10, 2016, Chanan Mittal <[log in to unmask]
> <javascript:_e(%7B%7D,'cvml',[log in to unmask]);>> wrote:
>
>> "O City city, I can sometimes hear
>> Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street,
>> The pleasant whining of a mandoline
>> And a clatter and a chatter from within
>> Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls
>> Of Magnus Martyr hold
>> Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold."
>>
>> CR
>>
>> On Sunday, April 10, 2016, Chanan Mittal <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
>>
>>> "In this decayed hole among the mountains
>>> In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing
>>> Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel
>>> There is the empty chapel, only the wind’s home.
>>> It has no windows, and the door swings,
>>> Dry bones can harm no one.
>>> Only a cock stood on the rooftree
>>> Co co rico co co rico
>>> In a flash of lightning. Then a damp gust
>>> Bringing rain"
>>>
>>> CR
>>>
>>> On Sunday, April 10, 2016, Chanan Mittal <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
>>>
>>>> Memory, you have the key.
>>>> Indeed.
>>>> CR
>>>>
>>>> On Sunday, April 10, 2016, Chanan Mittal <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
>>>>
>>>>> "April is the cruelest month, breeding
>>>>> lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
>>>>> memory and desire, stirring
>>>>> dull roots with spring rain."
>>>>>
>>>>> ("He who was living is now dead")
>>>>>
>>>>> And vis-a-vis "spring rain" the memory and desire of another April:
>>>>>
>>>>> "WHAN that Aprille with his shoures soote
>>>>> The droghte of Marche hath perced to the roote,
>>>>> And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
>>>>> Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
>>>>> Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth
>>>>> Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
>>>>> The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
>>>>> Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne,
>>>>> And smale fowles maken melodye,
>>>>> That slepen al the night with open ye,
>>>>> (So priketh hem nature in hir corages:
>>>>> Than longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,
>>>>> And palmers for to seken straunge strondes,
>>>>> To ferne halwes, couthe in sondry londes;
>>>>> And specially, from every shires ende
>>>>> Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,
>>>>> The holy blisful martir for to seke,
>>>>> That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seke."
>>>>>
>>>>> Well a thought that has prefigured many a time vis-a-vis the opening
>>>>> lines of 'The Waste Land.'
>>>>>
>>>>> CR
>>>>>
>>>>>
>>>>>
>>>>>
>>>>>
>>>>>
>>>>>