Saturday, 28 August 2010


102. Der Weg zum Schöpfer
Du armer Sterblicher, ach bleib doch nicht so kleben
An Farben dieser Welt und ihrem schnöden Leben.
Die Schönheit des Geschöpfs ist nur ein bloßer Steg,
Der uns zum Schöpfer selbst, dem Schönsten, zeigt den Weg.

Book 3 102 The Way to the Creator
Alas, O mortal Man, do not set such vast worth
On baser appetites and colours of this earth.
The beauty of the creature is nothing but a bridge,
Which leads to the Creator, Who Himself Beauty is.

Angelus Silesius, The Cherubinic Wanderer 

German version


234. Wirkung der heiligen Dreifaltigkeit
Der Sohn erlöset uns, der Geist, der macht uns leben,
Des Vaters Allmacht wird uns die Vergöttung geben.

Book 6 234 The working of the blessed Trinity
The Son redeemeth us, the Spirit vivifies,
The Father omnipotent will make us divinized.

Angelus Silesius, The Cherubinic Wanderer 

German version

Sunday, 22 August 2010

Creation and Trinity

Thus, as Maximus the Confessor said later, to contemplate the smallest object is to experience the Trinity: the very being of the object takes us back to the Father; the meaning it expresses, its logos, speaks to us of the Logos; its growth to fullness and beauty reveals the Breath, the Life-giver.

Olivier Clément, The Roots of Christian Mysticism (London, 1993), p63.

Tuesday, 10 August 2010

Maintenance as Love


There is a kind of love called maintenance,
Which stores the WD40 and knows when to use it,

Which checks the insurance, and doesn't forget
The milkman, which remembers to plant bulbs,

Which answers letters, which knows the way
The money goes, which deals with dentists

And Road Fund Tax and meeting trains,
And postcards to the lonely, which upholds

The permanently ricketty elaborate
Structures of living, which is Atlas.

And maintenance is the sensible side of love,
Which knows what time and weather are doing
To my brickwork, insulates my faulty wiring,
Laughs at my dryrotten jokes, remembers
My need for gloss and grouting, which keeps
My suspect edifice upright in air,
As Atlas did the sky.

UA Fanthorpe, Collected Poems (2005).

Sunday, 8 August 2010

The Rose

1.289. Ohne warumb.
Die Ros' ist ohn warumb / sie blühet weil sie blühet /
Sie achtt nicht jhrer selbst / fragt nicht ob man sie sihet.

The rose is without why; it blooms because it blooms.
Forgetful of itself, oblivious to our vision.

Angelus Silesius (Johann Scheffler), The Cherubinic Wanderer (1657)

I find you

I find you, Lord, in all Things and in all
my fellow creatures, pulsing with your life;
as a tiny seed you sleep in what is small
and in the vast you vastly yield yourself.

The wondrous game that power plays with Things
is to move in such submission through the world:
groping in roots and growing thick in trunks
and in treetops like a rising from the dead.

From "The Book of Hours" 1 The Book of the Monkish Life--22, by Rainer Maria Rilke (1875 - 1926)

Ich finde dich in allen diesen Dingen,
denen ich gut und wie ein Bruder bin;
als Samen sonnst du dich in den geringen
und in den großen gibst du groß dich hin.

Das ist das wundersame Spiel der Kräfte,
daß sie so dienend durch die Dinge gehn:
in Wurzeln wachsend, schwindend in die Schäfte
und in den Wipfeln wie ein Auferstehn.

Das Stunden Buch (1906): Das Buch vom mönchischen Leben, Erstes Buch (1899) 22
24.9.1899, Berlin-Schmargendorf