Posts Tagged ‘ melancholy ’

My Eyes Are Jealous Of My Heart

My eyes are jealous of my heart.

It’s amazing how a single thing can mean various things to various people. Maybe that’s why poetry is so beautiful; it’s written for you. It’s the symbolism in it that makes it so vague and yet so familiar. When Pink Floyd sang “The rain fell slow down on all the roofs of uncertainty; I thought of you and years of all the sadness fell away from me”, or when Jagjit Singh wrote “Hum lavon se kehena paaye unse haal-e-dil kabhi, aur woh samjhe nahi ye khamosi kya cheez hai”, or when a friend of mine said the line “My eyes are jealous of my heart”, I knew what they were talking about.

Then again, when I think about it, it’s most likely that I possibly can’t understand what made them choose those words. But it’s not about what the lines meant to them. It’s about what it means to me. How I relate with each of those lines. Those lines were mine. A gift – from them to me. And I’ll forever be thankful for the lines.


(This is my dedication to those lines)

Who are you?
Why do i feel this?
I’m scared;
I try to hide,
The hurt that’s inside.
I can’t do it again;
Walked that line once,
Felt the pain.

You call me from somewhere.
I want to answer,
But do I dare?
My senses are numb,
But I can hear.
Still, how can I?
how can i forget the tears?
The fear
It’s still there,
Forever to stay.
You take me back
To the rainy day,
The sunset and the stars;
A few days of laughter,
Then a lifetime of scars.

You tell me it’ll be different;
You encourage me to have faith.
Faith in love,
Rising above,
The heartaches of the past.
The power of believing,
My heart rejoices in this new feeling.
I sense a new start,
I wonder if it’s real.
My silly heart’s sings in joy,
My cynical eyes just can’t feel.
My heart sees a happy ending,
But my eyes see us being apart.
Burned, tourmented and scarred,
My eyes are, forever, jealous of my heart.

Gloomy Sunday

I had heard about this song many times before… almost each time with different lyrics. The reason behind this inconsistency in words is that this was first written in Hungarian language and later different artists translated it in their own way.

I found this version here and instantly fell in love with the misery in it…



Sadly one Sunday
I waited and waited
With flowers in my arms
All the dream has created
I waited ’til dreams,
Like my heart, were all broken
The flowers were all dead
And the words were unspoken
The grief that I know
Was beyond all consoling
The beat of my heart
Was a bell that was tolling

Saddest of Sundays

Then came a Sunday
When you came to find me
They bore me to church
And I left you behind me
My eyes could not see
What I wanted to love me
The earth and the flowers
Are forever above me
The Bell tolled for me
And the wind whispered, “Never!”
But you I have loved
And I’ll bless you forever

Last of all Sundays


Gloomy Sunday from The Singer (Mute, 1992)Writing credits: Diamanda Galas; performed by Diamanda Galas.