Jahane Rumi In search of the unsearchable: O, my soul! where would you find your house?

15Mar/101

I am a child of love

I profess the religion of love,
Love is my religion and my faith.
My mother is love
My father is love
My prophet is love
My God is love
I am a child of love
I have come only to speak of love

- Jalaluddin Rumi

13Mar/100

Abr mi barad-o man shovm-e az yar-e judaa (The cloud weeps…)

Amir Khusrau's lofty couplet

Abr mi barad-o man shovm-e az yar-e judaa
Choon kunam dil becheneen roz zedildar judaa.
Abr baraan wa man-o yar satadah ba-widaa
Man judaa girya kunaan, abr judaa, yaar judaa

The cloud weeps, and I become separated from my friend -
How can I separate my heart from my heart's friend on such a day.
The cloud weeping, and I and the friend standing, bidding farewell -
I weeping separately, the clouds separately, the friend separately..

(trans. A. Schimmel)

Also see this

10Mar/101

Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan – Man Kunto Maula

4Mar/100

Allah Hoo by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan

"Allah Hoo" from the Monsoon Wedding soundtrack (courtesy NPR)

3Mar/101

Lovers have nothing to do with existence

The lover's food is the love of the bread;
no bread need be at hand:
no one who is sincere in his love is a slave to existence.
Lovers have nothing to do with existence;
lovers have the interest without the capital.
Without wings they fly around the world;
without hands they carry the polo ball from the field.
That dervish who caught the scent of Reality
used to weave baskets even though his hands had been cut off.
Lovers have pitched their tents in nonexistence;
they are of one quality and one essence, as nonexistence is.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
27Feb/102

I become like a pen

Ghazal 2530 from the Diwan-e Shams, in a version by Coleman Barks, in translation by Annemarie Schimmel, and in translation by A.J. Arberry:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I become a pen in the Friend's hand,
tonight writing "say," tomorrow "ray."
He trims the pen for fine calligraphy.
The pen says, "I am here, but who am I?"
He blackens the pen's face.
He wipes it in his hair. He holds it upside down.
Now he begins to use it.
On one sheet he cancels everything.
On another he adds a dangerous conjunction.
The writing depends entirely on the scribe,
who knows how to split the head of the pen.
Galen knows what a patient needs.
The pen cannot speak for itself, or know what
to disapprove of in its own nature.
Whether I say "pen" or "flag", it is with this wonderful
conscious unconsciousness: the mind unable to include
its own description, composing blindly.
Held in a hand, yet free.
-- Version by Coleman Barks
(Based on the translation by A.J. Arberry)
"These Branching Moments"
Copper Beech Press, 1988
26Feb/100

This thirst in our souls

No sound of clapping comes from only one hand.
The thirsty man is moaning, "O delicious water!"
The water is calling, "Where is the one who will drink me?"
This thirst in our souls is the magnetism of the Water:
We are Its, and It is ours.

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

Hich bâng-e kaff zadan na-âyad beh dar
az yeki dast to bi dasti degar
Teshneh mi nâlad keh "Ay âb-e govâr"
âb ham nâlad keh "Ku ân âb khvâr"
Jazb-e âbast in `atash dar jân-e mâ
mâ az ân-e U va U ham ân-e mâ

-- Mathnawi III: 4397-4399
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance"
Threshold Books, 1996
Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra

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21Feb/100

Sources of nourishment

The heart eats a particular food from every companion;
the heart receives a particular nourishment
from every single piece of knowledge.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Del ze har yâri ghezâyi mi khvord
del ze har `elmi safâyi mi khvord
-- Mathnawi II: 1089
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Daylight"
Threshold Books, 1994
Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra
20Feb/100

Ask us about the lion of God

This caravan is not bringing our baggage -- it has

none of the fire of our Friend.

Though the trees have all turned green, they

have caught no scent of our spring.

Your spirit may be a rosegarden, but its heart

has not been wounded by our thorn.

Your heart may be an ocean of realities, but its

boiling does not compare with that of our shore.

Although the mountains are very steady -- by

God, they do not have our steadiness.

The spirit drunk with the morning wine has not

even caught a scent of our winesickness.

Venus herself, the minstrel of heaven, has not

the capacity for our work.

Ask us about the lion of God -- every lion has

not our backbone.

Show not Shams-I Tabrizi's coin to him who

has not our fineness!

-- Ghazal (Ode) 695

Translation by William C. Chittick

"The Sufi Path of Love"

SUNY Press, Albany, 1983

19Feb/103

I am enslaved to fate, of all else say no more – Rumi

" I am enslaved to fate, of all else say no more

With a sweet tongue speak, else I plea say no more

Speak not of troubles, of treasures, tell me more

And if of this you know not, be not troubled, say no more

I have gone insane, Love found me, then whispered in my ear

'I am here, cry not aloud, curse yourself not, say no more'

I said ' O Love it is other than Thee that I fear'

Said ' it may thus appear, yet it is not so, say no more

I speak in you ear, to you bring secrets near

Speak with your head, confirm a nod, say no more'

I asked, ' What do I see? Is it an angel or a man? '

Said ' no more an angel than a man, is another, say no more'

'Tell me what it is, why withhold, why the flames of my torment fan'

Said ' just be tormented, confused, say no more

For leaving this colorful and false abode, you have made no plan

Rise up and just depart, leave this home, say no more'

Maulana Jalaluddin Rumi

17Feb/100

When you dance

Sunlight's interpretation of  Rumi's Quatrain 784:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When you dance
the whole universe dances.
What a wonder,
I've looked
and now I cannot look away!
Take me or do not take me,
both are the same –
As long as there is life in this body,
I am your servant.
***
-- Version by Jonathan Star and Shahram Shiva
A Garden Beyond Paradise
Bantam Books, 1992
16Feb/100

On the bank of the river

On the bank of the river,
water is grudged by that one alone
who is blind to the flowing stream.
~~~~~~~~~~
Bar lab-e ju bokhl-e âb ân-râ bovad
ku ze ju-ye âb nâ-binâ bovad
-- Mathnawi II:894
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Daylight"
Threshold Books, 1994
Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra

On the bank of the river,water is grudged by that one alonewho is blind to the flowing stream.
~~~~~~~~~~
Bar lab-e ju bokhl-e âb ân-râ bovadku ze ju-ye âb nâ-binâ bovad
-- Mathnawi II:894Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski"Rumi: Daylight"Threshold Books, 1994Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra

7Feb/104

Chal Way Bullehya Chal O’thay Chaliyay – Let’s go where everyone is blind

Chal Way Bullehya Chal O’thay Chaliyay
Jithay Saaray Annay
Na Koi Saadee Zaat PichHanay
Tay Na Koi Saanu Mannay
***
O’ Bulleh Shah let’s go there
Where everyone is blind
Where no one recognizes our caste (or race, or family name)
And where no one believes in us
***
Ab to jaag Musaffir pyare
Raeen gayi latke taare
Kar le aj karni da weera
Mod na ho si aawen tera
***
Awake, dear traveller, you've got to move on.
Trailing its stars, the night is gone.
Do what you have to do, do it today.
You will never be back this way.
Your companions are calling.
Let us go.
***
Awake, dear traveller, you've got to move on.
Trailing its stars, the night is gone.
A pearl, a ruby, the touchstone and dice
With all that you thirst by the waterside.
Awake, dear traveller, you've got to move on.
Trailing its stars, the night is gone.
Below a modern rendition of these verses by the inimitable Meekal Hasan Band. They have been instrumental in reintroducing Sufi poetry among the youth of our country.
4Feb/100

Who is looking out?

Who sees inside from outside?
Who finds hundreds of mysteries
even where minds are deranged?

See through his eyes what he sees.
Who then is looking out from his eyes?

-- Version by Coleman Barks
Open Secret
Threshold Books, 1984

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

who is the one
who sees the external
right from within
who is the one
who casts a hundred magic spells
when watching the insane in love
try your own eyes
see how they see
who is the one
who is looking out
through your eyes for you

--Translation by Nader Khalili
Rumi, Dancing the Flame
Cal-Earth Press, 2001

3Feb/100

I have returned, like the new year (Rumi)

I am posting Sunlight translations of Rumi's  Ghazal (Ode) 1375, from  "Diwan-e-Shamsi" ("The Collection of Shams"), rendered by Nader Khalili, and Prof. William Chittick:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
i've come again
like a new year
to crash the gate
of this old prison
i've come again
to break the teeth and claws
of this man-eating
monster we call life
28Nov/090

Love is a mirror

With love you cannot bargain
there, the choice is not yours.
Love is a mirror, it reflects
only your essence,
if you have the courage
to look in its face.

-- Translation by Azima Melita Kolin
and Maryam Mafi

24Nov/094

Reclaiming Pakistan’s soul

Courtesy Bluechip magazine
In a dream Sain Zahoor saw a hand beckoning him to a shrine. He could not shake off the dream and eventually at the age of 13 left home traipsing from one Sufi shrine to the next. At Uchh he recognized the shrine of his dreams and stayed there, spending his days learning Sufi music and singing. Sain is unlettered, but has memorized hundreds of Punjabi Sufi songs by sketching images on paper. When he started singing at the age of five, his first lessons were in the Sufi kalams (verses of devotional spiritual love). Now nearly sixty, he himself looks like a Sufi saint when he comes onstage clad in long kurta and tightly bound turban with beads dangling down his neck and ghungroos – (bells) tied to his ankles. His is such a compelling presence onstage and so close to what a Sufi really looks like, that Sain Zahoor is adorned on our cover. Playing the centuries old three-string lute,he delivers kalams of Sufi poets like Baba Bullay Shah, Shah Hussain and Mian Muhammad Bakhsh with ecstatic joy and intensity which ends up in a dhamal – a frenzied dance. His first onstage performance only came in 1989 when he was invited to the All Pakistan Music Conference. In 2006 he received the award for the best singer in the Asia-Pacific category at the BBC World Music Festival.

Read the rest here

18Nov/09Off

Iqbal – The Universal Reformer

17Oct/091

When will my beloved visit my courtyard

The soulful poetry of Khawaja Ghulam Farid (1845-1901) best represents the essence of Seraiki language. Diwan-e-Farid, a collection of the poet’s verses, happens to be an outstanding masterpiece of Seraiki mystical poetry that reaches the poetic excellence and transcendence found in the messages of Rumi and Iqbal in terms of exploring the metaphysics of knowledge and being.

Shahzad Qaiser has undertaken a major labour of love by rendering the Diwan-e-Farid into English and issuing another separate volume – The Metaphysics of Khawaja Ghulam Farid – that explores the vastness of meaning in Khawaja Farid’s poetry. It is rare these days to find a civil servant who can spare time to devote himself to the cause of letters. In contrast to past traditions, present day civil service has become a vehicle for playing along with palace intrigues and extracting opportunities from the vicissitudes of power. Rejecting this trend, Qaiser appears to have shunned the ordinary power-mongering culture and delved deeper into the mysteries of divine love. Therefore, his endeavour to search for the inner meanings of Khawaja Ghulam Farid’s poetry has been eminently successful. These two volumes are highly readable and well-presented for specialists and lay readers alike.

Khawaja Ghulam Farid was born in Chachran, located in the south of present day Pakistan’s Punjab province. His spiritual ancestry was somewhere linked with the revered Baba Farid Ganj-e-Shakar of Pakpattan and hence he was named after the master saint of the family. It is the metaphysical understanding which talks of reality as the divine essence and removes the difference between Ahad and Wahad and one and many that constitutes the doctrine of ‘oneness of being’

29Sep/091

Journey in yourself, journey out of self

Sunlight has compiled a several version of Ghazal (Ode) 1142, from Rumi's "Diwan-e-Shams-e Tabrizi"*, in a version by Star, a translation by Schimmel, a version by Barks, and a translation by Nicholson (from which the Barks version is derived).
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If a tree could run or fly
it would not suffer from the teeth of a saw
or the blows of an axe.
If the Sun did not run across the sky
the world would not see
the colors of morning.
If water did not rise from the sea
plants would not be quickened
by rivers or rain.
28Sep/090

Don’t talk about the journey (Rumi)

come come come
my endless desires
come come come
come my beloved
come my sweetheart
22Sep/090

Ramadan came to the heart’s temple

Rumi on Eid

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.

9Sep/090

Religion of the heart

RAKSHANDA JALIL writing here
Sufism, often considered exotic and esoteric, belongs to ordinary people of faith.
Sufism: The Heart of Islam; Sadia Dehlvi, 2009, HarperCollins, p 384
By the early thirteenth century Delhi had emerged as the beating heart of the Sufi movement that had sprung in Central Asia and swept across much of north India. Sultan Shamsuddin Iltutmish (1210-35) had set himself up as the ruler of Hindustan and e stablished his capital at Delhi. Central Asia and Iran had fallen to the Mongol hordes and a virtual exodus had begun — of scholars, holy men and wandering
mendicants. While Ajmer and Nagaur remained important centres of the Chistiya silsila, Delhi was fast gaining popularity as the axis of the Islamic east. And it was to Delhi that they came – to set up hospices, to gather the faithful around them, and to spread the word about a new kind of Islam. In the years to come, the Islam of the Sufis spread
6Sep/090

Bulleh! to me, I am not known

My dear friend Nabila has sent this poem that was posted on the Poetry Chaikhana website --It is well known but I loved this translation. At the end there are some comments that elucidate Bulleh's life and message. Please also see this piece of mine based on a longer paper that I authored last year.
Bulleh! to me, I am not known  - By Bulleh Shah (1680 - 1758)
Not a believer inside the mosque, am I
Nor a pagan disciple of false rites
Not the pure amongst the impure
Neither Moses, nor the Pharaoh
Bulleh! to me, I am not known
Not in the holy Vedas, am I
Nor in opium, neither in wine
Not in the drunkard`s intoxicated craze
Niether awake, nor in a sleeping daze
Bulleh! to me, I am not known
In happiness nor in sorrow, am I
Neither clean, nor a filthy mire
Not from water, nor from earth
Neither fire, nor from air, is my birth
Bulleh! to me, I am not known
Not an Arab, nor Lahori
Neither Hindi, nor Nagauri
Hindu, Turk, nor Peshawari
Nor do I live in Nadaun
Bulleh! to me, I am not known
Secrets of religion, I have not known
From Adam and Eve, I am not born
I am not the name I assume
10Aug/090

Live a fresh story

A quatrain by Rumi
happiness is to reach
the next post every day
like flowing water
free from stillness
and melancholy
yesterday is gone and
took away its talk
today we must live
a fresh story again

6Jul/093

Bulleh Shah – on rejecting caste

A popular kafi of Bulleh Shah, sung by Abida Parveen "BULHE NU SAMJHAWAN AAINAN BHAINAN TE BHARJAIAN" earlier posted as " A stove is better than Bulleh" am posting its english translation thanks to Shahidain's invaluable contributions.

People discouraged Bulleh Shah from accepting  Inayat Shah as his master and said " Bulleh you are a scholar and a descendent of of prophet Mohammad (pbuh). Does it seem right to you to go to an ordinary gardener of low caste and become his disciple? Is it not embarrassing?" But Bulleh showed great love and reverence for his master and did not pay any heed to this objection.

15Jun/092

Spinning with your love

I am filled with splendor,
spinning with your love.

It looks like I'm spinning around you,
but no – I'm spinning around myself!

Rumi's Quatrain 1118

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

10Jun/093

Sufi hearts in Delhi

  Published in The Friday Times (May 22 issue)

   Raza Rumi discusses a new book on Sufism by Sadia Dehlvi

Getting a visa to India is a nightmare for ordinary mortals. My application was not very politely returned last month with technical objections. It was only when a letter from Harper Collins arrived that the High Commission rather efficaciously allowed me to enter enemy territory, that too with special instructions that cantonments were out of bounds. I guess the South Asian officialdoms have yet to discover that Google Earth has permanently altered the shape of boundaries and secrecy.

8Jun/090

Polish your heart for a day or two

Stop talking!
What a shame you have no familiarity
with inner silence!
Polish your heart for a day or two:
make that mirror your book of contemplation.

6Jun/093

His Sun always shines within me

You call him a moon,
yet moonlight fades.
You call him a king,
yet kingdoms fall.

How often you say,
Wake up, you'll miss the sunrise.
But His Sun always shines within me.
How can I miss the sunrise?

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

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