Spotted babblers are found at 1400ft and above, small olive-brown bird with rufous cap and heavily streaked breast. They are generally heard more than seen. So I can consider myself fortunate to get these amazing pictures.
Hafiz: the man who knew the sense in humor
Hafiz (real name Shams-ud-din Mohammad Hafiz Shirazi, lived around 14century) was one of the greatest and most beloved Persian poet. I came across Hafiz more than a decade back when I was into Sufism and spent some time exploring Sufi mystics and so on. Hafiz is about love, love that transcends…but what people seem to miss about Hafiz is the humor, indeed it is a humor that is not very apparent and understood in completeness of life, now that is what I found amazing. It is in that mystical land of craziness and utmost profoundness he dwelled. Hafiz’s brightness was in his easiness and playfulness of words and thoughts. Hafiz is about freedom. These are English translations so one will have to bear with it.
The Days Of Spring
The days of Spring are here! the eglantine,
The rose, the tulip from the dust have risen--
And thou, why liest thou beneath the dust?
Like the full clouds of Spring, these eyes of mine
Shall scatter tears upon the grave thy prison,
Till thou too from the earth thine head shalt thrust.
This from “I heard God laughing”
Would you think it odd if Hafiz said
“I am in love with every church
and mosque
and temple
and any kind of shrine
Because I know it is there
that people say the different names
of the One Gods”
Would you tell your friends
I was bit strange if I admitted
I am in love with every mind
and heart and body.
O i am sincerely
plumb crazy
about your every thought and yearning
and limb.
Because, my dear,
I know it is through these
That you search for him
I loved this one. What a charming little poem. It is from his famous collection “The subject tonight is love”
The happy virus
I caught the happy virus last night
When I was out singing beneath the stars.
It is remarkably contagious
So kiss me
With Gold
Those lovely ones of the world one can bait with gold,
because of them, happily one can’t enjoy fate with gold.
See the narcissus that possesses the crown of the world
how its head also bends, from being straight, with gold.
And this another charming one
Some consolation
A moon whose shape was straight like the tall cypress,
straightened her face while holding mirror in her caress.
When I offered her the handkerchief she then said this:
"You seek union? At least your imagination isn’t a mess!"
Another one…
Preachers who at the altar and the pulpit a great display make,
when into privacy they go, business of a different way make.
My soul is full of amazement at such brazen-faced preachers,
who practice so little of what on pulpit a display they make.
I’ve a difficulty to be put to the wise ones of the congregation ...
‘Why don’t they do penance, who it the order of the day make?’
You may say that they don’t believe in the Day of Judgement,
since in the business of the Judge, fraud and deceit they make.
Lord, place such upstart owners of new wealth on their asses,
for of having Turkish slave and ass, they boasts today make.
I’m the slave of the Master of the Winehouse, whose disciples
independently fling dust on all riches that the world may make.
You beggar of the monastery, leap up: in the Master’s dwelling
they give the pure liquid, that all hearts strong and gay make.
Make your house empty of idols so it can be Beloved’s home:
for the lustful, heart and soul a place for others to stay make.
O no, these clever ones full of deceit who don’t see the jewel,
equation that shell is worth the same as the pearl they make.
At dawn from God’s Throne was commotion as wisdom spoke ...
it could be said ‘Angels, a song from Hafiz’s verse today make.’
Now the rose breathes the breeze of the
together am I and wine of Joy, Beloved with Heavenly eyes.
Today, why shouldn’t the beggar be boasting of a kingdom;
the feasting table is breadth of creation, roof is milky skies.
Maker of Life explains with Spring the only truthful story:
he who ignores today’s beautiful glory, is tomorrow unwise.
With the wine of Love fill the heart beyond overflowing:
for this rotten world is nothing but dust, everything dies.
This enemy is unfaithful: so don’t try to get even a spark
from the hermit’s candle, lit by lamp of a church that dies.
Don’t criticise me for mistakes I’ve made due to ignorance:
do you know the pathways carved on my skull by the tides?
Don’t you walk away from this graveside of Hafiz, because,
although buried in mistakes, he is traveling to