July 28, 2017

About Cy and this site



به نام خدا

Hi, I’m Cy.

I was bored one day and decided to make a blog. It pretty much covers my obsessions with history (mostly ancient and medieval), travel, fútbol (soccer for you Yankees), rock ‘n’ roll, Star Wars and the study of the Zoroastrian religion.

Thanks for visiting and keep the world safe for rock ‘n’ roll…

Any questions or comments, please email me: funwithcy-email

– Cy

 
dkblueline

کوروش چار خصلت برگزيدست
به گيتی از همه خوبی و زشتی
لب ِ بيجاده رنگ و نالهء چنگ
می ِ چون زنگ و دين زردهشتی

Of all the good and bad of the world,
Koroush* has chosen four:
Ruby-colored lips, the wail of the flute,
Blood-red wine and the Zoroastrian religion.

Persian poet Daqiqi
Adapted from the translation by Iraj Bashiri

*here I changed “Daqiqi” to “Koroush” which is “Cyrus” in old Persian.

dkblueline

Muere lentamente quien se transforma en esclavo del hábito,
repitiendo todos los días los mismos trayectos,
quien no cambia de marca,
no arriesga vestir un color nuevo
y no le habla a quien no conoce.

Muere lentamente quien evita una pasión,
quien prefiere el negro sobre blanco
y los puntos sobre las “íes”
a un remolino de emociones,
justamente las que rescatan el brillo de los ojos,
sonrisas de los bostezos,
corazones a los tropiezos y sentimientos.

Muere lentamente quien no voltea la mesa
cuando está infeliz en el trabajo,
quien no arriesga lo cierto por lo incierto
para ir detrás de un sueño,
quien no se permite por lo menos una vez en la vida,
huir de los consejos sensatos.

Muere lentamente quien no viaja,
quien no lee,
quien no oye música,
quien no encuentra gracia en sí mismo.

Muere lentamente quien destruye su amor propio,
quien no se deja ayudar.
Muere lentamente,
quien pasa los días quejándose de su mala suerte
o de la lluvia incesante.

Muere lentamente,
quien abandona un proyecto antes de iniciarlo,
no preguntando de un asunto que desconoce
o no respondiendo cuando le indagan sobre algo que sabe.

Evitemos la muerte en suaves cuotas,
recordando siempre que estar vivo
exige un esfuerzo mucho mayor
que el simple hecho de respirar.

Solamente la ardiente paciencia
hará que conquistemos una espléndida felicidad.

– Pablo Neruda

He who becomes the slave of habit,
who follows the same routes every day,
who never changes pace,
who does not risk and change the color of his clothes,
who does not speak and does not experience,
dies slowly.

He or she who shuns passion,
who prefers black on white,
dotting ones “it.s” rather than a bundle of emotions, the kind that make your eyes glimmer,
that turn a yawn into a smile,
that make the heart pound in the face of mistakes and feelings,
dies slowly.

He or she who does not turn things topsy-turvy,
who is unhappy at work,
who does not risk certainty for uncertainty,
to thus follow a dream,
those who do not forego sound advice at least once in their lives,
die slowly.

He who does not travel, who does not read,
who does not listen to music,
who does not find grace in himself,
she who does not find grace in herself,
dies slowly.

He who slowly destroys his own self-esteem,
who does not allow himself to be helped,
who spends days on end complaining about his own bad luck, about the rain that never stops,
dies slowly.

He or she who abandon a project before starting it, who fail to ask questions on subjects he doesn’t know, he or she who don’t reply when they are asked something they do know,
die slowly.

Let’s try and avoid death in small doses,
reminding oneself that being alive requires an effort far greater than the simple fact of breathing.

Only a burning patience will lead
to the attainment of a splendid happiness.

– translator unknown

dkblueline

چه تدبیر ای مسلمانان که من خود را نمیدانم
نه ترسا و یهودیم نه گبرم نه مسلمانم
نه شرقیم نه غربیم نه بریم نه بحریم
نه ارکان طبیعیم نه از افلاک گردانم
نه از خاکم نه از بادم نه از ابم نه از اتش
نه از عرشم نه از فرشم نه از کونم نه از کانم
نه از دنیی نه از عقبی نه از جنت نه از دوزخ
نه از ادم نه از حوا نه از فردوس رضوانم
مکانم لا مکان باشد نشانم بی نشان باشد
نه تن باشد نه جان باشد که من از جان جانانم

دویی از خود بیرون کردم یکی دیدم دو عالم را
یکی جویم یکی گویم یکی دانم یکی خوانم

ز جام عشق سرمستم دو عالم رفت از دستم
بجز رندی و قلاشی نباشد هیچ سامانم

اگر در عمر خود روزی دمی بی او بر اوردم
از ان وقت و از ان ساعت ز عمر خود پشیمانم

الا ای شمس تبریزی چنان مستم در ین عالم
که جز مستی و قلاشی نباشد هیچ درمانم

What is to he done, O believers, for I do not recognize myself.
I am neither Christian, nor Jew, nor Zoroastrian, nor Muslim.
I am not of the East, nor of the West, nor of the land, nor of the sea.
I am not of Nature’s mint, nor of the circling’ heaven.
I am not of earth, nor of water, nor of air, nor of fire.
I am not of the empyrean, nor of the dust, nor of existence, nor of entity.
I am not of Hindustan, nor of China, nor of Bulgaria, nor of Saqsin.
I am not of the kingdom of ‘Iraqian, nor of the country of Khorasan.
I am not of the this world, nor of the next, nor of Paradise, nor of Hell.
I am not of Adam, nor of Eve, nor of Eden and Rizwan.
My place is the Placeless, my trace is the Traceless.
‘Tis neither body nor soul, for I belong to the soul of the Beloved.
I have put duality away, I have seen that the two worlds are one.
One I seek, One I know, One I see, One I call.
He is the First, He is the Last, He is the Outward, He is the Inward.
I know none other except ‘Ya Hu’ and ‘Ya man Hu.’
I am intoxicated with Love’s cup, the two worlds have passed out of my ken.
I have no business save carouse and revelry.
If once in my life I spent a moment without thee,
From that time and from that hour I repent of my life.
If once in this world I win a moment with thee,
I will trample on both worlds, I will dance in triumph for ever.
O Shamsi Tabriz, I am so drunken in this world,
That except of drunkenness and revelry I have no tale to tell.

Persian poet Jalaluddin Rumi, Divan-i-Shamsi Tabrizi, #XXXI
adapted from the translation of A.J. Arberry


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