Rumi

[mono]

Scheherazade, subterranean, bongitybongbong, and I shared an interesting discussion regarding one of my favorite poets, Rumi, and I thought to bring him to this part of the forum for everyone elses' benefits. Here are a few of his works we shared in the quote forum; share some of your favorites, if you have any.

There is a way between voice and presence
where information flows.

In disciplined silence it opens.
With wandering talk it closes.

---

"There is no angel so sublime, He wispered,
Who can be granted for one moment
What is granted you forever.
And I hung my head, astounded.

My Heart, that dervish vagabond,
Poured me the wine of oblivion.
I stagger to the House of Wine
Dancing, dancing, dragging this old cloak.

How can you ever hope to know the Beloved
Without becoming in every cell the Lover?
And when you are the Lover at last, you don't care.
Whatever you know or don't - only Love is real.

If one drop of Divine Drunkenness fell
On the intellects of everyone in the world,
The world and its beings, free will, and obedience -
All, all, would vanish in a moment.

The sail of the ship of man's being is belief.
When there is a sail, the wind can carry him
To place after place of power and wonder.
No sail, all words are winds.

You say you have seen Him, but your eyes are two stones.
You say you have known Him, but nothing in you trembles.
You still say "I" when you speak of surviving His glory:
No one who has seen It has ever survived.

The real work of religion is permanent astonishment.
By that I don't mean in astonishment turning your back on Him -
I mean - blazing in blind ecstacy, drowned in God and drunk on Love.

Choose the company of those withdrawn in love.
Listen to those who open the path to you; listen, and don't say a word."

---

O you who've gone on pilgrimage -
where are you, where, oh where?
Here, here is the Beloved!
Oh come now, come, oh come!
Your friend, he is your neighbor,
he is next to your wall -
You, erring in the desert -
what air of love is this?
If you'd see the Beloved's
form without any form -
You are the house, the master,
You are the Kaaba, you! . . .
Where is a bunch of roses,
if you would be this garden?
Where, one soul's pearly essence
when you're the Sea of God?
That's true - and yet your troubles
may turn to treasures rich -
How sad that you yourself veil
the treasure that is yours!

---

Though I cannot narrow my favorite Rumi poem to one, a work of his that I think highly of, and brings me to tears, goes thus, titled "No Room For Form:"

On the night when youc ross the street
from your shop and your house
to the cemetery,

you'll hear me hailing you from inside
the open grave, and you'll realize
how we've always been together.

I am the clear consciousness-core
of your being, teh same in
ecstasy as in self-hating fatigue.

That night, when youe scape the fear of snakebite
and all irritation with the ants, you'll hear
my familiar voice, see the candle being lit,
smell the incense, the surprise meal fixed
by the lover inside all your other lovers.

This heart-tumult is my signal
to you igniting in the tomb.

So don't fuss with the shroud
and the graveyard road dust.

Those get ripped open and washed away
in the music of our finally meeting.

And don't look for me in a human shape.
I am inside your looking. No room
for form with love this strong.

Beat the drum and let the poets speak.
This is a day of purification for those who
are already mature and initiated into what love is.

No need to wait until we die!
There's more to want here than money
and being famous and bites of roasted meat.

Now, what shall we call this new sort of gazing-house
that has opened in our town where people sit
quietly and pour out their glancing
like light, like answering?

[subterranean]

Thanks Mono :)

This is Mine


This Will Not Win Him

Reason says,
I will win him with my eloquence.

Love says,
I will win him with my silence.

Soul says,
How can I ever win him
When all I have is already his?

He does not want, he does not worry,
He does not seek a sublime state of euphoria -
How then can I win him
With sweet wine or gold? . . .

He is not bound by the senses -
How then can I win him
With all the riches of China?

He is an angel,
Though he appears in the form of a man.
Even angels cannot fly in his presence -
How then can I win him
By assuming a heavenly form?

He flies on the wings of God,
His food is pure light -
How then can I win him
With a loaf of baked bread?

He is neither a merchant, nor a tradesman -
How then can I win him
With a plan of great profit?

He is not blind, nor easily fooled -
How then can I win him
By lying in bed as if gravely ill?

I will go mad, pull out my hair,
Grind my face in the dirt -
How will this win him?

He sees everything -
how can I ever fool him?

He is not a seeker of fame,
A prince addicted to the praise of poets -
How then can I win him
With flowing rhymes and poetic verses?

The glory of his unseen form
Fills the whole universe
How then can I win him
With a mere promise of paradise?

I may cover the earth with roses,
I may fill the ocean with tears,
I may shake the heavens with praises -
none of this will win him.

There is only one way to win him,
this Beloved of mine -

Become his.

-- Jalaluddin Rumi

i really like this part:

Reason says,
I will win him with my eloquence.

Love says,
I will win him with my silence.

Soul says,
How can I ever win him
When all I have is already his?

[Bongitybongbong]

1. Wow you bothered to write out my name.That gives you a banana.(very good) :banana:

2. My favorite poem is an excerpt from I am Wind, You are Fire:

O you who've gone on pilgrimage -
where are you, where, oh where?
Here, here is the Beloved!
Oh come now, come, oh come!
Your friend, he is your neighbor,
he is next to your wall -
You, erring in the desert -
what air of love is this?
If you'd see the Beloved's
form without any form -
You are the house, the master,
You are the Kaaba, you! . . .
Where is a bunch of roses,
if you would be this garden?
Where, one soul's pearly essence
when you're the Sea of God?
That's true - and yet your troubles
may turn to treasures rich -
How sad that you yourself veil
the treasure that is yours!

3.The last one that you put down is respected by me as well, it originally got me into reading his poetry.

[trismegistus]

These are some nice translations. Can you folks tell me who did them? Coleman Barks is probably Rumi's best current translator in America. Anybody know who else is doing good things with this material?

[subterranean]

Sharam Shiva

Another inspiring one

You Worry Too Much

Oh soul,
you worry too much.
You say,
I make you feel dizzy.
Of a little headache then,
why do you worry?
You say, I am your antelope.
Of seeing a lion here and there
why do you worry?
Oh soul,
you worry too much.
You say, I am your moon-faced beauty.
Of the cycles of the moon and
passing of the years,
why do you worry?
You say, I am your source of passion,
I excite you.
Of playing into the Devils hand,
why do you worry?
Oh soul,
you worry too much.
Look at yourself,
what you have become.
You are now a field of sugar canes,
why show that sour face to me?
You have tamed the
winged horse of Love.
Of a death of a donkey,
why do you worry?
You say that I keep you warm inside.
Then why this cold sigh?
You have gone to the roof of heavens.
Of this world of dust, why do you worry?
Oh soul,
you worry too much.
Since you met me,
you have become a master singer,
and are now a skilled wrangler,
you can untangle any knot.
Of life's little leash
why do you worry?
Your arms are heavy
with treasures of all kinds.
About poverty,
why do you worry?
You are Joseph,
beautiful, strong,
steadfast in your belief,
all of Egypt has become drunk
because of you.
Of those who are blind to your beauty,
and deaf to your songs,
why do you worry?
Oh soul,
you worry too much.
You say that your housemate is the
Heart of Love,
she is your best friend.
You say that you are the heat of
the oven of every Lover.
You say that you are the servant of
Ali's magical sword, Zolfaghar.
Of any little dagger
why do you still worry?
Oh soul,
you worry too much.
You have seen your own strength.
You have seen your own beauty.
You have seen your golden wings.
Of anything less,
why do you worry?
You are in truth
the soul, of the soul, of the soul.
You are the security,
the shelter of the spirit of Lovers.
Oh the sultan of sultans,
of any other king,
why do you worry?
Be silent, like a fish,
and go into that pleasant sea.
You are in deep waters now,
of life's blazing fire.
Why do you worry?

[Psyche]

My favorite poem by Rumi:

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awarenes 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 honorably.
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.

[subterranean]

This is Look at Love

Look at Love...

Look at Love...
how it tangles
with the one fallen in love

look at spirit
how it fuses with earth
giving it new life

why are you so busy
with this or that or good or bad
pay attention to how things blend

why talk about all
the known and the unknown
see how unknown merges into the known

why think separately
of this life and the next
when one is born from the last

look at your heart and tongue
one feels but deaf and dumb
the other speaks in words and signs

look at water and fire
earth and wind
enemies and friends all at once

the wolf and the lamb
the lion and the deer
far away yet together

look at the unity of this
spring and winter
manifested in the equinox

you too must mingle my friends
since the earth and the sky
are mingled just for you and me

be like sugarcane
sweet yet silent
don't get mixed up with bitter words

my beloved grows
right out of my own heart
how much more union can there be

[mono]

My most recent favorite by Rumi:

All our lives, we've looked
Into each others faces.
That was the case today too.

How do we keep our love secret?
We speak from brow to brow
And hear with our eyes.

[Isagel]

I lie in bed and read interior design magazines. (What has that to do with Rumi, you ask, but wait I´ll get to that). There are beautiful pictures of an artists home. Evrything is grey, meditative. A cat sleeps on a couch. The table is worn, and old and the surface reflects the light. There is a close up of a pot with a Rumi qoute on it. Something about going deeper into silence.

There is something in me that does not like the silence.
I want to scream like Lorca – I think it was Lorca – “my soul celebrate in orange”, I want to “rage against the dying of the light” like Dylan Thomas, I want Frost and his mischief. I do not want this tranquility. I want life and colour. I want anger and desire. I can´t bear this peace. It gnaws at me and makes me irritated. Is it just me?

I´m going to read some more poetry by Rumi and try to make sense of this.

[Scheherazade]

My favorite Rumi poem is:

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.

I think it beautifully sums up Rumi's philosophies and find it very inspirational.

[subterranean]

What are Rumi's philosophical thoughts Scher?

[Scheherazade]

Mevlana also integrated a dualist approach in his mind: In approaching issues pertaining to daily life he is a rationalist, but in approaching spiritual and mystical matters he recognizes only the mastery of the heart and emotions. According to him, the only way to approach absolute being is through love; and God's love is everywhere, permeating everything. If one were to love another being in the name of God, one would find a pathway leading to the absolute. According to him everything in the universe, every being, even matter itself - all are but manifestations of God and exist in God and are united in the Absolute Being. Thus Mevlana views all existence as a united whole. In a sense, one could call his vision that of Unity Consciousness. This vision impelled Mevlana to transcend all differences and prejudices, and formed the basis of his immense tolerance and of his real and deep humanism. With these characteristics, Mevlana and his thought transcended the boundaries of his time and thus he and his writings are still relevant and fresh in this day and age, some 700 years after.
(http://www.allaboutturkey.com/mevlana.htm)

Hence:

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.

***

Not Christian or Jew or Muslim,
not Hindu, Buddhist, Sufi or Zen.
Not any religion, or cultural system.
I am not from the East or the West,
nor out of the ocean or up
from the ground, not natural or ethereal,
not composed of elements at all.
I do not exist, am not an entity in this world
or the next,
did not descend from Adam and Eve
or any origin story.
My place is placeless, a trace of the traceless.
Neither body nor soul.
I belong to the beloved
have seen the two worlds as one
and that one call to and know,
First, last, outer, inner, only that
breath breathing human

—Jalaluddin Rumi, 'Only Breath'

You can find more about Rumi and Sufism here:
http://www.lifepositive.com/Spirit/world-religions/sufism/sufi.asp
http://www.zaadz.com/knowledge/rumi.html

[subterranean]

Phew..was just asking Missus

[Scheherazade]

And I just answered. You are welcome, by the way.

[mono]

Yet another recent favorite of the poet who never grows old (that Psyche sent me) . . . :)

Don't go anywhere without me.
Let nothing happen in the sky apart from me,
or on the ground, in this world or that world,
without my being in its happening.
Vision, see nothing I don't see.
Language, say nothing.
The way the night knows itself with the moon,
be that with me. Be the rose
nearest to the thorn that I am.

I want to feel myself in you when you taste food,
in the arc of your mallet when you work,
when you visit friends, when you go
up on the roof by yourself at night.

There's nothing worse than to walk out along the street
without you. I don't know where I'm going.
You're the road and the knower of roads,
more than maps, more than love.

[lavendar1]

The outward form of things passes away, but the essence remains for ever. How long will you be besotted with the shape of the jug? Cast aside the jug and seek the water. If you look too closely at the form, you miss the essence. If you are wise, you will always pick out the pearl from the shell.

[bloggod]

"let the beauty we love be what we do"

rumi is breathtaking, timeless.

one of my daughters got his name for a middlenomer....

------------------------------------------------------------

rumi is multifaceted...perhaps because he was so prolific.

alive 800 years ago, it is some intimation of benovelent design that his
manuscripts survived to provide the range in topic, mood, and technique
his work embodies.


"deliberation:

a friend remarks to the Prophet, "why is it
i get screwed in business deals?
it's like a spell. I become distracted
by business talk and make wrong decisions."

Muhammad re
plies, "stipulate with every transaction
that you need three days to make sure."

deliberation is one of the qualities of God.
throw a dog a bit of something.
he sniffs to see if he wants it.

be that careful.
sniff with your wisdom nose.
get clear, then decide.

the universe came into being gradually
over six days. God could have just commanded,
BE!
little by little a person reaches forty and fifty
and sixty and feels more complete. God could have thrown
full-blown prophets flying thru the cosmos in an instant.

Jesus said one word, and a dead man sat up,
but creation usually unfolds,
like calm breakers.

constant, slow movement teaches us to keep working
like a small creek that stays clear,
that doesn't stagnate, but finds a way
through numerous details, deliberately.

deliberation is born of joy
like a bird from an egg. birds don't resemble eggs!
think how difficult the hatching out is.

a white leathery snake egg, a sparrow's egg:
a quince seed, an apple seed; very different things
look similiar at one stage

these leaves, our bodily personalities, seem identical
but the globe of soul fruit
we make,
each is elaborately
unique.



translation by Coleman Barks, found in The Essential Rumi

[Bix12]

Rumi is one of my absolute faves! I was just given a beautiful little book of Rumi poetry called "The Glance~Songs of Soul-Meeting", translated by Coleman Barks. Coleman's translation's are impeccible, and certainly the best translator that I'm aware of when it comes to converting Rumi from the native Persian into English.

The poetry in this volume arose from a meeting that Jelaluddin Rumi had with a wandering Dervish named Shams of Tabriz in the year 1244. Legend has it that they instantly became best of friends as the result of an exhanged glance across a fountain in the villiage square....pretty cool, eh?

Thus the title of the book that I'm holding just now. Below is a poem by Rumi in Persian, then below that is the English translation

http://img65.imageshack.us/img65/7947/persian016og.gif

Love is from the infinite and will remain until eternity.

The seeker of love escapes the chains of birth and death.

Tomorrow when resurrection comes,

Any heart that is not in love will fail the test


Oh Beloved,
take me.
Liberate my soul.
Fill me with your love and
release me from the two worlds.
If I set my heart on anything but you
let fire burn me from inside.

Oh Beloved,
take away what I want.
Take away what I do.
Take away what I need.
Take away everything
that takes me from you.

~RUMI~
http://img143.imageshack.us/img143/1244/banks22tb.jpg

Rumi...what more need be said?



show me your face
i crave
flowers and gardens
open your lips
i crave
the taste of honey
come out from
behind the clouds
i desire a sunny face
your voice echoed
saying "leave me alone"
i wish to hear your voice
again saying "leave me alone"
i swear this city without you
is a prison
i am dying to get out
to roam in deserts and mountains
i am tired of
flimsy friends and
submissive companions
i die to walk with the brave
am blue hearing
nagging voices and meek cries
i desire loud music
drunken parties and
wild dance
one hand holding
a cup of wine
one hand caressing your hair
then dancing in orbital circle
that is what i yearn for
i can sing better than any nightingale
but because of
this city's freaks
i seal my lips
while my heart weeps
yesterday the wisest man
holding a lit lantern
in daylight
was searching around town saying
i am tired of
all these beasts and brutes
i seek
a true human
we have all looked
for one but
no one could be found
they said
yes he replied
but my search is
for the one
who cannot be found

http://img304.imageshack.us/img304/2721/banks108nh.jpg

[gcaus]

I noticed that only a part of the following poem was posted, so I thought I would put in the whole thing. (It is one of the few I memorized):

Pour me some wine,
and talk to me about the wine.
The cup is at my mouth
but my ear interrupts-
"I want some"
Oh, ear, what you get is the heat,
you turn red with the wine,
but the ear says: "I want more than that."

When I think about you, I weep,
and when I hear others talking about you,
something in my chest, where nothing much happens now,
moves as in sleet.

All our lives, we've looked
Into each others faces.
That was the case today, too.

How do we keep our love secret?
We speak from brow to brow
And listen with our eyes.


____

[veronic]

May I ask what's the original language of his poems?

[subterranean]

Hi Veronic, Rumi wrote in Persian and Shahram Shiva is considered as Rumi's main translator (from Persian to English).

[mazHur]

This is Look at Love

Look at Love...



Who is the translator???

The original version is here

look at love

By Mevlana Jelaluddin Rumi
(1207 - 1273)

English version by Nader Khalili



look at love
how it tangles
with the one fallen in love

look at spirit
how it fuses with earth
giving it new life
why are you so busy
with this or that or good or bad
pay attention to how things blend

why talk about all
the known and the unknown
see how the unknown merges into the known

why think separately
of this life and the next
when one is born from the last

look at your heart and tongue
one feels but deaf and dumb
the other speaks in words and signs

look at water and fire
earth and wind
enemies and friends all at once

the wolf and the lamb
the lion and the deer
far away yet together

look at the unity of this
spring and winter
manifested in the equinox

you too must mingle my friends
since the earth and the sky
are mingled just for you and me

be like sugarcane
sweet yet silent
don't get mixed up with bitter words

my beloved grows right out of my own heart
how much more union can there be

from Rumi: Fountain of Fire, Translated by Nader Khalili

" Through ignorance, sloth and folly,

Though He stands by us, we are shut ofif from Him,

The noise of thunder makes the head of the thirsty ache.

When he knows not that it unlocks the blessed showers,

His eyes are fixed on the running stream

Unwitting of the sweetness of the rain from heaven ;

He urges the steed of his desire towards the caused,

And perforce remains shut off from the causer^ (Whinfield).

......................................


" O base one, behuld a hundred thousand souls
Dancing towards the deadly sword of his love.
Behold water in a pitcher ; pour it out ;
Will that water run away from the stream ?
When that water joins the water of the stream
It is lost therein and becomes itself the stream."

Whinfield..

[Novice]

Scheherazade, subterranean, bongitybongbong, and I shared an interesting discussion regarding one of my favorite poets, Rumi, and I thought to bring him to this part of the forum for everyone elses' benefits. Here are a few of his works we shared in the quote forum; share some of your favorites, if you have any.

There is a way between voice and presence
where information flows.

In disciplined silence it opens.
With wandering talk it closes.

---

"There is no angel so sublime, He wispered,
Who can be granted for one moment
What is granted you forever.
And I hung my head, astounded.

My Heart, that dervish vagabond,
Poured me the wine of oblivion.
I stagger to the House of Wine
Dancing, dancing, dragging this old cloak.

How can you ever hope to know the Beloved
Without becoming in every cell the Lover?
And when you are the Lover at last, you don't care.
Whatever you know or don't - only Love is real.

If one drop of Divine Drunkenness fell
On the intellects of everyone in the world,
The world and its beings, free will, and obedience -
All, all, would vanish in a moment.

The sail of the ship of man's being is belief.
When there is a sail, the wind can carry him
To place after place of power and wonder.
No sail, all words are winds.

You say you have seen Him, but your eyes are two stones.
You say you have known Him, but nothing in you trembles.
You still say "I" when you speak of surviving His glory:
No one who has seen It has ever survived.

The real work of religion is permanent astonishment.
By that I don't mean in astonishment turning your back on Him -
I mean - blazing in blind ecstacy, drowned in God and drunk on Love.

Choose the company of those withdrawn in love.
Listen to those who open the path to you; listen, and don't say a word."

---

O you who've gone on pilgrimage -
where are you, where, oh where?
Here, here is the Beloved!
Oh come now, come, oh come!
Your friend, he is your neighbor,
he is next to your wall -
You, erring in the desert -
what air of love is this?
If you'd see the Beloved's
form without any form -
You are the house, the master,
You are the Kaaba, you! . . .
Where is a bunch of roses,
if you would be this garden?
Where, one soul's pearly essence
when you're the Sea of God?
That's true - and yet your troubles
may turn to treasures rich -
How sad that you yourself veil
the treasure that is yours!

---

Though I cannot narrow my favorite Rumi poem to one, a work of his that I think highly of, and brings me to tears, goes thus, titled "No Room For Form:"

On the night when youc ross the street
from your shop and your house
to the cemetery,

you'll hear me hailing you from inside
the open grave, and you'll realize
how we've always been together.

I am the clear consciousness-core
of your being, teh same in
ecstasy as in self-hating fatigue.

That night, when youe scape the fear of snakebite
and all irritation with the ants, you'll hear
my familiar voice, see the candle being lit,
smell the incense, the surprise meal fixed
by the lover inside all your other lovers.

This heart-tumult is my signal
to you igniting in the tomb.

So don't fuss with the shroud
and the graveyard road dust.

Those get ripped open and washed away
in the music of our finally meeting.

And don't look for me in a human shape.
I am inside your looking. No room
for form with love this strong.

Beat the drum and let the poets speak.
This is a day of purification for those who
are already mature and initiated into what love is.

No need to wait until we die!
There's more to want here than money
and being famous and bites of roasted meat.

Now, what shall we call this new sort of gazing-house
that has opened in our town where people sit
quietly and pour out their glancing
like light, like answering?

Hi! there I like this poem, am new to this litnet. I also like the poems and tried to write couple of them

Can anyone help me here in this litnet about how to utilize it full ot how can I share my writing etc.

[cl154576]

Can anyone help me here in this litnet about how to utilize it full ot how can I share my writing etc.

Writing (http://www.online-literature.com/forums/forumdisplay.php?f=2351)

The forum is pretty much self-explanatory, but if you need more help there are some tutorials in this forum: The Literature Network (http://www.online-literature.com/forums/forumdisplay.php?f=9), and moderators and other forum members are always willing to answer questions.