Enter the Buzzard

Buzzards are medium sized raptor found in Asia and Europe. Breeds in woodland but prefers open land to prey on small mammals and insects. Rarely seen in flocks, they are fiercely territorial and pairs mate for life. This picture is that of White eyed Buzzard (eyes, or iris to be precise, is not exactly pure white but yellowish white. I thought it looked more like Grey headed Buzzard but they are found in East Asia), I spotted this at the outskirts of Mysuru (Mysuru is definitely one of my favorite place…what a charming city). Like all raptors bills are curved and claw like. They are found most of the time sitting at some elevation, could also be seen foraging on the ground. It is difficult to get to see raptors these days so I guess I can consider myself to be lucky to have spotted this one.

Buzzards were hunted and almost eliminated in Britain, the status now is Least Concern (IUCN), in Philippines they are protected. They are also referred to as "Dancing Hawk" in West since the common Buzzard (larger in size) exhibit the habit of landing in open fields and taking stamping steps up and down - the noise made sounds like rain to worms and makes them rise to the surface which is relished. Interesting !!

Friedrich Hölderlin

The crowd likes
whatever sells in the marketplace,
and no one but a slave
appreciates violent men.
Only those who are themselves godlike
believe in the gods.

Hölderlin (1770-1843) was a German poet associated with romanticism (he interacted with contemporaries as wide interests like Hegel and Goethe) and brilliance of lyricism. He traveled to many of the neighboring countries sometimes on foot that had immense influence. "No one by himself can grasp God," Holderlin writes in the poem "Patmos". Instead of a direct search for God, he seeks an indirect route through nature- rivers, seas, meadows and mountains, gardens and orchards, heroes and fine sentiments

Trees were my teachers
Melodious trees
And I learned to love
Among flowers.

This from another of his poems

The inner being of the world often appears clouded and hidden,
and people's minds are full of doubts and irritation,
but splendid nature cheers up their days,
and doubt's dark questions stay distant

Another stanza…

Another day. I follow another path,
Enter the leafing woodland, visit the spring
Or the rocks where the roses bloom
Or search from a look-out, but nowhere

A fervent admirer of ancient Greeks, he translated into Germany. Holderin’s later years though were tragic as he suffered from mental illness. Holderin’s legacy is such that he influenced men like Brahms, Nietzsche, Rilke, Derrida, Heidegger ("Poetry is the establishment of Being by means of the word") so on. He has a powerful presence in modern German poetry. The translation I found on the Net seems to be having copyright issues (regrettable these crap called copyright…I can understand if the original writers demands it). I maybe violating few, anyone has any problem can write to this blogger…

Half of Life
With its yellow pears
And wild roses everywhere
The shore hangs into the lake,
O gracious swans,
And drunk with kisses
You dip your heads
In the sobering holy water.

Ah, where will I find
Flowers, come winter,
And where the sunshine
And shade of the earth ?
Walls stand cold
And speechless, in the wind
The wheathervanes creak.

When I was a boy
When I was a boy
A god often rescued me
From the shouts and the rods of men
And I played among trees and flowers
Secure in their kindness
And the breezes of heaven
Were playing there too.

And as you delight
The hearts of plants
When they stretch towards you
With little strength
So you delighted the heart in me
Father Helios, and like Endymion
I was your favourite,
Moon O all

You friendly
And faithful gods
I wish you could know
How my soul has loved you.

Even though when I called to you then
It was not yet with names, and you
Never named me as people do
As though they knew one another

I knew you better
Than I have ever known them.
I understood the stillness above the sky
But never the words of men.

Trees were my teachers
Melodious trees
And I learned to love
Among flowers.
I grew up in the arms of the gods.

These two scribbled the other day...

Do we ever sought?
The species we are
in between living, surviving, dying
did we sought anything at all?
Or that it exists as it is
to experience
make us understand (or atleast give us the glimpse)
of immense hidden not hidden
we come and go
there are opinions, views,
and setting sun.

sleep
among the people, and the crowded streets
there are pieces I search
sometimes I beg for it
othertimes sniff like a dog in garbage mound
not knowing where to head
I ask the passerby a non existent address
there are sights I know, smells I recognize,
it seems jumbled all these thoughts
PresentPastFuture
the threads go knotting
tightening
I decide to lie on the pavement
and count the passing feet