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^ ^ ^ ^ ^
Listen, my heart, don't be deceived by every intoxication:
Jesus is intoxicated with God, the ass is intoxicated with barley.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Hin be-har masti delâ gherreh ma-shaw
hast `Isâ mast-e Haqq khar mast-e jaw
-- Mathnawi IV:2691
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Daylight"
Threshold Books, 1994
Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra
The media:
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Were a single mote of Thy Face to show itself,
neither dervish cloak nor Christian belt would remain upon
the earth.
When Thou showest Thy Face to anyone in the
two worlds, he is consumed by fire and left with no business
but Thy heartache.
If Thou shouldst throw off the veil from that
beautiful Face, no trace would remain of the faces of sun and
moon.
With Love's wine Thou puttest to sleep those
consumed by fire -- none but Thou is confidant to the
mysteries.
-- Ghazal (Ode) 657
Translation by William C. Chittick
"The Sufi Path of Love"
SUNY Press, Albany, 1983
The media:
http://tinyurl.com/2fjw4q
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If you want a customer who will pay in gold,
could there be a better customer than God, O my heart?
He buys our dirty bag of goods,
and in return gives us an inner light that borrows from His splendor.
He receives the dissolving ice of this mortal body
and gives us a kingdom beyond imagining.
He takes a few tear drops,
and gives a spiritual spring so delicious
sugar is jealous of its sweetness.
If any doubt waylays you,
rely upon the spiritual traders, the prophets.
The Divine Ruler increased their fortune so greatly,
no mountain could bear what they've been given.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Moshtari khvâhi keh az vay zar bari
beh ze Haqq ki bâshad ay del moshtari
Mi kharad az mâlet anbâni najas
mi dehad nur-e zamiri moqtabas
Mi satânad in yakh-e jesm-e fanâ
mi dehad molki berun az vahm-e mâ
Mi satânad qatreh-'i chandi ze ashk
mi dehad Kawsar keh ârad qand rashk
Var torâ ashki o raybi rah zanad
tâjerân-e anbiyâ-râ kon sanad
Bas keh afzun ân Shahanshah bakhteshân
mi na-tânad koh keshidan rakhteshân
-- Mathnawi VI: 879-882; 886-887
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance"
Threshold Books, 1996
(Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra)
The media:
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Listening
What is the deep listening? Sama is
a greeting from the secret ones inside
the heart, a letter. The branches of
your intelligence grow new leaves in
the wind of this listening. The body
reaches a peace. Rooster sound comes,
reminding you of your love for dawn.
The reed flute and the singer's lips:
the knack of how spirit breathes into
us becomes as simple and ordinary as
eating and drinking. The dead rise with
the pleasure of listening. If someone
can't hear a trumpet melody, sprinkle
dirt on his head and declare him dead.
Listen, and feel the beauty of your
separation, the unsayable absence.
There's a moon inside every human being.
Learn to be companions with it. Give
more of your life to this listening. As
brightness is to time, so you are to
the one who talks to the deep ear in
your chest. I should sell my tongue
and buy a thousand ears when that
one steps near and begins to speak.
-- Ghazal (Ode) 1734
Version by Coleman Barks, with Nevit Ergin
"The Glance"
Viking-Penguin, 1999
The media:
http://tinyurl.com/27slv9
^ ^ ^ ^ ^
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.
-- Ghazal (Ode) 424
Translated by Azima Melita Kolin
and Maryam Mafi
Rumi: Hidden Music
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd, 2001
^ ^ ^ ^ ^
The wise Prophet has said that no one who dies
and dismounts from the steed of the body
feels grief on account of departure and death,
but only for missed opportunities and having failed in good works.
Truly everyone who dies wishes
that their arrival at their destination might have come sooner:
the wicked, in order that their wickedness might have been less;
and the devoted,
in order that they might have reached home more quickly.
^ ^
Zin be-farmudast ân âgah Rasul
keh har ânke mord o kard az tan nozul
Na-bovad u-râ hasrat-e naqlân o mawt
lik bâshad hasrat-e taqsir o fawt
Har keh mirad khvod tamanni bâshadesh
keh bodi zin pish naql-e maqsadesh
Gar bovad bad tâ badi kamtar bodi
var taqi tâ khâneh zutar âmadi
-- Mathnawi, V:604-607
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance
Threshold Books, 1996
Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra
^ ^ ^ ^ ^
i've travelled around
raced through every city
while i knew all along
no place could be found
like the city of love
if i could have known
to value what i owned
i would not have suffered
like a fool
the life of a vagabond
i've heard many tunes
all over the globe
all empty
as a kettledrum
except the music of love
it was the sound of
that hollow drum
that made me fall
from the heavens
to this mortal life
i used to soar
among souls
like a heart's flight
winglessly roaming and
celestially happy
i used to drink
like a flower that drinks
without lips or throat
of the wine that overflows
with laughter and joy
suddenly
i was summoned by love
to prepare for a journey
to the temple of
suffering
i cried desperately
i begged and pleaded
and shredded my clothes
not to be sent
to this world
just the way i fear now
going away
to the other world
i was frightened then
to make my descent
love asked me to go
with no fear to be alone
promising to be close
everywhere i go
closer than my veins
love threw its spell
its magic and allure
using coyness and charm
i was totally sold and
bought everything with joy
who am i to resist
love's many tricks
and not to fall
while the whole world
takes love's bait
love showed me
a path but then
lost me on the way
if i could have resisted
i would have found my way
i can show you my friend
surely how you can get there
but here and now
my pen has broken down
before telling you how
-- Ghazal (Ode) 1509
Translation by Nader Khalili
"Rumi, Fountain of Fire"
Burning Gate Press, Los Angeles, 1994.
^ ^ ^ ^ ^
Friendship is as precious as gold.
Why entrust it to one who will betray it?
Spend time near the One with whom your trusts
are safe from loss or violation.
Be close with the One who created human nature,
the One who nurtured the character of the prophets--
who if given a lamb, will give you back a whole flock of sheep.
Truly, the Sustainer cares for and increases every good quality.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Sohbatet chon hast zar-e dah dahi
pish-e khâyen chon amânat mi nehi
Khuy bâ U kon k-amânat-hâ-ye to
ayman âyad az oful o az `atu
Khuy bâ U kon keh khu-râ âfarid
khuy-hâ-ye anbiyâ-râ parvarid
Bareh-'i be-dehi rameh bâzet dehad
parvarandeh-ye har sefat khvod Rabb bovad
-- Mathnawi VI:1418-1421
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance"
Threshold Books, 1996
(Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra)
^ ^ ^ ^ ^
Maybe They're Shy
Now the nightbirds will be singing
of the way we love each other.
Why should they sing about flowers
when they've seen us in the garden?
Maybe they're shy. They can't look at the face,
so they describe feet.
If they keep dividing love into pieces,
they'll disappear altogether. We must be gentle
and explain it to them.
Think of a mountain so huge the Caucasus Range
is a tiny speck. Normal mountains
run toward her when she calls.
They listen in their cave-ears and echo back.
They turn upsidedown when they get close,
they're so excited.
No more words. In the name of this place we
drink in with our breathing, stay quiet like a flower.
So the nightbirds will start singing.
-- Ghazal (Ode) 944
Version by Coleman Barks
"Open Secret,"
Threshold Books, 1984
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Sunlight offers Ghazal (Ode) 2647, in a version by Kabir
Helminski, and in translation by A.J. Arberry:
^ ^ ^ ^ ^
"This Useless Heart"
Heart, since you embraced the mysteries,
you have become useless for anything else.
Go mad, don't stay sane.
People meditate to get something.
All you do is give.
Crazy Majnun's priorities are now yours, too.
If you want to be respectable,
why do you go downtown drunk?
It's no good just sitting in some corner,
once you've made friends with the dissolute of this path.
Go back to the desert;
leave this shabby town.
There's the smell of a tavern
somewhere in this neighborhood,
and it's already got you high.
Now follow it. Go to Qaf Mountain like the Simurgh,*
leave these owls and herons.
Go into the thicket of Reality like a lion.
Why linger with hyenas and dogs?
Don't go after the scent of Joseph's shirt,
you are already mourning his death like Jacob, his father.
-- Version by Kabir Helminski
"Love is a Stranger"
Threshold Books, 1993
*"The Simurgh" -- the phoenix, which dwells upon Mount Qaf. In sufi
symbolism, the phoenix often symbolizes the spirit of the saint, or
the saint himself, while Mount Qaf is his station in God's presence.
-- Sunlight footnote from Chittick's "The Sufi Path of Love"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Heart, since you have become understanding of the mysteries,
you have become useless for all other employments.
Be still mad and insane; why have you come to your senses
and recovered your wits?
Meditation is all for the sake of acquiring; you have become
entirely giving.
Preserve that same order of Majnun, for you have become in-
different to all orderings.
If you desire to be veiled and prudent, why did you go about
drunk in the market?
To sit in a corner yields you no profit once you have become
the friend of the dissolutes of this path.
Go forth into the desert, that same desert where you were; you
have wandered long enough in these ruins.
There is a tavern in your neighborhood, from the scent of its
wine you have become intoxicated.
Seize this scent and go to the tavern, for you have become
nimble-paced as that scent.
Go to the mountain of the Qaf like the Simorg; why have you
become the friend of owl and heron?
Go like a lion into the thicket of reality; why have you become
the friend of the fox and the hyena?
Go not after the scent of the shirt of Joseph, for like Jacob, you
are in mourning.
-- Translation by A.J. Arberry
"Mystical Poems of Rumi 1"
University of Chicago Press, 1995
The media:
http://tinyurl.com/2n4qhk
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^ ^ ^ ^ ^
Love and reputation, brother,
are not in harmony:
don't stand at the door of reputation, if you are a lover.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
`Eshq o nâmus ay berâdar râst nist
bar dar-e nâmus ay `âsheq mah-'ist
-- Mathnawi VI: 612
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance"
Threshold Books, 1996
(Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra)
The media:
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~
Here, Sunlight presents Ghazal (Ode) 310, in versions by Star,
Barks, and Cowan, and in translation by A.J. Arberry:
^ ^ ^ ^ ^
Here He comes
A moon whose light the sky never saw
even in her dreams,
Crowned with an eternal flame
no flood can hope to quench.
His cup, long out of reach, now spills over,
filling my senses,
desolating my soul.
The saaqi has become my dearest friend.
With each new round she pours,
my blood turns to nectar,
my heart to a holy shrine.
Now I see only Him!
Now I hear His voice alone:
Let my love fill your golden cup
like sunbeams showering the earth.
Let it flow to every corner of your soul.
Let it tear up the gnarled roots of regret
and nourish the tender seeds of hope.
When my heart saw the ocean of His love
it jumped in and yelled,
Find me if you can!
O, where can I look for my missing heart?
Where, but the face of Shams-e Tabriz?
He is the Sun
In whose track
Every heart must follow.
-- Version by Jonathan Star
"Rumi - In the Arms of the Beloved"
Jeremy P. Tarcher/Putnam, New York 1997
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The moon has come back out,
the other moon, that was never above us,
or seen in dreams, the moon that brings fire
and pours wine, the host that cooks us
to tenderness.
Our eyes look at the prepared sight
and say, Well done. Bravo!
Then we remember the ocean
and leap out of our personalities into that.
Try to find us!
The sun goes down,
with a line of clouds running to catch up.
-- Version by Coleman Barks
"These Branching Moments"
Copper Beech Press, 1988
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That moon, undreamt even by sky, returns
Bringing a fire no water can quench.
The temple of my body and my soul
Are made drunken and desolate by his love.
When the tavern-keeper became my soul-mate
My blood turned to wine, my heart to kebab.
When the eye is consumed by thought of him
A voice arrives: Well done, O Flagon. Brave, wine!
Loves fingers drag up, root and stem,
Every flower where Love's rays fall.
When my heart noticed Love's sea, suddenly
It escaped me and leapt in, crying, "Save me!"
Tabriz's glory, the face of the Wild One is
The Sun whose track all cloudy hearts follow.
-- Version by James Cowan
"Rumi's Divan of Shems of Tabriz, Selected Odes"
Element Books Limited 1997
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That moon has returned, whose like the sky never saw even in
dreams; he has brought a fire which no water can extinguish.
Behold the body's tenement, and behold my soul -- Love's cup
has intoxicated the one and ruined the other.
When the master of the tavern became my heart's companion,
my blood turned to wine out of love, my heart to roast.
When the eye is filled with his image, a voice proclaims,
"Well done, goblet, and bravo, wine!"
My heart suddenly descried the ocean of Love; it leaped away
from me, saying, "Come, find me now!"
The sun of the countenance of Shams-i Din, Pride of Tabriz
-- in its track like clouds all hearts are running.
-- Translation by A. J. Arberry
"Mystical Poems of Rumi 1"
The University of Chicago Press, 1968
The media:
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^ ^ ^ ^ ^
Come, seek, for search is the foundation of fortune:
every success depends on focusing the heart.
Unconcerned with the business of the world,
keep saying with all your soul, "Coo, Coo," like the dove.
Consider this well, O you whom worldliness veils:
God has linked our invocation to the promise, "I will answer."*
When weakness is cleared from your heart,
your prayer will reach the glorious Lord.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hin be-ju keh rokn-e dawlat jostan ast
har goshâdi dar del andar-bastan ast
Az hameh-ye kâr-e jahân pardâkhte
ku o ku mi gu be-jân chon fâkhteh
Nik be-negar andarin ay mohtajeb
keh do`â-râ bast Haqq bar "Astajib"*
Harkeh-râ del pâk shod az e`tedâl
ân do`a-'esh mi ravad tâ Zu al-Jalâl
-- Mathnavi III: 2302-2305
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance"
Threshold Books, 1996
Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra
*al-Mu'min, 60
The media:
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^ ^ ^ ^ ^
"In Baghdad, Dreaming of Cairo:
In Cairo, Dreaming of Baghdad"
No more muffled drums!
Uncover the drumheads!
Plant your flag in an open field!
No more timid peeking around.
Either you see the Beloved,
or you lose your head!
If your throat's not ready for that Wine, cut it!
If your eyes don't want the fullness of Union,
let them turn white with disease.
Either this deep desire of mine
will be found on this journey,
or when I get back home!
It may be that the satisfaction I need
depends on my going away, so that when I've gone
and come back, I'll find it at home.
I will search for the Friend with all my passion
and all my energy, until I learn
that I don't need to search.
The real truth of existence is sealed,
until after many twists and turns of the road.
As in the algebraical method of "the two errors,"
the correct answer comes only after two substitutions,
after two mistakes. Then the seeker says,
"If I had known the real way it was,
I would have stopped all the looking around."
But that knowing depends
on the time spent looking!
Just as the Sheikh's debt could not be paid
until the boy's weeping, that story we told in Book II.
You fear losing a certain eminent position.
You hope to gain something from that, but it comes
from elsewhere. Existence does this switching trick,
giving you hope from one source, then satisfaction
from another.
It keeps you bewildered
and wondering, and lets your trust in the Unseen grow.
You think to make your living from tailoring,
but then somehow money comes in
through goldsmithing,
which had never entered your mind.
I don't know whether the Union I want will come
through my effort, or my giving up effort,
or from something completely separate
from anything I do or don't do.
I wait and fidget and flop about
as a decapitated chicken does, knowing that
the vital spirit has to escape this body
eventually, somehow!
This desire will find an opening.
There was once a man
who inherited a lot of money and land.
But he squandered it all too quickly. Those who inherit
wealth don't know what work it took to get it.
In the same way, we don't know the value of our souls,
which were given to us for nothing!
So the man was left alone without provisions,
an owl in the desert.
The Prophet has said
that a true seeker must be completely empty like a lute
to make the sweet music of "Lord, Lord."
When the emptiness starts to get filled with something,
the One who plays the lute puts it down
and picks up another.
There is nothing more subtle and delightful
than to make that music.
Stay empty and held
between those fingers, where "where"
gets drunk with Nowhere.
This man was empty,
and the tears came. His habitual stubbornness
dissolved. This is the way with many seekers.
They moan in prayer, and the perfumed smoke of that
floats into Heaven, and the angels say, "Answer
this prayer. This worshiper has only You and
nothing else to depend on. Why do you go first
to the prayers of those less devoted?
God says,
"By deferring My Generosity I am helping him.
His need dragged him by the hair into My Presence.
If I satisfy that, he'll go back to being absorbed
in some idle amusement. Listen how passionate he is!
That torn-open cry is the way he should live."
Nightingales are put in cages
because their songs give pleasure.
Whoever heard of keeping a crow?
When two people, one decrepit and the other young
and handsome, come into a bakery where the baker
is an admirer of young men, and both of them
ask for bread, the baker will immediately
give what he has on hand to the old man.
But to the other he will say, "Sit down and wait a while.
There's fresh bread baking in the house. Almost ready!"
And when the hot bread is brought, the baker will say,
"Don't leave. The halvah is coming."
So he finds ways of detaining the young man with,
"Ah, there's something important I want to tell you about.
Stay. I'll be back in a moment. Something very important!"
This is how it is when true devotees
suffer disappointment
in the good they want to do,
or the bad they want to avoid.
So this man with nothing, who had inherited everything
and squandered it, kept weeping, "Lord, Lord!"
Finally in a dream he heard a Voice, "Your wealth
is in Cairo. Go there to such-and-such a spot
and dig, and you'll find what you need.
So he left on the long journey,
and when he saw the towers of Cairo,
he felt his back grow warm with new courage
But Cairo is a large city,
and before he could find the spot,
he had to wander about.
He had no money, of course, so he begged
among the townspeople, but he felt ashamed doing that.
He decided, "I will go out at night
and call like the night-mendicants that people
throw coins into the street for."
Shame and dignity and hunger
were pushing him forward and backward and sideways!
Suddenly, he was seized by the night-patrol.
It so happened that many had been robbed recently
in Cairo at night, and the Caliph had told the police
to assume that anyone out roaming after dark
was a thief.
It's best not to let offenders go unpunished.
Then they poison the whole body of society. Cut off
the snakebitten finger! Don't be sympathetic
with thieves. Consider instead
the public suffering. In those days
robbers were expert, and numerous!
So the night-patrol grabbed the man.
"Wait!
I can explain!"
"Tell me."
"I am not a criminal.
I am new to Cairo. I live in Baghdad." He told the story
of his dream and the buried treasure,
and he was so believable in the telling that the night-patrolman
began to cry. Always, the fragrance of Truth has that effect.
Passion
can restore healing power, and prune the weary boughs
to new life. The energy of passion is everything!
There are fake satisfactions that simulate passion.
They taste cold and delicious,
but they just distract you and prevent you
from the search. They say,
"I will relieve your passion.
Take me. Take me!"
Run from false remedies
that dilute your energy. Keep it rich and musky.
The night-patrol said, "I know you're not a thief.
You're a good man, but you're kind of a fool.
I've had that dream before.
I was told, in my dream,
that there was a treasure for me in Baghdad,
buried in a certain quarter of the city
on such-and-such a street."
The name of the street
that he said was where this man lived!
"And the dream-
voice told me, "It's in So-and-so's house.
Go there and get it!"
Without knowing either,
he had described the exact house,
and mentioned this man's name!
"But I didn't do
what the dream said to do, and look at you,
who did, wandering the world, fatigued,
and begging in the streets!"
So it came quietly
to the seeker, though he didn't say it out loud,
"What I'm longing for lived in my poor house in Baghdad!"
He filled with joy. He breathed continuous praise.
Finally, he said,
"The Water of Life is here.
I'm drinking it. But I had to come
this long way to know it!"
-- Interpretive version by Coleman Barks
Based on Reynold Nicholson's translation of
Rumi's Mathnawi, Volume VI
Verses 4167-4275, 4280,4302-19, 4324-26
"The Essential Rumi"
Castle Books, 1997
^ ^ ^ ^ ^
.
^ ^ ^ ^ ^
My love, you are closer to me than myself,
you shine through my eyes.
Your light is brighter than the Moon.
Step into the garden
so all the flowers, even the tall poplar
can kneel before your beauty.
Let your voice silence the lily
famous for its hundred tongues.
When you want to be kind you are
softer than the soul but when you withdraw
you can be so cold and harsh.
Dear one, you can be wild and rebellious but
when you meet him face to face
his charm will make you docile like the earth.
Throw away your shield and bare your chest
there is no stronger protection than him.
That's why when the dervish withdraws
from the world he covers all the cracks in the wall,
so the outside light cannot come though.
He knows that only the inner light
illuminates his world.
-- Ghazal (Ode) 2798
Translated by Azima Melita Kolin
and Maryam Mafi
Rumi: Hidden Music
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd, 2001
The media:
http://tinyurl.com/3doye5
^ ^ ^ ^ ^
.
^ ^ ^ ^ ^
The porter runs to the heavy load and takes it from others,
knowing burdens are the foundations of ease
and bitter things the forerunners of pleasure.
See the porters struggle over the load!
It's the way of those who see the truth of things.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Mi davad hammâl zi bâr-e gerân
mi robâyad bâr-râ az digarân
Chon gerâni-hâ asâs-e râhatast
talkh-hâ ham pishvâ-ye ne`matast
Jang-e hammâlân barâ-ye bâr bin
in chonin ast ejtehâd-e kâr-bin
-- Mathnawi, II:1834-1836
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Daylight"
Threshold Books, 1994
Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra
The media:
http://tinyurl.com/2r942g
^ ^ ^ ^ ^
.
Here, Sunlight offers Ghazal (Ode) 2144, in poetic translation
by Nader Khalili, and in literal translation by A.J. Arberry.
^ ^ ^ ^ ^
whatever happens
to the world around
show me your purpose
show me your source
even if the world
is Godless and chaos
show me your anchor
show me your love
if there is hunger
if there is famine
show me your harvest
show me your resource
if life is bitter
everywhere snakes everywhere poison
show me your garden
show me your meadow
if the sun and the moon fall
if darkness rules the world
show me your light
show me your flame
if i have no mouth
or tongue to utter
words of your secrets
show me your fountain
i'll keep silence
how can i express
your life when mine
still is untold
-- Translation by Nader Khalili
"Rumi, Fountain of Fire"
Burning Gate Press, Los Angeles, 1994
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Whatever comes of the world's affairs, how does that affect
your business? If the two worlds have become an idol-temple,
where is that roguish idol of yours?
Grant that the world is in famine, there is no bowl [of wine]
and bread any more; O king of the manifest and hidden, where
are your measure and store?
Grant that the world is all thorn, scorpion and snake; O joy
and gladness of the soul, where are your rose bower and rosebed?
Grant that liberality itself is dead, that miserliness has slain
all; O our heart and eye, where are your pension and robe of
honor?
Grant that both the sun and the moon have sunk into hell; O
succor of hearing and sight, where are your torch and light?
Grant that the jeweler is not after any customer, how shall
you not take the leadership? Where is your pearl-raining cloud?
Grant there is no mouth, there is no speech of tongue to tell
the secrets; where is the surging of your heart?
Come, leave all this, for we are drunk with union and
encounter; the hour is late come quickly, where is this house of
your vintner?
Drunken sharp-glancer of mine, my fellow in heart and hand,
if you are not dissolute and in dotage, where are your cloak and
turban*?
A whore has carried off your cap, another your gown; your
face is pale with a moonlike beauty; where is your support and
protection?
A stranger is waylaying the path to the drunkards of eternity:
why do you not act the policeman? Where is your wound thrust?
Where are your gallows?
Silence, word-scatterer! Interpret not to ordinary people what
is fit only for the ears of the silent ones; where is your ecstasy
and speech?**
-- Translation by A.J. Arberry
"Mystical Poems of Rumi 2"
The University of Chicago Press, 1991
* "Ham dil o ham dast" means an associate and confidant. Arberry's
translation is "my fellow in heart and hand."
** The last past of the last line was revised. The original
translation was: "What has your ecstasy to do with speech?"
The media:
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Patience shown to the unworthy
is the means of polishing the worthy:
wherever a heart exists, patience purifies it.
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Sabr bâ nâ ahl ahlân-râ jalâst
sabr sâfi mi konad har kojâ delist
-- Mathnawi VI: 2041
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Daylight"
Threshold Books, 1994
Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra
The media:
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Sunlight offers Ghazal (Ode) 2779, in a version by Coleman Barks,
and in the translation by A.J. Arberry, upon which Barks based his
version:
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Has anyone seen the boy who used to come here?
Round-faced troublemaker, quick to find a joke, slow
to be serious. Red shirt,
perfect coordination, sly,
strong muscles, with things always in this pocket: reed flute,
ivory pick, polished and ready for his talent.
You know that one.
Have you heard stories about him?
Pharaoh and the whole Egyptian world
collapsed for such a Joseph.
I'd gladly spend years getting word
of him, even third or fourth-hand.
-- Version by Coleman Barks
"The Essential Rumi"
HarperSanFrancisco, 1995
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Proclaim, O crier, at the head of every market, "Have you
seen, Muslims, a runaway slave?"
"A slave moonfaced, musk-scented, a troublemaker--swift of
pace in time of coquetry, in time of peace slow.
"A boy, ruby-robed, charming of countenance, sugar-sweet,
cypress-stature, saucy-eyed,acute, perfectly poised;
"In his bosom a rebec, in his hand a plucker; he plays a sweet
air, charming, well-seated.
"Does anyone have a fruit of the garden of his beauty? Or a
bunch of roses to smell from the rose bed of his loveliness?
"A Joseph by whose price the king of Egypt was bankrupted,
on every side heart-wounded ones like Jacob by his glance.
"I will give freely my sweet life as lawful to whomever brings
me a sign of him, or even a veiled hint."
-- Translation by A. J. Arberry
"Mystical Poems of Rumi 2"
The University of Chicago Press, 1991
The media:
http://tinyurl.com/2qcv6f
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Today, Sunlight offers Ghazal (Ode) 2322 in an unusual
combination of presentations -- a version by Coleman Barks, based on
a second generation translation by Nevit Ergin (who translates from
Turkish into English); another version by Barks, working from a
translation by John Moyne (a native Persian speaker); and, lastly, a
translation by A.J. Arberry:
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"Friday"
For a dervish every day feels like
Friday, the beginning of a holiday,
a fresh setting out that will not have an
end. Dressed in the soul's handsomeness,
you're a whole month of Fridays, sweet
outside, sweet in. Your mind and your deep
being walk together as friends walk along
inside their friendship. Debris does not stay
in one place on a fast-running creek. Let
grudges wash out into the sea. Your soul's
eye watches a spring-green branch moving,
while these other eyes love the old stories.
-- Version by Coleman Barks, with Nevit Ergin
"The Glance"
Viking-Penguin, 1999
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Every day is Friday,
the beginning of the holidays, holy days.
Isn't last Friday remembered now with a festival?
You have on the right clothes for this festival,
your light, your clear trusting,
your inside and outside the same,
not a sweet walnut filled with garlic.
Go around in this ring
like a lover on the doorstep of a lover.
How can straw be still on a river?
How can a mystic stay angry?
To some eyes these words are a new-green branch.
To sensual eyes, they are old matters
carved on a building.
-- Version by Coleman Barks, from a translation
by John Moyne
"These Branching Moments"
Copper Beech Press, 1988
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Every day is a festival and Friday for the poor; has not yester-
day's Friday become an ancient festival?*
O soul, robed in festive garb like the festival moon, made of
the light of the beauty of yourself, not of woollen frock;
Like reason and faith sweet outside and inside, not garlic
stuffed in the heart of a walnut-sweet.
Put on such a frock and go about in this ring, like the heart
clear and bright in the vestibule of the heart.
On a running river, O soul, how shall a straw stand still? How
can rancor make its dwelling in the soul and spirit?
In the eye of sanctity these words are a branch new and fresh;
in the eye of sensual perception, they are like an ancient legend.
-- Translation by A.J. Arberry
"Mystical Poems of Rumi 2"
University of Chicago Press, 1979
* Aflaki gives the following account of the composition of this
gazal: "A darvish asked Mowlana: 'Who is a mystic?' He said 'A mystic
is a person whose calm disposition is never disturbed by any
annoyance. The mystic never becomes angry.' " Manaqeb, 279
The media:
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These sayings of mine are really a call to God,
words to lure the breath of that sweet One.
How can you be silent? How can you fail to call,
knowing He always answers, "Here I am—"
that silent answer you feel from head to toe.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
in sokhan-hâ khvod be-ma`nâ yâ Rabbist
harf-hâ dâm dar shirin-e labist
Chon konad taqsir pas chon tan zanad
chon labbaykesh be-yâ Rabb mi rasad
Hast labbayki keh na-tavâni shanid
layk sar tâ pây be-tavâni chashid
-- Mathnawi II:1189-1191
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Daylight"
Threshold Books, 1994
Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra
The media:
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Here, Sunlight offers Ghazal 2331, in translations by Professors
Chittick and Arberry, followed by a link to a mixed media
presentation:
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Oh formless Heart-ravisher! Oh unformed Form-maker!
Oh Thou who hast given a goblet full of uproar to the lovers!
Thou hast shut my mouth lest I voice the mysteries, and
in the breast Thou hast opened the door I cannot name.
As soon as Thy Beauty threw off its veil in secret, my heart
fell to the saki and my head to the wine.
It was morning, and Thy Image went mounted on its steed.
Holy spirits, innumerable as sand, went on foot.
And those who are famous for their glorification of Thee in
heaven broke their rosaries and pawned their prayer carpets.
The spirit cannot bear to see Thy Face unveiled, and Thy
Beauty is greater than whatever I say.
My spirit is a drunken camel following behind Thee, my
body a collar around the camel's neck.
Shams of God Tabrizi! My heart is pregnant from Thee!
When will I see the child born of Thy auspiciousness!
-- Translation by William C. Chittick
"The Sufi Path of Love"
SUNY Press, Albany, 1983
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O formless Beloved of the pure form-fashioner, O you who
have given the cup full of tumult to the lovers,
You have closed your mouth against uttering secrets, and
opened in the heart the door which I do not mention.
Since your beauty secretly cast off the veil, heart has gone
after saki and hand after wine.
In the morning when your image drove forth riding, holy
spirits, as numberless as the sand, followed on foot;
And those who are famous in heaven for their adoration broke
their rosaries and pawned their prayer rugs.
They cannot endure to gaze on your face unveiled; your beauty
exceeds all that I say.
My soul runs after you like a raging camel; my body is a
collar
bound upon the neck of that camel.
Shams-al Haqq Tabriz, my heart is pregnant by you; when
shall I see a child born under your auspices?
-- Translation by A. J. Arberry
"Mystical Poems of Rumi 2"
The University of Chicago Press, 1991
The media:
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When you whirl, your eye sees the room whirling, too.
If you sail in a ship over the sea,
it seems the seashore is running past.
If your heart is oppressed with struggle,
the whole atmosphere of the world feels tight;
but if you are happy as your friends would wish,
this world seems to be a garden of roses.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Gar to bar-gardi va bar-gardad saret
khâneh-râ gardandeh binad manzaret
Var to dar kashti ravi bar yamm ravân
sâhel-e yamm-râ hami bini davân
Gar to bâshi tang-del az malhameh
tang bini jawv-e donyâ-râ hameh
Var to bâshi be-kâm-e dustân
in jahân be-namâyadet chon golestân
-- Mathnawi IV: 2369-2373
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance"
Threshold Books, 1996
Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra
The media:
http://tinyurl.com/2fdd3u
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