Jahane Rumi

The concept of fana and mystic union is wonderfully expressed by Mevlana  Rumi in his Mathnawi  and tells the story of  a merchant and his parrot.  The parrot symbolizes the soul of the merchant engaged in conventional life.

When the merchant decided to go to India, he asked the parrot if she wanted a gift. “I only request that when you see other parrots in India, tell them a parrot who longs for you is in my prison by the destiny of Heaven”,  replied the parrot.

In India, the merchant gave the message to a group of parrots, one of whom trembled and fell dead on hearing the news. The merchant felt sorry for the bird and presumed that it was somehow related to his bird. (more…)

When the heart becomes whole,
it will know the flavors of falsehood and truth.
When Adam’s greed for the forbidden fruit increased,
it robbed his heart of health.
Discernment flies
from one who is drunken with desire.
He who puts down that cup
lightens the inner eye,
and the secret is revealed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chon shavad az ranj o `ellat del salim
ta`m-e kezb o rāst-rā bāshad `alim
Hers-e dam chon su-ye gandom fozud
az del-e dam salimi-rā robud
Pas dorugh o `ashveh-’et-rā gush kard
gherreh gasht va zahr-e qātel nush kard
Kazhdom az gandom na-dānast ān nafs
mi parad tamyiz az mast-e havas
Khalq mast ārzu’and o havā
z-ān pazirā’and dastān terā
Har keh khvod-rā az havā khu bāz kard
chashm-e khvod-rā āshnāyi rāz kard

– Mathnawi II: 2738-2743
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
“Rumi: Daylight”
Threshold Books, 1994
Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyį Monastra

Dear soul, Love alone cuts arguments short,
for it alone comes to the rescue when you cry for help against
disputes.
Eloquence is dumbfounded by Love: it dares not wrangle;
for the lover fears that, if he answers back,
the pearl of inner experience might fall out of his mouth.

Rumi - translation by Camille and Kabir Helminski
“Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance”
Threshold Books, 1996

Without the eyes – two clouds – the lightning of the heart:
The fire of God’s threat, how could it be allayed?
How would the herbage grow of union, sweet to taste?
How would the fountains all gush forth with water pure?
How would the rosebed tell its secret to the meadow?
How would the violet make contracts with jasmine?
How would the plane tree lift its hands in prayer, say?
How would the trees’ heads toss free in the air of Love?
How would the blossoms shake their sleeves in days of
spring
To shed their lovely coins about the garden wide?
How would the tulip’s cheek be red like flames and blood?
How would the rose draw out its gold now from its purse?
How would the ringdoves call like seekers, “Where, oh
where?”
How would the stork repeat his laklak from his soul,
To say: “O Helper high, Thine is the kingdom, Thine!”
How would the dust reveal the secrets of its heart?
How would the sky become a garden full of light?

Rumi
Translation by Annemarie Schimmel
“I Am Wind, You are Fire”
Shambhala, 1992

Do not worry if our harp breaks
thousands more will appear.
We have fallen in the arms of love where all is music.
If all the harps in the world were burned down,
still inside the heart
there will be hidden music playing.
Do not worry if all the candles in the world flicker and die
we have the spark that starts the fire.
The songs we sing
are like foam on the surface of the sea of being
while the precious gems lie deep beneath.
But the tenderness in our songs
is a reflection of what is hidden in the depths.
Stop the flow of your words,
open the window of your heart and
let the spirit speak.

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

Other versions below (more…)

Spring is here, friends.
Let’s stay in the garden
And be guests to the strangers of the green.

We’ll fly from one flower to the other,
Like bees making the six corners
Of this earth’s hives prosperous.

An envoy came from this fortress
And said, “Don’t beat the drum secretly.
With our yells, we would tear down the place
Where that Love’s drum is beating.”

Hear that voice which comes from the sky,
“Rise, all insane ones.
I sacrifice my Soul to the insane.
Let’s scatter our Soul today.”

Let’s break all the chains.
Every one of us is a blacksmith.
Let’s go to the fireplace where the pincers are.

Let’s fan the flame of the Heart’s fire
Like the furnace of blacksmiths.
So we can have iron Hearts
Under our control with breath.

We’ll put fire in this universe,
Incite riots in the sky,
Make his sober, resisting mind
Turn around, become dizzy like ours.

We are like a ball, without hands and feet,
Sometimes at the end
And sometimes at the beginning of the square.
Who told you we could do what we want?
Who told you we are independent?

No, no. We are like a club
In the hand of the Sultan.
We send hundreds of thousands of balls
To His feet.

Let’s be silent. Silence is made
With some material like craziness.
His mind is such a fire
That we hide this fire by wrapping it in cotton.

– Translation by Nevit O. Ergin
“Divan-i Kebir” — Meter 1
Walla Walla, Washington: Current, 1995.

the voice of a saviour
will shortly be heard
as soon as you
clear your hearing

don’t drink now
this polluted water
the elixir of life
will soon arrive

if you desire grace
lose your selfish self
till you can taste
the sweet essence

in the blackest
of your moments
wait with no fear

since the water of life
was found by the prophet
in the darkest caverns

Rumi
Translated by Nader Khalili
Rumi, Fountain of Fire
Burning Gate Press, Los Angeles, 1994.

Last year, I came across a Charles Homer Haskins lecture that Dr Annemarie Schimmel delivered in 1993. Aside from the amazing events and milestones of her life, what struck me was her immersion in an infinite ‘learning’ cycle. I am reproducing some lines from the lecture and a dazzling poem of hers below. Dr Schimmel left this world in 2003 for another voyage. As an extra-ordinary scholar (over 150 publications to her credit), a Rumi disciple and an odd Sufi herself, the world is not the same place without her.

However, her erudite and passionate writings will continue to warm our hearts. Sang-i-Meel Publishers (http://www.sang-e-meel.com/) in Pakistan have done a huge favour by re-printing selected titles for the Pakistani audience. (more…)

If you don’t have the Beloved
why aren’t you looking for Him?
If you have the Beloved
why aren’t you rejoicing?

If the Friend is truly your friend
Why not stay with Him?
If the rebec does not wail,
Why not teach it how to sing?
If someone bars you from the truth,
Why not fight him
and his brother as well?

You sit quietly and say to yourself,
“Something strange is going on.”
The only thing strange
is that your best friend is a stranger. (more…)

This afternoon I discovered two souls at the workplace who were talking of the inner self and how we often let the world and its trappings conceal it. The result is that we never know who we are.. As we sipped a nice brew of coffee, we talked of the heart’s mirror that gets polluted. And we need to re-discover that.

So as I was talking of being one with one’s self, I read this poem by Rumi this evening and thought it needs to posted here.

this time i must confess
i feel a total hate for myself
while crowded and swarmed
my heart wishes to be a single self (more…)

am here, this moment, inside the beauty,
the gift God has given,
our love:

this gold and circular sign
means we are free of any duty:

out of eternity
I turn my face to you, and into
eternity:

we have been in
love that long.

Rumi
Version by Coleman Barks, with Nevit Ergin
“The Glance”
Viking-Penguin, 1999

rocking and rolling
what have you been drinking
please let me know

you must be drunk
going house to house
wandering from street to street

who have you been with
who have you kissed
who’s face have you been fondling

you are my soul
you are my life
i swear my life and love is yours (more…)

Sana’i ! If you don’t find a friend, be your own
friend! In this world of every kind of man and every kind of
task, be a man for your own task!*
Each member of this caravan is stealing his own
baggage — place your own self behind and sit before your
baggage!
People sell ephemeral beauty and buy
ephemeral love — pass beyond those two dry riverbeds and be
your own river!
These friends of yours keep on pulling you by
the hand toward nonexistence — steal back your hand and be
your own helper!
These beauties painted on canvas veil the
beauties of the heart-lift up the veil and enter: Be with your
own Beloved!
Be with your own Beloved and be a well-thinking,
good man! Be more than two worlds — dwell in your own
domain!
Go, do not become drunk with the wine that
increase arrogance — behold the brightness of that Face and be
soberly aware of your own Self!

Rumi

Translation by William C. Chittick
“The Sufi Path of Love”
SUNY Press, Albany, 1983

* Rumi refers to Sana’i’s discussion of good and evil companions
in his Hadiqat al-haqiqat.

Source.

What Hurts the Soul?

We tremble, thinking we’re about to dissolve
into non-existence, but non-existence fears
even more that it might be given human form!

Loving God is the only pleasure.
Other delights turn bitter.

What hurts the soul?
To live without tasting
the water of its own essence.

People focus on death and this material earth.
They have doubts about soul-water.
Those doubts can be reduced!

Use night to wake your clarity.
Darkness and the living water are lovers.
Let them stay up together.

When merchants eat their big meals and sleep
their dead sleep, we night-thieves go to work.

From Rumi’s Mathnavi - a version by Coleman Barks
Printed in “Say I Am You”
Maypop, 1994

I need a lover and a friend
All friendships you transcend
And impotent I remain

You are Noah and the Ark
You are the light and the dark
Behind the veil I remain

You are passion and are rage
You are the bird and the cage
Lost in flight I remain

You are the wine and the cup
You are the ocean and the drop
While afloat I remain

I said, “O Soul of the world
My desperation has taken hold!”
“I am thy essence,” without scold,
“Value me much more than gold.”

You are the bait and the trap
You are the path and the map
While in search I remain

You are poison and the sweet
You are defeated and defeat
Sword in hand I remain

You are the wood and the saw
You are cooked, and are raw
While in a pot I remain

You are sunshine and the fog
You are water and the jug
While thirsty I remain

Sweet fragrance of Shams is
The joy and pride of Tabriz
Perfume trader I remain.

Rumi -

Persian transliteration follows (more…)

 There’s a basket full of loaves on your head,
yet you’re begging for crusts of bread from door to door.
Pay attention to your own head, abandon giddiness.
Why are you knocking at every other door?
Go, knock at the door of your own heart. (more…)

Rest your cheek, for a moment,
on this drunken cheek.
Let me forget the war and cruelty inside myself.
I hold these silver coins in my hand;
give me Your wine of golden light. (more…)