The rhythm of life
F a c u l t y P e r s p e c t i v e
The Rhythm of Life
Poetry: The Language of the Inner Self
By Teresita Dela Cruz
Faculty, ACSS, UCW
Amidst pains, fears, chaos, divisiveness, greed, tyranny, oppression, and inequity, we have bottled up various emotions.
Emotions that come from our thoughts. Thoughts that come from what we see, hear, witness, and experience. Thoughts that, many times, are disturbing, and we could hardly understand.
Such lack of understanding or the absence of it, leads to fear. And when we are scared, we tend to be angry.
Oh, convoluted mind, go away. I want my mind to be clear from all these cobwebs. I would like to be free from all these negative thoughts. In times like this, I resort to poetry.
Poetry is wisdom. Through poetry, we can realize and confront our folly. (A big thank you to one of the great minds of all times - Socrates).
Poetry is love through which we can express our deep affection for someone and for our country. Such expression of love is joy.
Poetry is music. Attached to each word is an emotion. Each verse has its rhythm. Depending on the emotions that these words evoke, it can be blues, country, pop, or even hip hop.
Poetry is a therapy from which we can gain insights from our failings and traumas. Such insights reduce our own pains by releasing us from our egoistic, self-centered thinking.
Poetry is light that can free us from darkness - pains, anger, remorse, hate, despair, greed. This freedom helps us to restructure negative thoughts into positive ones.
Poetry is life. It is a venue through which we can show our humanity. Each one of us has his or her own life’s story. A story that is worthy to be shared and listened to. A story from which we can all learn. Such learning helps us to create positive imagery.
We can all be poets in our own way. Let our voices be heard. Bertrand Russell and Albert Einstein - great minds, great hearts - in their manifesto on nuclear weapons said: " We appeal as human beings to human beings. Remember your humanity and forget the rest."
S t u d e n t V o i c e
We asked our students to share some of their favorite poems from their home countries in their native languages. Here’s what they shared:
A poem in Classical Chinese from China
Recommended by Peng Lu from China
English Translation:
Chou Nu Er: Composed on Wall at Mount Bo on Way
Xin Qiji
At youth, I knew not the pain of worry.
I loved to go up tower, and then higher.
But to compose poem, I concocted worry.
Now I've been through all the pains of worry.
I want to spit out the words but choke back.
Instead, I just say autumn is nice and cool.
A poem in Urdu from Pakistan
Recommended by Nirmal Ali Qazi
English Translation:
Don't ask for the love of the old days my beloved
Faiz Ahmad Faiz
Don't ask me for my first love, my beloved
I thought that if you are there, then life is bright
If you are sad, then what is the quarrel of the two?
Your appearance is the stability of the springs in the world
What else is there in the world besides your eyes
If you find it, then destiny will be blind
It wasn't like this, I just wanted it to be like this
There are other sorrows in time besides love
There are other comforts besides the comfort of connection
The dark, monstrous talisman of countless centuries
Made in silk, satin, and cotton
Body sold in the streets and markets
The body, bathed in blood, rolled in dust
From the furnaces of diseases
From the festering ulcers, pus flows
It turns away, what can I do here?
Your beauty is still captivating, but what can I do
There are other sorrows in time besides love
There are other comforts besides the comfort of connection
Don't ask me for the same love as before, my beloved.
A poem in Nepali from Nepal
Recommended by Smriti Rai
English Translation:
Man
by Gopal Paudel
I can measure moonlight,
And the distance to Mars.
I can calculate the power of the stars.
There’s no land left
That I haven’t mapped.
But no matter what I try,
I can’t measure the human heart.
I measure the weather, And even time.
I know how much water Covers the Earth.
Everything I’ve measured Has brought me success.
But I’ve given up on measuring a person’s heart.
I can weigh atoms,
And measure an adult’s weight.
I can even conquer nature,
And cover the whole world with science.
But no machine Can measure human feelings.
Bring me anything, I can measure it.
Even the sun and moon Fall into my range.
I can calculate Stone and soil,
But the human heart— I can never measure.
A poem in Portuguese from Brazil
Recommended by Bianca Aquino
Canção do Exílio
Minha terra tem palmeiras,
Onde canta o Sabiá;
As aves, que aqui gorjeiam,
Não gorjeiam como lá.
Nosso céu tem mais estrelas,
Nossas várzeas têm mais flores,
Nossos bosques têm mais vida,
Nossa vida mais amores.
Em cismar, sozinho, à noite,
Mais prazer eu encontro lá;
Minha terra tem palmeiras,
Onde canta o Sabiá.
Minha terra tem primores,
Que tais não encontro eu cá;
Em cismar –sozinho, à noite–
Mais prazer eu encontro lá;
Minha terra tem palmeiras,
Onde canta o Sabiá.
Não permita Deus que eu morra,
Sem que eu volte para lá;
Sem que disfrute os primores
Que não encontro por cá;
Sem qu’inda aviste as palmeiras,
Onde canta o Sabiá.
English Translation:
The Song of Exile
By Gonçalves Dias
My homeland has many palm-trees
and the thrush-song fills its air;
no bird here can sing as well
as the birds sing over there.
We have fields more full of flowers
and a starrier sky above,
we have woods more full of life
and a life more full of love.
Lonely night-time meditations
please me more when I am there;
my homeland has many palm-trees
and the thrush-song fills its air.
Such delights as my land offers
Are not found here nor elsewhere;
lonely night-time meditations
please me more when I am there;
My homeland has many palm-trees
and the thrush-song fills its air.
Don’t allow me, God, to die
without getting back to where
I belong, without enjoying
the delights found only there,
without seeing all those palm-trees,
hearing thrush-songs fill the air.
A poem in Dzongkha from Bhutan
Recommended by Karma Sayden
གངས་སེང་གི་སྨོན་ལམ།
རྒྱལ་མཁན་ཚེ་དབང་གིས་བཀོད།
གངས་སེང་གིས་རི་ལུང་ནང་སྒྲ་སྒྲོན་སྒྲོན།
ཡུལ་འདི་སྐྱོབ་པའི་འཕགས་པའི་སྟོབས།
ཆུ་འབྲིང་དེ་དག་པའི་ལམ་ལུགས་ནས།
ཁུལ་དུ་འབྱུང་བའི་སྐར་མ་འོད་དང་བཅས།
རྒྱལ་རྒྱུད་གུས་མོས་ཀྱི་དར་ལྕོགས་མཐོ་སྤུངས།
དགེ་སློང་མི་འདུག་གི་ཕུང་པོ་ལུ།
ཞི་བདེ་དང་ཤེས་རབ་འདི་ནང་འབྱུང།
ཤར་སྒོ་ནང་འཚོ་བའི་མི་རབས་ལ།
གངས་རི་སྟོབས་རྒྱས་དུ་བཞག་ནས།
ལམ་འདི་འཚོ་བའི་མཐའ་བར་སྟོན།
སྙིང་རྗེ་དང་དགའ་སྟོན་འདི་ནང་རྒྱུན་དུ་འབྱུང།
འདི་ནང་དུས་དང་མཚན་དུ་བཞུགས་ཤིག།
English Translation:
The Prayer of the Snow Lion
By Khenpo Tshewang
May the snow lion roar in the mountains,
Guarding the land with fearless might.
May the rivers flow pure and free,
Nourishing the valleys bathed in light.
May the prayer flags flutter high,
Carrying hopes on the gentle breeze.
May peace and wisdom fill the hearts,
Of all who dwell beneath these trees.
May the sacred peaks stand tall and proud,
A beacon for all who seek the way.
May compassion and joy forever bloom,
In Bhutan’s land, both night and day.
A poem in Sinhala from Sri Lanka
Recommended by Kavindu Chathumal
මුනි සිරිපා සිඹිමින්නේ
මුනි සිරිපා සිඹිමින්නේ
සමනොළ ගිරි පෙදෙසින්නේ
මඳ සුළඟයි මේ එන්නේ
මගේ පුතා නිදියන්නේ
නිදහස මහ මුහුදක් වේ
එහි උල්පත පුත නුඹ වේ
ඒ බව සිහිකොට මෙලොවේ
යුතුකම ඉටු කළ යුතු වේ
විදුලිය කුළු කම්පවන්
පීඩාවෙන් සනසමින්නේ
සිව් සැට දෑත් සිහිවෙමින්
මගේ පුතා නැළවෙන්නේ
ලදන දිවි මුත් රට වෙනුවෙන්
ජාතික ධර්මත ලැබෙන්නේ
මිහිදු නොයෙක් සතුරු සුවෙන්
ලක් මව විජයාව සුබෙන්
English translation:
I am caressing the sacred foot
By Munidasa Cumaratunga
Kissing the sacred feet of the Sage (Buddha),
From the region of Samanala Mountain (Sri Pada),
This gentle breeze comes,
My son is sleeping.
Freedom is a vast ocean.
Its source, my son, is you.
When that truth is realized in this world,
One's duty must be fulfilled.
(Though) storms of oppression may shake,
And suffering causes distress,
Remembering the sixty-four arts (or skills/duties),
My son, you are being cradled.
Even if life is lost for the country,
National righteousness/duty is attained (or blessed).(Through) Mahendra's many victories over enemies,
Mother Lanka is blessed with prosperity
A poem in Punjabi from India
Recommended by Anmol Singh
ਰਾਤ ਚਾਨਣੀ ਮੈਂ ਟੁਰਾਂ
ਮੇਰਾ ਨਾਲ ਟੁਰੇ ਪਰਛਾਵਾਂ
ਜਿੰਦੇ ਮੇਰੀਏ ।
ਗਲੀਏ ਗਲੀਏ ਚਾਨਣ ਸੁੱਤੇ
ਮੈਂ ਕਿਸ ਗਲੀਏ ਆਵਾਂ
ਜਿੰਦੇ ਮੇਰੀਏ ।
ਠੀਕਰ-ਪਹਿਰਾ ਦੇਣ ਸੁਗੰਧੀਆਂ
ਲੋਰੀ ਦੇਣ ਹਵਾਵਾਂ
ਜਿੰਦੇ ਮੇਰੀਏ ।
ਮੈਂ ਰਿਸ਼ਮਾਂ ਦਾ ਵਾਕਫ਼ ਨਾਹੀਂ
ਕਿਹੜੀ ਰਿਸ਼ਮ ਜਗਾਵਾਂ
ਜਿੰਦੇ ਮੇਰੀਏ ?
ਜੇ ਕੋਈ ਰਿਸ਼ਮ ਜਗਾਵਾਂ ਅੜੀਏ
ਡਾਢਾ ਪਾਪ ਕਮਾਵਾਂ
ਜਿੰਦੇ ਮੇਰੀਏ ।
ਡਰਦੀ ਡਰਦੀ ਟੁਰਾਂ ਨਿਮਾਣੀ
ਪੋਲੇ ਪੱਬ ਟਿਕਾਵਾਂ
ਜਿੰਦੇ ਮੇਰੀਏ ।
ਸਾਡੇ ਪੋਤੜਿਆਂ ਵਿਚ ਬਿਰਹਾ
ਰੱਖਿਆ ਸਾਡੀਆਂ ਮਾਵਾਂ
ਜਿੰਦੇ ਮੇਰੀਏ ।
ਚਾਨਣ ਸਾਡੇ ਮੁੱਢੋਂ ਵੈਰੀ
ਕੀਕਣ ਅੰਗ ਛੁਹਾਵਾਂ
ਜਿੰਦੇ ਮੇਰੀਏ ?
ਰਾਤ ਚਾਨਣੀ ਮੈਂ ਟੁਰਾਂ
ਮੇਰਾ ਨਾਲ ਟੁਰੇ ਪਰਛਾਵਾਂ
ਜਿੰਦੇ ਮੇਰੀਏ ।
ਗਲੀਏ ਗਲੀਏ ਚਾਨਣ ਸੁੱਤੇ
ਮੈਂ ਕਿਸ ਗਲੀਏ ਆਵਾਂ
ਜਿੰਦੇ ਮੇਰੀਏ ।
English Translation:
O My Life (Jindey Meriye)
By Shiv Kumar Batalvi
I walk beneath the moonlit night,
My shadow walks beside me—
O my life.
Light sleeps in every alley,
Which alley shall I enter?
O my life.
Fragrances stand guard like clay sentries,
The winds sing lullabies—
O my life.
I do not know the ways of love,
Which bond shall I awaken?
O my life?
And if I do awaken some bond, my love,
Would it be a grave sin?
O my life.
I walk timidly, without pride,
Balancing gently on soft stones—
O my life.
In the folds of our blankets,
Our mothers have wrapped longing—
O my life.
Even the light is an enemy to us,
How can it touch my body?
O my life?
I walk beneath the moonlit night,
My shadow walks beside me—
O my life.
Light sleeps in every alley,
Which alley shall I enter?
O my life.
A poem in English and from Nigerea
Recommended by Chukwuebuka Stephen Chukwuma
Answer
by Chinua Achebe
I broke at last
the terror-fringed fascination
that bound my ancient gaze
to those crowding faces
of plunder and seized my
remnant life in a miracle
of decision between white-
collar hands and shook it
like a cheap watch in
my ear and threw it down
beside me on the earth floor
and rose to my feet. I
made of their shoulders
and heads bobbing up and down
a new ladder and leaned
it on their sweating flanks
and ascended till midair
my hands so new to harshness
could grapple the roughness of a prickly
day and quench the source
that fed turbulence to their
feet. I made a dramatic
descent that day landing
backways into crouching shadows
into potsherds of broken trance. I
flung open long-disused windows
and doors and saw my hut
new-swept by rainbow brooms
of sunlight become my home again
on whose trysting floor waited
my proud vibrant life.
My Backpack
- Teresita Dela Cruz
My backpack is very colorful.
Yellow, black, red, white, orange, and brown.
I would like to blend these colors into one.
I wonder what could be the outcome.
I need an equal amount from each color.
I also need the right amount or value.
The intensity should also be considered.
Otherwise, I would not be able to get the desired hue.
Canada is a diverse nation, represented by these colors.
If we would like to have the right blend, there should be equity.
All colors should be respected, heard and listened to.
All these remind me that to have the right hue, my backpack should have –
B - beautiful heart and mind, filled with peace and love.
A - adaptability to the ever-changing world.
C - compassion for those around us regardless of color and creed.
K - kindness should be shown in our words and deeds.
P - patience and perseverance that will lead us where we want to go.
A - acceptance of the things that are beyond our control.
C - cognition of what is happening around us.
K - keys for a healthier and happier world.
Now, my backpack is complete. I am ready to embark on a journey.
A journey of growth so I could be a better "me." How about you?