[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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[Sunlight] Everyone Outdoors Talking

[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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~

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[Sunlight] The treasure inside

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

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

[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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[Sunlight] Stack wood -- Ghazal 2043