Tuesday, March 31, 2009

[Sunlight] He is the Lord of hidden grace

~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What wisdom was this, that the Object of all desire
caused me to leave my home joyously on a fool's errand,
so that I was actually rushing to lose the way
and at each moment being taken farther from what I sought--
and then God in His beneficence made that very wandering
the means of my reaching the right road and finding wealth!
He makes losing the way a way to true faith;
He makes going astray a field for the harvest of righteousness,
so that no righteous one may be without fear
and no traitor may be without hope.
The Gracious One has put the antidote in the poison
so that they may say He is the Lord of hidden grace.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

In cheh hekmat bud keh Qebleh-ye morâd
kardam az khâneh berun gomrâh o shâd
Tâ shetâbân dar zalâlat mi shodam
har dam az matlab jodâ-tar mi bodam
Bâz ân `ayn-e zalâlat-râ beh-jud
Haqq vasilat kard andar roshd o sud
Gomrahi-râ manhaj-e imân konad
kazh ruy-râ mahsad-e ehsân konad
Tâ na-bâshad hich mohsen bi vajâ
tâ na-bâshad hich khâyen bi rajâ
Andarun-e zahr teryâq ân Hafi
kard tâ guyand Zu al-Lotf al-Khafi

-- Mathnawi VI: 4339-4344
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance"
Threshold Books, 1996
(Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~

------------------------------------

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Monday, March 30, 2009

[Sunlight] "The Thicket"

~


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The Thicket"

Don't burn a blanket because of one flea!
Don't waste a day on trivial irritation,
some gnat's headache.

Take your attention off the forms
and focus on what's inside.

If you're on this way, choose companions
who are also pilgrims. No matter their shape,
color, or national origin, if they are your
people, go with them.

This confused story,
like the doings of lovers, may be told up and
down and sideways, because it's not a story.

It has no beginning or end. It's water.
Each incident-drop is self-contained, and yet
not.

This is just the bare cash of how we are
in this instant, you and I.

A sufi sees that whatever happened in the past
is completely gone. In that last story we told,
we are all now the man with his gift of water,
and the generous caliph, and the jug.

Know this: there's a marriage in each of us.
One partner is reason, universal clarity.
The other is desire and ambition. Those qualities
darken the candles of reason.

How did this come to be? It happens
because the whole has parts, and the parts
are not in relation to the whole as the smell
of the rose remains somehow part of the rose.

And with the rose that I'm talking about,
all the growing things are inside it, just
as the turtledove's coo enters and becomes
the nightingale.

But if I go more deeply
into this difficult question, will I be able
to give water to those of you who are thirsty?

If you're in some particular trouble,
a tight spot, be patient. Patience
is the way out of anxiety.

And try to avoid distracting thoughts.
Thoughts are like wild donkeys in the thicket
of human existence. Stay away from the market

bazaar of thought-traffic, and find your
strength.

Such acts of abstinence are the ultimate medicine.
Let these words enter your open ear,
and they will become a gold earring.

And then you will become a ring around the moon
ascending toward the Pleiades.

Know that created beings are as diverse as Z
and A. From one perspective unified.
From another they seem opposites.

To one being, resurrection is laughter.
To another, its a deadly judging-time,
when all frauds will be exposed.

A thorn loves the fall, because then he knows
that he won't be compared to the rose,
but the gardener knows, and a True Human Being
is always saying, "Look, it's spring!"

The body is here blooming and shining,
because form must be,
and then be dropped, before the knobs
of spiritual fruit can appear.

Bread must be broken, before it gives us
strength. Clusters of grapes must be crushed
to make wine. Myrobalan
must be pounded into powder,
so it can heal.

Husam! Take out two clean
sheets of paper. Add a description
of the true Sheikh. Your slender body
is so frail, but without the gift of your spirit-sun
we could see nothing. You are the wick,
the end of the thread, the clue we follow.

Write about the guide,
the summer full-moon.

Husam is young, but the truth has made him so old
that he has no birthdate. Old wine and old gold
are the most precious. Find such a teacher,
because without one you're in danger.
You need an escort on this mountain road.
If you go alone, you'll get dizzy
with the ghoul-sounds.

Read the Qu'ran where it tells about
these bits of bone and hair
that we find by the roadside.

Keep the reins tight, or your donkey will stray.
And if you do leave the road, go in the opposite
direction from where your donkey wants to go.

That will get you back on the path.
Don't be constant friends
with sexual desire.

Stay with those who have a true guide,
Their company protects.

-- Mathnawi I, 2892-2959
Version by Coleman Barks
"Feeling the Shoulder of the Lion"
Threshold Books, 1991

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~

------------------------------------

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Friday, March 27, 2009

[Sunlight] "Willing Slaves" -- Ghazal 1077

~

Here, Sunlight offers Ghazal (Ode) 1077, in a poetic version by Jonathan Star and a literal translation by A.J. Arberry:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Willing Slaves"

From deep within my heart
I always catch
the scent of my Beloved.
How can I help but
follow that fragrance?

Last night I was walking through Love's garden
where a glimmer of my soul
became a teeming river of light!
Laughing roses sprang up along the banks.
Dazzling waters rolled past the thorns of being
with speed enough to elude the sword of death.
Every tree and blade of grass danced in the meadow.
But to an eye without this vision,
all seemed plain and ordinary.
Suddenly a great cypress shot up from the ground!
The whole garden roared with delight -
the jamines exploded,
the broad-leafed trees clapped their hands.

A face of fire,
A cup of fire,
A heart of fire -
all were blazing with joy.
Surrounded by flames, my soul called out,
"O God, where shall I run?"

In the world of Oneness
there is nothing but yourself,
there is no room for counting.
But in the world of things
there is so much counting.
You may count a thousand apples in your hand -
If you want them all to be one,
make applesauce.
You may count a thousand grapes in your hand -
If you want the precious wine
crush them all together.

The message behind the words
is the voice of the heart.
The source of all activity
is that utter stillness.

Now Shams-e Tabriz is in the royal seat
and all my rhymes
have lined up like willing slaves.

-- Version by Jonathan Star
"Rumi - In the Arms of the Beloved "
Jeremy P. Tarcher/Putnam, New York 1997

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Each moment I catch from my bosom the scent of the Be-
loved; how should I not take my self every night into my bosom?
Last night I was in Love's garden; that desire ran into my
head; his sun peeped out of my eye, so that the river began to
flow.
Every laughing rose that springs from the bank of that river of
love had escaped from the thorn of being and eluded Dhu 'I-Faqar;*
Every tree and grass was a-dancing in the meadow, but in the
eye of the vulgar was bound and at rest.
Suddenly from one side our Cypress appeared, so that the
garden was beside itself and the plane-tree clapped its hands.
Face like fire, wine like fire, love afire--all three delightful;
soul because of the intermingled fires lamenting, "Whither shall
I flee?"
In the world of Divine Unity there is no room for number, but
number exists of necessity in the world of five and four.*
You may count a myriad sweet apples in your hand; if you
want to make one, squeeze them all together.
A myriad grapes went forth from the veil of skin; when skin
no more remained, there remained the wine of the Prince.
Without counting the letters, behold what is this speech of the
heart; unicolority-is it not a form derived from the root* of the
affair?
Shams-i Tabrizi is seated like a king, and before him my verses
are ranged like willing slaves.

-- Translation by A. J. Arberry
"Mystical Poems of Rumi 1"
The University of Chicago Press, 1968

* Dhu 'l-Faqar: Ali's sword, symbolizing death.
* The five senses and the four elements.
* "The Root": God, the source of all being.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~

------------------------------------

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Thursday, March 26, 2009

[Sunlight] Behold the faithfulness of spring -- Ghazal 1000

~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The red rose, which tears its cloak to shreds -- I
for one know its motive.
The willow has let down its branches in straight
rows to make up for all the ritual prayers it has missed.
The lily with its sword and the jasmine with its
shield are preparing themselves for the holy war.
The poor nightingale--how he suffers! He sighs
at the rose's display.
Each of the lovely brides in the garden says,
"The rose is glancing at me."
The nightingale replies, "The rose makes those
amorous gestures for my sake, headless and footless me!"
The plane-tree has lifted up its hands in
lamentation--shall I tell you what supplications he makes?
Who put the hat on the bud's head? Who bent
the violet over double?
Although autumn was very cruel, behold the
faithfulness of spring!
Whatever autumn took in pillage, spring has
come and replaced.
I speak of roses, nightingales and the beauties of
the garden as a pretext -- why do I do it?
For the sake of Love's Jealousy -- at any rate, I
am describing God's graces.
The pride of Tabriz and the world, Shams al-
Din, has again shown me favor.

-- Ghazal (Ode) 1000
Translation by William C. Chittick
"The Sufi Path of Love"
SUNY Press, Albany, 1983

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~

------------------------------------

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Wednesday, March 25, 2009

[Sunlight] Burning with longing fire -- Quatrain 1133

~

Today, Sunlight offers two interpretations of Quatrain 1133:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Burning with longing fire,
wanting to sleep with my head on your doorsill,
my living is composed only of this trying
to be in your presence.

-- Version by Coleman Barks
"Unseen Rain"
Threshold Books, 1986

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i seek fire
that's my longing for you
i seek a way out
that's how i'm at your door
i'm sick and tired
of being so unhappy
only you can show me
the time of my life

--Translation by Nader Khalili
Rumi, Dancing the Flame
Cal-Earth Press, 2001

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~


------------------------------------

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Tuesday, March 24, 2009

[Sunlight] Charity for God's sake

~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Charity for God's sake has a hundred signs within the heart—
the good deed, a hundred tokens.
Though in charity riches are consumed,
a hundred lives come to the earth in return.
A sowing of pure seeds in God's earth, and then no income! Impossible.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sad neshân bâshad darun isâr-râ
sad `alâmat hast niku kâr-râ
mâl dar isâr agar gardad talaf
dar darun sad zendegi âyad khalaf
Dar zamin-e Haqq zerâ`at kardani
tokhm-hâ-ye pâk ângah dakhl ni

-- Mathnawi IV:1757-1759
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance"
Threshold Books, 1996
(Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~

------------------------------------

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Monday, March 23, 2009

[Sunlight] The Mathnawi story of the Lion of no parts

~

The Mathnawi story of the Lion of no parts – a poetic version by
Barks and a literal translation from Nicholson

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In Qazwin, they have a custom of tattooing themselves
for good luck, with a blue ink, on the back
of the hand, the shoulder, wherever.

A certain man goes to his barber
and asks to be given a powerful, heroic, blue lion
on his shoulder blade. "And do it with flair!
I've got Leo ascending. I want plenty of blue!"

But as soon as the needle starts pricking,
he howls,
"What are you doing?"
"The lion."
"Which limb did you start with?"
"I began with the tail."
"Well, leave out the tail. That lion's rump
is in a bad place for me. It cuts off my wind."

The barber continues, and immediately
the man yells out,
"Ooooooooo! Which part now?"
"The ear."
"Doc, let's do a lion with no ears this time."

The barber shakes his head, and once more the needle,
and once more the wailing,
"Where are you now?"
"The belly."
"I like a lion without a belly."

The master lion-maker
stands for a long time with his fingers in his teeth.
Finally he throws the needle down.
"No one has ever
been asked to do such a thing! To create a lion
without a tail or a head or a stomach.
God himself could not do it!"

Brother, stand the pain.
Escape the poison of your impulses.
The sky will bow to your beauty, if you do.
Learn to light the candle. Rise with the sun.
Turn away from the cave of your sleeping.
That way a thorn expands to a rose.
A particular glows with the universal.

What is it to praise?
Make yourself particles.

What is it to know something of God?
Burn inside that presence. Burn up.

Copper melts in the healing elixir.
So melt yourself in the mixture
that sustains existence.

You tighten your two hands together,
determined not to give up saying "I" and "we."
This tightening blocks you.

-- Mathnawi I: 2981-3021
Poetic version by Coleman Barks
(Derived from Nicholson's translation)
"The Essential Rumi"
HarperSanFrancisco, 1995

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***How the man of Qazwin was tattooing the figure of
a lion in blue on his shoulders, and (then) repenting
because of the (pain of the) needle-pricks.***

Hear from the narrator this story about the way and custom
of the people of Qazwin.
They tattoo themselves in blue with the point of a
needle on body and hand and shoulders, so as to suffer no
injury.
A certain man of Qazwin went to a barber and said, "Tattoo
me (and) do it charmingly (artistically)."
"O valiant sir," said he, "what figure shall I tattoo?" He
answered, "Prick in the figure of a furious lion.
Leo is my ascendant: tattoo the form of a lion. Exert your-
self, prick in plenty of the blue dye."
"On what place," he asked, "shall I tattoo you? Said he,
"Prick the design of the beauty* on my shoulder-blade."
As soon as he began to stick in the needle, the pain of it
settled in the shoulder,
And the hero fell a-moaning--"O illustrious one, you have
killed me: what figure are you tattooing?"
"Why," said he, "you bade me do a lion," "What limb (of
the lion)," asked the other, "did you begin with?"
"I have begun at the tail," said he. "O my dear friend*,
he cried, "leave out the tail!
My breath is stopped by the lion's tail and rump: his rump
has tightly closed (choked) my windpipe.
Let the lion be without a tail, O lion-maker for my heart
is faint from the blows of the prong (the tattooer's needle)."
That person commenced to prick in (the blue) on another
part (of the man's shoulder) without fear, without favour,
without mercy.
He yelled--"Which of his members is this?" "This is his
ear, my good man," the barber replied.
"O Doctor," said he, "let him have no ears: omit the ears
and cut the frock short."
The barber began to insert (his needle) in another part: once
more the man of Qazwin set out to wail,
Saying, "What is the member (you are pricking in) now on
this third spot?" He replied, "This is the lion's belly, my dear
sir."
"Let the lion have no belly," said he: "what need of a belly
for the picture that is (already) sated*?"
The barber became distraught and remained in great be-
wilderment: he stood for a long time with his fingers in his
teeth;
Then the master flung the needle to the ground and said,
"Has this happened to anyone in the world?
Who (ever) saw a lion without a tail and head and belly? God
himself did not create a lion like this."
O brother, endure the pain of the lancet, that you may escape
from the poison of your miscreant self (nafs),
For sky and sun and moon bow in worship to the people who
have escaped from self-existence.
Anyone in whose body the miscreant self has died, sun and
cloud obey his command.
Since his heart has learned to light the candle (of spiritual
knowledge and love), the sun cannot burn him.
God hath made mention of the rising sun as turning aside--
like that*--from their cave.
The thorn becomes entirely beautiful, like the rose, in the
sight of the particular that is going towards the Universal.
What is (the meaning of) to exalt and glorify God? To deem
yourself despicable and (worthless) as dust.
What is (the meaning of) to learn the knowledge of God's
unity? To consume yourself in the presence of the One.
If you wish to shine like day, burn up your night-like self-
existence.
Melt away your existence, as copper (melts away) in the
elixir, in the being of Him who fosters (and sustains) existence.
You have fastened both your hands tight on (are determined
not to give up) "I" and "we": all this (spiritual) ruin is caused
by dualism*.

-- Mathnawi I: 2981 - 3021
Translation by Reynold A. Nicholson
"The Mathnawi of Jalalu'ddin Rumi"
E.J.W. Gibb Memorial, 1990

* "The beauty": literally, "idol".
* "O my dear friend": literally "O my two eyes."
* "The picture that is already sated": I.e., "It has already
imbibed as much of the blue dye as I can bear."
* "Turning aside like that": I.e., "towards the right hand,"
as stated in Qur'an, XVIII, 16.
* "Dualism": literally, "by two existents."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


~

------------------------------------

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Friday, March 20, 2009

[Sunlight] Everyone Outdoors Talking

~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


"Everyone Outdoors Talking"

First day of spring,
beginning a whole year of spring!
Everyone outdoors talking.

Rose to narcissus:
"Have you seen that ugly raven's face?"
"No, he has no interest in us."
"That's good news!"

Pomegranate asks the apple tree for a peach.
"All you loafers down at that end of the orchard, you're
always wanting peaches."
"You got to have a soul like Jesus
to be handed a peach!"

Inside this ordinary banter
come messages from the source,
from absolute absence.

The plants stretch new wings
in the sun. Cloud and fog burn off.
"Bless your heart."
"That's enough."

Sun moves into Aries, permanently!
"Come see me."
"I will. I'd like that. But I can't leave this."

Ground soaked, sky full of candles.
Visions of fire and water alternating.
Drag your feet off the boat.
Look at him standing there.

I used to have mountain
ranges inside my chest. Now it's smooth plain.

Grief lives between the cat paws.
You can say eek-eek or gehk-gohk,
but there's no way to escape.

Throw this cloth-making equipment into the fire,
the alphabet spindle that's stuck in your throat,
the cleft stick of your neck wrapped with thread.

-- Ghazal (Ode) 1298
Version by Coleman Barks, with Nevit Ergin
"The Glance"
Viking-Penguin, 1999

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~

------------------------------------

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Thursday, March 19, 2009

[Sunlight] The treasure inside

~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Man is concealed beneath his tongue;
this tongue is the curtain over the door of the soul.
When a gust of wind has pushed aside the curtain,
the secret of the interior of the house is disclosed.
We see whether in that house there are pearls
or grains of wheat, a treasure of gold,
or all scorpions or snakes; or whether a treasure
is there and a serpent beside it,
since a treasure of gold is never
without someone to keep watch.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

dami makhfist dar zir-e zabân
in zabân pardeh ast bar dargâh-e jân
Chonke bâdi pardeh-râ darham kashid
serr-e sahn-e khâneh shod bar mâ padid
K-andar ân khâneh gohar yâ gandomast
ganj-e zar yâ jomleh mâr o kazhdomast
Yâ daru ganjist mâri bar karân
zânke na-bovad ganj-e zar bi pâsbân

-- Mathnawi II: 846-848
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Daylight"
Threshold Books, 1994
Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~

------------------------------------

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Wednesday, March 18, 2009

[Sunlight] I am the sharer of your secrets -- Ghazal 1515

~

Here, Sunlight presents Ghazal 1515, in translations by Nader Khalili and A.J. Arberry:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

how very close
is your soul with mine
i know for sure
everything you think
goes through my mind

i am with you
now and doomsday
not like a host
caring for you
at a feast alone

with you i am happy
all the times
the time i offer my life
or the time
you gift me your love

offering my life
is a profitable venture
each life i give
you pay in turn
a hundred lives again

in this house
there are a thousand
dead and still souls
making you stay
as this will be yours

a handful of earth
cries aloud
i used to be hair or
i used to be bones

and just the moment
when you are all confused
leaps forth a voice
hold me close
i'm love and
i'm always yours

-- Translation by Nader Khalili
"Rumi -- Fountain of Fire"
Cal-Earth Press, 1994

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How close your soul is to my soul! For whatever thing you are
thinking, I know.
I have a token even closer than this; come close, and behold
my token.
In dervish guise you come into the midst; do not jest and say,
"I am in the midst."
I am like the column amidst your house; I am like a water-
spout hanging down from your roof.
I am a sharer of your secrets on the day of mustering and
resurrection, I am not a passing host like worldly friends.
In your banquet I go round like the wine, in time of your
battle I go before you like a lance.
If like lightning I make a trade of dying, like the lightning of
your beauty I am without a tongue.
Always I am joyful; it makes no difference whether I yield my
soul, or seize a soul.
If I give you my soul, it will be good trade, for in exchange for
a soul you will give me a hundred worlds.
In this house thousands and more are dead; there you are
seated saying, "Behold my household!"
A handful of dust says, "I was once a tress"; another says, "I am
a bone."
You become bewildered; then suddenly Love comes saying, "I
will deliver you this very instant from yourself."
Silence, Khusrau, speak no more of Shirin; my mouth is
burning with sweetness.*

-- Translation by A.J. Arberry
"Mystical Poems of Rumi - 1"
The University of Chicago Press, 1968

* A play on "Shirin" and "shirini" (sweetness).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~

------------------------------------

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Tuesday, March 17, 2009

[Sunlight] Don't waste the day in idle talk

~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Haven't you heard the verse, the present life is only a play*?
You have squandered your goods and grown afraid.
Look for your clothes before night comes on:
don't waste the day in idle talk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ni shenidi innamâ al-dunyâ la`ib*?
bâd dâdi rakht o gashti morta`eb
Pish az ânkeh shab shavad jâmeh ma-ju
ruz-râ zâye` ma-kon dar goft o gu

*Qur'ân: Sûrat Muhammad, 36

-- Mathnawi VI: 457-458
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance"
Threshold Books, 1996
Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~

------------------------------------

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Monday, March 16, 2009

[Sunlight] Stack wood -- Ghazal 2043

~

Sunlight offers Ghazal 2043, in a version by Coleman Barks,
and a literal translation by A.J. Arberry:


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AN ARMOR OF ROSES

Take January's advice. Stack wood.
Weather inevitably turns cold, and you

make fires to stay healthy. Study
the grand metaphor of this yearly work.

Wood is a symbol for absence. Fire
for your love of God. We burn form

to warm the soul. Soul loves winter
for that, and accepts reluctantly the

comfort of spring with its elegant,
proliferating gifts. All part of the

plan, fire becoming ash becoming
garden soil becoming mint, willow and

tulip. Love looks like fire. Feed
yourself into it. Be the fireplace and

the wood. Bravo, for this metallurgy
that makes a needle from an iron ingot.

Calm fire now, for the moth a window;
for you an armor of roses! Pharaoh

disolves like yogurt in water. Moses
comes to the top like oil. Fine Arabians

carry royalty. Nags, the sacks of dried
dung. Language is an annoying clatter

in the mill of meaning. A silent river
turns the millstone. The word-grains get

noisily dumped in the tray, pulverized
under the stone as gossip. Let this

poem be thus ground. Let me go
back to the lovefire that refines the

pure gold of my friend, Shamsuddin.

-- Version by Coleman Barks, with Nevit Ergin
"The Glance"
Viking-Penguin, 1999

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Did you see what January said? Lay brushwood like a stock;
if December brought not cold, the cold of both be upon me.
Since the cold has become stubborn, lay brushwood on the
fire. Do you spare brushwood? Is brushwood better, or the body?
Brushwood is the fainting form, God's love is the fire: burn up
the forms, O pure-skirted soul!
Until you burn up the form, your spirit will be frozen, like
idol worshippers far from springtime and security.
In firelike love, be happy like silver; since you are a child of
Abraham, fire is your dwelling.*
By God's command, fire becomes for true men tulip and rose,
clusters of basil, willow and lily.
The believer knows the spell and recites it over the fire; the
heat remains in it no more, it remains shining as the moon.
Blessed be the spell through which peace befalls in a fire which
can transform iron into needle.
The moth flings itself upon the kindled fire because the fire
reveals itself lit in the shape of a window.
To Hamza arrow and spear appear as scattering roses; in a
scatter of roses no man clothes himself in armor.*
Pharaoh was dissolved in the water like whey; Moses got on
the brow of the horse like oil.
Horses of spirit are the carriers of princes; dull and sluggish
horses carry packs and dung.
Speech is like a hopper on the mill of meaning; the mill turns
by water, not by regulating the hopper.
From that hopper, my brother, the wheat leaps from the
bucket and falls in the mill and becomes well and truly ground.
So from that hopper of existence, out of the bucket of greed
and negligence, you fall into the mill, that is in a clearly ex-
pressed way.
My soul, I am becoming hot, but not from chatter; it is from
the golden Sun of the Faith, from whom Tabriz is like a mine.

-- Translation by A.J Arberry
"Mystical Poems of Rumi 2"
University of Chicago Press, 1968

* "...fire is your dwelling." -- When Abraham was cast into the
fire, God said: "Oh fire, be thou cool, and a safety for Abraham."
Qur'an 21: 69
* "...clothes himself in armor." -- Hamza ebn Abd-al-Mottaleb, the
Prophet's uncle, was a dauntless warrior and called the "Lion of God"
by Mohammed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~

------------------------------------

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Friday, March 13, 2009

[Sunlight] Leaving this present intelligence behind

~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just as the human being does not recall its earlier forms of intelligence,
this present intelligence also must be left behind and forgotten
in order to escape this self-serving greed
and witness a hundred thousand new forms of intelligence.
Though one falls asleep and becomes oblivious of the past,
how can they leave him in that state of self-forgetfulness?
From that sleep they will bring him back again to wakefulness,
to mock at his present state, saying,
"What was the sorrow I was suffering in my sleep?
How did I forget the states of truth, of real experience?"

And so with this world, which is the sleeper's dream:
the sleeper imagines it is enduring,
until suddenly the dawn of Death arises,
and she is delivered from the obscurity of distorted opinion.
She will laugh at those sorrows of hers
when she sees her permanent abode and resting place.
Everything good or evil that you see in your sleep
will be manifest, one by one, on the Day of Reckoning.
That which you did during your sleep in this present world
will become manifest to you at the time of wakening.
Take care not to imagine that the hurtful acts made during this sleep
will find no interpretation there.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

`Aql-hâ-ye avvalinesh yâd nist
ham azin `aqlesh tahavvol kardanist
Tâ rahad zin `aql por-e hers o talab
sad hazârân `aql binad bu al-`ajab
Gar cheh khofteh gasht va shod nâsi ze pish
kay gozârandesh dar ân nesyân-e khvish
Bâz az ân khvâbesh bidâri keshand
keh konad bar hâlet khvod rish khand
Keh "Cheh ghamm bud ânkeh mi-khvordam be-khvâb
chon farâmusham shod ahvâl-e savâb?"

Hamchonân donyâ keh holm-e nâyemist
khofteh pendârad keh in khvod dâyemist
Tâ bar âyad na-gahân sobh-e ajal
vâ rahad az zolmat-e zann o daghal
khandeh-'esh girad az ân ghamm-hâ-ye khvish
chon be-binad mostaqarr o jâ-ye khvish
Har cheh to dar khvâb bini nik o bad
Ruz-e Mahshar yek be-yek paydâ shavad
ncheh kardi andarin khvâb-e jahân
gardadet hangâm-e bidâri `iyân
Tâ na-pendâri keh in bad gardanist
andarin khvâb va torâ ta`bir nist

-- Mathnawi IV: 3648-3652; 3654-3659
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance"
Threshold Books, 1996
(Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~


------------------------------------

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Thursday, March 12, 2009

[Sunlight] What veils me from You is my memory of You

~

Today, Sunlight offers two interpretations of Quatrain 193:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

O my Beloved,
The thought of you keeps me from you.
The thought of your face covers your face.

When I remember your lips,
they fade away.
When I think of your kisses
they come no more.

-- Version by Jonathan Star and Shahram Shiva
A Garden Beyond Paradise
Bantam Books, 1992

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Invoking Your name
does not help me to see You.
I'm blinded by the light of Your face.
Longing for your lips
does not bring them any closer.
What veils You from me
is my memory of You.

-- Translation by Azima Melita Kolin
and Maryam Mafi
Rumi: Whispers of the Beloved
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd, 1999


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~

------------------------------------

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Wednesday, March 11, 2009

[Sunlight] Show but your face - the world is filled with light!

~


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

O Sun, fill our house once more with light!
Make happy all your friends and blind your foes!
Rise from behind the hill, transform the stones
To rubies and the sour grapes to wine!
O Sun, make our vineyard fresh again,
And fill the steppes with houris and green cloaks!
Physician of the lovers, heaven's lamp!
Rescue the lovers! Help the suffering!
Show but your face - the world is filled with light!
But if you cover it, it's the darkest night!

-- Translation by Annemarie Schimmel
"Look! This is Love - Poems of Rumi"
Shambhala, 1991

(No citation was provided by the translator. If any Sunlight
subscribers are able to provide a proper reference for these verses,
we would welcome that. -- Sunlight Ed.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~

------------------------------------

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Tuesday, March 10, 2009

[Sunlight] Look at the Water of the water

~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Day and night there is movement of foam on the Sea.
You see the foam, but not the Sea. Amazing!
We are dashing against each other like boats:
our eyes are darkened though we're on clear water.
O you who've gone to sleep in the body's boat,
you've seen the water,
but look at the Water of the water.
The water has a Water that is driving it;
the spirit has a Spirit that is calling it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Jonbesh-e kaf-hâ ze daryâ ruz o shab
kaf hami bini va daryâ ni `ajab
Mâ cho kashti-hâ be-ham bar mi zanim
tireh cheshmim va dar âb-e rawshanim
Ay to dar kashti-ye tan rafteh be-khvâb
âb-râ didi negar dar b-e âb
b-râ bist ku mi rânadesh
ruh-râ Ruhist ku mi-khvânadesh

-- Mathnawi III: 1271-1274
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Daylight"
Threshold Books, 1994
Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~

------------------------------------

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Monday, March 09, 2009

[Sunlight] Various Disguises and Scams

~

Various Disguises and Scams

A bird lit in a meadow where a trap was set.
Grain had been put out on the ground,
and nearby a fowler had wrapped himself in grass
and pulled roses and red anemones over his head like a cap.

The bird had some notion that this clump of grass
was not all grass, but at first look,
he had no argument about what it might be.

He hopped a circuit around the strange heap
and asked,
"Who are you, out here in the wild?"

"I am a renunciate,
content to live like the grass.
After my neighbor's death, I closed my shop.
I gave up associating with every human being
that came along, and now I'm trying to be a friend
of the One. I saw that my jaw
would eventually be bound in the shroud,
so I figured it was best to use it less now.

You birds wear beautiful green robes
with gold embroidery, but at the end
you too will be wrapped in unsewn cloth."

All faces turn back into dirt.
The moist-dry, hot-cold parts
rejoin their kinfolk, and our spirits
receive a letter from the world
of pure intelligence. It says,

"So your five-day buddies left you!
Learn who your true friends are."

Some children, when they're playing with strangers,
get so hot and preoccupied with the game,
that they take off their shirts. Night comes,
and their clothes are gone, stolen.

It's impossible to play in the dark,
and now they're afraid to go home.

You've heard the line,
This present life is a play.

You've thrown off your clothes in the fun of living.
They floated away in the wind,
and now you're scared.

While it's still day, I've realized
that men are thieves, and that most of life
is wasted, half in looking for a lover,
and half in worrying over the plots
of our enemies. The former desiring
carries off our cloaks, and the latter
anxiety takes our caps.
Yet we remain
completely and obliviously absorbed
in our play. It's getting dark.

Death is near. Leave the game.
Saddle the horse of remorse
and catch up with the thief.

Get your clothes back. That confession-horse
is the speediest there is.

But keep it tied safely
when you're with the thief.

A certain man on this way to the village
has a ram that he leads along behind him.

A thief sneaks up and cuts the halter rope.
Finally the man notices and runs left and right
looking for the lost ram.
He sees the thief
beside a well, though he doesn't know
that it's the thief. The ram is elsewhere.
He goes to ask if he's seen a loose ram.

The thief is kneeling by the well crying.
"What's the matter?"
"My purse has fallen in.
If you can help me get it out, I'll give you
a fifth of everything in it. You could soon have
one-fifth of a hundred gold dinars
in your hand!"
The man thinks, "That's enough
to buy ten rams! One door is shut,
and God opens ten new doors."

He slips out of his clothes and climbs down
into the well, where there is nothing, of course,
and the thief carries away his clothes.

Oh, it takes a prudent man
to make it into the village!

When one loss causes a greedy panic,
then more losses are liable to come.

Imposters appear in many disguises.
Stay in your refuge with God,
and they won't deceive you.

-- Mathnawi VI: 435-477
Poetic version by Coleman Barks
"Feeling the Shoulder of the Lion,"
Threshold Books, 1991

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~

------------------------------------

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Friday, March 06, 2009

[Sunlight] Amazed Mouth -- Ghazal 1296

~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Amazed Mouth

The soul, a wide listening sky
with thousands of candles: when

anything is sold, soul gets given
in the cash: people waiting at a

door, a ladder leaning on a roof,
someone climbing down, the market

square bright with understanding.
Listening opens its amazed mouth.

-- Ghazal (Ode) 1296
Version by Coleman Barks
"The Soul of Rumi"
HarperSanFrancisco, 2001

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~


------------------------------------

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Thursday, March 05, 2009

[Sunlight] "If you serve God"

~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Though you read a hundred volumes without a pause,
you won't remember a single point without the Divine decree;
but if you serve God and read not a single book,
you'll learn rare sciences within your own heart.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Var be-khvâni sad sohof bi sakteh-'i
bi Qadr yâdet na-mânad nokteh-'i
Var koni khedmat na-khvâni yek ketâb
`elm-hâ-ye nâdereh yâbi ze jayb

-- Mathnawi VI:1931-1932
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance"
Threshold Books, 1996
(Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~

------------------------------------

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Wednesday, March 04, 2009

[Sunlight] Imitating spirituality

~

Here, Sunlight offers two versions of an excerpt from the
Mathnawi, Book II -- a short version by the Helminskis, and a longer one by Coleman Barks:


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Jesus of your spirit is within you:
ask his aid, for he is a good helper.
Don't seek from your Jesus the comforts of the body.
Don't ask from your Moses the wish of a Pharaoh.
Don't burden your heart with thoughts
of livelihood; livelihood will not fail.
Be constant in attendance at the Divine court.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

`Isâ-ye ruh-e to bâ to hâzer ast
nosrat azu khvâh ku khvosh nâser ast
Zendagi-ye tan ma-ju az `Isâ'et
kâm-e fer`awni ma-khvâh az Musâ'et
Bar del-e khvod kam neh andisheh-ye ma`âsh
`aysh kam na-âyad, to bar dargâh bâsh


-- Mathnawi II: 450; 453-454
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Daylight"
Threshold Books, 1994
Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The Lion's Shoulder"

The Jesus of your spirit is inside you now.
Ask that one for help, but don't ask for body-things,
like the foolish young man in the story,
who insisted that Jesus put a body back
around some bones that he had found.

Don't ask Moses for provisions
that you can get from Pharoah.

Don't worry so much about livelihood.
Your livelihood will turn out as it should.
Be constantly occupied instead
with listening to God.

Jesus pronounced the Name over the pile of bones,
and a black lion sprang back into being, swung once
with its paw, and tore the young man's skull open.
The brain-kernel was scattered and smashed.

Jesus asked the lion, "Why did you maul him
so quickly?"
"Because he was troubling you."
"Why didn't you drink the blood?"

Many people are like this lion. They rage
with hunger and then they leave the world
without having eaten what they killed.

They have the material means,
but they stay unsatisfied.

The lion explained, "Killing this man
was a warning to others. I have been dead.
There is no food now for me in this place."

The lion's swift attack is the right punishment
for those who insult the spirit, for those
who find a pure stream and then urinate in it.

If you know the nature of the stream,
bow your head down inside it.

A person meets a prophet
and somehow doesn't say,
"Lord, help me to Be."

How is it that you ask for physical comfort,
and not for a true existence?

Are you dogs that you love bones so?
Are you leeches that you want only blood?

Why are you so blind to what the soul needs?
Weep for yourself as when a cloud weeps,
and then the branch freshens. As when a candle
releases tears and gets brighter.

Wherever people grieve over anything,
you should sit with them and grieve louder,
because you have an even better right to moan.

They lament for what passes away. You cry
for your forgetting what doesn't.

You have been imitating spirituality.

Imitation is a lock on your chest.
Dissolve it with tears.

Imitation may be as small as a piece of straw,
or as huge as a mountain. Imitation
is a blind man describing a landscape
with beautiful words. There's no heart-knowledge.

The blind man gets excited with the words,
but you feel the distance between him and the beauty.

The imitator is a riverbed.
He doesn't drink the water.

It just passes through him on its way
to the water-drinkers. The riverbed
is not thirsty. Nothing stays there.

The imitator is a flute
that sounds pitiful
in order to be bought.

The imitator is a professional mourner,
with no motive but money. The words burn,
but there's no warmth, and no broken-open-ness.

The difference between being with a true knower
and being with an imitator is like
the difference between being
in the actual presence of the prophet David
and being outside somewhere hearing
a vague echo sound.

David is a source. The imitator
has just memorized some psalms.

Do not be fooled. The ox pulls the load,
while the cart makes a creaking noise.

Though even the imitator gets some reward,
as professional mourners get their wages.

But if the imitation-saint could distinguish
between God as God is, and "God" as he says the word,
he would dissolve all interest in self-interest.

For years he carries the Qur'an around,
hoping to make a living by being holy.

Had those words been written inside him,
his body would have shivered into particles.

In sorcery there are demonic helpers
who find ways to make you successful.

You have been doing such things
with the name of God.

A farmer once tied his ox in the stable.
A lion came and ate the ox
and lay down in its place!

The farmer went out late at night
to check on the ox. He felt in the corner
and rubbed his hand along the flank of the lion,
up the back, feeling the shoulder, and around
the chest to the other shoulder.

The lion thinks, "If a light were lit
and this man could suddenly see,
he would die of the discovery.

He's stroking me so familiarly,
because he thinks I'm his ox."

So the imitator doesn't realize
what he's fooling with. God thinks,
"You fake. Sinai crumbled and split
with jets of blood streaming from it
for the sake of the name
that you say so thoughtlessly.

You learned it from your mother and father,
not from your own experience."

If you are not an imitator,
your ego will dissolve, and you
will become a voice in the air.

-- Mathnawi, II, 450-512
Version by Coleman Barks
"Feeling the Shoulder of the Lion"
Threshold Books, 1991

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~

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Tuesday, March 03, 2009

[Sunlight] The world of No-place -- Fihi ma fih

~


The "Fihi ma fih" (literally, "What's in it is in it"), also
known as "The Discourses of Rumi", provides a record of seventy-one
talks and lectures given by Rumi on various occasions, some of them
formal, and some of them rather informal. The sources are thought to
have been notes made by various disciples, most likely compiled after
his death. As such, Rumi did not "author" the work and probably did
not intend that it be widely distributed.
The title signifies a miscellany of disparate sources, topics,
occasions, and so forth.

-- Adapted for Sunlight, from "Rumi, Past and Present,
East and West"
Franklin Lewis
Oneworld, Oxford, 2000)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wonder at these people who say, "How can the saints and
the lovers love that ineffable world, since it has no place or form
and is beyond description? How can they derive replenishment and aid
from it and be affected by it?" After all, they themselves are
occupied with the same thing night and day. Take this person who
loves another person and derives replenishment from her: After all,
this replenishment, kindness, goodness, knowledge, recollection,
thought, joy, heartache -- he derives all these things, and all dwell
in the world of No-place. Moment by moment he receives
replenishment from these meanings and is affected by them, but this
does not cause him any wonder. Yet he wonders how some people are in
love with the world of No-place and draw replenishment from it.

-- Fihi ma fih (The Discourses of Rumi) 38-39/50
Translation by Professor William Chittick
"The Sufi Path of Love"
SUNY Press, 1985

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~

------------------------------------

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Monday, March 02, 2009

[Sunlight] You have escaped from the city -- Ghazal 2180

~

Sunlight presents Ode 2180 - a poetic version by Coleman Barks and a
translation by A.J. Arberry:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The Image of Your Body"

You've made it out of the city,
that image of your body,
trembling with traffic and fear slips behind.
Your face arrives in the redbud trees,
and the tulips.

You're still restless.
Climb up the ladder to the roof.
You're by yourself a lot,
become the one that when you walk in,
luck shifts to the one who needs it.
If you've not been fed, be bread.

-- Version by Coleman Barks
"Open Secret,"
Threshold Books, 1984

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From these depths depart towards heaven; may your soul be
happy, journey joyfully.
You have escaped from the city full of fear and trembling;
happily become a resident of the Abode of Security*.
If the body's image has gone, await the image-maker; if the
body is utterly ruined, become all soul.
If your face has become saffron pale through death, become a
dweller among tulip beds and Judas trees.
If the doors of repose have been barred to you, come, depart
by way of the roof and the ladder.
If you are alone from Friends and companions, by the help of
God become a saheb-qeran* [lord of happy circumstance].
If you have been secluded from water and bread, like bread
become the food of the souls, and so become!

-- Translation by A. J. Arberry
"Mystical Poems of Rumi 2"
The University of Chicago Press, 1991

* The Abode of Security seems to be an allusion to heaven which
is sometimes called "the abode of peace" (dar-al salam) by Rumi as
against "the abode of pride" (dar-al gorur) i.e., the world.
*Saheb qeran is a person who is born under a happy conjunction
of the planets.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~

------------------------------------

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