Friday, March 1, 2013

Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi


Jalāl ad-Dīn Muḥammad Balkhī, also known as Jalāl ad-Dīn Muḥammad Rūmī, and popularly known as Mowlānā but known to the English-speaking world simply as Rumi, (30 September 1207 – 17 December 1273), was a 13th-century Persian poet, jurist, theologian, and mystic. He was born on September 30, 1207 in Balkh (Afghanistan). His father Baha' Walad was descended from the first caliph Abu Bakr and was influenced by the ideas of Ahmad Ghazali, brother of the famous philosopher. Baha' Walad's sermons were published and still exist as Divine Sciences (Ma'arif). He fled the Mongols with his son in 1219, and it was reported that at Nishapur young Rumi met 'Attar, who gave him a copy of his Book of Mysteries (Asrar-nama). After a pilgrimage to Mecca and other travels, the family went to Rum (Anatolia). Baha' Walad was given an important teaching position in the capital at Konya (Iconium) in 1228 by Seljuk king 'Ala' al-Din Kayqubad (r. 1219-1236) and his vizier Mu'in al-Din. Rumi married and had a son, who later wrote his biography. In 1231 Rumi succeeded his late father as a religious teacher. His father's friend Burhan al-Din arrived and for nine years taught Rumi Sufism. Rumi probably met the philosopher ibn al-Arabi at Damascus.


The general theme of Rumi’s thought, like that of other mystic and Sufi poets is essentially that of the concept of tawhīd – union with his beloved (the primal root) from which/whom he has been cut off and become aloof – and his longing and desire to restore it.
The Masnavi weaves fables, scenes from everyday life, Qur’anic revelations and exegesis, and metaphysics into a vast and intricate tapestry.Rumi is considered an example of Insan-e Kamil — Perfect Man, the perfected or completed human being. In the East, it is said of him that he was “not a prophet — but surely, he has brought a scripture”.
Rumi believed passionately in the use of music, poetry, and dance as a path for reaching God. For Rumi, music helped devotees to focus their whole being on the divine, and to do this so intensely that the soul was both destroyed and resurrected. It was from these ideas that the practice of “whirling” dervishes developed into a ritual form. His teachings became the base for the order of the Mevlevi which his son Sultan Walad organized. Rumi encouraged samāʿ, listening to music and turning or doing the sacred dance. In the Mevlevi tradition, samāʿ represents a mystical journey of spiritual ascent through mind and love to the Perfect One. In this journey, the seeker symbolically turns towards the truth, grows through love, abandons the ego, finds the truth, and arrives at the Perfect. The seeker then returns from this spiritual journey, with greater maturity, to love and to be of service to the whole of creation without discrimination with regard to beliefs, races, classes, and nations.


Rumi’s poetry is often divided into various categories: the quatrains (rubayāt) and odes (ghazal) of the Divan, the six books of the Masnavi, The Discourses, The Letters, and the almost unknown Six Sermons.

Rumi's major work is the Maṭnawīye Ma'nawī (Spiritual Couplets; مثنوی معنوی), a six-volume poem regarded by some Sufis as the Persian-language Qur'an. It is considered by many to be one of the greatest works of mystical poetry. It contains approximately 27000 lines of Persian poetry.

This Torture

This Torture



Why should we tell you our love stories
 when you spill them together like blood in the dirt?

Love is a pearl lost on the ocean floor, 
or a fire we can’t see,

but how does saying that 
push us through the top of the head into
 the light above the head?

Love is not
 an iron pot, so this boiling energy
 won’t help.

Soul, heart, self. 
Beyond and within those
 is one saying,

How long before 
I’m free of this torture!



From The Book of Love
Translated by Coleman Barks




Eyes

Eyes



What is it that sees when vision is clear?
 The core that has no story, has that ever seen anything?

Surely vision has loyalties. 
Someone buying eye medicine does not see well, 
but well enough, at least, to choose the cure.

Beyond day and night one watches 
as your eyes close and open and close, as night
 turning day turns night, as eyes 
like particles float 
in the light that is your face, 
that is the sun.

Without you our eyes might be a danger
 to the soul, but with you they become the same
 as the soul. When that happens, 
the heart is seeing!

You can say that the eyes see God, but it is God
 who sees, as in the Qur’an when the desert mountain
 looks at God, and eyes appear on every stone.



From The Book of Love 
Translated by Coleman Barks

One Swaying Being

One Swaying Being



Love is not condescension, never 
that, nor books, nor any marking

on paper, nor what people say of 
each other. Love is a tree with

branches reaching into eternity
 and roots set deep in eternity,

and no trunk! Have you seen it? 
The mind cannot. Your desiring
cannot. The longing you feel for
 this love comes from inside you.

When you become the Friend, your
longing will be as the man in

the ocean who holds to a piece of 
wood. Eventually, wood, man, and

ocean become one swaying being, 
Shams Tabriz, the secret of God.



From The Book of Love
Translated by Coleman Barks




The Man of God

The Man of God



The man of God is drunken without wine,
The man of God is full without meat.
The man of God is distraught and bewildered,
The man of God has no food or sleep.
The man of God is a king beneath a dervish-cloak,
The man of God is a treasure in a ruin.
The man of God is not of air and earth,
The man of God is not of fire and water.
The man of God is a boundless sea,
The man of God rains pearls without a cloud.
The man of God has hundred moons and skies,
The man of God has hundred suns.
The man of God is made wise by the Truth,
The man of God is not learned from book.
The man of God is beyond infidelity and religion,
To the man of God, right and wrong are alike.
The man of God has ridden away from Not-being,
The man of God is gloriously attended.
The man of God is concealed, Shamsi Din;
The man of God do you seek and find!



Translated by 
Coleman Barks

Who Are You

Who Are You



Who are you? The inner vision of consciousness? 
The heart? A sacred half-light, are you that?

Do you grow gatherings? Are you a friend 
of the sun, who comes and goes so quickly?

Do not forget your vertical passage,
 the night of power,
and don’t hide from the one 
for whom all our secrets are down in the pillow under 
his head, doctor of lovers, soul for
 this thick world,

the one who spirals iron
 like dough and makes the body lightedness.

No belief is necessary to enter this tent
 where one love story changes to another.

I remember that with these words brought here
 by a falcon from the wrist of Shams.



From The Book of Love
Translated by Coleman Barks

Who Is In The House of My Heart

Who Is In The House of My Heart




Who is in the house of my heart,
 I cried in the middle of the night.
 Love [God] said,
 "It is I, but what are all these images that fill your
 house?"
 I said, they are the reflection of Your beautiful Face.
 Love asked,
 "But what is this image full of pain?"
 I said, it is me lost in the sorrows of life
 and showed Love my soul full of wounds.
 Love offered me one end of a thread and said:
 "Take it so I can pull you back,
 but do not break the delicate string."
 I reached towards it but Love struck my hand.
 I asked, why the harshness?
 Love said,
 "To remind you that whoever comes to Love's holy space
 proud and full of himself,
 will be sent away.
 Look at Love with the eyes of your heart."



Translated by 
Coleman Barks

He Is The First And The Last

He Is The First And The Last




He is the first, He is the last, He is the outward, He is the inward;
I know none other except "Ya Hu" [Yahweh]
 and "Ya man Hu" ["O He who is"].
I am intoxicated with Love's cup,
 the two worlds have passed out of my ken;
I have no business save carouse and revelry.
If once in my life I spent a moment without you,
From that time and from that hour I repent of my life.
If once in this world I win a moment with you,
I will trample on both worlds, I will dance in triumph for ever.
O Shamsi Tabriz, I am so drunken in this world,
That except of drunkenness and revelry I have no tale to tell.



Translated by 
Coleman Barks

The Root of The Root of Your Self

The Root of The Root of Your Self




Don’t go away, come near.
Don’t be faithless, be faithful.
Find the antidote in the venom.
Come to the root of the root of yourself.

Molded of clay, yet kneaded
from the substance of certainty,
a guard at the Treasury of Holy Light –
come, return to the root of the root of your Self.

Once you get hold of selflessness,
You’ll be dragged from your ego
and freed from many traps.
Come, return to the root of the root of your Self.

You are born from the children of God’s creation,
but you have fixed your sight too low.
How can you be happy?
Come, return to the root of the root of your Self.

You were born from a ray of God’s majesty
and have the blessings of a good star.
Why suffer at the hands of things that don’t exist?
Come, return to the root of the root of your Self.

You are a ruby embedded in granite.
How long will you pretend it’s not true?
We can see it in your eyes.
Come to the root of the root of your Self.

You came here from the presence of that fine Friend,
a little drunk, but gentle, stealing our hearts
with that look so full of fire; so,
come, return to the root of the root of your Self.

Our master and host, Shamsi Tabrizi,
has put the eternal cup before you.
Glory be to God, what a rare wine!
So come, return to the root of the root of your Self.



From Love Is A Stranger
Translated by Kabir Helminski

How Should The Soul

How Should The Soul 



How should the soul not take wings
when from the Glory of God
It hears a sweet, kindly call:
"Why are you here, soul? Arise!"
How should a fish not leap fast
into the sea form dry land
When from the ocean so cool
the sound of the waves reaches its
How should the falcon not fly
back to his king from the hunt
When from the falconer's drum
it hears to call: "Oh, come back"?
Why should not every Sufi
begin to dance atom-like
Around the Sun of duration
that saves from impermanence?
What graciousness and what beauty?
What life-bestowing! What grace!
If anyone does without that, woe-
what err, what suffering!
Oh fly , of fly, O my soul-bird,
fly to your primordial home!
You have escaped from the cage now-
your wings are spread in the air.
Oh travel from brackish water
now to the fountain of life!
Return from the place of the sandals
now to the high seat of souls!
Go on! Go on! we are going,
and we are coming, O soul,
From this world of separation
to union, a world beyond worlds!
How long shall we here in the dust-world
like children fill our skirts
With earth and with stones without value,
with broken shards without worth?
Let's take our hand from the dust grove,
let's fly to the heavens' high,
Let's fly from our childish behaviour
and join the banquet of men!
Call out, O soul, to proclaim now
that you are rules and king!
You have the grace of the answer,
you know the question as well!



From Look! This Is Love
Translated by Annemarie Schimmel

You Must Not Be Afraid of Death

You Must Not Be Afraid of Death



You mustn't be afraid of death
you're a deathless soul
you can't be kept in a dark grave
you're filled with God's glow
be happy with your beloved
you can't find any better
the world will shimmer
because of the diamond you hold
when your heart is immersed
in this blissful love
you can easily endure
any bitter face around
in the absence of malice
there is nothing but
happiness and good times
don't dwell in sorrow my friend.



From Rumi, Fountain of Fire
Translated by Nader Khalili

I Shall Die

I Shall Die



Oh happy day when in you presence,
my ruler, I shall die!
When near the sugar-treasure melting
like sugar I shall die!
Out of my dust will grow a thousand
of centrifolias
When in the shade of yonder cypress
in gardens I shall die.
And when you pour into my goblet
the bitter drink of death,
I'll kiss the goblet full of joy, dear,
and drunken I shall die.
I may turn yellow like the autumn
when people speak of death,
Thanks to your smiling lip: like springtime
and smiling shall I die.
I have died many times, but your breath
made me alive again,
Should I die thus a hundred more times
I happily shall die!
A child that dies in mother's bosom,
that's how I am, my friend,
For in the bosom of His Mercy
and kindness, I shall die.
Say: Where would death be for the lovers?
Impossible is that!
For in the fountain of the Water
of Life - there I shall die!



From Look! This Is Love
Translated by Annemarie Schimmel

Remember Me

Remember Me



Remember me.
I will be with you in the grave
on the night you leave behind
your shop and your family.
When you hear my soft voice
echoing in your tomb,
you will realize
that you were never hidden from my eyes.
I am the pure awareness within your heart,
with you during joy and celebration,
suffering and despair.
On that strange and fateful night
you will hear a familiar voice --
you'll be rescued from the fangs of snakes
and the searing sting of scorpions.
The euphoria of love will sweep over your grave;
it will bring wine and friends, candles and food.
When the light of realization dawns,
shouting and upheaval
will rise up from the graves!
The dust of ages will be stirred
by the cities of ecstasy,
by the banging of drums,
by the clamor of revolt!
Dead bodies will tear off their shrouds
and stuff their ears in fright--
What use are the senses and the ears
before the blast of that Trumpet?
Look and you will see my form
whether you are looking at yourself
or toward that noise and confusion.
Don't be blurry-eyed,
See me clearly-
See my beauty without the old eyes of delusion.
Beware! Beware!
Don't mistake me for this human form.
The soul is not obscured by forms.
Even if it were wrapped in a hundred folds of felt
the rays of the soul's light
would still shine through.
Beat the drum,
Follow the minstrels of the city.
It's a day of renewal
when every young man
walks boldly on the path of love.
Had everyone sought God
Instead of crumbs and copper coins
They would not be sitting on the edge of the moat
in darkness and regret.
What kind of gossip-house
have you opened in our city?
Close your lips
and shine on the world
like loving sunlight.
Shine like the Sun of Tabriz rising in the East.
Shine like the star of victory.
Shine like the whole universe is yours!



From Rumi - In The Arms of The Beloved
Translated by Jonathan Star

Looking For Your Face

Looking For Your Face



From the beginning of my life
I have been looking for your face
but today I have seen it

Today I have seen
the charm, the beauty,
the unfathomable grace
of the face
that I was looking for

Today I have found you
and those who laughed
and scorned me yesterday
are sorry that they were not looking
as I did

I am bewildered by the magnificence
of your beauty
and wish to see you
with a hundred eyes

My heart has burned with passion
and has searched forever
for this wondrous beauty
that I now behold

I am ashamed
to call this love human
and afraid of God
to call it divine

Your fragrant breath
like the morning breeze
has come to the stillness of the garden
You have breathed new life into me
I have become your sunshine
and also your shadow

My soul is screaming in ecstasy
Every fiber of my being
is in love with you

Your effulgence
has lit a fire in my heart
for me
the earth and sky

My arrow of love
has arrived at the target
I am in the house of mercy
and my heart
is a place of prayer.



From The Love Poems of Rumi
Edited by Deepak Chopra / Translated by Fereydoun Kia

Thursday, February 28, 2013

The Source of Joy

The Source of Joy 




No one knows what makes the soul wake up
 so happy! Maybe a dawn breeze 
has blown the veil from the face of God.

A thousand new moons appear. 
Roses open laughing. 
Hearts become perfect rubies
 like those from Badakshan.

The body turns entirely spirit.
 Leaves become branches in this wind.

Why is it now so easy to surrender, 
even for those already surrendered?

There’s no answer to any of this. 
No one knows the source of joy.

A poet breathes into a reed flute, 
and the tip of every hair makes music.

Shams sails down clods of dirt from the roof, 
and we take jobs as doorkeepers for him. 



From The Book of Love 
Translated by Coleman Barks

You Wreck My Shop

You Wreck My Shop



You wreck my shop and my house and now my heart,
 but how can I run from what gives me life?

I’m weary of personal worrying, in love 
with the art of madness! Tear open my shame

and show the mystery. How much longer 
do I have to fret with self-restraint and fear?

Friends, this is how it is: we are fringe
 sewn inside the lining of a robe. Soon

we’ll be loosened, the binding threads torn out. 
The beloved is a lion. 

We’re the lame deer in his paws. 
Consider what choices we have!



From The Book of Love
Translated by Coleman Barks


Escaping To The Forest

Escaping To The Forest 




Some souls have gotten free of their bodies.
 Do you see them? Open your eyes for those
 who escape to meet with other escapees,

whose hearts associate in a way they have 
of leaving their false selves
 to live in a truer self.

I don’t mind if my companions 
wander away for a while.

They will come back like a smiling drunk. 
The thirsty ones die of their thirst.

The nightingale sometimes flies from a garden
 to sing in the forest.



From The Book of Love
Translated by Coleman Barks

Our Death Is Our Wedding With Eternity

Our Death Is Our Wedding With Eternity




Our death is our wedding with eternity.
What is the secret? "God is One."
The sunlight splits when entering the windows of the house.
This multiplicity exists in the cluster of grapes;
It is not in the juice made from the grapes.
For he who is living in the Light of God,
The death of the carnal soul is a blessing.
Regarding him, say neither bad nor good,
For he is gone beyond the good and the bad.
Fix your eyes on God and do not talk about what is invisible,
So that he may place another look in your eyes.
It is in the vision of the physical eyes
That no invisible or secret thing exists.
But when the eye is turned toward the Light of God
What thing could remain hidden under such a Light?
Although all lights emanate from the Divine Light
Don't call all these lights "the Light of God";
It is the eternal light which is the Light of God,
The ephemeral light is an attribute of the body and the flesh.
...Oh God who gives the grace of vision!
The bird of vision is flying towards You with the wings of desire.



From http://www.khamush.com/poems.html#9

The True Sufi

The True Sufi



What makes the Sufi? Purity of heart;
Not the patched mantle and the lust perverse
Of those vile earth-bound men who steal his name.
He in all dregs discerns the essence pure:
In hardship ease, in tribulation joy.
The phantom sentries, who with batons drawn
Guard Beauty's place-gate and curtained bower,
Give way before him, unafraid he passes,
And showing the King's arrow, enters in.



From Persian Poems
Edited by A.J.Arberry

A New Rule

A New Rule



It is the rule with drunkards to fall upon each other,
to quarrel, become violent, and make a scene.
The lover is even worse than a drunkard.
I will tell you what love is: to enter a mine of gold.
And what is that gold?

The lover is a king above all kings,
unafraid of death, not at all interested in a golden crown.
The dervish has a pearl concealed under his patched cloak.
Why should he go begging door to door?
Last night that moon came along,
drunk, dropping clothes in the street.
"Get up," I told my heart, "Give the soul a glass of wine.
The moment has come to join the nightingale in the garden,
to taste sugar with the soul-parrot."


I have fallen, with my heart shattered -
where else but on your path? And I
broke your bowl, drunk, my idol, so drunk,
don't let me be harmed, take my hand.
A new rule, a new law has been born:
break all the glasses and fall toward the glassblower.



From Love Is A Stranger
by Kabir Helminski

The Awakening

The Awakening 



In the early dawn of happiness
you gave me three kisses
so that I would wake up
to this moment of love

I tried to remember in my heart
what I’d dreamt about
during the night
before I became aware
of this moving
of life

I found my dreams
but the moon took me away
It lifted me up to the firmament
and suspended me there
I saw how my heart had fallen
on your path
singing a song

Between my love and my heart
things were happening which
slowly slowly
made me recall everything

You amuse me with your touch
although I can’t see your hands.
You have kissed me with tenderness
although I haven’t seen your lips
You are hidden from me.

But it is you who keeps me alive

Perhaps the time will come
when you will tire of kisses
I shall be happy
even for insults from you
I only ask that you
keep some attention on me.



From The Love Poems of Rumi
by Deepak Chopra (Editor)

The Ship Sunk In Love

The Ship Sunk In Love



Should Love's heart rejoice unless I burn?
For my heart is Love's dwelling.
If You will burn Your house, burn it, Love!
Who will say, 'It's not allowed'?
Burn this house thoroughly!
The lover's house improves with fire.
From now on I will make burning my aim,
From now on I will make burning my aim,
for I am like the candle: burning only makes me brighter.
Abandon sleep tonight; traverse fro one night
the region of the sleepless.
Look upon these lovers who have become distraught
and like moths have died in union with the One Beloved.
Look upon this ship of God's creatures
and see how it is sunk in Love.



From The Rumi Collection, 
Edited by Kabir Helminski

Stay Close, My Heart

Stay Close, My Heart



Stay close, my heart, to the one who knows your ways;
Come into the shade of the tree that allays has fresh flowers.
Don't stroll idly through the bazaar of the perfume-markers:
Stay in the shop of the sugar-seller.
If you don't find true balance, anyone can deceive you;
Anyone can trick out of a thing of straw,
And make you take it for gold
Don't squat with a bowl before every boiling pot;
In each pot on the fire you find very different things.
Not all sugarcanes have sugar, not all abysses a peak;
Not all eyes possess vision, not every sea is full of pearls.
O nightingale, with your voice of dark honey! Go on lamenting!
Only your drunken ecstasy can pierce the rock's hard heart!
Surrender yourself, and if you cannot be welcomes by the Friend,
Know that you are rebelling inwardly like a thread
That doesn't want to go through the needle's eye!
The awakened heart is a lamp; protect it by the him of your robe!
Hurry and get out of this wind, for the weather is bad.
And when you've left this storm, you will come to a fountain;
You'll find a Friend there who will always nourish your soul.
And with your soul always green, you'll grow into a tall tree
Flowering always with sweet light-fruit, whose growth is interior.



Translated by
Andrew Harvey

On Resurrection Day

On Resurrection Day 



On Resurrection Day
God will say,
"What did you do
with the strength and the energy
that your food gave you
on Earth?
How did you use your eyes?
What did you make with your five senses
while they were dimming and playing out?
I gave you hands and feet as tools
for preparing the ground for planting.
Did you, in the health I gave,
do the plowing?"
You will not be able to stand
when you hear those questions.
You will bend double with shame,
and finally acknowledge the glory.

Then you will turn to the right looking to the prophets
for help, as though to say,
I am stuck in the mud of my life.
Help me out of this!

And they will answer,
those kings,
"The time for helping is past.
The plow stands there in the field.
You should have used it."
Then you will turn to the left,
where your family is,
and they will say,
"Don't look at us!
This conversation is between you
and your creator!"



From One-Handed Basket Weaving 
Translated by Coleman Barks

If A Blow Comes To You From Heaven

If A Blow Comes To You From Heaven



If a blow comes to you from Heaven,
be alert to a gift of honor after it;
for He is not the King to slap you
without giving you a crown
and a throne on which to rest.
The whole world is worth only a gnat's wing,
but a single slap may bring an infinite reward.
Slip your neck nimbly out of this golden collar
that is the world, and take the slaps that come from God.
The prophets suffered those blows on the neck,
and from that affliction they lifted their heads high.
But always be present, attentive, and ready in yourself,
youthful one, in order that He may find you at home.
Otherwise He will take back His gift of honor,
saying "I found no one there."



From Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance: A Daybook of Spiritual Guidance 
Translated by Camille Helmiski /  Kabir Helminski

Shall I Tell You Our Secret

Shall I Tell You Our Secret



Shall I tell you our secret?
We are charming thieves who steal hearts
and never fail because we are
the friends of the One.
The time for old preaching is over
we aim straight at the heart.
If the mind tries to sneak in and take over
we will string it up without delay.
We turn poison into medicine
and our sorrows into blessings.
All that was familiar,
our loved ones and ourselves,
we had to leave behind.

Blessed is the poem that comes through me
but not of me because the sound of my own music
will drown the song of Love.



From Rumi: Hidden Music
Translated by Melita Kolin / Maryam Mafi

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Here Is My Dilemma

Here Is My Dilemma 



Here is my dilemma.
Please help me understand.
Your Love is a healer,
your Love is a wise master,
your Love is radiant,
your Love is delicate and
is soft in its essence.

I would gladly endure all this fire,
all this yearning,
all this burning,
for your Love.

But if your Love is so pleasant,
why does it hurt so much?



From Hush, Don't Say Anything To God
Translated by Shahram Shiva

A Man Was Crying

A Man Was Crying



One night a man was crying Allah! Allah! 
His lips grew sweet with praising,
 until a cynic said, “So! 
I have heard you calling out, but have you ever
 gotten any response?”

The man had no answer to that.
 He quit praying and fell into a confused sleep.

He dreamed he saw Khidr, the guide of souls,
 in a thick, green foliage.

“Why did you stop praising?” “Because 
I’ve never heard anything back.”

“This longing you express
 is the return message.”

The grief you cry out from
 draws you toward union.

Your pure sadness 
that wants help
 is the secret cup.

Listen to the moan of a dog for its master. 
That whining is the connection.

There are love dogs 
no one knows the names of.

Give your life
 to be one of them.



From The Book of Love
Translated by Coleman Barks

This We Have Now

This We Have Now



This we have now 
is not imagination.

This is not grief, 
or joy, not a judging state, 
or an elation, or a sadness.

Those come and go. 
This is the presence 
that doesn’t.

It’s dawn, Husam, 
here in the splendor of coral, 
inside the Friend, in the simple truth
 of what Hallaj said.

What else could human beings want?

When grapes turn to wine,
 they’re wanting this.

When the night sky pours by, 
it’s really a crowd of beggars,
 and they all want some of this.

This we are now 
created the body, cell by cell,
 like bees building a honeycomb.

The human body and the universe 
grew from this, not this 
from the universe and the human body.



From The Book of Love 
Translated by Coleman Barks

A Lover of God

A Lover of God 



Sometimes a lover of God may faint 
in the presence. Then the beloved bends 
and whispers in his ear, “Beggar, 
spread out your robe. I’ll fill it with gold.

I’ve come to protect your consciousness. 
Where has it gone? Come back!”

This fainting is because lovers want so much. 
A chicken invites a camel into her henhouse, 
and the whole structure is demolished.

A rabbit nestles down with its eyes closed 
in the arms of a lion. There is an excess in 
spiritual searching that is profound ignorance.

Let that ignorance be our teacher! 
The Friend breathes into one who has no breath. 

A deep silence revives the listening
of those two who meet on the riverbank.

Like the ground turning green in a spring wind, 
like birdsong beginning inside the egg,
 like this universe coming into existence,

the lover wakes and whirls in a dancing joy, 
then kneels down in praise.



From The Book of Love
Translated by Coleman Barks

Hallaj

Hallaj



Hallaj said what he said and went to the origin
 through the hole in the scaffold.

I cut a cap’s worth of cloth from his robe, 
and it swamped over me head to foot.

Years ago I broke a branch of roses
 from the top of his wall. A thorn from that
 is still in my palm, working deeper.

From Hallaj, I learned to hunt lions, 
but I became something hungrier than a lion.

I was a frisky colt. He broke me 
with a quiet hand on the side of my head.

A person comes to him naked. It’s cold.
 There’s a fur coat floating in the river.

“Jump in and get it,” he says. 
You dive in. You reach for the coat.
 It reaches for you.

It’s a live bear that has fallen in upstream, 
drifting with the current.

“How long does it take!” Hallaj yells from the bank.
 “Don’t wait,” you answer. “This coat
 has decided to wear me home!”

A little part of a story, a hint. 
Do you need long sermons on Hallaj?



From The Book of Love
Translated by Coleman Barks

A Great Wagon

A Great Wagon



When I see your face, the stones start spinning!
 You appear; all studying wanders. 
I lose my place.

Water turns pearly. 
Fire dies down and doesn’t destroy.

In your presence I don’t want what I thought 
I wanted, those three little hanging lamps.

Inside your face the ancient manuscripts
 seem like rusty mirrors. 

You breathe; new shapes appear,
 and the music of a desire as widespread
 as spring begins to move 
like a great wagon.

Drive slowly. Some of us 
walking alongside are lame.



From The Book of Love
Translated by Coleman Barks

The Souls Friend

The Souls Friend



Listen to your essential self, the Friend.
 When you feel longing, be patient, 
and also prudent, moderate with eating and drinking.

Be like a mountain in the wind. 
Do you notice how it moves? There are sweet
 illusions that arrive to lure you away.

Make some excuse to them, “I have indigestion,”
 or “I need to meet my cousin.”

You fish, the baited hook may be fifty
 or even sixty gold pieces, but is it really 
worth your freedom in the ocean?

When traveling, stay close to your bag.
 I am the bag that holds what you love.
 You can be separated from me!

Live carefully in the joy of this friendship.
 Don’t think, But those others love me so.

Some invitations sound like the fowler’s whistle
 to the quail, friendly, but not quite 
how you remember the call of your soul’s Friend.



From The Book of Love
Translated by Coleman Barks

Who Makes These Changes

Who Makes These Changes 



Who makes these changes? 
I shoot an arrow right. 
It lands left.

I ride after a deer and find myself 
chased by a hog.

I plot to get what I want 
and end up in prison.

I dig pits to trap others
 and fall in.

I should be suspicious 
of what I want.



From The Book of Love
Translated by Coleman Barks
 




This Will Not Win Him

This Will Not Win Him 



Reason says,
I will win him with my eloquence.

Love says,
I will win him with my silence.

Soul says,
How can I ever win him
When all I have is already his?

He does not want, he does not worry,
He does not seek a sublime state of euphoria -
How then can I win him
With sweet wine or gold?

He is not bound by the senses -
How then can I win him
With all the riches of China?

He is an angel,
Though he appears in the form of a man.
Even angels cannot fly in his presence -
How then can I win him
By assuming a heavenly form?

He flies on the wings of God,
His food is pure light -
How then can I win him
With a loaf of baked bread?

He is neither a merchant, nor a tradesman -
How then can I win him
With a plan of great profit?

He is not blind, nor easily fooled -
How then can I win him
By lying in bed as if gravely ill?

I will go mad, pull out my hair,
Grind my face in the dirt -
How will this win him?

He sees everything -
how can I ever fool him?

He is not a seeker of fame,
A prince addicted to the praise of poets -
How then can I win him
With flowing rhymes and poetic verses?

The glory of his unseen form
Fills the whole universe
How then can I win him
With a mere promise of paradise?

I may cover the earth with roses,
I may fill the ocean with tears,
I may shake the heavens with praises -
none of this will win him.

There is only one way to win him,
this Beloved of mine -

Become his.



From http://allpoetry.com/poem/8534521-This_Will_Not_Win_Him-by-Mewlana_Jalaluddin_Rumi

Reason Says, Love Says

Reason Says, Love Says 



Reason says, “ I will beguile him with the tongue.”; Love says,
“Be silent. I will beguile him with the soul.”
The soul says to the heart, “Go, do not laugh at me and yourself.
What is there that is not his, that I may beguile him
thereby?”
He is not sorrowful and anxious and seeking oblivion that I
may beguile him with wine and a heavy measure.
The arrow of his glance needs not a bow that I should beguile
the shaft of his gaze with a bow.
He is not prisoner of the world, fettered to this world of earth,
that I should beguile him with gold of the kingdom of the world.
He is an angel, though in form he is a man; he is not lustful
that I should beguile him with women.
Angels start away from the house wherein this form is, so how
should I beguile him with such a form and likeness?
He does not take a flock of horses, since he flies on wings; his
food is light, so how should I beguile him with bread?
He is not a merchant and trafficker in the market of the world
that I should beguile him with enchantment of grain and loss.
He is not veiled that I should make myself out sick and utter
sighs, to beguile him with lamentation.
I will bind my head and bow my head, for I have got out of
hand; I will not beguile his compassion with sickness or fluttering.
Hair by hair he sees my crookedness and feigning; what’s
hidden from him that I should beguile him with anything hidden.
He is not a seeker of fame, a prince addicted to poets, that I
should beguile him with verses and lyrics and flowing poetry.
The glory of the unseen form is too great for me to beguile it
with blessing or Paradise.
Shams-e Tabriz, who is his chosen and beloved–perchance I
will beguile him with this same pole of the age.



From The Mystical Poems of Rumi: Second Selection
Translated by A.J. Arberry

Congratulations My Dear Heart

Congratulations My Dear Heart



You have fallen in love my dear heart
Congratulations!

You have freed yourself from all attachments
Congratulations!

You have given up both worlds to be on your own
the whole creation praises your solitude
Congratulations!

Your disbelief has turned into belief
your bitterness, into sweetness
Congratulations!

You have now entered into Love's fire, my pure heart
Congratulations!

Inside the Sufi's heart there is always a feast
dear heart, you are celebrating
Congratulations!

My heart, I have seen how your tears turned into a sea
now every wave keeps saying
Congratulations!

O silent lover, seeker of the higher planes,
may the Beloved always be with you
Congratulations!

You have struggled hard, may you grow wings and fly
Congratulations!

Keep silent my dear heart, you have done so well
Congratulations!



From Rumi: Hidden Music
Translated by Melita Kolin / Maryam Mafi

I Have A Fire For You

I Have A Fire For You



I have a fire for you in my mouth, but I have a hundred seals
on my tongue.
The flames which I have in my heart would make one mouth-
ful of both worlds.
Though the entire world should pass away, without the world
I possess the kingdom of a hundred worlds.
Caravans which are loaded with sugar I have in motion for
the Egypt of nonexistence.
The drunkenness of love makes me unaware whether I have
profit of loss therefrom.
The body’s eye was scattering pearls because of love, till now
I have a pearl-scattering soul.
I am not housebound, for like Jesus I have a home in the fourth
Heaven.
Thanks be to Him who gives soul to the body; if the soul
should depart, yet I have the soul of the soul.
Seek from me that which Shams-e Tabrizi has bestowed, for
I have the same.



From The Mystical Poems of Rumi: Second Selection
Translated by A.J. Arberry