[Sunlight] When fruit becomes ripe

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The world is like a tree,
and we are the half-ripe fruit upon it.
Unripe fruit clings tight to the branch
because, immature, it's not ready for the palace.
When fruits become ripe, sweet and juicy,
then biting their lips, they loosen their hold.
When the mouth has been sweetened by felicity,
the kingdom of the world loses its appeal.
To be tightly attached to the world signifies immaturity;
as long as you're an embryo,
blood-drinking is your business.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

In jahân hamchon derakhtast ay kerâm
mâ beru chon mivehâ-ye nim khâm
Sakht girad khâm-hâ mar shâkh-râ
zânke dar khâmi na-shâyad kâkh-râ
Chon be-pokht va gasht shirin-e lab gazân
sost girad shâkh-hâ-râ ba`d az ân
Chon az ân eqbâl shirin shod dahân
sard shod bar âdami molk-e jahân
Sakht-giri va ta`assob khâmist
tâ janini kâr khun-âshâmist

-- Mathnawi III:1293-1297
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance
Threshold Books, 1996
(Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra)

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~

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[Sunlight] When fruit becomes ripe

[Sunlight] Two Days of Silence -- Ghazal 858

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"Two Days of Silence"

This wonderful moment, the taste of
nothing, in the company of the poor

and the empty. Sit with Bistami, not
some fortune teller. There are more

than two holidays a year! We celebrate
a birthday and solstice every second.

Newborns, we need fresh bread! Life
grows from the dead, as the living get

led into death. Dry branches to the
fire: green limbs bend to the ground with

fruit; pleasure fills a mother's breast:
put your mouth there and suck. You

must. I've made many elegant speeches
to the assembly. Now it's time to

walk outside and be quiet. Shams draws
me to words, then two days of silence.

-- Ghazal (Ode) 858
Version by Coleman Barks, with Nevit Ergin
"The Glance"
Viking-Penguin, 1999

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~

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[Sunlight] Two Days of Silence -- Ghazal 858

[Sunlight] This is my wish -- Ghazal 0457

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THIS IS MY WISH

O harp,
the strains of a longing heart is my wish.
O flute,
your burning cry is my wish.

Play the great song of Arabia;
I am the Great Bird,
and the song of Solomon is my wish.

Play the song of Iraq,
and let its soothing melody
calm the hearts of its people –
this is my wish.

Play on! Play on! –
High notes, low notes, every note.

I have fallen into a dream
with your peaceful melody.
Now awaken me with a loud gong –
this is my wish.

I hear your song –
the voice of God,
a symphony of love playing to the world.
That music is my witness –
I am a pious man,
pure faith is my wish.

O love, vanquish the intellect;
O love, that bewildering moment
is my wish.

O sweet wind,
passing over love's grass,
blow in my direction,
for the fragrance of love is my wish.

In the Face of my master, all beauty is revealed.

One sight –
One sight –

that is my wish.

-- Ode 0457
Version by Jonathan Star
"A Garden Beyond Paradise: The Mystical Poetry of Rumi"
Bantam Books, 1992

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[Sunlight] This is my wish -- Ghazal 0457

[Sunlight] Wherever tears fall, Divine mercy is shown

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Sometimes, in order to help, He makes us miserable;
but heartache for His sake brings happiness.

Laughter will come after tears.

Whoever foresees this is a servant blessed by God.
Wherever water flows, life flourishes:
wherever tears fall, Divine mercy is shown.

-- Mathnawi I, 817-20
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Daylight"
Threshold Books, 1994

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~

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[Sunlight] Wherever tears fall, Divine mercy is shown

[Sunlight] The Center of Fire -- Ghazal 1304

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THE CENTER OF FIRE

No more wine for me!
I'm past delighting in the thick red
and the clear white.

I'm thirsty for my own blood
as it moves into a field of action.

Draw the keenest blade you have
and strike, until the head circles
about the body.

Make a mountain of skulls like that.
Split me apart.

Don't stop at the mouth!
Don't listen to anything I say.
I must enter the center of the fire.

Fire is my child
but I must be consumed
and become fire.

Why is there crackling and smoke?
Because the firewood and the flames
are still talking:

"You are too dense. Go away!"
"You are too wavering. I have solid form."

In the blackness those two friends keep arguing.
Like a wanderer with no face.
Like the most powerful bird in existence
sitting on its perch, refusing to move.

What can I say to someone so curled up with wanting,
so constricted in his love?

Break your pitcher against a rock.
We don't need any longer
to haul pieces of the ocean around.

We must drown, away from heroism,
and descriptions of heroism.

Like a pure spirit lying down, pulling
its body over it, like a bride her husband
for a cover to keep her warm.

-- Ghazal 1304
Version by Coleman Barks
"The Essential Rumi"
HarperSanFrancisco, 1995

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~

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[Sunlight] The Center of Fire -- Ghazal 1304