tender leaf

anonymous asked:

La pioggia nel pineto (Rain in the pinewood) by Gabriele D'Annunzio (I recommend listening to this poem read by Roberto Herlitzka on YouTube because it made me cry, and I don't cry easily)

I only speak English, but I listened to him read it while I read the English version and it made it much more effective. Thank you!

Hush. On the threshold
of the forest I do not hear
words you call
human, but I hear
newer words
spoken by droplets and leaves
far away.

Listen. It rains
from the scattered clouds.
rains on the tamarisks
brackish and burned,
rains on the pines
scaly and spiky,

Rains on the myrtles
on the shining brooms
of clustered flowers,
on the junipers thick
with fragrant berries,

rains on our faces
rains on our hands
on our robes

on the fresh thoughts
that the soul unfolds
on the beautiful fable
that yesterday
deceived you, that today deceives me,

Do you hear? Rain’s falling
on the solitary
with a crackle that stays
and varies in the air
according to the foliage
more sparse, less sparse.

Listen. An answer
to the weeping is the song
of cicadas
that the Southern wind weeping
does not frighten,
nor the ashen sky.

And the pine
has one sound, and the myrtle
another sound, and the juniper
still another, instruments
under countless fingers.

And immersed
we are in the spirit
of the forest
an arboreal life living;
and your drunken face
is tender with rain
as a leaf;

and your hair
is scented like
the bright broom flowers,
o earthly creature
who are named

Listen, listen. The accord
of aerial cicadas
little by little
becomes under the weeping
that’s rising;

but a song mingles with it
that from down there is rising,
from the damp distant shade.
Hoarser and weaker
it fades, disappears.

Only one note
still trembles, fades,
rises again, trembles, fades.
No voice of the sea is heard.

Now is heard all over the foliage
the silvery rain
that cleanses,
the pelting that varies
according to the foliage
thicker, less thick.

The daughter of the air
is silent, but the daughter
of the silt faraway,
the frog,
is singing in the deepest shadow,
who knows where, who knows where!

And it rains on your eyelashes,
rains on your black eyelashes
so that it seems you’re weeping
but from pleasure; not white
but almost made green,
as coming out of the bark.

And all life is inside us fresh
heart in the breast is like a peach
between the eyelids the eyes
are like springs among the grass,
the teeth in the sockets
are like unripe almonds.

And we go from thicket to thicket,
now joined now separate
(and the rough green vigor
interlaces our ankles
entangles our knees)
who knows where, who knows where!

And it rains on our faces
rains on our hands
on our robes

on the fresh thoughts
that the soul unfolds
on the beautiful fable
that yesterday
deceived me, that today deceives you,

I have been a wanderer long
In this world of transient things.
I have known the passing pleasures thereof.
As the rainbow is beautiful
But soon vanishes into nothingness,
So have I known,
From the very foundation of the world,
The passing away of all things
Beautiful, joyous and pleasurable.
As the moon is full and serene,
In the day of harvest
So am I
In the day of my Liberation
Simple as the tender leaf am I
For in me are many winters and many springs.
As the dew drop is of the sea,
So am I born
In the ocean of my Liberation
As the mysterious river
Enters the open seas,
So have I entered
Into the world of Liberation
This is the end I have known.
—   Jiddu Krishnamurti
A Royal Pain

♪ Help me if you can, I’m feeling down…

based on this imagine from @imaginethorin || originally started as a Flash Fiction Challenge || thank you @fortunatelyclevercandy + @fromthedeskoftheraven for the nudge to finish  || Songspiration: “Help” by the Beatles 

“What is that?” 

The King rubbed a handkerchief across his nose as he sat up in the black canopy bed, the room’s enormous lanterns showing off the posts’ golden flecks.

“Cinnamon hibiscus tea.” You breathed in the lovely, soothing aroma of the hot drink as you climbed the final steps up the platform, trying to look as cheery and comforting as possible to your sick husband and King.

Keep reading


Chapter 8: if i was king

So much paleness in this chapter.  I am pleased.    

Invincible Summer: [AO3] [tag]

The first thing you’re aware of is pain.

Not pain from any part of you—forest pain, and some part of you tells you it’s better than it was even though you can’t quite remember yet what ‘it’ was or why it hurt at all.

Keep reading


Onasadhya is the most delicious part of the grand festival called Onam. It is considered to be the most elaborate and grand meal prepared by any civilisation or cultures in the world. It’s a feast which if enjoyed once is relished for years.

Rice is the essential ingredient of this Nine Course Strictly Vegetarian Meals. All together there are 11 essential dishes which have to prepared for Onasadya. Number of dishes may at times also go upto 13. Onasadya is so elaborate a meal that it is called meals, even though it is consumed in one sitting. Onasadya is consumed with hands, there is no concept of spoon or forks here.

Traditional Onam Sadya meal comprises of different varieties of curries, upperies - thigs fried in oil, pappadams which are round crisp flour paste cakes of peculiar make, uppilittathu - pickles of various kinds, chammanthi - the chutney, payasams and prathamans or puddings of various descriptions. Fruits and digestives are also part of the meal.

The food has to be served on a tender Banana leaf, laid with the end to the left. The meal is traditionally served on a mat laid on the floor. A strict order of serving the dishes one after the another is obeyed. Besides, there are clear directions as to what will be served in which part of the banana leaf.