My World: Whose house this is I think I know.*

[fahim mohammed]

Whose house this is I think I know.***
His house is in the village though;***
He will not see me stopping here***
To warn him of the winds that blow

The stones are lovely, dark and deep.***
But I have promises to keep,***
And miles to go before I sleep,***
And miles to go before I sleep.


I hope Mr. Frost shall pardon me for the few changes.

 

[Doug Kerr]

Hi, Fahim,

Fabulous!

Best regards,

Doug

 

[Helene Anderson]

Inspired, unique, an interesting viewpoint . . . . . . can't quite find the right word, but it is an shot that sets the mind looking for words, big like from me.

 

[fahim mohammed]

Doug, Helene...

You both are also fabulous and inspired. Thank you.



I was thinking of something as I entered these stone walls;


There was a Door to which I found no Key:
There was a Veil past which I could not see:
Some little Talk awhile of ME and THEE
There seem'd - and then no more of THEE and ME.
*
Then to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried,
Asking, " What Lamp had Destiny to guide
Her little Children stumbling in the Dark?"
And - "A blind Understanding!" Heav'n replied.

Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose
That Youth's sweet-scented Manuscript should close !
The Nightingale that in the Branches sang,
Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows !

With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow,
And with my own hand labour'd it to grow:
And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd -
"I came like Water, and like Wind I go."

Omar Khayyam: Translatation by Edward Fitzgerald: From the Rubaiyat.

 

[Ruben Alfu]

Very powerful image Fahim, congrats!

Ruben

 

[fahim mohammed]

Very powerful image Fahim, congrats!

Ruben

Ruben, much appreciated my friend. Thank you.

 

[fahim mohammed]

Bears repeating....

With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow,
And with my own hand labour'd it to grow:
And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd -
"I came like Water, and like Wind I go."

 

[fahim mohammed]

The images posted in this thread are from the Nabataean city of Petra in Jordan.

The greater part of the poetry is by a mathematical genius, an astronomer par excellence of the

11th century. He of course is know more for his poetry than his mathematics.

Omar Khayyam calculated the length of the year to be 365.24219858156 days.

In the 21st century with data from the Hubble telescope, atomic clocks, and computations a year

is reputed to be 365.242190 days. An inaccuracy of a few fraction of a second by the poet from

Nishapur, Iran.

An image from Petra: Once upon a time, long long ago, here lived a people..

And a verse from the master poet to conclude this series..

When You and I behind the Veil are past,
Oh but the long long while the World shall last,
Which of our Coming and Departure heeds
As much as Ocean of a pebble-cast.

Thank you for your time.