Tuesday, July 31, 2012

[Sunlight] The burning away the cloak of temporality

~

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

When the kernel swells the walnut shell,
or the pistachio, or the almond, the husk diminishes.
As the kernel of knowledge grows,
the husk thins and disappears,
because the lover is consumed by the beloved.
Since the quality of being sought is the opposite of seeking,
revelation and divine lightning
consume the prophet with fire.
When the attributes of the Eternal shine forth,
the cloak of temporality is burned away.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Qeshr-e jawz o fostoq o bâdâm ham
maghz chon âgandeshân shod pust kam
Maghz-e `elm afzud kam shod pustesh
z-ânke `âsheq-râ be-suzad dustesh
Vasf-e matlubi cho zedd-e tâlebist
vahy o barq-e nur suzandeh-ye nabist
Chon tajalli kard awsâf-e Qadim
pas be-suzad vasf-e hâdes-râ gelim

-- Mathnawi III: 1388-1391
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance"
Threshold Books, 1996
(Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra)

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

~




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Monday, July 30, 2012

[Sunlight] You'll realize how we've always been together -- Ghazal 1145

~

Here, Sunlight offers Ghazal (Ode) 1145, from the Diwan-e
Shams, in poetic versions by Coleman Barks and Jonathan Star,
and in literal translations by A.J. Arberry and William Chittick:


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

No Room for Form

On the night when you cross the street
from your shop and your house
to the cemetery,

you'll hear me hailing you from inside
the open grave, and you'll realize
how we've always been together.

I am the clear consciousness-core
of your being, the same in
ecstasy as in self-hating fatigue.

That night, when you escape the fear of snakebite
and all irritation with the ants, you'll hear
my familiar voice, see the candle being lit,
smell the incense, the surprise meal fixed
by the lover inside all your other lovers.

This heart-tumult is my signal
to you igniting in the tomb.

So don't fuss with the shroud
and the graveyard road dust.

Those get ripped open and washed away
in the music of our finally meeting.

And don't look for me in a human shape,
I am inside your looking. No room
for form with love this strong.

Beat the drum and let the poets speak.
This is a day of purification for those who
are already mature and initiated into what love is.

No need to wait until we die!
There's more to want here than money
and being famous and bites of roasted meat.

Now, what shall we call this new sort of gazing-house
that has opened in our town where people sit
quietly and pour out their glancing
like light, like answering?

-- Poetic version by Coleman Barks
"The Essential Rumi"
HarperSanFrancisco, 1995

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

"The Blast of the Trumpet"

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!

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

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

Look on me, for I shall be your companion in the grave on
that night when you pass across from shop and house.
You will hear my greeting in the tomb, and you will be aware
that not for a moment you have been veiled from my eyes.
I am like reason and mind within your veil, alike in time of
pleasure and happiness and in the hour of pain and weariness.
On the strange night, when you hear the voice familiar, you
will escape from the bite of snake and leap away from the horror
of ant;
Love's intoxication will bring to your grave, as a gift, wine and
mistress and candle and meats and sweets and incense.
On the hour when we light the lamp of the intellect, what a
tumult of joy shall go up from the dead in the tombs!
The dust of the graveyard will be confounded by those cries,
by the din of the drum of resurrection, the pomp and panoply
of the uprising--
Shrouds rent asunder, two ears stopped up in terror; what
shall avail brain and ear before the blast of the trumpet?
On whatever side you gaze, you will behold my form, whether
you gaze on yourself or towards that uproar and confusion.
Flee from squinteyedness, and make good both your eyes, for
the evil eye on that day will be far from my beauty.
Beware of mistaking me in a human shape, for the spirit is
very subtle, and Love is exceedingly jealous.
What room is there for form, if the felt* be a hundredfold? It is
the rays of the soul's mirror that pitch the flag visibly.
Beat the drum, and wind towards the minstrels of the city; it is
the day of purification to the grown lads of the road of Love.
Had they sought God, instead of morsel and pence, you would
not have seen one blind man seated on the edge of the moat.
What sort of ogling-house have you opened in our city!
Mouth shut, shoot out glances, like light.

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

Prof. Arberry's note:

* Mirrors had covers of felt.

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

Look at me! I will be your intimate in the grave on
the night you pass from shop and home.
You will hear my salaams in the tomb and then
you will know that you were never hidden from my sight.
Behind your veil I am like your intellect and
awareness--at the time of joy and happiness, at the time of
suffering and infirmity.
When you hear the voice of a friend on that
lonely night, you will be delivered from the striking of the
serpents and the fear of the ants.
The winesickness of Love will bring you a gift
in the grave: wine, witnesses, candles, kabobs, sweetmeat, and
incense.
When we light intellect's lamp, what a shouting
and uproar will arise from the dead in their graves!
The dust of the graveyard will be bewildered by
the shouting and uproar, by the sound of the Resurrection's
drum, by the tremendous tumult of the Uprising.
He whose shroud is torn apart will cover his
ears in terror--but what are brain and ears next to the blast of
the Trumpet?
Wherever you look you will see my form
whether you look at yourself or at that noise and confusion.
Flee from cross-eyed vision and straighten out
your eyes for on that day, the evil eye will be far from my
beauty!
Beware! Beware! Gaze not at my human form!
Make no mistake, for the spirit is terribly subtle and Love
terribly jealous!
What place is this for form?! Were the felt
covering even a hundred fold, the radiance of the spirit's
mirror would show its banner.*
Strike the drums and wind your way to the
minstrels in the city! The young men of Love's way are
holding a day of purification.
If the blind men had sought out God instead of
morsels and money, not one of them would be left sitting on
the edge of the moat.
Why have you opened a tale bearer's house in
our city? Be a shut-mouth tale bearer, like light!** (D 1145)

-- Translation by William C. Chittick
"The Sufi Path of Love" (pp. 347-348, 374)
SUNY Press, Albany, 1983\

Prof. Chittick's notes:

*348, 1. 23-25 (D 1145/12)

Both N (25/12) and A (147/12) make the first misra' a single
compound sentence. In fact, "form" refers to form in the previous
verse (which A translates as "shape," thus hiding the
connection).
The poet protests that here you cannot speak about form, as he
just has. Why not? Because the spirit mirroring the divine Light
will show itself through the felt covering, i.e., its outward
manifestation--a "felt pouch" being where iron mirrors were kept
for safekeeping. Closer attention to Rumi's teaching about the
opposition between form/body and meaning/spirit would have
prevented the mistranslation.

**348, 1. 32-33 (1145-15)

"Tale bearer's house." A 147/15: "Ogling-house." N 25/15:
"House . . . as a dealer in amorous glances"
(ghammaz-khanah). The word ghammaz can support all three
interpretations, but the first meaning is suggested by the second
misra', which states that "light" (nur) is ghammaz. Light does not
"ogle" or "deal in amorous glances," but it does give information
and tell tales, since it makes things manifest. N's rendering is
better than A's, since he maintains some connection between
the first and second misra's. But the insufficiency of his
interpretation is shown by the fact that in the first misra' he adds
"amorous" to explain the sense of ghamaz, while in the second
he had to drop it, since "amorousness" is hardly an attribute of
light, whether in Persian or English.

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

~



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

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Friday, July 27, 2012

[Sunlight] Water for the next generation

~

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

The Logos is digging a channel
for water to reach the next generation.
During every generation there is one who brings the word of God;
still the sayings of those who have come before are helpful.

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

Hin be-gu keh Nâteqeh ju mi konad
tâ be-qarni ba`d-e mâ âbi resad
Garcheh har qarni sokhan âri bovad
lik goft-e sâlefân yâri bovad

-- Mathnawi III: 2537-2538
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance"
Threshold Books, 1996
Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra

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

~




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Wednesday, July 25, 2012

[Sunlight] Love Tricks -- Ghazal 566

~

Here, Sunlight offers Ghazal (Ode) 566, from Rumi's "Diwan-e Shams", in a poetic version by Jonathan Star, and a literal translation by A.J. Arberry:

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

"Love Tricks"

Who is this Beautiful One,
This One who stays up all night
teaching love tricks to Venus and the Moon?
This One
whose enchanting gaze
seals up the two eyes of heaven?

O seekers, it is your own heart!

Day and night,
I am so taken by Him
that no one can be taken by me.
At the beginning I was born of his love,
In the end I gave Him my heart.
A fruit which falls from a branch
must first cling to that same branch.

A man may run from his own shadow,
searching for light,
but will he ever find a place to rest?

The tip of His curl is saying,
"Walk this tightrope."
The fire of His candle is saying,
"O Moth, come here."
O heart, be steady,
dance gently upon that rope.

But the moment you hear His call
fly into the candle's flame.

When you knew the rapture of this burning
you would not go on for another moment
without its heat.
Even if the water of life
were pouring all around
it would not lure you from the flames.

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

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


A fair idol that all the night teaches tricks to Venus and the
moon, his two eyes by witchery sew up the two eyes of heaven.
Look out for your hearts, Moslems, for I at all events am so
commingled with Him that no heart is commingled with me.
First I was born of His love, finally I gave my heart to
Him; when fruit is born of a branch, from that branch it hangs.
I am fleeing from my own shadow, for the light is hidden
from the shadow; where shall he rest at last who flees from his
shadow?
The- tip of His tress is saying, "Ha, quick, to the rope-trick!"
The cheek of His candle is saying, "Where is the moth, that it
may burn?"
For the sake of that rope-trick be brave,* and become a
hoop; fling yourself into the fire, when His candle is kindled.
When you have seen the joy of burning you will no more
endure without the flame; even if the water of life came to
you, it would not stir you from the flame.

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

*Also translated as, "make haste."

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

~



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

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Tuesday, July 24, 2012

[Sunlight] Until the heart becomes a king

~

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

Kill the snake of desire in the beginning;
or watch out: your snake will become a dragon.
But everyone considers his own snake to be just an ant:
if you do, seek knowledge of your real state
from one who is a lord of the heart.
Until copper becomes gold,
it doesn't know that it's copper:
until the heart becomes a king,
it doesn't recognize its poverty.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mâr-e shahvat-râ be-kosh dar ebtedâ
varnah inak gasht mâret azhdahâ
Layk har kas mur binad mâr-e khvish
to ze sâheb-del kon estefsâr-e khvish
Tâ na-shod zar mes na-dânad man mesam
tâ na-shod shah del na-dânad moflesam

-- Mathnawi II: 3472-3474
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Daylight"
Threshold Books, 1994
Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra

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

~



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Monday, July 23, 2012

[Sunlight] Inside Shams's Universe -- Ghazal 384

~

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

Inside Shams's Universe

Inside a lover's heart there's
another world, and yet another

inside the Friend of this community
of lovers, an ear that interprets

mystery, a vein of silver in the
ground, another sky! Intellect and

compassion are ladders we climb,
and there are other ladders; as we

wallk in the night, the voice that
talks of forgiveness; inside Shams's

universe candlelight itself becomes
a moth to die in his candle.

-- Ghazal 384
Version by Coleman Barks
"The Soul of Rumi"
HarperCollins, 2001

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

~



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Friday, July 20, 2012

[Sunlight] The secret of love

~

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

Love has nothing to do with the five senses and the six directions:
its goal is only to experience the attraction exerted by the Beloved.
Afterwards, perhaps, permission will come from God:
the secrets that ought to be told will be told
with an eloquence nearer to the understanding
than these subtle confusing allusions.
The secret is partner with none but the knower of the secret:
in the skeptic's ear the secret is no secret at all.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

`Eshq-râ bâ panj o bâ shesh kâr nist
maqsad-e u joz keh jazb-e Yâr nist
Bu keh fimâ ba`d dasturi resad
râz-hâ-ye goftani gofteh shavad
Bâ bayâni keh bovad nazdik-tar
zin kenâyât-e daqiq-e mostater
Râz joz bâ râzdân anbâz nist
râz andar gush-e monker râz nist

-- Mathnawi VI:5-8
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance"
Threshold Books, 1996
(Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra)

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

~



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

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Thursday, July 19, 2012

[Sunlight] Ramadan came to the heart's temple

~

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

Ramadan came, but Bairam is with us.
The lock came, but the key is with us.

Mouth is closed. Eyes are opened.
That brilliance that the eyes see is with us.

We have cleaned soul and heart with fasting.
The dirt which has been with us is cleansed now.

Some stress comes from fasting,
But the invisible treasure of heart is with us.

Ramadan came to the heart's temple;
The one who created heart is with us.

Since Salahuddin* is among this crowd,
Mansur and Beyazid* are with us.


*Salahuddin: Rumi's closest spiritual companion and disciple following
the final disappearance of Shams-e Tabriz, whom he put in charge of
the spiritual training of his disciples.

*Mansur and Beyazid: two famous Sufis of the past, Mansur al-Hallaj
and Beyazid Bestami.

-- Ghazal No. 370 from the Divan-e Shams-e Tabrizi
Translated by Nevit Ergin
(from the Turkish translation of the original
Persian by Golpinarli)
"Mevlana Jelaleddin Rumi: Divan-i Kebir,"
Volume 18, 2002.

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

~




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

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Wednesday, July 18, 2012

[Sunlight] "What is the Way?" -- Ghazal 374

~

"What is the Way?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Someone asked, "What is the Way?" I said,
"This way is to abandon desires."
Oh lover of the King! Know that your way is to
seek the pleasure of that Generous Lord.
When you seek the Beloved's desire and
pleasure, seeking your own desire is forbidden.
The spirit will be totally transformed into love
for the Beloved, for the ascetic cell of the noble travelers is
Love.
His Love is not less than the top of some
mountain -- His Love's mountaintop is enough for me!
The cave where you can find the Friend is
Love -- then the spirit will gain the adornment of Love's
beauty.
Whatever purifies you is the correct road -- I will
not try to define it.
Be silent and hold fast to the shaykh-Love -- for
in the two worlds, he is your leader.

-- Ode 374
Translation by William C. Chittick
"The Sufi Path of Love"
SUNY Press, Albany, 1983

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

~



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Tuesday, July 17, 2012

[Sunlight] Time and timelessness

~

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

Hours make the young old.
All changes have arisen from the hours:
the one who is freed from hours is freed from change.
When for an hour you escape from the hours,
"how" no longer remains:
you become familiar with that which is without "how."
Hours are not acquainted with timelessness.
For the one who is possessed by time,
there is no way there except bewilderment.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ham dar ân sâ`at rost jân
zânke sâ`at pir gardând javân
Jomleh-ye talvin-hâ ze sâ`at khâstast
rast az talvin keh az sâ`at be-rast
Chon ze sâ`at sâ`ati birun shavi
chon na-mânad mahram-e bi-chon shavi
Sâ`at az bi sâ`ati âgâh nist
zankesh ân su joz tahayyor râh nist

-- Mathnawi III:2073-2076
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance"
Threshold Books, 1996
(Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra)

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

~



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

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Monday, July 16, 2012

[Sunlight] As Lakewater Rises in Mist -- Ghazal 2394

~

As Lakewater Rises in Mist

The singer sings about love, until
the Friend appears in the doorway.

Kitchen smoke drifts up into clouds
and becomes a thousand-year-old wine.

I am here, not reckoning the credit
accumulated or future speculation.

I am the vineyard and the barrel
where the grapes are crushed, the

entire operation, whose transaction
pours this glass of wine, this moment,

this poem. A man stumbles by with
baggage, papers from the house, regret

and wishing, not knowing which to
tend to. Neither. After you see

the face, concerns change, as
lakewater rises into mist.

-- Ghazal (Ode) 2394
Version by Coleman Barks, with Nevit Ergin
"The Glance"
Viking-Penguin, 1999

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

~



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Friday, July 13, 2012

[Sunlight] The soul's true coin

~

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

The High God lays upon our body, O lion-hearted,
heat and cold and grief and pain,
fear and hunger and poverty and illness—
all for the soul—
so the soul's true coin may be seen and used.

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

Haqq Ta`âlâ garm o sard o ranj o dard
bar tan-e mâ mi nehad ay shir mard
Khawf o ju` va naqs-e amvâl o badan
jomleh be-har naqd-e jân zâher shodan

-- Mathnawi II: 2963-2964
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Daylight"
Threshold Books, 1994
Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra

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

~




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Thursday, July 12, 2012

[Sunlight] The Meeting -- Ghazal 45

~



Here, Sunlight offers Ghazal (Ode) 45, in a poetic version by
Professor Coleman Barks and in literal translation by Professor A.J.
Arberry:

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

The Meeting

When the friend opens the door and says,
You are here, please come in.
It is such a pleasure to give up talking
and listen to his long story
about Khidr, the guide of souls.

A tailor cuts cloth uniquely for each person.
Springs open in the center of the lake.
Trees move in the breeze that comes before dawn.

A nightingale sits in the rosebush and asks,
Who do you love? Tell me.
No one else is here.

The rose, So long as you are you,
I cannot. This is the passionate demand,
the one the burning bush made of Moses.

I am a sacred pool. Take off your shoes.
Wade in. You are the essence
of place and placelessness, honored one.
Take my hand.

The needle's eye will not accept
a strand of thread that is folded double.

So it is with you.
You find yourself holding the royal bowl
and welcoming all to the banquet.

The sun stands in the fire up to its chin
so we can have daylight.

When you take the hand of someone you love,
what happens to those hands?

Your darling comes, and you ask,
How can I help? Come here.

Reason wonders, Should I go?
And your loving, Should I run?

The one you love signals,
Yes. I want both of you.

The table is there. Sit down,
Choose the bright company.
Do not worry about food.

Now I pass to you this silence,
so that the alternations of night and day
with their flaming language
may finish the story.

-- Ghazal 45
Version by Coleman Barks
Rumi: Bridge to the Soul
HarperCollins, 2007

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

How sweet it is to give speech and head, to converse with his
lip, especially when he opens the door and says, "Good sir, come in!"
To the dry lip he tells the story of the fountain of Kaidar;
according to the stature of the man the tailor of his love cuts
the gown.
The fountains become drunken through the intoxication of his
eye; the trees are dancing before the gentle breeze of dawn.
The nightingale says to the rosebush, "What is in your heart?
Declare it this instant. No other is near; only you and I."
The rosebush answers, "So long as you are with yourself,
entertain not this ambition. Make a special effort to transport the
burden of your selfhood out of this earthly abode."
The eye of the needle of passion is narrow; know for a
certainty that it will not admit any thread when it perceives it to
be a double strand.
Behold how the sun is up to the throat in fire, so that through
its face the face of the earth may become full of light.
When Moses proceeded towards the burning bush, the bush
said, "I am the water of Kauthar; take off your shoes, and come!
Do not fear my fire, for I am water and sweet at that; you have
come to prosperity; the seat of honour is yours, welcome!
You are a pearl of lustre, a ruby of the mine, the soul of
place and placelessness; you are the nonpareil of the age; where
are other creatures beside you?"
Through love's hand, every hand becomes the royal court of
munificence; through you, the faithless world becomes the factory
of fidelity.
At the first hour of day you came, in your hand the royal bowl;
you are drawing my soul towards the feast, saying, "Welcome!"
What becomes of the heart, when the heart's hand grasps the
hand of a sweetheart? What becomes of the dross copper, when
it hears the welcoming voice of the philosopher's stone?
A wondrous darling came, in his hand a lance, like a Bedouin.
I said, "What service can I render?" He said, ""Come up to me!"
My heart leaped, saying, "Shall I run?" My reason said, "Shall
I go?" Generously, he signaled, saying, "Yes, both of you!"
Since the table has come down from heaven, wash you hands
and your mouth too, that there may not proceed from your palms
the odour of onions and chives.
The mine of salt has arrived; take heed, if you are goodly and
a lover. Seize the bowl, and give the cup; choose riot, not broth!
Now I close these two lips, so that the lamp of day and night
even with the flame of the tongue may tell you the whole story.

-- Translation by A.J. Arberry
Mystical Poems of Rumi 1
The University of Chicago Press 1968/1991

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

~



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Wednesday, July 11, 2012

[Sunlight] Seek the King of Hearts, seek the Eternal Friend

~

Here, Sunlight offers Ghazal (Ode) 1789, in versions by
Star and Helminski, and in translation by Arberry:

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

"On the Threshold"

O lovers, O lovers,
heaven's drum calls my spirit and says,
It's time to leave this world.

Look!
The camel driver has risen,
The caravan is about to leave.
He says, "Forgive me for waking you . . . .
But why, O pilgrim, are you asleep?
Before you and behind you
the camel-bells are ringing.
It's time to go.

With each passing moment
a soul sets off to find itself.
From the stars,
suspended like candles
from the blue vault of heaven,
wondrous souls have appeared
and the Unseen has revealed itself.

The revolving spheres have lulled you
into a deep sleep.
Beware of this floating life.
Beware of this weighty slumber.

O heart, seek the King of Hearts.
O friend, seek the Eternal Friend.

O watchman, be wakeful –
the whole city could be lost
if you fall asleep!

Tonight, amidst the shouts and din of the city,
Amidst the light of candles and torches –
Tonight this fecund world
will give birth to eternity.

You were dust and now you are spirit.
You were ignorant and now you are wise.
The one who brought you here
will bring you still further.
Your pain will become your pleasure
as He draws you near.
Don't be afraid –
His flames are like cooling water.
To give your soul life is His sacred duty,
To break your binding chains is His only mission.

O foolish puppet, popping up from your box,
You call out to the world,
This is mine!
How long will you jump up?
If you don't bend your neck
He will bend it for you!

You put others down
and spin a web of deception.
O imposter,
You think God is a plaything in your hand?

O donkey, you belong with the straw.
O cauldron, you deserve to be blackened!
O outcast,
you deserve to be at the bottom of a well!

"In me there's another force
that gives rise to these harsh words.
Scalding water
is caused by fire, not water."

I have no stone in my hand,
no argument with anyone.
I put down no one,
for I am as sweet as a bed of roses.

That Supreme Source speaks through me . . . .
It has given you a hint – that is enough.

Now let me sit here,
on the threshold of two worlds,
Lost in the eloquence of silence.

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

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


"A Night for Departure"

O lovers, lovers, it is time
to set out from the world.
I hear a drum in my soul's ear
coming from the depths of the stars.

Our camel driver is a work;
the caravan is being readied.
He asks that we forgive him
for the disturbance he has caused us,
He asks why we travelers are asleep.

Everywhere the murmur of departure;
the stars, like candles
thrust at us from behind blue veils,
and as if to make the invisible more plain,
a wondrous people have come forth.

Beneath this water wheel of stars
your sleep has been heavy.
Observe that heaviness and beware...
for life is fragile and quick.

Heart, aim yourself at Love!
Friend, discover the Friend!
Watchman, wake up!
You're not here to sleep.

-- Version by Kabir Helminski
"Love is a Stranger"
Threshold Books, 1993

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

Lovers, lovers, it is time to migrate from the world; the drum
of departure is reaching my spirit's ear from heaven.
See, the driver has arisen, the camel train is arrayed, he has
begged us for quittance; caravaners, why are you asleep?
These sounds ahead and behind are the sounds of departure
and the camel-bells; every moment a soul and a breath is
setting off into placelessness.
From these inverted candles, from these indigo veils, there
issues a wondrous people that the things unseen may become
visible.
If heavy slumber fell upon you from this revolving sphere, alas
for this light life! Beware of this heavy slumber!
Heart, depart to the Sweetheart; friend, depart to the Friend;
watchman, be wakeful – a watchman should not sleep.
On every side are candles and torches, on every side noise
and tumult, for tonight the pregnant world gives birth to the eternal
world.
You were clay and became heart, you were ignorant and
became intelligent; he who has drawn you on so far will draw
you beyond [this world].
In drawing and drawing you his pains are delectable; his
flames are like water, do not frown thereon.
His business is to dwell in the soul, his business to break
penitence vows; by his abundant contrivance these motes are
trembling at heart.
Laughing stock, jumping out of your hole, as if to cry, "I am
the lord of the land," how long will you jump? Bend you neck,
or they will bent you like a bow.
You sowed the seeds of deceit, you indulged in mockery, you
deemed God nonexistent; now look, you cuckold!
Ass, you were apter for straw; a cauldron, you were better
black; you were better at the bottom of the well, you disgrace to
house and household!
In me there is Another from whom these angers leap; if water
scalds, it is through fire – realize this!
I have no stone in my hand; I have no quarrel with anyone; I
deal harshly with none, for I am gay as a rose bower.
My anger is therefore from that source; it is from the other
world; this side a world, that side a world – I am seated on the
threshold.
That man sits on the threshold who is mutely eloquent; you
have uttered this hint, that is enough; say no more, draw back
your tongue.

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

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

~



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Tuesday, July 10, 2012

[Sunlight] If your physician is the Light of God

~

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

Over the years that soft moonlike face
becomes like the back of a Libyan lizard,
and that head crowned with fair hair grows ugly and bald.
Truly these are signs of pain and decay, each a messenger of death.
But if your physician is the Light of God,
no loss or crushing blow is suffered from fever or old age.
The one without Light is an orchard without fruit,
which the autumn will bring to ruin.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ân rokhi keh tâb-e u bod mâh-vâr
shod be-piri hamcho posht-e susmâr
Vân sar o farq-e gash-e sha`sha` shodeh
vaqt-e piri nâ-khvosh o asla` shodeh
In khvod âsâr-e ghamm o pazhmordegist
har yeki zin-hâ rasul-e mordegist
Lik gar bâshad tabibesh Nur-e Haqq
nist az piri o tab noqsân o daqq
Vânke ânesh nist bâgh-e bi samar
keh khazânesh mi konad zir o zabar

-- Mathnawi V: 968-969; 973; 977
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance"
Threshold Books, 1996
(Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra)

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

~








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Monday, July 09, 2012

[Sunlight] Sleep on -- Ghazal 314

~


Here, Sunlight offers Ghazal (Ode) 314, in a version
by Coleman Barks, and in translations by by Kolin and Mafi,
and by A.J. Arberry:

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

Those who don't feel this Love
pulling them like a river,
those who don't drink dawn
like a cup of spring water
or take in sunset like supper,
those who don't want to change,

let them sleep.

This Love is beyond the study of theology,
that old trickery and hypocrisy.
If you want to improve your mind that way,

sleep on.

I've given up on my brain.
I've torn the cloth to shreds
and thrown it away.

If you're not completely naked,
wrap your beautiful robe of words
around you,

and sleep.

-- Version by Coleman Barks
"Like This"
Maypop, 1990

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

You who possess not Love, it is lawful to you – sleep on; be
gone, for Love and Love's sorrow is our portion – sleep on.
We have become motes of the sun of sorrow for the Beloved;
you in whose heart this passion has never arisen, sleep on.
In endless quest of union with Him we hurry like a river, you
who are not anguished by the question "Where is He?" – sleep on.
Love's path is outside the two and seventy sects; since your
love and way is mere trickery and hypocrisy, sleep on.
His dawn-cup is our sunrise, his crepuscule our supper, you
whose yearning is for viands and whose passion is for supper,
sleep on.
In quest of the philosopher's stone we are melting like copper,
you whose philosopher's stone is the bolster and bedfellow,
sleep on.
Like a drunkard you are falling and rising on every side, for
night is past and now is the time for prayer; sleep on.
Since fate has barred slumber to me, young man, be gone; for
sleep has passed you by and you can now fulfil slumber; sleep on.
We have fallen into Love's hand – what will Love do? Since
you are in your own hand, depart to the right hand – sleep on.
I am the one who drinks blood; my soul, you are the one who
eats viands; since viands for certainty demand slumber, sleep
on.
I have abandoned hope for my brain and my head too; you
aspire to a fresh and juicy brain – sleep on.
I have rent the garment of speech and let words go; you who
are not naked, possess a robe – sleep on.

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

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

"Sleep On"

Those of you who feel no love
sleep on.

Those of you who do not feel the sorrow of love
in whose heart has never risen
sleep on.

Those who do not long for union
who are not constantly asking, 'Where is He?'
sleep on.

Love's path is outside of all religious sects
if trickery and hypocrisy is your way
sleep on.

If you don't melt like copper in your quest
for the alchemical gold
sleep on.

If like a drunkard you fall left and right
unaware the night has passed and it's time for prayer
sleep on.

Fate has taken my sleep but since
it has not taken yours, young man
sleep on.

We have fallen into love's hands
since you are in your own
sleep on.

I am the one who is drunk on Love
since you are drunk on food
sleep on.

I have given up my head and have nothing more to say
but you can wrap yourself in the robe of words and
sleep on.

-- Translation by Azima Melita Kolin
and Maryam Mafi
Rumi: Hidden Music
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd, 2001

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

~



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Friday, July 06, 2012

[Sunlight] Where there is pain, the remedy follows

~

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

Lovingkindness is drawn to the saint, as medicine goes
to the pain it must cure.
Where there is pain, the remedy follows:
wherever the lowlands are, the water goes.
If you want the water of mercy, make yourself low;
then drink the wine of mercy and be drunk.
Mercy upon mercy rises to your head like a flood.
Don't settle on a single mercy, O son.
Bring the sky beneath your feet
and listen to celestial music everywhere.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Mehrbâni shod shekâr-e shirmard
dar jahân dâru na-juyad ghayr-e dard
Har kojâ dardi davâ ânjâ ravad
har kojâ pastist âb ânjâ davad
b-e rahmat bâyadet raw past shaw
v-ângahân khvor khamr-e rahmat mast shaw
Rahmat andar rahmat âmad tâ be-sar
bar yeki rahmat foru ma-â ay pesar
Charkh-râ dar zir-e pâ ay shojâ`
Be-shenaw az fawq-e falak bâng-e samâ`

-- Mathnawi II: 1938-1942
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Daylight"
Threshold Books, 1994
Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra

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

~



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Thursday, July 05, 2012

[Sunlight] Tonight we go to that place of eternity -- Quatrain 168

~

Today, Sunlight offers two interpretations of Quatrain 168:

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

Tonight we go to that place of eternity.
This is the wedding night –
a never-ending union
of lover and Beloved.

We whisper gentle secrets to each other
and the child of the universe
takes its first breath.

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

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

This night there are no limits to what may be given.
This is not a night but a marriage,
a couple whispering in bed in unison the same words.
Darkness simply lets down a curtain for that.

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

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

~





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Tuesday, July 03, 2012

[Sunlight] "Please God, offer honey to musicians"

~

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

Please God, offer honey to musicians
who bring us such joy!
Give them strong and untiring hands
to keep playing their music.
Give them vision so, like birds in love,
they can bring Your message to our ears.
Let them drink plenty from Your river and
grace them with Your strength
so their music becomes the pillar of Your glory.

-- Ghazal (Ode) 2342
Translated by Azima Melita Kolin
and Maryam Mafi
"Rumi: Hidden Music"
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd, 2001

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

~



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Monday, July 02, 2012

[Sunlight] The story of the laziest son

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A man on his deathbed left instructions
for dividing up his goods among his three sons.
He had devoted his entire spirit to those sons.
They stood like cypress trees around him,
quiet and strong.
He told the town judge,
"Whichever of my sons is laziest,
give him all the inheritance."

Then he died, and the judge turned to the three,
"Each of you must give some account of your laziness,
so I can understand just how you are lazy."

Mystics are experts in laziness. They rely on it,
because they continually see God working all around them.
The harvest keeps coming in, yet they
never even did the plowing!

"Come on. Say something about the ways you are lazy."

Every spoken word is a covering for the inner self.
A little curtain-flick no wider than a slice
of roast meat can reveal hundreds of exploding suns.
Even if what is being said is trivial and wrong,
the listener hears the source. One breeze comes
from across a garden. Another from across the ash-heap.
Think how different the voices of the fox
and the lion, and what they tell you!

Hearing someone is lifting the lid off the cooking pot.
You learn what's for supper. Though some people
can know just by the smell, a sweet stew
from a sour soup cooked with vinegar.

A man taps a clay pot before he buys it
to know by the sound if it has a crack.

The eldest of the three brothers told the judge.
"I can know a man by his voice,
and if he won't speak,
I wait three days, and then I know him intuitively."

The second brother, "I know him when he speaks,
and if he won't talk, I strike up a conversation."

"But what if he knows that trick?" asked the judge.

Which reminds me of the mother who tells her child,
"When you are walking through the graveyard at night
and you see a boogeyman, run at it,
and it will go away."

"But what," replies the child, "if the boogeyman's
mother has told it to do the same thing?
Boogeymen have mothers too."

The second brother had no answer.

The judge then asked the youngest brother,
What if a man cannot be made to say anything?
How do you learn his hidden nature?"

I sit in front of him in silence,
and set up a ladder made of patience,
and if in his presence a language from beyond joy
and beyond grief begins to pour from my chest,
I know that his soul is as deep and bright
as the star Canopus rising over Yemen.
And so when I start speaking a powerful right arm
of words sweeping down, I know him from what I say,
and how I say it, because there's a window open
between us, mixing the night air of our beings."

The youngest was, obviously,
the laziest. He won.

-- Mathnawi VI: 4876-4916
Version by Coleman Barks
"The Essential Rumi"
HarperSanFrancisco, 1995


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