Udd jayegi ek din chiraiya chhodhkar babul ka ghar,
Basane ek naya aashiyana sabhi ke aankho ko bhar,

Vidai ka hota hai ye kaisi bela,
Kyu hamesha jana padta chhod us kali ko hi akela,

Beegh jati hai mata-pita ki palkein vidai ke pal,
Jab aata us baag me chahchahane wali chidiya ki judai ke pal,

Bahut si yaadein  chhoti aankho me sajaye hue,
Ro rhi hai maa pari ko gale lagaye hue,

Papa ki pyari gudiya aaj sazkar sasural chali,
Tham ke hath humsafar ka ek nye dwar chali,

Jahan  pali badi wo pyari gudiya chali hai aaj us ghar ko chhod,
Karke suna ek aangan ko pita ki aankhon ko bhar,

Na jaane kyu beti ko janam se hi paraya btaya ,
Aakhir kisne ye  riwaz banaya ,

Nikalkar apne **** se ek pita apni jaan ,
Bahut bada dil hai ek pita ka jo kar dete hain kanyadaan ,

Waqt ka kaisa hai ye dastoor 
Na jaane kyu ek beti ko jaana hota hai dur ,

Chali hai aaj papa ki gudiya ,
Chhodhkar apne aangan ki nindiya, 

Yaadon ki jhadi dil mein basakar chali hai maa ki jaan ,
Chhod ke sabkuch apna Banane ek nayi pehchaan,

Babul ki laadli kab ** gayi badi,
Aayi hai dil ko chhune wali ghadi,

Jis  ghar me pali,us ghar ko alwida kaise kahegi,
Maa baba behan bhai bin wo gudiya kaise rahegi,

Vidhata ne ye kaisa niyam hai banaya,
Chhod ghar babul ka,ek naye ghar ko basaya,

Dekh tyad ek bitiya ki us khuda ki bhi *** aankhen bhar,
Udd jayegi ek din chirraiya chhodkar babul ka ghar,
Babul ka ghar.........

Composed by
Sonia Paruthi & Shrivastva MK

Parents live in the shadow of the pali,
watching the young ones play.
They are reminded of the ones they left behind
in the world on the other side of the mountains.
And as they shut their eyes each night they know
their existence in the child's life is fading.
Can you hear them weeping?
All they do is live in the past.

The keiki live in the shadow of the pali,
tumbling around like rushing of water.
Running, twirling, and jumping;
They learn to dance in the shadows.
And as their eyes shut each night,
their quilt embraces their cold, shaking body.
They have long forgotten the touch;
their mother's lips on their foreheads,
and the warmth of their father's arms.
Can you hear them sleeping?
All they do is live in the present.

The old live in the shadow of the pali,
sitting on the chairs we have built
when we arrived so very long ago.
We have watched the young boys grow into men,
and the babies grow into young girls.
Storytelling and singing songs,
wishing to make a mark before we leave.
The best we do to create a better ohana.
Can you hear us teaching?
All we do is live in the future.

We are the people of Kalaupapa living in the shadows of the pali.
We are the forgotten, the left behind.
We watch as souls leave a lifeless body each day,
but our cheeks are no longer stained with tears.
No longer do we waste these tears that create an ocean.
A great love has created within our community.
Intertwined fingers connect the past, present, and future,
We are of a great diversity.
We have learned to enjoy the time we have left
and learned to love people no matter who they are.
Tonight we gather around the fire, dancing.
We live in the shadows, but we are the ones shining.
Can you hear our singing?

The key to the lock
to the door to the room
with the chest that encases
your heart

is buried just off
the Nā Pali Coast
in the sands of the
Pacific.

Changing Names and Changing Faces
Changing Times and Changing Places

The emptiness remains the same

The Sunna Sutta,
Part of the Pali canon,
Relates that the monk Ananda,
Buddha's attendant asked,

"It is said that the world is empty, the world is empty, lord.
In what respects is it said that the world is empty?"  
The Buddha replied, "Insofar as it is empty of a self
Or of anything pertaining to a self: Thus it is said,
Ananda, that the world is empty.

Form is emptiness
Emptiness is form
Emptiness is not separate from form,
Form is not separate from emptiness
Whatever is form is emptiness,
Whatever is emptiness is form

One time to the next time
That is all it is
Try to be a good person
Be kind to others
Show others the love that Jesus showed

I just want a good friend is all
That would be nice
Someone to share my life with

Laggiù, ad Auschwitz, lontano dalla Vistola,
amore, lungo la pianura nordica,
in un campo di morte: fredda, funebre,
la pioggia sulla ruggine dei pali
e i grovigli di ferro dei recinti:
e non albero o uccelli nell'aria grigia
o su dal nostro pensiero, ma inerzia
e dolore che la memoria lascia
al suo silenzio senza ironia o ira.
Da quell'inferno aperto da una scritta
bianca: " Il lavoro vi renderà liberi "
uscì continuo il fumo
di migliaia di donne spinte fuori
all'alba dai canili contro il muro
del tiro a segno o soffocate urlando
misericordia all'acqua con la bocca
di scheletro sotto le doccie a gas.
Le troverai tu, soldato, nella tua
storia in forme di fiumi, d'animali,
o sei tu pure cenere d'Auschwitz,
medaglia di silenzio?
Restano lunghe trecce chiuse in urne
di vetro ancora strette da amuleti
e ombre infinite di piccole scarpe
e di sciarpe d'ebrei: sono reliquie
d'un tempo di saggezza, di sapienza
dell'uomo che si fa misura d'armi,
sono i miti, le nostre metamorfosi.

Sulle distese dove amore e pianto
marcirono e pietà, sotto la pioggia,
laggiù, batteva un no dentro di noi,
un no alla morte, morta ad Auschwitz,
per non ripetere, da quella buca
di cenere, la morte.

Adesso, nella calma,
si vedon muovere i pali
della luce, i fogli di carta
sui recinti di legno dei cantieri.

Un’altra volta
c’era stato il commento
degli arabi, dei negri.
In un vecchio vano della casa,
le povere braccia,
le gambe lunghe e magre legate,
incominciano i racconti.

E si urtano gli oggetti
finiti sul fondo della strada,
mentre, per errore,
un fruscìo dei rami avverte
chi vi cammina
o da una griglia esala ancora
l’odore tiepido dell’umidità.

Si dissolve il colore
dalle pianure disegnate
nel sonno dell’umanità. Le creste delle piante
viste d’improvviso
da un punto oscuro
ravvicinate, mute,
perché si possieda in alto
qualche luce della quiete?

Talk to me more about miscommunications.

Tell me more about
These jumbled lips,
Misshapen teeth,
Boxed-off smiles you're carting around.

Convince me one more time that you're so perfect,
Please.

Cut my wings and ask me to take flight,
Again, I dare you.

I was strong
And in need of redemption
I was lost
And deserved a response -

Craft another elegant lie about how you loved me
And I'll use it as fuel for these flames.

(Translation below)

Kulupu kulupu
Lon li pona pona
E suno li pona
E *** kin li pona

En mi sijelo kin
sina sijelo kin
telo e kasi en
e kili li pona



Moku mute li pona
Lape mute li pona
Olin li pona pona
mi olin e mi mije

tan o ona li pona
Ona li pona mute
Unpa musi li pona
Unpa mute li pona



Pali pona mama mama
pali pona pona
E suno li pona
pona pona pona

Lon li pona pona
pali pona pona
Mi olin e sina
tan e sina li pona

----------------------------------------------------

Peopl­e people
It's very good to live
The sun is good
Clothes are good too

And my body too
your body too
water, the plants and
the fruits are good



Eat a lot is good
Sleep a lot is good
Love is very good
I love my man

because he is good!
He is very good
The joy of *** is good
Often *** is good



Thank you mum dad
thank you very much
The sun is good
very very good

It's very good to live
thank you very much
I love you
because you are good

Choti woh chidiya albeli
Pyaari si aur badi niraali
Nazhukh si pali , kuch dil ki bholi
Uskey par jaise rangoli.

Chote chote they  uskey sapne
Jinhe wo sanwaare aankhon mein apne
Chaahe ki liye pankh bade woh
Bas udjaaye neele Gagan mein

Aakhir mein jab waqt wo aaya
Lekar pankh ko udjaane ka
Aansu lekar baabul se boli
Ye na mujhse  ** paayega

Baabul ne uski narm si aankhe
Dekh ke usko ye poocha sawaal
Beti , tu kyu apne app ko rokey?
Kyu udhney key  nahi khayaal?

Sunkar apni baabul ki boli
Dheere se chidiya ab doli
Tab lagta tha jo ek sapna
Aaj wo ** gaya hai choor.
Kya mere do pankh ye chote
Udh paayenge uthnee door?
Itna bhi mat karna  guroor
Na Karo mere dil ko majboor
Rehne do mujhe tumhare paas
Phir na rakhungi mein koyi bhi aas.

Baabul ne chidiya ko sehlaaya
Usey apne dil se laggaya.
Jo sapno se  tuney man  ko behlaaya
Usko paane ka waqt hai aaya.
Chota mat kabhi kudhko samajhna
Bas yuhi pankh lekar udhjaana.
Udhna hi hai tera naseeb
Rakhna hamesha usey dil ke khareeb .
Aasman dekhe raah tumhara
Likhdo uspar naam tumhara .

Phir Chidiya ne lee aisee udaan
Bharliya aanchal mein aasman ke rang
Baabul ne dee usey bidaayi
Bhar aayi aankhein, raha gaya wo dang.

Ear worms during zen prove that left to nothing, popular culture will take my attention.
So let them create their music: an evil in the Hadiths of Islam, and a degradation in the Pali Canon.
Music's flames burn away the veins and stupify the mind.
The heart is replaced with straw and the liver is poisoned.

Baha'u'llah said music is lawful as long as it uplifts the spirit.
But I say:
It eats the organs, toxifies the blood.
It makes me forgetful of liberation.
Its words are idols against the Path.
It masks the senses.
It trivializes reason.
It points the disposition into darkness upon darkness.
It deafens the ears.

It lightens the body.
It stammers the sense of smell.
It invades attention and enslaves the mind.
It dries the throat.
It displaces the sense of location.

Morning 3:43 am

*** bi bhulekha jeha pe reha
Lag reha jiwe koi dhokh jeha ** reha mera naal
Jiwe eh ik supna ja hi howe
Jiwe eh sach he hi nai
Ik jhuthi jahi umeed haje bi lagai beth ha
Ik jutha jeha veham haje bi pali betha ha
Sab kuj sach hunde hoye bi
Sab kuj juth jeha lag reha he
Kiwe keh da
Kiwe bhul ja
Bus *** ik tera hi asra he
*** bus maut da hi aasra he

The author of poetry from original ideas;
the author of poetry from secondhand ideas;
the repeater of poetry (communicating meaning);
the speaker of poetry off-the-top of the head
(due to great understanding).

~From the Pali Canon