Mediabilden av invandrare

"Du vet redan tillräckligt. Det gör jag också.Det är inte kunskap  vi saknar.Vad som fattas oss är modet att inse vad vi vet och dra slutsatserna." (Sven Lindkvist: Utrota varenda ...

Av: Abdel-Qader Yassine | 06 februari, 2010
Essäer om samhället

Olof  Lagercrantz

Vad tjänar det egentligen till att forska i arkiv?

Olof Lagercrantz, en svensk gigant inom både litteraturvetenskapen och -kritiken, möter sin finländska motsvarighet i Hagar Olsson. Eva-Karin Josefson skriver om brevväxlingen dem emellan.

Av: Eva-Karin Josefson | 02 december, 2015
Essäer om litteratur & böcker

Tapeterna i Uppsala slott - 20 år efter murens fall

I rikssalen på Uppsala slott hänger sex vävda tapeter. Man kan säga att Tysklands historia är invävda i dem. Jag har varit i rikssalen men aldrig tänkt särskilt på tapeterna ...

Av: Mikael Mogren | 18 november, 2009
Essäer om konst

Den svarte snapsdrickande Jesus. Hemingway i Österrike

När Ernest Hemingway och Ingrid Bergman för första gången träffades 1942 i San Fransisco hade den svenska filmstjärnan just varit på skidsemester i Sun Valley med sin dåvarande man, Petter ...

Av: Kurt Bäckström | 29 juni, 2012
Essäer om litteratur & böcker

Sommarsolståndet



 

 

And as a ray descending from the sky
gives rise to another, which climbs back again,
as a pilgrim yearns for home; so through my eye

her action, like a ray into my mind,
gave rise to mine: I stared into the Sun
so hard that here it would have left me blind;

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but much is granted to our senses there,
in that garden made to be man's proper place,
that is not granted us when we are here.

I had to look away soon, and yet not
so soon but what I saw him spark and blaze
like new-tapped iron when it pours white-hot.

And suddenly, as it appeared to me,
day was added to day, as if He who can
had added a new Sun to Heaven's glory.

Beatrice stared at the eternal spheres
entranced, unmoving; and I looked away
from the Sun's height to fix my eyes on hers.

And as I looked, I felt begin within me
what Glaucus felt eating the herb that made him
a god among the others in the sea.

How speak trans-human change to human sense?
Let the example speak until God's grace
grants the pure spirit the experience.
ALIGHIERI


Speaker of truth and the sun -- these two --
Give knowledge and light to all.
As with the sunrise the owl's power subsides,
So also a malign mind dislikes the truth.
Akha, one without malice speaks straight;
It's the sun's approach which removes darkness.
AKHA

alt

To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.

A robin redbreast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage.
A dove-house filled with doves and pigeons
Shudders hell through all its regions.
A dog starved at his master's gate
Predicts the ruin of the state.
A horse misused upon the road
Calls to heaven for human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted hare
A fibre from the brain does tear.
A skylark wounded in the wing,
A cherubim does cease to sing.
The game-cock clipped and armed for fight
Does the rising sun affright.
Every wolf's and lion's howl
Raises from hell a human soul.
The wild deer wandering here and there
Keeps the human soul from care.
The lamb misused breeds public strife,
And yet forgives the butcher's knife.
The bat that flits at close of eve
Has left the brain that won't believe.
The owl that calls upon the night
Speaks the unbeliever's fright.
He who shall hurt the little wren
Shall never be beloved by men.
He who the ox to wrath has moved
Shall never be by woman loved.
The wanton boy that kills the fly
Shall feel the spider's enmity.
He who torments the chafer's sprite
Weaves a bower in endless night.
The caterpillar on the leaf
Repeats to thee thy mother's grief.
Kill not the moth nor butterfly,
For the Last Judgment draweth nigh.
He who shall train the horse to war
Shall never pass the polar bar.
The beggar's dog and widow's cat,
Feed them, and thou wilt grow fat.
The gnat that sings his summer's song
Poison gets from Slander's tongue.
The poison of the snake and newt
Is the sweat of Envy's foot.
The poison of the honey-bee
Is the artist's jealousy.
The prince's robes and beggar's rags
Are toadstools on the miser's bags.
A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.
It is right it should be so:
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know
Through the world we safely go.
Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
The babe is more than swaddling bands,
Throughout all these human lands;
Tools were made and born were hands,
Every farmer understands.
Every tear from every eye
Becomes a babe in eternity;
This is caught by females bright
And returned to its own delight.
The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar
Are waves that beat on heaven's shore.
The babe that weeps the rod beneath
Writes Revenge! in realms of death.
The beggar's rags fluttering in air
Does to rags the heavens tear.
The soldier armed with sword and gun
Palsied strikes the summer's sun.
The poor man's farthing is worth more
Than all the gold on Afric's shore.
One mite wrung from the labourer's hands
Shall buy and sell the miser's lands,
Or if protected from on high
Does that whole nation sell and buy.
He who mocks the infant's faith
Shall be mocked in age and death.
He who shall teach the child to doubt
The rotting grave shall ne'er get out.
He who respects the infant's faith
Triumphs over hell and death.
The child's toys and the old man's reasons
Are the fruits of the two seasons.
The questioner who sits so sly
Shall never know how to reply.
He who replies to words of doubt
Doth put the light of knowledge out.
The strongest poison ever known
Came from Caesar's laurel crown.
Nought can deform the human race
Like to the armour's iron brace.
When gold and gems adorn the plough
To peaceful arts shall Envy bow.
A riddle or the cricket's cry
Is to doubt a fit reply.
The emmet's inch and eagle's mile
Make lame philosophy to smile.
He who doubts from what he sees
Will ne'er believe, do what you please.
If the sun and moon should doubt,
They'd immediately go out.
To be in a passion you good may do,
But no good if a passion is in you.
The whore and gambler, by the state
Licensed, build that nation's fate.
The harlot's cry from street to street
Shall weave old England's winding sheet.
The winner's shout, the loser's curse,
Dance before dead England's hearse.
Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born.
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.
Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.
We are led to believe a lie
When we see not through the eye
Which was born in a night to perish in a night,
When the soul slept in beams of light.
God appears, and God is light
To those poor souls who dwell in night,
But does a human form display
To those who dwell in realms of day.
BLAKE


altOh, happy he who still can hope in our day
to breathe the truth while plunged in seas of error!
What we don't know is really what we need,
and what we know is of no use whatever!
But the radiance of this hour
must not be marred by gloomy thoughts.
Mark the shimmering huts in green surroundings,
basking in the evening sunlight's glow.
It fades and sinks away; the day is spent,
the sun moves on to nourish other life.
Oh, if I had wings to lift me from this earth,
to seek the sun and follow him!
Then I should see within the constant evening ray
the silent world beneath my feet,
the peaks illumined, and in every valley peace,
the silver brook flow into golden streams.
No savage peaks nor all the roaring gorges
could then impede my godlike course.
Even now the ocean and its sun-warmed bays
appear to my astonished eyes.
When it would seem the sun has faded,
a newborn urge awakes in me.
I hurry off to drink eternal light;
before me lies the day, behind the night,
the sky above me, and the seas below.
GOETHE


altI first saw God when I was a child, six years of age.
The cheeks of the sun were pale before Him,
and the earth acted as a shy
girl, like me.

Divine light entered my heart from His love
that did never fully wane,

though indeed, dear, I can understand how a person's
faith can at times flicker,

for what is the mind to do
with something that becomes the mind's ruin:
a God that consumes us
in His grace.

I have seen what you want;
it is there,

a Beloved of infinite
tenderness.
HAFIZ


altA dove gazed in
through a latticed window:
there balm rained down on her face,
raining from lucent
Maximin.

The heat of the sun blazed out
to irradiate the dark:
a bud burst open, jewel-like,
in the temple of the heart
(limpid and kind his heart).

A tower of cypress is he,
and of Lebanon's cedars --
rubies and sapphires frame his turrets --
a city passing the arts
of all other artisans.

A swift stag is he
who ran to the fountain --
pure wellspring from a stone
of power -- to water
sweet-smelling spices.

O perfumers! you who dwell
in the luxuriance of royal
gardens, climbing high
when you accomplish the holy
sacrifice with rams:

Among you this architect
is shining, a wall
of the temple, he who longed
for an eagle's wings as he kissed
his foster-mother Wisdom
in Ecclesia's garden.

O Maximin,
mountain and valley,
on your towering height
the mountain goat leapt
with the elephant,
and Wisdom was in rapture.

Strong and sweet in the sacred
rites and the shimmer
of the altar,
you rise like incense
to the pillar of praise --

where you pray for your people
who strive toward the mirror
of light. Praise him!
Praise in the highest!
HILDEGARD OF BINGEN


altAs air becomes the medium for light when the sun rises,
And as wax melts from the heat of fire,
So the soul drawn to that light is resplendent,
Feels self melt away,
Its will and actions no longer its own.
So clear is the imprint of God
That the soul, conquered, is conqueror;
Annihilated, it lives in triumph.

What happens to the drop of wine
That you pour into the sea?
Does it remain itself, unchanged?
It is as if it never existed.
So it is with the soul: Love drinks it in,
It is united with Truth,
Its old nature fades away,
It is no longer master of itself.

The soul wills and yet does not will:
Its will belongs to Another.
It has eyes only for this beauty;
It no longer seeks to possess, as was its wont --
It lacks the strength to possess such sweetness.
The base of this highest of peaks
Is founded on nichil,
Shaped nothingness, made one with the Lord.
JACOPONE DA TODI


altUplifted is the stone --
And all mankind is risen --
We all remain thine own.
And vanished is our prison.
All troubles flee away
Thy golden bowl before,
For Earth and Life give way
At the last and final supper.

To the marriage Death doth call --
The virgins standeth back --
The lamps burn lustrous all --
Of oil there is no lack --
If the distance would only fill
With the sound of you walking alone
And that the stars would call
Us all with human tongues and tone.

Unto thee, O Mary
A thousand hearts aspire.
In this life of shadows
Thee only they desire.
In thee they hope for delivery
With visionary expectation --
If only thou, O holy being
Could clasp them to thy breast.

With bitter torment burning,
So many who are consumed
At last from this world turning
To thee have looked and fled,
Helpful thou hast appeared
To so many in pain.
Now to them we come,
To never go out again.

At no grave can weep
Any who love and pray.
The gift of Love they keep,
From none can it be taken away.
To soothe and quiet his longing,
Night comes and inspires --
Heaven's children round him thronging
Watch and guard his heart.

Have courage, for life is striding
To endless life along;
Stretched by inner fire,
Our sense becomes transfigured.
One day the stars above
Shall flow in golden wine,
We will enjoy it all,
And as stars we will shine.

The love is given freely,
And Separation is no more.
The whole life heaves and surges
Like a sea without a shore.
Just one night of bliss --
One everlasting poem --
And the sun we all share
Is the face of God.
NOVALIS

altSince Love has made ruins of my heart
The sun must come and illumine them.
Such generosity has broken me with shame:
The King prayed for me, and granted me His prayer:
How many times, just to calm me, did He show His face?
I said, "I saw His Face," but it was only a veil.
He charred a universe through the flaming-out of this veil.
O my God! How could such a King ever be unveiled?
Love reared in front of me, and I followed Him.
He turned and seized me like an eagle --
What a blessing it was to be His prey!
I plunged into a sea of ecstasy, and fled all pain.
If anguish is not delicious meat for you,
It is because you have never tasted this wine.
The Prophets accept all agony and trust it
For the water has never feared the fire.
RUMI


altAutumn chrysanthemums have beautiful color,
With dew in my clothes I pluck their flowers.
I float this thing in wine to forget my sorrow,
To leave far behind my thoughts of the world.
Alone, I pour myself a goblet of wine;
When the cup is empty, the pot pours for itself.
As the sun sets, all activities cease;
Homing birds, they hurry to the woods singing.
Haughtily, I whistle below the eastern balcony --
I've found again the meaning of life.
TAO CHIEN

I am like a remnant of a cloud of autumn uselessly roaming in the sky, O my sun ever-glorious! Thy touch has not yet melted my vapour, making me one with thy light, and thus I count months and years separated from thee.
If this be thy wish and if this be thy play, then take this fleeting emptiness of mine, paint it with colours, gild it with gold, float it on the wanton wind and spread it in varied wonders.
And again when it shall be thy wish to end this play at night, I shall melt and vanish away in the dark, or it may be in a smile of the white morning, in a coolness of purity transparent.
TAGORE


altI am Yours and born of You,
What do You want of me?

Majestic Sovereign,
Unending wisdom,
Kindness pleasing to my soul;
God sublime, one Being Good,
Behold this one so vile.
Singing of her love to you:
What do You want of me?

Yours, you made me,
Yours, you saved me,
Yours, you endured me,
Yours, you called me,
Yours, you awaited me,
Yours, I did not stray.
What do You want of me?

Good Lord, what do you want of me,
What is this wretch to do?
What work is this,
This sinful slave, to do?
Look at me, Sweet Love,
Sweet Love, look at me,
What do You want of me?

In Your hand
I place my heart,
Body, life and soul,
Deep feelings and affections mine,
Spouse -- Redeemer sweet,
Myself offered now to you,
What do You want of me?

Give me death, give me life,
Health or sickness,
Honor or shame,
War or swelling peace,
Weakness or full strength,
Yes, to these I say,
What do You want of me?

Give me wealth or want,
Delight or distress,
Happiness or gloominess,
Heaven or hell,
Sweet life, sun unveiled,
To you I give all.
What do You want of me?

Give me, if You will, prayer;
Or let me know dryness,
And abundance of devotion,
Or if not, then barrenness.
In you alone, Sovereign Majesty,
I find my peace,
What do You want of me?

Give me then wisdom.
Or for love, ignorance,
Years of abundance,
Or hunger and famine.
Darkness or sunlight,
Move me here or there:
What do You want of me?

If You want me to rest,
I desire it for love;
If to labor,
I will die working:
Sweet Love say
Where, how and when.
What do You want of me?

Calvary or Tabor give me,
Desert or fruitful land;
As Job in suffering
Or John at Your breast;
Barren or fruited vine,
Whatever be Your will:
What do You want of me?

Be I Joseph chained
Or as Egypt's governor,
David pained
Or exalted high,
Jonas drowned,
Or Jonas freed:
What do You want of me?

Silent or speaking,
Fruitbearing or barren,
My wounds shown by the Law,
Rejoicing in the tender Gospel;
Sorrowing or exulting,
You alone live in me:
What do You want of me?

Yours I am, for You I was born:
What do You want of me?
TERESA OF AVILA


altO Transubstantial Light! Thou art unseen, imperceptible, whether in warm rays of the sun or in cool moonbeams. The skyey lamps disclose only Dame Nature, not Thee.

The world of matter revealed by the gross luminaries is but darkness to me. Train my vision to see Thy hidden effulgence, transfiguring the whole of creation.

When I sit with eyes closed, enveloped in self-created shadows, cause Thou to blaze upon me in splendor the aurora of intuition. With worshiping gaze may I watch Thee in Thy ritual dance of cosmic activities.
YOGANANDA

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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