Bee

1789 .象潟もけふは恨まず花の春 kisagata mo kyô wa uramazu hana no haru even Kisa Lagoon isn't hateful today... blossoming spring Before the earthquake of 1804, Kisa Lagoon (Kisagata) was, in Shinji Ogawa's words, "beautiful ... like a miniature archipelago." Shinji sees in this haiku an allusion to a sentence in Bashô's Oku no hosomichi ("Narrow Road to the Far Provinces"): "Matsushima is smiling, Kisagata grieving." Though Bashô uses the word, uramu , it does not mean "hateful" but rather "melancholy" (the literary meaning of uramu ). Shinji paraphrases, "Though Bashô called it 'melancholy,' Kisagata is not melancholy today because of the blossoming spring." Makoto Ueda notes that this haiku shows the playful humor typical of the Katsushika school that influenced Issa in his early years; Dew on the Grass: The Life and Poetry of Kobayashi Issa (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2004) 14. 1792 .初霜や蕎麦悔

DO IT ANYWAY People are often unreasonable, illogical and self-centered; Forgive them anyway. If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish ulterior motives; Be kind anyway. If you are successful, you will win some false friends and true enemies; Succeed anyway. If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you; Be honest anyway. What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight; Build anyway. If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous; Be happy anyway. The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow; Do good anyway. Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough; Give the world the best you've got anyway. You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God; It was never between you and them anyway. Mother Teresa 1910-1997

Sweetest of the flowers a-blooming In the fragrant vernal days Is the Lily of the Valley With its soft, retiring ways. Well, you chose this humble blossom As the nurse’s emblem flower, Who grows more like her ideal Every day and every hour. Like the Lily of the Valley In her honesty and worth, Ah, she blooms in truth and virtue In the quiet nooks of earth. Tho’ she stands erect in honor When the heart of mankind bleeds, Still she hides her own deserving In the beauty of her deeds. In the silence of the darkness Where no eye may see and know, There her footsteps shod with mercy, And fleet kindness come and go. Not amid the sounds of plaudits, Nor before the garish day, Does she shed her soul’s sweet perfume, Does she take her gentle way. But alike her ideal flower, With its honey-laden breath, Still her heart blooms forth its beauty In the valley shades of death. **Paul Laurence Dunbar

l EVE'S DIARY By Mark Twain SATURDAY.--I am almost a whole day old, now. I arrived yesterday. That is as it seems to me. And it must be so, for if there was a day-before-yesterday I was not there when it happened, or I should remember it. It could be, of course, that it did happen, and that I was not noticing. Very well; I will be very watchful now, and if any day-before-yesterdays happen I will make a note of it. It will be best to start right and not let the record get confused, for some instinct tells me that these details are going to be important to the historian some day. For I feel like an experiment, I feel exactly like an experiment; it would be impossible for a person to feel more like an experiment than I do, and so I am coming to feel convinced that that is what I AM--an experiment; just an experiment, and nothing more. Then if I am an experiment, am I the whole of it? No, I think not; I think the rest of it is part of it. I am the main part of it, but I think the rest

Translation into English O! Dispenser of India's destiny, thou art the ruler of the minds of all people Thy name rouses the hearts of Punjab, Sindh, Gujarat, the Maratha country, in the Dravida country, Utkala and Bengal; It echoes in the hills of the Vindhyas and Himalayas, it mingles in the rhapsodies of the pure waters of Yamuna and the Ganges. They chant only thy name. They seek only thy auspicious blessings. They sing only the glory of thy victory. The salvation of all people waits in thy hands, O! Dispenser of India's destiny, thou art the ruler of the minds of all people Victory to thee, Victory to thee, Victory to thee, Victory, Victory, Victory, Victory to thee!.

When people laugh, they don't see the hurt; But I do. It's MY CHILD… When people speak such unkind words, they don't see the pain; But I do. It's MY CHILD… When people turn away Because they don't understand, I do. It's MY CHILD… So many tears, so many broken hearts, they don't feel; But I do. It's MY CHILD… A simple smile, just one kind word could ease the hurt. Oh, don't they see; I do. It's MY CHILD… Please understand My fervent plea; Think before you speak. It could be YOUR CHILD… Written by Fran Sanzone

This traditional composition in the Nata Raga, sung to Shri Krishna in the early afternoon, was written by the 16th century Ashta-Chhap poet-saint Govinda Swami. His life was full of deep realizations, and his Brajabhasa words carry to us the essence of pure devotion: The Beloved is found only through love. Physical beauty, good virtues, fine character and a noble home – these possessions will never please God. You could have a high birth, good karmas, auspicious signs, and have knowledge of the Vedas and Puranas… Sings Govinda, “…But, my friend! Without love, what is the point of reciting like a parrot?” Pritama Prita hi te paiye Yadyapi rupa guna, shila su-gharata ina baatana na rijhaiye Sat kula janma, karma subha lakchana Veda purana pardaiye Govinda bina sneha suvaa lo Rasanaa kahaju na chaiye