Friday, January 25, 2013

[Sunlight] The Core


The Core


Whoever planted this apple orchard hid it in a mist of
language, though some

fragrance comes through. Keep your nose subtle and clear
for that. Coarse companions

can clog you with mucus, so that you forget what's
concealed in word-fog.

Husamuddin's sunlight helps, that which burns in this
book. There is a being

named Quzuh, familiar of cloud and rainbow, snow-moon
and frozen grave mounds.

Leave Quzuh those coverings. Pierce to the core that the
seven blue spheres revolve

around. Venus touches her lute strings to lure out
essence from this poem.

Jupiter lays down money. Saturn, even he, bends to kiss
the hand, "I'm not worthy."

Mars cuts himself sharpening his sword. Astrologers
study the stars as they

die out. Philosophers talk about "thought," but what
does that mean? Mystical

poets make metaphors. Sensualists order dessert. Bread
dissolves in the

belly. Every face lifts toward light. As minerals move
in plants, as animals drink

from the wet grass, Khidr leans to the wisdom spring;
another being sets down his

load lightheartedly with the Friend; life never ends.

-- Mathnawi VI: 84-128
Version by Coleman Barks
"The Soul of Rumi"
HarperCollins, 2001




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