They say he never sleeps,
Eyes wide, a steady gaze,
Not from the buzz of late-night thoughts,
But from the quiet pace of days.
Yet something lingers in his stillness,
A shadow wrapped in light,
A flicker of a restless mind,
Too quiet in the night.
......
Vragen vallen als regen,
zonder honger naar antwoorden,
alleen het verlangen te begrijpen.
De wereld opent zich,
niet als een boek met hoofdstukken,
maar als een veld zonder paden.
Wat is waarheid,
als elk woord
......
People are noisy.
Sitting in the dark I can hear the highway from miles away.
The trucks screaming over the metal bridge that's there for the construction.
The cars on their ways to work.
Honking horns sometimes bullet the air.
I wonder if people ever realize how noisy they are?
I bet there's a guy in Brooklyn that's never truly heard quiet in his life.
Maybe that's why people make movies about nature and what it's like to be outside on adventures.
Or just truly outside, in nature.
Sometimes I think I've never truly heard quiet.
......
No one can actually hear the whispers
that echo through the room.
They would understand only if they listened to the reverie you share with the moon.
-Aditi Hayaran (Larkspur)
(A Fragment.)
—There is a nameless dread, or rather doubt,
Perhaps a mingling of them both, which falls
Like passing cloud upon the lonely heart,
Which hails the stranger—wheresoe'er he dwells.
The land may be his own dear isle,
The stranger of his kindred and his tongue ;
And Holman journeying in the wilderness,
In helpless darkness, to the Arab tents.
Feels not alone this dark depressing gloom.
......
Ze komen
ongevraagd,
als druppels op een raam
of windvlagen door een open deur.
Soms helder
als ochtendlicht
dat alles zichtbaar maakt
zonder oordeel.
......
No one can actually hear the whispers
that echo through the room.
They would understand only if they listened to the reverie you share with the moon.
-Aditi Hayaran (Larkspur)
When stuck in the storm of thoughts,
Take a pen and write it down
Just anything that can express the pain
Even if it can't heal you completely,
It may reduce the storm to a rain.
When you feel hurt or broken,
Don't keep it unspoken.
-Aditi Hayaran (Larkspur)
Gedanken wie Nebel über stillen Feldern,
Fragen ohne Ende wachsen in der Nacht.
Was ist Wahrheit,
wer webt die Grenzen zwischen Traum und Erwachen?
Die Zeit gleitet wie Wasser durch offene Hände,
und Bedeutung flüstert am Rand der Stille.
Jeder Schritt ein Echo von tausend Entscheidungen,
jede Antwort nur ein neuer Anfang.
Thoughts like mist over silent fields,
questions without end glow in the night.
What is truth,
who weaves the borders between dream and walking?
Time slides like water though open hands,
and meaning whispers at the edge of silence.
Each step an echo of a thousand choices,
each answer merely a new beginning.