 
    
    
      
    
      
    
      
    
      
    RUMI, Jalaluddin
    
      
    
      
    
      
    Rubaiyat
  
    
      
    
      
    …..
    
      
    He set the world aflame,
  
And laid me on the same;
A hundred tongues of fire
Lapped round my pyre.
    
      
    And when the blazing tide
  
Engulfed me, and I sighed,
Upon my mouth in haste
    His hand He placed.
    
      
    
      
    
      
    …..
    
      
    I sought a soul in the sea
  
And found a coral there;
Beneath the foam for me
An ocean was all laid bare.
    
      
    Into my heart's night
  
Along a narrow way
I groped; and lo! the light,
    An infinite land of day.
    
      
    
      
    
      
    How long
  
    
      
    how long
  
can I lament
with this depressed
heart and soul
    
      
    how long
  
can I remain
a sad autumn
ever since my grief
has shed my leaves
    
      
    the entire space
  
of my soul
is burning in agony
    
      
    how long can I
  
hide the flames
wanting to rise
out of this fire
    
      
    how long can one suffer
  
the pain of hatred
of another human
a friend behaving like an enemy
    
      
    with a broken heart
  
how much more
can I take the message
from body to soul
    
      
    I believe in love
  
I swear by love
believe me my love
    
      
    how long
  
like a prisoner of grief
can I beg for mercy
    
      
    you know I'm not
  
a piece of rock or steel
but hearing my story
even water will become
as tense as a stone
    
      
    if I can only recount
  
the story of my life
right out of my body
    flames will grow
    
      
    
      
    
      
    Trough Love
  
    
      
    Through love all that is bitter will sweet
  
Through Love all that is copper will be gold.
Through Love all dregs will turn to purest wine
Through Love all pain will turn to medicine.
Through Love the dead will all become alive.
    Through Love the king will turn into a slave!
    
      
    
      
    
      
    I’ve come again
  
    
      
    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
    
      
    I've come again
  
to puncture the
glory of the cosmos
who mercilessly
destroys humans
    
      
    I am the falcon
  
hunting down the birds
of black omen
before their flights
    
      
    I gave my word
  
at the outset to
give my life
with no qualms
I pray to the Lord
to break my back
before I break my word
    
      
    how do you dare to
  
let someone like me
intoxicated with love
enter your house
    
      
    you must know better
  
if I enter
I'll break all this and
destroy all that
    
      
    if the sheriff arrives
  
I'll throw the wine
in his face
if your gatekeeper
pulls my hand
I'll break his arm
    
      
    if the heavens don't go round
  
to my heart's desire
I'll crush its wheels and
pull out its roots
    
      
    you have set up
  
a colorful table
calling it life and
asked me to your feast
but punish me if
I enjoy myself
    
      
    what tyranny is this
  
    
      
    
      
    This Marriage
  
    
      
    May these vows and this marriage be blessed.
  
May it be sweet milk,
this marriage, like wine and halvah.
May this marriage offer fruit and shade
like the date palm.
May this marriage be full of laughter,
our every day a day in paradise.
May this marriage be a sign of compassion,
a seal of happiness here and hereafter.
May this marriage have a fair face and a good name,
an omen as welcomes the moon in a clear blue sky.
I am out of words to describe
    how spirit mingles in this marriage.
    
      
    Come, come, whoever you are.
  
    
      
    
      
    I am part of the load
    
      
    
      
    I am part of the load
  
Not rightly balanced
I drop off in the grass,
like the old Cave-sleepers, to browse
wherever I fall.
    
      
    For hundreds of thousands of years I have been dust-grains
  
floating and flying in the will of the air,
often forgetting ever being
in that state, but in sleep
I migrate back. I spring loose
from the four-branched, time -and-space cross,
this waiting room.
    
      
    I walk into a huge pasture
  
I nurse the milk of millennia
    
      
    Everyone does this in different ways.
  
Knowing that conscious decisions
and personal memory
are much too small a place to live,
every human being streams at night
into the loving nowhere, or during the day,
in some absorbing work.
    
      
    
      
    Come, come, whoever you are.
  
    
      
    Wonderer, worshipper, lover of leaving.
  
It doesn't matter.
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
Come, even if you have broken your vow
a thousand times
    Come, yet again, come, come.
    
      
    
      
    
      
    When I die
  
    
      
    When I die
  
when my coffin
is being taken out
you must never think
I am missing this world
    
      
    don't shed any tears
  
don't lament or
feel sorry
I'm not falling
into a monster's abyss
    
      
    when you see
  
my corpse is being carried
don't cry for my leaving
I'm not leaving
I'm arriving at eternal love
    
      
    when you leave me
  
in the grave
don't say goodbye
remember a grave is
only a curtain
for the paradise behind
    
      
    you'll only see me
  
descending into a grave
now watch me rise
how can there be an end
when the sun sets or
the moon goes down
    
      
    it looks like the end
  
it seems like a sunset
but in reality it is a dawn
when the grave locks you up
that is when your soul is freed
    
      
    have you ever seen
  
a seed fallen to earth
not rise with a new life
why should you doubt the rise
of a seed named human
    
      
    have you ever seen
  
a bucket lowered into a well
coming back empty
why lament for a soul
when it can come back
like Joseph from the well
    
      
    when for the last time
  
you close your mouth
your words and soul
will belong to the world of
    no place no time
    
      
    
      
    
      
    The Silk Worm
  
    
      
    I stood before a silk worm one day.
  
And that night my heart said to me,
“I can do things like that,
I can spin skies,
I can be woven into love that can bring warmth to people;
I can be soft against a crying face,
I can be wings that lift,
and I can travel on my thousand feet throughout the earth,
my sacks filled with the sacred.”
    
      
    And I replied to my heart,
  
“Dear, can you really do all those things?”
    
      
    And it just nodded, “Yes” in silence.
  
    So we began and will never cease.
    
      
    
      
    
      
    I died as a mineral and became a plant
    
      
    
      
    I died as a mineral and became a plant, 
  
I died as plant and rose to animal,
I died as animal and I was Man.
Why should I fear? When was I less by dying?
Yet once more I shall die as Man, to soar
With angels blest; but even from angelhood
I must pass on: all except God doth perish.
When I have sacrificed my angel-soul,
I shall become what no mind e'er conceived.
Oh, let me not exist! for Non-existence
Proclaims in organ tones, 'To Him we shall return.'
    
      
    Translated by A.J. Arberry
    
      
    
      
    
      
    What Shall I Be
  
    
      
    I have again and again grown like grass;
  
I have experienced seven hundred and seventy moulds.
I died from minerality and became vegetable;
And from vegetativeness I died and became animal.
I died from animality and became man.
Then why fear disappearance through death?
Next time I shall die
Bringing forth wings and feathers like angels:
After that soaring higher than angels –
    What you cannot imagine. I shall be that.
    
      
    
      
    
      
    Because I cannot sleep
    
      
    
      
    Because I cannot sleep
  
I make music at night.
I am troubled by the one
whose face has the color of spring flowers.
I have neither sleep nor patience,
neither a good reputation nor disgrace.
A thousand robes of wisdom are gone.
All my good manners have moved a thousand miles away.
The heart and the mind are left angry with each other.
The stars and the moon are envious of each other.
Because of this alienation the physical universe
is getting tighter and tighter.
The moon says, 'How long will I remain
suspended without a sun?'
Without Love's jewel inside of me,
let the bazaar of my existence be destroyed stone by stone.
O Love, You who have been called by a thousand names,
You who know how to pour the wine
into the chalice of the body,
You who give culture to a thousand cultures,
You who are faceless but have a thousand faces,
O Love, You who shape the faces
of Turks, Europeans, and Zanzibaris,
give me a glass from Your bottle,
or a handful of being from Your Branch.
Remove the cork once more.
Then we'll see a thousand chiefs prostrate themselves,
and a circle of ecstatic troubadours will play.
Then the addict will be freed of craving.
and will be resurrected,
    and stand in awe till Judgement Day.
    
      
    
      
    
      
  
    Quietness
    
      
    
      
    Inside this new love, die.
  
Your way begins on the other side.
Become the sky.
Take an axe to the prison wall.
Escape.
Walk out like someone suddenly born into colour.
Do it now.
You're covered with thick cloud.
Slide out the side. Die,
and be quiet. Quietness is the surest sign
that you've died.
Your old life was a frantic running
from silence.
     
    
      
    The speechless full moon
  
comes out now.
    
      
    
      
    
      
    Who am I?
    
      
    
      
    What is to be done, O Moslems? For I do not recognize myself.
  
     I am neither Christian, nor Jew, nor Gabr, nor Moslem.
    
      
    
      
     I am not of the East, nor of the West, nor of the land, nor of the sea;
  
     I am not of Nature’s mint, nor of the circling heavens.
    
      
    
      
     I am not of earth, nor of water, nor of air, nor of fire;
  
     I am not of the empyrean, nor of the dust, nor of existence, nor of entity.
    
      
    
      
     I am not of India, nor of China, nor of Bulgaria, nor of Saqsín;
  
     I am not of the kingdom of Irãqain, nor of the country of Khorãsãn.
    
      
    
      
     I am not of this world, nor of the next, nor of Paradise, nor of Hell;
  
     I am not of Adam, nor of Eve, nor of Eden and Rizwãn.
    
      
    
      
     My place is the Placeless, my trace is the Traceless;
  
    ‘Tis neither body nor soul, for I belong to the soul of the Beloved.
    
      
    
      
     I have put duality away, I have seen that the two worlds are one;
  
     One I seek, One I know, One I see, One I call.
    
      
    
      
     He is the first, He is the last, He is the outward, He is the inward;
  
     I know none other except ‘Yã Hú’ and ‘Yã man Hú.’
    
      
    
      
    I am intoxicated with Love’s cup, the two worlds have passed out of my ken;
  
     I have no business save carouse and revelry.
    
      
    
      
     If once in my life I spent a moment without thee,
  
     From that time and from that hour I repent of my life.
    
      
    
      
    If once in this world I win a moment with thee,
  
     I will trample on both worlds, I will dance in triumph for ever.
    
      
    
      
     O Shamsi Tabríz, I am so drunken in this world,
  
     That except of drunkenness and revelry I have no tale to tell.
    
      
    
      
    
      
    
      
  
    A Moment Of Happiness
    
      
    
      
     A moment of happiness,
  
you and I sitting on the verandah,
apparently two, but one in soul, you and I.
We feel the flowing water of life here,
you and I, with the garden's beauty
and the birds singing.
The stars will be watching us,
and we will show them
what it is to be a thin crescent moon.
You and I unselfed, will be together,
indifferent to idle speculation, you and I.
The parrots of heaven will be cracking sugar
as we laugh together, you and I.
In one form upon this earth,
and in another form in a timeless sweet land.
    
      
    
      
    I swear
    
      
    
      
    I swear, since seeing Your face,
  
the whole world is fraud and fantasy
The garden is bewildered as to what is leaf
or blossom. The distracted birds
can't distinguish the birdseed from the snare.
    
      
    A house of love with no limits,
  
a presence more beautiful than venus or the moon,
a beauty whose image fills the mirror of the heart.
    
      
    
      
    In your light
  
    
      
    In your light I learn how to love.
  
In your beauty, how to make poems.
    
      
    You dance inside my chest,
  
where no one sees you,
    
      
    but sometimes I do,
  
and that sight becomes this art.
    
      
    Drumsound rises on the air,
  
its throb, my heart.
    
      
    A voice inside the beat says,
  
"I know you're tired,
    
      
    but come. This is the way."
  
Are you jealous of the ocean's generosity?
Why would you refuse to give this joy to anyone?
    
      
    Fish don't hold the sacred liquid in cups!
  
    They swim the huge fluid freedom.”
    
      
    
      
    
      
    I Am and I am Not
    
      
    
      
    I'm drenched
  
in the flood
    which has yet to come
    
      
    
      
    I’m tied up
  
in the prison
    which has yet to exist
    
      
    
      
    Not having played
  
the game of chess
    I’m already the checkmate
    
      
    
      
    Not having tasted
  
a single cup of your wine
    I’m already drunk
    
      
    
      
    Not having entered
  
the battlefield
    I’m already wounded and slain
    
      
    
      
    I no longer
  
know the difference
    between image and reality
    
      
    
      
    Like the shadow
  
I am
And
    I am not
    
      
    
      
    
      
    With Passion
    
      
    
      
    With
  
passion pray. With
    passion work. With passion make love.
    
      
    
      
    With passion eat and drink and dance and play.
    
      
    
      
    Why look like a dead fish
  
in this ocean
of
    God?
    
      
    
      
    
      
    My Burning Heart
    
      
    
      
    My heart is burning with love
  
All can see this flame
My heart is pulsing with passion
like waves on an ocean
    
      
    my friends have become strangers
  
and I'm surrounded by enemies
But I'm free as the wind
no longer hurt by those who reproach me
    
      
    I'm at home wherever I am
  
And in the room of lovers
I can see with closed eyes
the beauty that dances
    
      
    Behind the veils
  
intoxicated with love
I too dance the rhythm
of this moving world
    
      
    I have lost my senses
  
    in my world of lovers
    
      
    
      
    
      
    Who makes these changes?
    
      
    
      
    Who makes these changes?
  
I shoot an arrow right.
It lands left.
I ride after a deer and find myself
Chased by a hog.
I plot to get what I want
And end up in prison.
I dig pits to trap others
    And fall in.
    
      
    
      
    I should be suspicious
  
    Of what I want.
    
      
    
      
    
      
    The Guest House
    
      
    
      
    This being human is a guest house.
  
    Every morning a new arrival.
    
      
    
      
    A joy, a depression, a meanness,
  
some momentary awareness comes
    as an unexpected visitor.
    
      
    
      
    Welcome and entertain them all!
  
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honourably.
He may be clearing you out
    for some new delight.
    
      
    
      
    The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
  
meet them at the door laughing,
    and invite them in.
    
      
    
      
    Be grateful for whoever comes,
  
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
    
      
    
      
    On the Deathbed
    
      
    
      
    Go, rest your head on a pillow, leave me alone; 
  
leave me ruined, exhausted from the journey of this night,
    writhing in a wave of passion till the dawn. 
    
      
    
      
    Either stay and be forgiving, 
  
or, if you like, be cruel and leave.
Flee from me, away from trouble;
take the path of safety, far from this danger.
We have crept into this corner of grief,
turning the water wheel with a flow of tears.
While a tyrant with a heart of flint slays,
and no one says, "Prepare to pay the blood money."
Faith in the king comes easily in lovely times,
    but be faithful now and endure, pale lover.
    
      
    
      
    No cure exists for this pain but to die, 
  
So why should I say, "Cure this pain"?
In a dream last night I saw
an ancient one in the garden of love,
beckoning with his hand, saying, "Come here."
On this path, Love is the emerald,
    the beautiful green that wards off dragonsnough,
    
      
    
      
    I am losing myself. 
  
If you are a man of learning,
read something classic,
a history of the human struggle
and don't settle for mediocre verse.
    
      
    
      
    I choose to love you in silence…
    
      
    
      
    I choose to love you in silence…
  
For in silence I find no rejection,
    
      
    I choose to love you in loneliness…
  
For in loneliness no one owns you but me,
    
      
    I choose to adore you from a distance…
  
For distance will shield me from pain,
    
      
    I choose to kiss you in the wind…
  
For the wind is gentler than my lips,
    
      
    I choose to hold you in my dreams…
  
For in my dreams, you have no end.
    
      
    
      
    How did you get away?
    
      
    
      
    How did you get away?
  
You were the pet falcon of an old woman.
Did you hear the falcon-drum?
You were a drunken songbird put in with owls.
Did you smell the odor of a garden?
You got tired of sour fermenting
and left the tavern.
    
      
    You went like an arrow to the target
  
from the bow of time and place.
The man who stays at the cemetery pointed the way,
but you didn't go.
You became light and gave up wanting to be famous.
You don't worry about what you're going to eat,
so why buy an engraved belt?
    
      
    I've heard of living at the center, but what about
  
leaving the center of the center?
Flying toward thankfulness, you become
the rare bird with one wing made of fear,
and one of hope. In autumn,
a rose crawling along the ground in the cold wind.
Rain on the roof runs down and out by the spout
as fast as it can.
    
      
    Talking is pain. Lie down and rest,
  
now that you've found a friend to be with.