ATTAR BOOKS
Attar Books publishes philosophic, poetic and literary works that offer fresh perspectives on our shared spirituality, exploring ancient and contemporary perspectives that extend our knowledge of how we can deveklop in order to experience the greater reality within and without.
Attar's first publication is a collection of mystical poetry by Attar founder, Keith Hill. Inspired by the writings of the ancient Jewish prophets, St John of the Cross, and the Sufis Jalal al-Din Rumi and Ibn Al-Arabi, it brings the poetic techniques of the ancient mystics into the Western literary tradition.
This is an important collection that contains some truly beautiful love poetry, and that says a great deal about the joruney towards the Beloved in just forty moving poems.
PSALMS OF EXILE AND RETURN
Last night, on my bed, I sought you whom my heart loves;
In the moonlight, insensible, my heart suffused with blood.
My beloved, you know you're my only lover;
I remember you, for Yahweh gave us to one another.
When I lost you in the desert march, yes, I wept;
My eyes blurred and I stumbled: my fractured feet bled.
So it was, last night, that desolation swept my heart;
Once again I felt the anguish of our being apart.
I rose and walked: I sang to the moon in the sky;
The night watchmen started: I soothed them with a sigh.
Longing, inspired, I flew high above Babylon's streets;
I glimpsed a wadi where sky and horizon meet.
And I thought, there! that is where my beloved waits;
That is the rendezvous to which I must escape.
Then I sank down onto my bed, overcome with bliss;
And I dreamed – wonderful! – I dreamed I felt your kiss!
REVIEWS
If you are lost and in the dark, this book may just be a candle of illumination. - Rabbi Rami Shapiro (USA)
They touched me. Very beauitful. - Jonathan Besser (USA/NZ)
Much here to consider and enjoy. - Raewyn Alexander, Magazine (NZ)
MORE ABOUT PSALMS OF EXILE AND RETURN
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COMING IN LATE 2008
WALKING WITHOUT FEET: Selected Poetry of Mirabai and Kabir by Keith Hill
India's two greatest Medieval poets, Mirabai and Kabir, are among the finest mystic poets in all world literature. The exquisite devotional lyrics of Mirabai, still sung in India today, and the knotty, acerbic sayings of Kabir, which resonate with seekers of all spiritual traditions, are on a par with the work of the other great spiritual artists of the same pre-Renaissance era – the ecstatic poems of St John of the Cross, the visionary art and music of Abbess Hildegard of Bingen, the revolutionary frescos of Giotto, and the lyricism of the Persian Sufi poets Hafiz and Rumi.
Mirabai and Kabir not only illuminate the deep struggle that is required in order to achieve spiritual development, but both also create intense, intelligent, emotional, and challenging poems. For today's Western cultures, dominated as they are by materialist values and much superficial religiosity, the profound spirituality at the heart of both poets’ work is as relevant today as it was when Mirabai and Kabir originally wrote.
This collection presents 21 of Mirabai lyrics, and 8 poems by Kabir. The translations were undertaken at the instigation Shri Muniji Maharaj, and were written during a six-month stay on a Shri Muniji's ashram in Rajasthan, during an intense period of meditation. The poems were selected by Shri Muniji both to offer a representative sample of each poet's work, and to act as an introduction to Indian spiritual practices and thought.
Three poems by Mirabai
I cannot live without you
Beloved! I cannot live without you.
I long for us to meet, yet what am I to do?
Bloomed lotus without water, night sky with no moon;
I'm a sad woman; lover, when will you return?
Anxious, anguished, I roam lost night and day;
Separation eats my heart, I cry out like one flayed.
Days I feel no hunger, nights I cannot sleep;
When I try to explain, I find my tongue won't speak.
Yet what am I to say? Talking's what strangers do!
Lover, come now and fill my being with you.
You own my soul, so why this tortuous absence?
Come to your captive and end this tearful sentence.
Mira has dedicated many lives to you.
She longs to kiss your feet – and prays you want that too!
Mira’s tied bells to her ankles
Mira's tied bells to her ankles, see how she dances!
There's magic in her feet, and fire in her glances!
Why has such ecstasy into her been poured?
Because she declared herself the servant of the Lord!
People stared and shouted that she's become insane.
Those of ‘high caste’ said she only brought her house shame!
Ranaji has sent a cup of poison for her to drink.
She drained it with a laugh and didn't even feel sick!
O Mira's beloved will never not be.
He's eternal delight, and she’s found him so easily!
Always remain before my eyes
Beloved! Please always remain before my eyes.
Enter my vision and there permanently reside;
No, never leave; no forgetting nor chilling goodbyes.
I float on this world's cares without attachments or ties;
Take care of your lover so she never has cause to cry.
Ranaji has sent poison, he wants me to die;
I pray, turn this to a cup of nectar; show I don't lie.
May Mira at last meet the one she most admires;
And may there be no parting after, just love's eternal fire!
Two excerpts from Kabir
On the Grace of the Guru (excerpt)
All creatures roam the universe
like cows lost in the jungle;
we only ever find God through
the Guru’s instruction.
I found a competent Guru
through whom all is gained.
Now both my caste and creed have been
completely washed away.
Knowledge urged me to find a Guru
competent to teach truth;
by God’s grace I was brought
under such a one’s roof.
Yet Guru and God are the same,
all else is futile fog;
and only by destroying the ego
can we attain to God.
The Guru has consoled me,
through him was my mind inspired;
on the shores of Lake Mansarovar
I found a sparkling diamond.
By the Guru’s grace, my mind was stilled
and consoled. Now I know:
God roams the heart; this is a story
all living creatures follow.
Only Kabir says it,
“Sit on movement for consolation.
Practice meditation fearlessly,
allowing no diversion.”
All the universe suffers
the ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’ of doubt;
only they who catch the Guru’s words
ever throw doubt out.
I was sliding backwards, enmeshed
in the world, selfish;
midway I met the Guru,
he gave me the lamp of knowledge.
This lamp is filled with oil,
its wick endless and burning;
the way thus lit, I journeyed with
the aim of not returning.
On how to recognise the Guru (excerpt)
No competent Gurus nor pupils I found,
just players of greedy games;
all sank in maya’s sea,
for they sailed boats made of stone.
If the Guru is blind, naturally
his pupils are blind too;
and if blind lead the blind, fall in
a well is all they can do!
I say, cut off that Guru’s beard whose
teaching doesn’t scythe doubt;
for not only does he sink, but
he drags his pupils down.
An incompetent Guru means
the pupil is incapable;
grasping pupil, profit-seeking Guru,
and both are in trouble.
As rain seeks no payment for filling
reservoirs and streams,
so the Guru infuses freely with
his endless qualities.
Without a competent Guru
you’ll remain an illiterate fool.
Dress like a saint, inside you’re an idiot
begging from door to door.