Every month there is a shopping that I indulge in – to buy books 🙂 and spend a sizeable portion of my salary : ( In one of those sprees I had got this book ‘The Language of Love- a celebration of Love and Passion’ by Megan Tresidder. Do not get ideas of the book by its cover or title.
The book looks into love as a topic under study and looks at it from a different angle. I would not be able to relate to it on a deep level for I have not fallen in love. On the other hand, I should for the sake of saying it (for some people really think that love is something that everybody is always in); say I have not been in love for a long time now. 😛
Read if you, have a lot of time to kill/ like all forms of poetry/ are looking for a poem to put on a card for your Dearest.
“Love is the most complex and important of all human emotions. It defies adequate definition, but in its grandeur and its imaginative power over our lives, it can be both creative and destructive, beautiful and terrifying.”
(No adequate definition, but people do write soooo much about it!)
“Freud was the first to propose a coherent theory of love based on scientific principles”
(I have liked his theories, and hence I dare not to comment)
There are many more inferences from Freud, Plato, Greek literature, European mythology and Indian mythology (apparently, we did have quite a few interesting findings in love!). All aside what drew me to this book beyond all of the above, was the reproduction of art – some of the classics, French paintings, sculptures, very intense paintings by renowned artists, some classics from Indian art, and… Poetry.
I had decided when I came across the book that I should put up the best of the poems in the book as a blog. Beethoven’s moonlight sonata playing in the background, here goes (poetry with moonlight anything is unbeaten – anytime, anywhere!)
There is a strong wall about me to protect me:
It is built of the words you have said to me.
There are swords about me to keep me safe:
They are the kisses of your lips.
Before me goes a shield to guard me from harm:
It is the shadow of your arms between me and danger.
All the wishes of my mind know your name,
And the white desires of my heart
They are acquainted with you.
The cry of my body for completeness,
That is a cry for you.
My blood beats out your name to me, unceasing, pitiless
Your name, your name…
Love song – Mary Carolyn Davies
First time he kissed me, he but only kissed
The fingers of this hand wherewith I write,
And ever since it grew more clean and white,…
Slow to world greetings… quick with its “ Oh,list,”
When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst
I could not wear here plainer to my sight,
Than that first kiss. The second passed in height
The first, and sought a the forehead, and half missed,
Half falling on the hair, O beyond meed!
That was the chrism of love, which love’s own crown,
With sanctifying sweetness, did precede.
The third, upon my lips, was folded down
In perfect, purple state! Since when, indeed,
I have been proud and said, “My love, my own.”
Sonnet from the Portuguese XXXVIII – Elizabeth Barrett Browning
As the apple tree among the trees of the wood,
So is my beloved among the sons.
I sat down under his shadow with great delight,
And his fruit was sweet to my taste.
He brought me to the banqueting house,
And his banner over me was love.
Stay me with flagons,
Comfort me with apples:
For I am sick of love
King James Bible, 1611
When I lie prone above your lovely face
Your eyes reveal strange glints of white, of black,
And my whole bloodstream seethes along its track
Right to the heart itself the colours race.
What they disclose is love, who changes place,
Now low, now high, bow bent and staring back,
Shot after shot I suffer his attack.
Reason, if I am deluded, state your case!
Such loss of self-control these visions bring
I would betray my father and my king,
My sisters, brothers, mother – yes and France.
So crazed I am, having drunk long and well
A venom spurted by our dalliance
Out of the eyes which hold me in their spell.
Pierre de Ronsard
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest,
Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest;
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee
William Shakespeare, sonnet 18.
Come live with me and be my love
And we will all the pleasure prove
That valleys, groves, hills and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks.
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;
A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lamb we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of these purest gold;
A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.
The shepherd’s swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.
The passionate shepherd to His Love – Christopher Marlowe
That is about the long list that I found in this book. The era of poetry comes back after a long time, a good sign in itself for me, if not for you.
PS Rahul, if you are reading this, then please note I have not made any more goof-ups until now. Tomorrow is a different, but I promise that as always you will be appraised if anything happens. And yes, feel free to copy the content for your correspondence with the women in your life 😉