eBooks „silver“
437 eBooks were found for the search term „silver“.
Peter Bernhardt
Red Romeo
- Thriller
- English
- 130593 Words
- Ages 14 and up
- 323
The summer of 1977 finds divided Germany locked in a fierce espionage battle. West Germany’s premier spy hunter, ambitious Sabine Maier, faces off against ruthless Stasi General Werner Heinrich. Sabine has filled half a prison with her prodigious arrests of communist spies. Heinrich is the mastermind behind a small army of spy gigolos who prey on lonely women working in the West German government’s most secret divisions. Caught in the middle is ladies’ man Stefan Malik, a reluctant Romeo, forced to do the general’s bidding or rot in a Stasi prison.
Just as she thinks she’s gaining the upper hand, Sabine’s worst fears are realized. The Stasi has infiltrated the highest ranks of West German intelligence and Heinrich’s well-placed mole is watching her every move. With the number of women spying for love growing by the day, Sabine risks everything on a cutting-edge technology that promises to identify traitors.
The ingenious system soon picks up the scent of Stefan, who is targeting the Chief of the Chancellery’s secretary. But when Sabine discovers that Stefan has an agenda of his own, she lays a risky trap. With the security of the West at stake and Stefan’s life hanging by a thread, she gives her all to unmask the mole and outwit the Stasi spymaster.
German Edition: Roter Romeo
What Bernie Silver, author of Nathan in Spite of Himself, says about Red Romeo:
You’ve heard it all before but in Red Romeo’s case it’s true. The novel is fast-paced, suspenseful and features plenty of intrigue, to say nothing of intriguing characters. Plus it offers copious romance (though of a somewhat duplicitous nature). Suggestion: wear gloves so you don’t bite your nails off.
Also by Peter Bernhardt:
The Stasi File―Opera and Espionage: A Deadly Combination, 2011 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award Quarterfinalist
German Edition: Die Stasi-Akte―Oper und Spionage: Eine Tödliche Kombination
Sequel: Kiss of the Shaman’s Daughter
German Edition: Kuss der Schamanentochter
[more]
Keywords: Thriller, Thrillers, Germany, New Releases 2018, Stasi, Berlin, historical, political, Espionage, Spy, Romeo Spies, Berlin Wall, Spy Hunter, DDR, BND, Spymaster, Spying for Love, Opera
€3.99
Peter Jalesh
Six Naked Old Women on a Running Machine
A Scrambled Chronicle of my Family Bondage
- Fiction
- English
- 50357 Words
- No Age Recommendation
- 1603
My gran-grandparents from mom’s side were still alive then and lived in Los Pessos. I remember the deserted town that at midday seemed endless. I used to see all the time a few donkeys galloping away on the dusty roads whenever they saw coyotes approaching.
Definitely, when I was a child there were things that I didn’t know or understand. Like for instance why my grand-grandpa was mean and tempered. He’d give me to eat bitter apples to see me getting hook-nosed. He almost threw me out of the house when I called him “an old wrench”.
He was as bad as a rabid mule. Don’t get discouraged because of these unflattering remarks. My family was an honorable family claiming on official documents “respectable roots that originated on 1765, when the first Irish families got deported to the New Land. Those roots were pure Irish, with no recorded mixed blood until 1901 when an Irish woman from the clan married a Hollandaise merchant named Van Dam.
Those roots had nothing to do with Los Pessos. My grand-grandparents bought a house there during the depression. Grand-grandpa joked that the price of the house was at those times on a par with a good bottle of whiskey price.
The house was sited next to a pub. At night you could see dozen of cowboys cleaning their throat with cold beer stirred together with tequila shots.
Sometimes before I went to sleep I could see a beautiful woman that grand-grandpa would call “the Blond Harlot” getting in and out of the pub. Most of the time she was dressed in black, with a low cut silk blouse and a short skirt - so short that I could see her panties - and wearing high hills shoes that made her look like she was stepping on hot coals.
The warm breeze in the evening made me feel better than the midday hot wind. Then the warm breeze faded away to get replaced by a sandy wind. Within minutes the town got deserted. It was like the whole thing that used to move around would retire to rest. No more voices or laughs or curses: lights of the pub and houses around would gently go to sleep under blinds and rags.
I forgot to tell you that the reason mom would bring me there to live with my grand-grandparents for a month or so was to learn Spanish: “Not many people on Earth are lucky to have grand-grandparents” she’d say. ”Also your grand-grandpa saw plenty of gallant happenings in his life and knew how to steer clear of danger. He could tell you interesting stories. People that are ninety years old know two times more stories than people that are forty five years old”.
Very soon as I got there I realized that grand-grandpa had an advanced rheumatoid arthritis. He could barely walk ten steps using his silver cane he bought from Britain in 1930. The housekeeper would clean it every day to keep it shiny. The handgrip was emblazoned with a crown encircling an airplane. “I was born a pilot” he’d say. “I’m now a relic emblazoned on this cane”. [more]
Keywords: novel, chronicle, commedy, drama, family, sex
$1.49
The Much Honorable Lady Karen Atkins Of Glencoe Scotland.
I Have A Beautiful Queen Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II Of The United Kingdom.
Majestic
- History
- English
- 6871 Words
- No Age Recommendation
- 451
- 5
Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth Alexandra Mary Windsor Will Go Down In History As One Of The Most Famous And Beloved Queens. That Has Ever Walked On The Face Of The Planet Earth.
Elizabeth II (Elizabeth Alexandra Mary; born 21 April 1926) is the constitutional monarch of 16 sovereign states, known as the Commonwealth realms, and their territories and dependencies, and head of the 54-member Commonwealth of Nations. She is Supreme Governor of the Church of England and, in some of her realms, carries the title of Defender of the Faith as part of her full title.
On her accession on 6 February 1952, Elizabeth became Head of the Commonwealth and queen regnant of seven independent Commonwealth countries: the United Kingdom, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, Pakistan and Ceylon.
From 1956 to 1992, the number of her realms varied as territories gained independence and some realms became republics. At present, in addition to the first four aforementioned countries, Elizabeth is Queen of Jamaica, Barbados, the Bahamas, Grenada, Papua New Guinea, the Solomon Islands, Tuvalu, Saint Lucia, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines, Belize, Antigua and Barbuda, and Saint Kitts and Nevis. Her reign of 61 years is currently the second longest for a British monarch; only Queen Victoria, her great-great grandmother, has reigned longer, at over 63 years.
Elizabeth was born in London and educated privately at home. Her father acceded to the throne as George VI in 1936 on the abdication of his brother Edward VIII, from which time she was the heir presumptive. She began to undertake public duties during the Second World War, in which she served in the Auxiliary Territorial Service. In 1947, she married Prince Philip of Greece and Denmark, with whom she has four children: Charles, Anne, Andrew, and Edward. Her coronation service took place in 1953 and was the first to be televised.
Elizabeth II's many historic visits and meetings include a state visit to the Republic of Ireland and reciprocal visits to and from the Pope. Elizabeth has seen major constitutional changes in her realms, such as devolution in the United Kingdom and the patriation of the Canadian constitution. Times of personal significance have included the births and marriages of her children, the births of her grandchildren, the investiture of the Prince of Wales, and the celebration of milestones such as her Silver, Golden, and Diamond Jubilees in 1977, 2002, and 2012, respectively.
Major events in Elizabeth's reign have included the Troubles in Northern Ireland, the Falklands War, and wars with Iraq and in Afghanistan. There have been times of personal sorrow for her which include the death of her father at 56, the assassination of Prince Philip's uncle, Lord Mountbatten, the breakdown of her children's marriages in 1992 (a year deemed her annus horribilis), the death in 1997 of her son's former wife, Diana, Princess of Wales, and the deaths of her mother and sister in 2002. [more]
For Free
Bliss Itedjere, Bliss Itedjere
The theory of simplicity
The theory of y
- Poetry
- English
- 9817 Words
- Ages 16 and up
- 56
THEORY OF UNDERSTANDING
Ounce life is better than a wet bug crop Life is a bound of grain with reasons.The beauty of depth is a reason for clarity.Who knows? Who understood?Is it a bug? or an insect in its closest?Perhaps not, the dim of life Has covered focus, is it the beautyOf clarity? Charity poured out Simplicity as ocean. Is turbulence an Oliver-twist of the future? Future gathered grains as whit Chaffs are sieved for whit. The beauty of understanding Has been announced.Whit is a picture of understanding.Chaffs are bunch of rudiment, Its capacity is hidden under carpet.Flood of argument is hidden. Understanding maneuver its wayWave lost its cause, The path to patient never know its cause
Who is understanding? The theory that fathom Complexity never waste. Focus never groan, submerge absorbed huh.
NOTHING IS COMPLEX
What is simple in our world? A piece of slit around our world Complexity journey to the east To sojourn with beauty The way of beauty Is made of brass And steel. Is it strength of a plane heart? A homeless man Cries like a donkey, That is he has no meal for the year.Nothing is complex For the simple man A humble fellow Never flow with diversity. Devise insist to simplicityAn ocean do not gather at onceBut once the world is made.Simplicity is an uncle to goals Goals with focus built our world.The world of complexityIs built by pompous heart.A simple man is an ingredientOf many combinations.Love and peace is vitalThe taste of good is simple.The world is fragile Made in beauty, painted with charity Clarity is the store of house charity. Gull rely on the wall of crystal A mash for beauty stars aroseFor something, an opinion For many.Man lives for something.The thing is simplicity, simplicity a heart of adoration.Rose made life simple A redolence of charity is not an option. A simple heart crave for love Option is not given to the dreadful. Love is the foundation for simplicity The root of simple Never lack wisdom Sagacity is the city of humility The city that is flooded with citizen of wisdom.Nothing is impossible under The heavens, the earth Is composed of impossibilitiesBut possible to whom that reside in possibilities The heavens is the picture Of great price of possibilities.Gold for silver, A deal of the simple Love is simplerThan steel, water Flow with ease is the beauty of simplicity.The world of love is a picture Of soft word, hardness Is swam of complicity. The site for possibility Is not a mirage but an Image that ants can seeFeels and create a room For its members, love drill For reality, is for the simple.Lack is complex, its begins Is with an insect of unusual itch A fodder of colt [more]
Keywords: Poetry fiction, fantasy, and nature
For Free
Ben Agar
The Angaran Chronicles: The General and the Poet
- Short Story
- English
- 4499 Words
- No Age Recommendation
- 140
On many occasions, Raleas had caught her mother crying, curled up on her bed or in a corner somewhere in the mansion. Sometimes after one of their countless fights, but mostly during the long, long months of her father's absence. Every time Raleas hadn't hesitated to rip into her mother. Tell her how pathetic and weak she was.
As Raleas lay on her bed her face buried her pillows. A turning, horrific feeling, twisted in her stomach. Raleas hated it, didn't know what it was, but it hurt more than the anger, the sadness.
She had no idea how long she laid like that, but Raleas knew that every second she wished her father would knock on her door, or even kick it open and yell at her. Anything. But nothing. Just silence.
The silence seemed always to accompany her father. Raleas was used to it. But this silence was different; it felt like powerful, tight hands held her down, with a ten-ton weight behind them.
Still, she didn't cry; despite her body seeming to scream for her to through the pulsing pain in her chest and the swelling and swirling behind her eyelids.
It felt like forever before sleep overtook her and a split second before she dropped into the complete dark when she realised the feeling was in her guts.
Regret.
Raleas didn't dream, though she thought she would. But the black constantly twisted with greens and purples that shone and edged with gold and silver. Like petrol moving in water.
When Raleas awoke, she found her face buried in a wet pillow.
She sighed and rolled onto her back and gazed at the brown and beige ceiling.
'I'm sorry, mum,' she said. 'I'm so, so sorry.'
Then she rolled on her side and looked at the clock on her bedside table, and when she saw the time, it caused a shudder of shocking cold coursed into her and she sat up and leapt off her bed and barged out her door.
'Dad. Dad,' she said, running down the corridor.
He slipped out of the doorway leading into the kitchen. He wore his formal uniform. An immaculately pressed, brilliantly blue formal two-piece suit. His peaked cap tucked in the crook of his arm. His gaze was made of narrow slits as he looked down at her.
'What are you doing?' he said. 'I did not give you permission to leave your room.'
'But it's only an hour until the funeral.'
'You are staying here.'
It took Raleas a few seconds to process his sentence and when she did a sharp sting shot through her chest.
'What?' she said as tears erupted into her eyes, taking over her vision. She could no longer stop them from falling down her face. 'W-why?'
'You know why,' he said. 'And stop the waterworks, you look pathetic. Go back to your room. You will not leave this house until I return.'
Then he turned to leave.
'Please,' she screamed at his broad back. 'Please don't do this to me!'
He paused, but only for a second before he walked on.
'Dad. Dad,' she said, she wanted to follow him, to grab his tunic, turn him and scream in his face. She wanted to tell him how much of a monster he was. The horrific injustice. The vast disproportion of his retribution.
'She's my mum. I don't deserve this. Don't do this to me.'
Raleas tried to shout those words, but they emerged from her lips as squeaks and crackles as she hit her back against the wall and slid into a foetal ball.
She didn't even know if her sobbing was real or not.
She didn't even blink when he slammed the front door shut. [more]
Keywords: family, drama, funeral, teen, teenage, girl, mother, father, diesel, punk, dieselpunk, familydrama, death, deathinthefamily, military, militaryfamily, theangaranchronicles
For Free
Max Heindel
An Elementary Treatise Upon Man's Past Evolution,Present Constitution And Future Development
- Esotericism
- English
- 161313 Words
- Ages 18 and up
This book is written by Max Heindel, the founder, and Messenger of The Rosicrucian Fellowship. This is a reference book of the Fellowship students and Probationers. This book is also referred as Cosmo-Conception or Mystic Christianity.
The founder of the Christian Religion stated an occult maxim when He said: “Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child shall not enter therein” (Mark 10:15). All occultists recognize the far-reaching importance of this teaching of Christ and endeavor to “live” it day by day.
When a new philosophy is presented to the world it is met in different ways by different people.
One person will grasp with avidity any new philosophical effort in an endeavor to ascertain how far it supports his own ideas. To such an one the philosophy itself is of minor importance. Its prime value will be its vindication of HIS ideas. If the work comes up to expectation in that respect, he will enthusiastically adopt it and cling to it with a most unreasoning partisanship; if not, he will probably lay the book down in disgust and disappointment, feeling as if the author had done him an injury.
Another adopts an attitude of skepticism as soon as he discovers that it contains something which HE has not previously read, heard, or originated in his own thought. He would probably resent as extremely unjustified the accusation that his mental attitude is the acme of self- satisfaction and intolerance; such is nevertheless the case; and thus he shuts his mind to any truth which may possibly be hidden in that which he off-hand rejects.
Both these classes stand in their own light. “Set” ideas render them impervious to rays of truth. “A little child” is the very opposite of its elders in that respect. It is not imbued with an overwhelming sense of superior knowledge, nor does it feel compelled to look wise or to hide its
nescience of any subject by a smile or a sneer. It is frankly ignorant, unfettered by preconceived opinions and therefore eminently teachable. It takes everything with that beautiful attitude of trust which we have designated “child-like faith,” wherein there is not the shadow of a doubt. There the child holds the teaching it receives until proven or disproven.
In all occult schools the pupil is first taught to forget all else when a new teaching is being given, to allow neither preference nor prejudice to govern, but to keep the mind in a state of calm, dignified waiting. As skepticism will blind us to truth in the most effective manner, so this calm, trustful attitude of the mind will allow the intuition, or “teaching from within,” to become aware of the truth contained in the proposition. That is the only way to cultivate an absolutely certain perception of truth.
The pupil is not required to believe off-hand that a given object which he has observed to be white, is really black, when such a statement is made to him; but he must cultivate an attitude of mind which “believeth all things” as possible. That will allow him to put by for the time being even what are generally considered “established facts,” and investigate if perchance there be another viewpoint hitherto unobserved by him whence the object referred to would appear black. Indeed, he would not allow himself to look upon anything as “an established fact,” for he realizes thoroughly the importance of keeping his mind in the fluidal state of adaptability which characterizes the little child. He realizes in every fiber of his being that “now we see through a glass, darkly,” and Ajax-like he is ever on the alert, yearning for “Light, more Light.”
The enormous advantage of such an attitude of mind when investigating any given subject, object or idea must be apparent. Statements which appear positively and
unequivocally contradictory, which have caused an immense amount of feeling among the advocates of opposite sides, may nevertheless be capable of perfect reconciliation, as shown in one such instance mentioned in the present work. The bond of concord is only discovered by the open mind, however, and though the present work may be found to differ from others, the writer would bespeak an impartial hearing as the basis of subsequent judgment. If the book is “weighed and found wanting,” the writer will have no complaint. He only fears a hasty judgment based upon lack of knowledge of the system he advocates—a hearing wherein the judgment is “wanting” in consequence of having been denied an impartial “weighing.” He would further submit, that the only opinion worthy of the one who expresses it must be based upon knowledge.
As a further reason for care in judgment we suggest that to many it is exceedingly difficult to retract a hastily expressed opinion. Therefore it is urged that the reader withhold all expressions of either praise or blame until study of the work has reasonably satisfied him of its merit or demerit.
The Rosicrucian Cosmo-Conception is not dogmatic, neither does it appeal to any other authority than the reason of the student. It is not controversial, but is sent forth in the hope that it may help to clear some of the difficulties which have beset the minds of students of the deeper philosophies in the past. In order to avoid serious misunderstanding, it should be firmly impressed upon the mind of the student, however, that there is no infallible revelation of this complicated subject, which includes everything under the sun and above it also.
An infallible exposition would predicate omniscience upon the part of the writer, and even the Elder Brothers tell
us that they are sometimes at fault in their judgment, so a book which shall say the last word on the World-Mystery is out of the question, and the writer of the present work does not pretend to give aught but the most elementary teachings of the Rosicrucians.
The Rosicrucian Brotherhood has the most far-reaching, the most logical conception of the World-Mystery of which the writer has gained any knowledge during the many years he has devoted exclusively to the study of this subject. So far as he has been able to investigate, their teachings have been found in accordance with facts as he knows them. Yet he is convinced that The Rosicrucian Cosmo-Conception is far from being the last word on the subject; that as we advance greater vistas of truth will open to us and make clear many things which we now “see through a glass, darkly.” At the same time he firmly believes that all other philosophies of the future will follow the same main lines, for they appear to be absolutely true.
In view of the foregoing it will be plain that this book is not considered by the writer as the Alpha and Omega, the ultimate of occult knowledge, and even though it is entitled The Rosicrucian Cosmo-Conception, the writer desires to strongly emphasize that is not to be understood as a “faith once for all delivered” to the Rosicrucians by the founder of the Order or by any other individual. It is emphatically stated that this work embodies only the writer's understanding of the Rosicrucian teachings concerning the World-Mystery, strengthened by his personal investigations of the inner Worlds, the antenatal and postmortem states of man, etc. The responsibility which devolves upon one who wittingly or unwittingly leads others astray is clearly realized by the writer, and he wishes to guard himself as far as possible against that contingency, and also to guard others
against the possibility of going wrong inadvertently.
What is said in this work is to be accepted or rejected by the reader according to his own discretion. All diligence has been used in trying to understand the teaching; great pains have been taken to put it into words that shall be easily understood. For that reason only one term has been used throughout the work to convey each idea. The same word will have the same meaning wherever used. When any word descriptive of an idea is first used, the clearest definition possible to the writer is given. None but English terms and the simplest language have been employed. The writer has constantly endeavored to give as exact and definite descriptions of the subject under consideration as possible; to eliminate all ambiguity and to make everything clear. How far he has succeeded must be left to the student to judge; but having diligently used every possible endeavor to convey the teaching, he feels compelled to guard also against the possibility of this work being taken as an authoritative statement of the Rosicrucian teachings. Neglect of this precaution might give undue weight to this work in the minds of some students. That would not be fair to the Brotherhood nor to the reader. It would have a tendency to throw the responsibility upon the Brotherhood for the mistakes which must occur in this as in all other human works. Hence the above warning.
During the four years which have elapsed since the foregoing paragraphs were written, the writer has continued his investigations of the invisible worlds, and experienced the expansion of consciousness relative to these realms of nature which comes by practice of the precepts taught in the Western Mystery School. Others also who have followed the method of soul-unfoldment herein described as particularly suited to the Western peoples, have likewise been enabled to
verify for themselves many things here taught. Thus the writer's understanding of what was given by the Elder Brothers has received some corroboration and seems to have been substantially correct, therefore he feels it a duty to state this for the encouragement of those who are still unable to see for themselves.
If we had said that the vital body is built of prisms instead of points, it would have been better, for it is by refraction through these minute prisms that the colorless solar fluid changes to a rosy hue as observed by other writers beside the author.
Other new and important discoveries have also been made; for instance, we know now that the Silver Cord is grown anew in each life, that one part sprouts from the seed atom of the desire body in the great vortex of the liver, that the other part grows out of the seed atom of the dense body in the heart, that both parts meet in the seed atom of the vital body in the solar plexus, and that this union of the higher and lower vehicles causes the quickening. Further development of the cord between the heart and solar plexus during the first seven years has an important bearing on the mystery of childlife, likewise its fuller growth from the liver to the solar plexus, which takes place during the second septenary period, is a contributory cause of adolescence. Completion of the Silver Cord marks the end of childlife, and from that time the solar energy which enters through the spleen and is tinted by refraction through the prismatic seed atom of the vital body located in the solar plexus, commences to give a distinctive and individual coloring to the aura which we observe in adults. [more]
Keywords: rosicrucian fellowship, max heindel, cosmo
$2.99
Original:Perugu.Ramakrishna
Flemingo
Translation:Jagadhaatri
- Poetry
- English
- 3399 Words
- No Age Recommendation
- 670
- 3
FLEMINGO..(lONG POEM ON MIGRATED BIRDS)
Time is infinite
Time is a canoe
Time is a winged dove
Time is desert silence
Time is the rumble of the oceans
Time is the showering rain droplet
It is the tremor of the heart
Time is the lingo of history
Time is an eternal test
A non stop journey is time
A ceased path is time
Time is life
Time is a flow
Time is death
Time is the opportune right
Time is a tide
Time is the breath
Time is invisible
Time is tangible
Time is a scene of beauty
The breath of an atom is time
The tune of an iota is time
Time is the play of life and death
Time is the envoy of peace and terror
There is no shore that the time has not touched
And no ray of light untouched by time
Time is the manifestation of the ancient Brahman
The modern interpretation of duty is time
Time is earthly and heaven
Time is eternal
Time is the river of life
Life is a journey
In the stream of time!
(2)
Journey
Is a feature of instability
The flow
A lively spirit
Flower voyages
Pollinated
From flower to flower
The bird travels
As love
From shore to shore
As a lineage
Procreation
Is the maternal instinct
And desire for procreation
Is the essence of the expansion of the soul
Copulation
Is it only pertaining to the man alone?
Justice in creation
Flourishes in plural
Many rain droplets do make a rain
Umpteen leaves do make a tree
Millions of cells do make one creation
Loneliness is not the trait of the world
Embossing fetus in the ovum
The bird blows the warmth of breath
The cosmic universe is
Perceived in totality by the inner eye
(3)
Every move is a journey
Every death is a journey
Every birth is a voyage
Flight is the winning spirit of the migrating birds
The effort of the ocean of love
Is to procreate
As the oceans run
With the feet of waves
As the air flows
In wavy winds
As life continues
With the unending breaths
As the world rounds in
Non stop news
In wings and wings
Do fly and arrive these birds
The creatures with passion and patience
Thousands of kilometers of restless journey
To the destination afar
In search of wonderlands
A partly witness of the
Irrepressible instinct
The soaring birds flying
Like hunks of the rainbow
Like the seven colored sankranthi(pongal rangoli)
The flowing sea of the bird flock
Floats on the treasures of the blue oceans
The jingling song of the migrating birds
Is a travel
A stopover
A sojourn
A libido
All are the traces of the moving time….
(4)
The bird is the
Infinite freedom with sprouted wings
The eyes filled with a fear
And a shiver
As the soldier of the border forces
The bird is a being, all time alert
Onlooker with a quest
It is the bird that
Smears a mosaic of colors
To the ends of the wings
And tips of the tails
The bird is the one
Which casts net and
Catches hold of the
Jet velocity
And the splendor of winds
In the moment of hunger
It is the bird that
Surgically operates the available food
And feeds on it as a fork
Welcoming a dawn
The bird is the
Wake up call
To the society
Crossing a cold night
Slivering the foggy morn
With its beak
Flying fast with its legs apart
Runs the bird in prey hunt
Testing the air contaminated
From the farthest branch
Of a tall tree
It is the bird that removes the pollution
On a sunny afternoon
On a choicest water meadow
It is the bird that
Jumps and thumps
And somersaults
Playing water khabaddi
Fluttering the body
Dries its wings
Measuring the distance of thousands of miles
It is the migrating bird
That carries
The history of the other side of the world
To the culture this side
And the race of that land
To this generation here
The bird is the flying goddess of passion
A flying message of peace
Completing the journeys
By the twilight of dusk
Gathering near the tree
It is the bird that gets ready for a chorus concert
It is the bird that reflects
The mynahs of poesy
Gandharvas (divine singers) of music
And the doyens of music
Hunger, sleep, love, and passion
Are similar to all the living beings
Between birth and death
Birds too have relations
They are not promiscuous
Birds too have a social life
They do not know social betrayal
The bird that unfolds its broad wings of vast feels
Seldom knows selfishness
It does not contract with narrow mindedness
To the lady bird
That sits over in hatching
With all balance and patience
The snacks of Pulicot
Brought tucked in the bags beneath its nose
Is fed in pecks and perks by the male
The bird is beyond jealousy and hatred
To the villagers who saved it from
Any one shooting a bullet
The bird as a good Samaritan in ardent gratitude,
Makes the land fertile
with its drops
Gifting a three times crop and leaves the land
The bird must be a role model for the man..!!
For sincerity and commitment
And discipline.
(5)
Exodus is an unending journey
Migration an age old fete
When the hues of life’s backdrop change
Exodus is a weapon
When the clouds anger
Making scarce a droplet of rain
The village turns an exodus
To the anna datha (farmer)
The farmer’s life turns a coolie
Exodus transports a generation
Exodus changes the way of life
At times migration in life
Encircles as a whirl pool
At times drowns as a typhoon
It makes you travel out to the continents
For the sake of the tiny belly
There is no race and no religion
The hunger’s language is universal
It may sojourn over anywhere
Will make you do anything
Stretches its hand until the belly is filled
From a dark continent
On to the dais of light
From an icy country
To the warm place
Builds the bridge of the seasons
(6)
The pelicans moving on the wings of time
The flamingos that ram in the air car
The Painted storks flown in like kites
Fluttering on the Konkanai
Sails of the waves are the black cranes
As the ambassadors of many countries
Have taken part in the international conference
The nature is all over colorful messages of love
All the festivals of love of the bird tourists
Are happily celebrated by the youth
On all the branches of the land are the happy resorts
In whichever village lost is the eye
It is the hustle of the moving colorful dreams
Are the goods of the empires of Manmadha(god of love)
The secrets of Mithuna rasi(Zodiac sign pertaining to love)
The hundred puzzles of the colorful flying boats
All over the Pulicot lake is the congregation of romantic heroes
All over the sky of Pulicot are the airs of emotions
Each bird is a hoisted flag of poesy
The colorful parrot is a short poem of dreams
The dark legged crane that has soiled its feet in the dirt of darkness
Washes them in the blue Pulicot
The myriad colored sea-parrot
Dives into the waters as the water drawing pulley
Alone a great sage
Stands on single foot in penance
When in the shades of waters narayani(heron) appears
He chants the manthra of gutakayaswaha(i.e. to swallow it)
Folding its wings to the sides of time
Gudaswami(the paddy bird or pond heron)
Takes thrice a dip in the Pulitheertham(name of a place)
As if thousands of women
Are stilled as a picture
In the postures of classical Indian dances
On the dais are the postures of the imitating flamingos
The everlasting fight of the usurpers for the water treasure
And for the enticing damsels
As if the Nelapattu has blown the snake charm
Every now and then they journey to the home
Naughty kids being the waves,
Floating are the winged boats
The structure that has turned
The Pralaya Kaveri(stormy Kaveri)
Into pranaya Saveri(lovable Saveri(a raga))
In the radiant jugalbandi of the jalatharangini
Is the passionate shower of dazzling ragas
As soon as it dawns in Pulicot
Spreading the colorful carpet
Entwining the hues of spring and winter
Flows as a soaring garden of blooms
Watering the mouth of the awaiting sea.
(7)
The bird guests under the boundless skies
Are the messiahs of universal brotherhood
The romantic tales carried over by the great poets
The Manmadhas(gods of love) who well knew the secrets of love
Lovers they are, who have left their family and place
With an ardent desire to beget off springs
Though in the size of a seed, but vast are their hearts
Their eyes are like lamps without wicks
To spread light is their message
To perceive life is their philosophy
Life is a penance
Life is radiance
Life is a dawn
Life is providence
Life a tune of the creation
From generation to generation pervades life
From earth to heaven is the debate of puranas
Life is an eternal stream of time!
The birds are the flags hoisted by the King of time!!
(8)
There –
On each branch is a concert
In each nestle, a sonata
Every tree a cluster of myriad hues
A bird fete all over the lands
Chirps and tickles
Coos and laughs
Many a confluences of umpteen springs of ragas
Many a sum of joy
With the exciting songs of the round eyed ones
The climate is delighted
In the highways of power filled skies
A colorful dream unfolds
The milky-way
Turns a rosy hued stream
In the time of saran navarathri Saphari Theerdham(name of a place)
Relaxes in the conference of arts
The banjara(wagabond) birds that have come
Croon the songs of coos
They spread out the treasure troves of love
Onto the nest of the worlds
To the noises of the love making birds
All the stars peer down to the earth
The ways of love of the romantic hearts
Breathe out the passions in loneliness
Stretching his hands of rays, sun of the dawn
Applies henna in stealth
Unfolding the doors of their hearts
The blooms color themselves in serenity
Color is the manifestation of spirit of life!
The lands that were not greeted till the day before
Today are, the life of the birds summit
The trees that were faded till the day before
Are today the strings played veenas
Thousands of flute songs of Krishna
Now the morns of Nelapattu
Are the wavy streams of sweet melodies
Now the evenings of Nelapattu
Are the springs of songs of the elixir of love
A pelican tucks in its lover
Into the nestle of its wings
A painted stork nearing it
Woos its beloved with its long snout
The sabari crane in the tune of passion
Loses himself to the sweet song of its lady love
Turning its body into breath the wood pecker
Smears all over the body of its heart throb
Not only the floods of milky bosoms
But the ardor of sperm too flows
In the great yagna of the Santhana Lakshmi(the goddess of children)
Millions of lives are dawned
(9)
Not only the Devakakulu
But all the birds are the ancient kith and kin!
All our visiting birds are
Manvanthara purandharas!(the age old lords of Heaven)
We assume the Bulbul to be an alien
When have we seen it as a peace monger?
We feel the blind crane as the evil spirit
Have we ever counted it as the
Charioteer of virtue?
Though the python is black in color
It is as good hearted as the dark lord (Lord Krishna)
All the beautiful dances of the red breast are
The festoons of light of the happy family ways
In the life rituals of the branches
Pour in the fuel of lively smiles
In the bright journey of procreation, both the branches
Ignite the lights of new radiances
Numerous tales of love, umpteen loves
Each branch is the cottage of Vathsayana(the author of Kama Sutra)
Every nestle is a sound of music
No creation, no rains, no destruction
No progress of the world is possible without the family life
Children are to the man, seeds of time
And the ovum is the radiance of dynamism for the bird
From the seed the tree and from the tree the seed
Is the first step to the world’s progress
To the yagna(ritual sacrifice) of the migrating birds
The flourishing Kadapa tree is the dais
The tree is the green flag hoisted by the nature
The tree is the comfort to the exhausted mankind
To the alien birds that crossed the oceans
The tree is the temple of conjugal bliss
To the on spreading bird dynasties
The tree is the temple of the secret of creation
(10)
Time is always an open book
All are open truths that are snuggled into it
Time is a teacher that seldom taught anything to anyone
Time is the emissary that tells every one everything
The foreign birds are the prophets of yoga of life
They are the bosom friends that do not know the hatreds of the borders
They are the alien yogis that do not have lust
They are the enlightened ones that have seen the secret of the kala chakra(the cycle of time)
Greets in the universal lingo, and ecstasies
They are well cultured ones that conduct unity camps
Holy souls overflow in joy
To the emigrant flock with the touch of this land
In the lush green shade
Appear the dreams of morrow’s generation
That’s why I say bird is the indication of time
It is the symphony of the past, present and future
The holy fire of confluence is the endorsement of trikala tantra
Bird loves a bird
Soul copulates with the soul
Nelapattu is the dais of the perseverance of Poundarika
Nelapattu is the indication of age old yagas
The sowing of seeds of life from generations
Nature is the balancing measure here
It is here that nature takes another breath
And here the world gives birth to another creation
This little land after crossing over the oceans
Is a living home for a race
It is a pillow of the joys and sorrows
Where the dharma of Buddha has excelled
It is the stage of dance for the danseuse Rathi Devi(wife of kamadeva, the lord of love)
That knew the mystic tune or the tune of mysticism
It’s the moment that seeks the justification of the soul
Having understood the inevitability of the mortal body
Forgetting the body pleasure, and pleasure of the body
Manmadha becomes a passionate yogi here
It’s the nature that fulfils it’s duty on this land
Turning to be a man, it furthers the creation
Congregation of birds that have no disparities
An egalitarian equality
The fragrance of passion to the ones who open eyes
And to the eyes closed sages
The liberation of the soul
Time, changing colors as seasons
For a minute, ecstasies as birds
It’s here that begins an end
To the time infinite
The foundation is laid here
From the end to the endless
(11)
Flamingo offers with love to its lady
The bedisa(silver fish) that it brings with its nose
How much it longs for its lover
When it succeeds to fly in whirls
Catching the vanjaram(the scomber or the seer -fish )in the net of its nose
Fluttering its wings dreams of off springs
Who must have taught so many tunes to these birds?
How was such passion adorned to these round eyed ones?
Which bird was that have shown way to this place?
That results every year in this compulsory family fair
The ecstasy of life in the foreyard of Nelapattu
Wings sprout to the nestlings
The tiny fish school, become their food grains
Pulicot is the field of water crop
The tiny shrimp is the fruit of the crop
Fluttering its wings the blue flamingo
Hounds the snake fish
The crooked nose lakumuki(king fisher) bird
Chase the mattagidasa(the sucking fish, called the Echeneis))
Having shattered the line of the girasa(short) fish
The baby paraja(Rasica) crow feels joyous
The sky seems congested
To the nestlings that got wings
The blue lake is the food store
To the red breast that has learnt to fly
In the battle for food
To the shouts of hunger and
The dance of the Bharatha(Titlark or Pippit called in Dakhini Chendul)) bird
Searching for prey
Bulbul is the food
Hunger is the age old enemy to all the living beings
To gratify hunger is peace for any being
Even the gods of heaven savor elixir in hunger
When big fish is swallowing the small ones
Why is it wrong if birds feed on fish?
As if the rainbows had bathed
As the Apsaras (divine courtesans of the heaven)cast their charms
Festival of colors on the waves of Pulicot
A divine game of the baby sparrows
The water meadow filled with children
Looks like a conference of joy and gay
In the eyes of the bird watchers
Reflects a kaleidoscope of colors
From Nelapattu to Pulicot
This bird festival
Flows like a stream of water colors
The celebration reaches the skies
Neither trap nor net, and no hook
Beak is the mere weapon
The battle of hunger seldom stops
Even in tides and in the nets of waves and typhoons
All the expertise lies in hunting
However a great jalapushpam(fish)
The test is to catch the prey with its beak
Is the sanguine trait shared
Pulicot is the resort for a change of climate
For the progress of the breed the trunks of Nelapattu are the residencies
The Pralaya Kaveri is now the grace f love
Every nestling born here is morrow’s bird
The yester born narayana(the common heron)
The water parrot that fed on this land
Having breathed his first in the nest of this tree
Can the alien Sabari ever forget?
The colorful dreams of the pelicans
The blooms of hope of their beautiful nights
The cool breeze and the odor of the soil of Nelapattu
Can the red breast ever lose memory of this honeymoon?
The ecology of India echoed with
The divine violin notes of gratitude
The land is infinite and sky vast
As the flow of time the ocean too is boundless
The one who called these foreign birds as aliens
The one who made immigration as inheritance
If he goes from this village
Begets a child in that great nation
Earns a green card and citizenship
But how can the egg laid here be an alien?
Can the way of pariga(the rose colored Starling or theCholam bird. Pastor roseus) brought up in the Pralaya Kaveri be changed?
This soil is remembered by every bird
And hence every year it turns up to its motherland!
(12)
The scene of the skies blooming in myriad colors
On the branches of the rubber trees is
The sweet home of the flamingo and pelican
Reflects the groping families of man
In the spreading apartment culture
In the shades of the hoods of the waters of Pralaya Kaveri
Joyously bathes the Siberia
Forgetting the tiresomeness of thousands of miles
As the armed forces of navy
The meghmalhar(a raga that invokes rain God) song of the bird
How many brushes of the artist must have bowed in reverence?
To this sea parrot
Umpteen canvases must have lost their faces
In the symphony of the chirps of love birds is
The still picture of the happy NRI doves
The music of sarigama (the seven music notes)that teaches the soaring music to the heart
At least once in a year……
The passion for the embrace of the motherland
The longing to kiss the soil of birth
The son of the soil who lost his inner face
Forgetting the roots of life in the battle
Having turned into a machine
At least …now
Have to transmigrate into the bird!
Conclusion
All the souls become one
The cosmic treasures become divine souls
In the confluence of the water treasures of India
Taking a holy dip turn to be the holy souls
What may be the divinity of the migrating birds
They always worship Narayana in waters.
Telugu original: Perugu Ramakrishna Eng trans: Jagaddhatri [more]
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