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Saturday, April 24th, 2010
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From: <sshomi@gmail.com>
Date: Fri, Apr 23, 2010 at 9:31 AM
Subject: [Sunlight] Tear drops - Quatrain 17
To: Sunlight@yahoogroups.com
~
Today, Sunlight offers two interpretations of
Quatrain 17:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'm crying, my tears tell me that much.
Last Spring, they say, the new green, how weak you felt.
Remember any night of all our nights,
but don't remember things I've said.
-- Version by Coleman Barks
Open Secret
Threshold Books, 1984
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
ah tear drops
brighten my heart
clear the spring blossoms
shining my sight
flowing one night
remembering only
not any indelicate
moments of my life
--Translation by Nader Khalili
Rumi, Dancing the Flame
Cal-Earth Press, 2001
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~
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Thursday, April 15th, 2010
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From: <sshomi@gmail.com>
Date: Thu, Apr 15, 2010 at 7:35 AM
Subject: [Sunlight] The mirror of the heart must be clear
To: Sunlight@yahoogroups.com
~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We would hide the truth from
the sorrowful one, whose bowl
has fallen from the roof,*
but it can't be hid.
While that ignorant one--
that stranger to love's sorrow,
to whom truth has been shown
so many times--cannot see it.
The mirror of the heart must be clear,
so you may know the ugly from the beautiful.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dardmandi kash ze bâm oftâd tasht
zu nehân kardim haqq panhân na-gasht
Vânke u jâhel bod az dardesh ba`id
chand be-nemudand va u ânrâ na-did
Âyeneh-ye del sâf bâyad tâ daru
vâ shenâsi surat-e zesht az neku
*An idiom describing one who has fallen into ecstasy.
-- Mathnawi II: 2061-2063
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Daylight"
Threshold Books, 1994
Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~
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Thursday, April 8th, 2010
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From: <sshomi@gmail.com>
Date: Thu, Apr 8, 2010 at 9:29 AM
Subject: [Sunlight] Without love -- Quatrain 598
To: Sunlight@yahoogroups.com
~
Today, Sunlight offers an interpretation of Quatrain 598:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Without love,
all worship is a burden,
all dancing is a chore,
all music is mere noise.
All the rain of heaven may fall into the sea.
Without love,
not one drop could become a pearl.
-- Version by Jonathan Star and Shahram Shiva
A Garden Beyond Paradise
Bantam Books, 1992
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~
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From: <sshomi@gmail.com>
Date: Mon, Mar 22, 2010 at 4:05 AM
Subject: [Sunlight] "Again, the season of Spring has come" -- Ghazal 211
To: Sunlight@yahoogroups.com
~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Again, the violet bows to the lily.
Again, the rose is tearing off her gown!
The green ones have come up from the other world,
tipsy like the breeze up to some new foolishness.
Again, near the top of the mountain
the anemone's sweet features appear.
The hyacinth speaks formally to the jasmine,
"Peace be with you." "And peace to you, lad!
Come walk with me in this meadow."
Again, there are sufis everywhere!
The bud is shy, but the wind removes
her veil suddenly, "My friend!"
The Friend is here like the water in the stream,
like a lotus on the water.
The narcissus winks at the wisteria,
"Whenever you say."
And the clove to the willow, "You are the one
I hope for." The willow replies, "Consider
these chambers of mine yours. Welcome!"
The apple, "Orange, why the frown?"
"So that those who mean harm
will not see my beauty."
The ringdove comes asking, "Where,
where is the Friend?"
With one note the nightingale
indicates the rose.
Again, the season of Spring has come
and a spring-source rises under everything,
a moon sliding from the shadows.
Many things must be left unsaid, because it's late,
but whatever conversation we haven't had
tonight, we'll have tomorrow.
-- Ghazal (Ode) 211
Version by Coleman Barks
"The Essential Rumi"
HarperSanFrancisco, 1995
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~
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Thursday, February 25th, 2010
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From: <sshomi@gmail.com>
Date: Thu, Feb 25, 2010 at 9:46 AM
Subject: [Sunlight] "And promised to keep her secret forever" – Ghazal 1831
To: Sunlight@yahoogroups.com
~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I've had enough
no more patience left.
I will give away your secret.
My heart is burning in this blazing fire,
drunk with pain.
I've had enough
I will give away your ancient secret.
You can choose to listen or not.
Lost in the grip of my passion,
I heard the Moon say,
"Am I not your friend and companion
why do you want to betray me?"
Startled, I looked at that Beauty,
at my life giver, my soul's music,
the water for my burning heart
and promised
to keep her secret forever.
-- Ghazal (Ode) 1831
Translated by Azima Melita Kolin
and Maryam Mafi
Rumi: Hidden Music
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd, 2001
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~
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Wednesday, February 24th, 2010
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From: <sshomi@gmail.com>
Date: Wed, Feb 24, 2010 at 8:25 AM
Subject: [Sunlight] "Something better in return"
To: Sunlight@yahoogroups.com
~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Should heartache enter your mind and ambush your joy, yet
it prepares the way for happiness.
Quickly it sweeps all others out of the house so that joy
may come to you from the Source of good.
It shakes the yellow leaves from the branch of the heart,
so that fresh leaves may grow continuously.
It pulls up the root of old happiness so that a new ecstasy
may stroll in from Yonder.
Heartache pulls up withered and crooked roots so that no
root may remain concealed.
Though heartache may extract many things from the heart,
in truth it will bring something better in return.
-- Mathnawi V: 3678-83
Translation by William C. Chittick
"The Sufi Path of Love - The Spiritual Teachings of Rumi"
State University of New York Press, Albany, 1983
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~
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Friday, February 19th, 2010
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From: <sshomi@gmail.com>
Date: Fri, Feb 19, 2010 at 7:58 AM
Subject: [Sunlight] "Strip the raiment of pride from your body"
To: Sunlight@yahoogroups.com
~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Strip the raiment of pride from your body:
in learning, put on the garment of humility.
Soul receives from soul the knowledge of humility,
not from books or speech.
Though mysteries of spiritual poverty are within the seeker's heart,
she doesn't yet possess knowledge of those mysteries.
Let her wait until her heart expands and fills with Light:
God said, "Did We not expand your breast. . .?*
For We have put illumination there,
We have put the expansion into your heart."
When you are a source of milk, why are you milking another?
An endless fountain of milk is within you:
why are you seeking milk with a pail?
You are a lake with a channel to the Sea:
be ashamed to seek water from a pool;
For did We not expand. . .? Again, don't you possess the expansion?
Why are you going about like a beggar?
Contemplate the expansion of the heart within you,
that you may not be reproached with, Do you not see?**
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Pas lebâs-e kebr birun kon ze tan
malbas-e zoll push dar âmukhtan
Dânesh ân-râ satânad jân ze jân
nah ze rah-e daftar o nah az zabân
Dar del-e sâlek agar hast ân romuz
ramz dâni nist sâlek-râ hanuz
Tâ delesh-râ sharh ân sâzad ziyâ
pas A-lam nashrah* be-farmâyad Khodâ
Keh darun sineh sharhet dâdeh-'im
sharh andar sineh-'et be-nehâdeh-'im
To hanuz az khârej ân-râ tâlebi
mohlebi az digarân chon hâlebi
Cheshmeh-ye shirast dar to bi kenâr
to cherâ mi shir juyi az taghâr
Manfazi dâri be-bahr ay âb-gir
nang dâr az âb jostan az ghadir
Keh A-lam nashrah nah sharhet hast bâz
chon shodi to sharh ju o kodyeh sâz
Dar negar dar sharh-e del dar andarun
tâ niyâbad ta`neh-ye Lâ tubsirûn**
*al-Sharh, 1
**al-Dhâriyât, 21
-- Mathnawi V:1061; 1064-1072
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance"
Threshold Books, 1996
(Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~
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Wednesday, February 17th, 2010
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From: <sshomi@gmail.com>
Date: Wed, Feb 17, 2010 at 7:29 AM
Subject: [Sunlight] Find a true friend
To: Sunlight@yahoogroups.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
find yourself a friend
who is willing to
tolerate you with patience
put to the test the essence
of the best incense
by putting it in fire
drink a cup of poison
if handed to you by a friend
when filled with love and grace
step into the fire
like the chosen prophet
the secret love will change
hot flames to a garden
covered with blossoms
roses and hyacinths and willow
spinning and throwing you
a true friend can hold you
like God and His universe
-- Ghazal 994
Translation by Nader Khalili
Rumi, Fountain of Fire
Cal-Earth Press, 1994
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Monday, February 15th, 2010
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From: <sshomi@gmail.com>
Date: Mon, Feb 15, 2010 at 9:03 AM
Subject: [Sunlight] "His form has passed away and he has become a mirror"
To: Sunlight@yahoogroups.com
~
Here, Sunlight offers a Mathnawi story of the dervish Bayazid
Bestami, in a version by Barks, and a translation by Nicholson:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BESTAMI
That magnificent dervish, Bayazid Bestami,
came to his disciples and said,
"I am God."
It was night, and he was drunk with his ecstasy.
"There is no God but me. You should worship me."
At dawn, when he had returned to normal,
they came and told him what he'd said.
"If I say that again,
bring your knives and plunge them into me. God
is beyond the body, and I am in this body.
Kill me when I say that."
Each student then sharpened
his knife, and again Bayazid drank the God-Wine.
The sweet dessert-knowing came. The Inner Dawn
snuffed his candle. Reason, like a timid advisor,
faded to a far corner as the Sun-Sultan
entered Bayazid.
Pure spirit spoke through him.
Bayazid was not there. The "he" of his personality
dissolved. Like the Turk who spoke fluent Arabic,
then came to, and didn't know a word.
The Light
of God
poured into the empty Bayazid and became words.
Muhammed did not dictate the Qur'an. God did.
The mystic osprey opened its wings in Bayazid
and soared.
"Inside my robe
there is nothing but God.
How long will you keep looking elsewhere!"
The disciples drew their knifes and slashed out
like assassins, but as they stabbed at their Sheikh,
they did not cut Bayazid. They cut themselves.
There was no mark on that Adept,
but the students were bleeding and dying.
Those who somewhat held back, respecting their Teacher,
had only lightly wounded themselves.
A
selfless One
disappears into Existence and is safe there.
He becomes a mirror. If you spit at it,
you spit at your own face.
If you see an ugly face there, it's yours.
If you see Jesus and Mary, they're you.
Bayazid became nothing,
that clear and that empty.
A saint puts your image before you.
When I reach this point, I have to close my lips.
Those of you who are love-drunk on the edge of the roof,
sit down, or climb down. Every moment spent in Union
with the Beloved is a dangerous delight,
like standing on a roof-edge.
Be afraid up there,
of losing that connection, and don't tell anybody
about it. Keep your secret.
-- Mathnawi IV: 2102-2148
Version by Coleman Barks
"Delicious Laughter"
Maypop, 1990
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The story of Bayazid's - may God sanctify his spirit- saying, "Glory
to me! How grand is my estate!" and the objection raised by his
disciples, and how he gave them an answer to this, not by the way
of speech but by the way of vision (immediate experience).
That venerable dervish, Bayazid, came to his disciples, saying,
"Lo, I am God."
That master of the (mystic) sciences said plainly in drunken
fashion, "Hark, there is no god but I, so worship me."
When that ecstasy had passed, they said to him at dawn,
"Thou saidest such and such, and this is impiety."
He said, "This time, if I make a scandal, come on at once and
dash knives into me.
God transcends the body, and I am with the body: ye must
kill me when I say a thing like this."
When that (spiritual) freeman gave the injunction, each
disciple made ready a knife.
Again he (Bayazid) became intoxicated by that potent flagon:
those injunctions vanished from his mind.
The Dessert came: his reason became distraught. The Dawn
came: his candle became helpless.
Reason is like the prefect: when the sultan arrives, the help-
less prefect creeps into a corner.
Reason is the shadow of God: God is the sun: what power
hath the shadow to resist His sun?
When a genie prevails over (gains possession of) a man, the
attributes of humanity disappear from the man.
Whatsoever he says, that genie will (really) have said it: the
one who belongs to this side will have spoken from (the control
of) the one who belongs to yonder side.
Since a genie hath this influence and rule, how (much more
powerful) indeed must be the Creator of that genie!
His (the possessed man's) "he" (personality) is gone: he has
in sooth become the genie: the Turk, without (receiving) Divine
inspiration, has become a speaker of Arabic*.
When he comes to himself, he does not know a word (of
Arabic). Inasmuch as a genie hath this essence and quality,
Then how, pray, should the Lord of genie and man have in-
feriority to the genie?
If a pot-valiant fellow has drunk the blood of a fierce lion, you
will say that the wine did it, not he;
And if he fashion words of old (pure) gold*, you will say that
the wine has spoken those words.
A wine hath this (power to excite) disturbance and com-
motion: hath not the Light of God that virtue and potency
To make you entirely empty of self, (so that) you should be
laid low and He should make the Word lofty (within you)?
Though the Qur'an is (dictated) from the lips of the Prophet
if any one says God did not speak it, he is an infidel.
When the huma of selflessness took wing (and soared),
Bayazid began (to repeat) those words.
The flood of bewilderment swept away his reason: he spoke
more strongly than he had spoken at first,
(Saying), "Within my mantle there is naught but God: how
long wilt thou seek on the earth and in heaven?"
All the disciples became frenzied and dashed their knives at
his holy body.
Like the heretics of Girdakuh, every one was ruthlessly*
stabbing his spiritual Director.
Every one who plunged a dagger into the Shaykh was re-
versely making a gash in his own body.
There was no mark (of a wound) on the body of that possessor
of the (mystic) sciences, while those disciples were wounded and
drowned in blood.
Whoever aimed a blow at his throat saw his own throat cut,
and died miserably;
And whoever inflicted a blow on his breast, his (own) breast
was riven, and he became dead for ever;
And he that was acquainted with that (spiritual) emperor of
high fortune, (and) his heart (courage) did not consent to strike
a heavy blow,
Half-knowledge tied his hand, (so that) he saved his life and
only wounded himself.
Day broke, and the disciples were thinned: wails of lamenta-
tion arose from their house.
Thousands of men and women came to him (Bayazid), saying,
"0 thou in whose single shirt the two worlds are contained,
If this body of thine were a human body, it would have been
destroyed, like a human body, by the daggers."
A self-existent one encountered a selfless one in combat: the
self-existent one drove a thorn into his own eye (hurt himself).
0 you who stab the selfless ones with the sword, you are
stabbing your own body with it. Beware!
For the selfless one has passed away (in God) and is safe: he is
dwelling in safety for ever.
His form has passed away and he has become a mirror:
naught is there but the form (image) of the face of another.
If you spit (at it), you spit at your own face; and if you strike
at the mirror, you strike at yourself;
And if you see an ugly face (in that mirror), 'tis you; and if
you see Jesus and Mary, 'tis you.
He is neither this nor that: he is simple (pure and free from
attributes of self): he has placed your image before you.
When the discourse reached this point, it closed its lips; when
the pen reached this point, it broke to pieces.
Close thy lips (0 my soul): though eloquence is at thy com-
mand, do not breathe a word and God best knoweth the right
way.
0 you who are drunken with the wine (of love), you are on
the edge of the roof: sit down or (else) descend, and peace be
with you!
Every moment when you enjoy (union with the Beloved),
deem that delightful moment to be the edge of the roof.
Be trembling for (fear of losing) the delightful moment: con-
ceal it like a treasure, do not divulge it.
Lest calamity suddenly befall (your) plighted love, take heed,
go very fearfully into that place of ambush.
The spirit's fear of loss at the moment of enjoyment is (the
sign of its) departure (descent) from the hidden roof-edge.
If you do not see the mysterious roof-edge, (yet) the spirit is
seeing, for it is shuddering (with fear).
Every sudden chastisement that has come to pass has taken
place on the edge of the turret of enjoyment.
Indeed there is no fall except (on) the edge of the roof: (take)
warning from (the fate of) the people of Noah and the people of
Lot.
-- "The Mathnawi of Jalalu'ddin Rumi"
Edited and translated by Reynold A. Nicholson
Volume IV, verses 2102-2154
Published by "E.J.W.Gibb Memorial",
Cambridge, England.
First published 1926, Reprinted 1990.
Nicholson's notes:
* "if he fashion words of old (pure) gold":
I.e. "if he speak with perfect eloquence."
* "like the heretics of Girdakuh": The Assassins.
* "every one was ruthlessly stabbing his spiritual Director":
Literally, "without distress or fatigue."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~
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Thursday, February 11th, 2010
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From: <sshomi@gmail.com>
Date: Thu, Feb 11, 2010 at 9:39 AM
Subject: [Sunlight] "When you dance"
To: Sunlight@yahoogroups.com
~
Today, Sunlight offers an interpretation of 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
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~
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Friday, February 5th, 2010
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From: <sshomi@gmail.com>
Date: Fri, Feb 5, 2010 at 7:44 AM
Subject: [Sunlight] How will this soil become a rose garden?
To: Sunlight@yahoogroups.com
~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seeing a man who was tilling the earth,
a fool, unable to control himself, cried out,
"Why are you ruining this soil?"
"Fool," said the man, "leave me alone:
try to recognize the difference
between tending the soil and wasting it.
How will this soil become a rose garden
until it is disturbed and overturned?"
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
n yeki âmad zamin-râ mi shekâft
ablahi feryâd kard va bar na-tâft
"Kin zamin-râ az cheh virân mi koni
mi shekafi va parishân mi koni"
Goft "Ay ablah be-raw bar man ma-rân
to `emârat az kharâbi bâz dân
Kay shavad golzâr o gandom-zâr in
tâ na-gardad zesht o virân n zamin
Kay shavad bostân o kesht o barg o bar
tâ na-gardad nazm-e u zir o zabar
-- Mathnawi IV: 2341-2345
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance"
Threshold Books, 1996
(Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~
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Wednesday, February 3rd, 2010
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From: <sshomi@gmail.com>
Date: Wed, Feb 3, 2010 at 7:51 AM
Subject: [Sunlight] "Tidings for Thee"
To: Sunlight@yahoogroups.com
~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Last night I pleaded with a star to intercede:
I said, 'My being is at the moon's service.'
Bowing, I added, 'Take this plea to the sun
Who makes rocks gold with his fire.'
Bearing the wounds on my breast, I cried,
'The Beloved, Whose drink is blood, must know!'
Like a child, I rocked my heart asleep
As a child does when its cradle sways.
Give my heart milk, stay its tears - you
Who help a hundred like me at every moment.
The heart's home is your city of union:
How long will you condemn mine to exile?
My head aches; there's nothing more I can say.
O cup-bearer, my troubled eye grows drunk!
-- Version by James Cowan
"Rumi's Divan of Shems of Tabriz, Selected Odes"
Element Books Limited 1997
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Last night I gave a star a message for you.
On my knees I begged her to tell you
how much I pray that you turn my stony heart
golden with your radiance.
I bared my chest to show my wounds and
asked her to tell you that if I sway this way and that
it's because I need to calm the infant of my heart,
for babies sleep when rocked in their cradle.
My Beloved, my heart was yours always
nurse it like a child, save it from wandering.
How long will you keep me in exile?
I will be quiet now but even in my silence
my heart will long for the glance of your grace.
-- Translation by Azima Melita Kolin
and Maryam Mafi
"Rumi: Hidden Music"
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd, 2001
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
III
Yestereve I delivered to a star* tidings for thee:
'Present,' I said, 'my servant to that moon-like form.'
I bowed, I said: 'Bear that service to the sun
Who maketh hard rocks gold by his burning.'
I bared my breast, I showed it the wounds:
'Give news of me,' I said, 'to the Beloved whose drink
is blood.'*
I rocked to and fro* that the child, my heart*, might
become still;
A child sleeps when one sways the cradle.
Give my heart-babe milk, relieve us from its weeping,
O thou that helpest every moment a hundred helpless
like me.
The heart's home, first to last, is thy city of union:
How long wilt thou keep in exile this heart forlorn?
I speak no more, but for the sake of averting headache*,
O Cup-bearer*, make drunken my languishing eye*.
-- T.126.9 ("Tabriz Edition of the Divani
Shamsi Tabriz, p. 126, verse 9")
"Selected Poems from the Divani Shamsi Tabriz"
Edited and translated by Reynold A. Nicholson
Cambridge, At the University Press, 1898, 1952
Notes by Nicholson:
* "I delivered to a star" -- "cf.
I hold converse nightly with every star
From desire of the splendour of thy moon-like face.
(Hafiz, II. 468.5)."
* "Beloved whose drink is blood"--for the cruelty of the
Beloved, see Winfield's Masnavi, p. 30 seq. Grief and
pain are often synonymous with love in the language
of the mystics.
* "rocked to and fro": i.e., in the sama' (whirling dance)
(cf. Ibnu'l Farid, Taiyya, beyt 434).
* "the child, my heart": cf. the same author
(ib. betyts 435 and 436)
When it (the child) tosses about in longing for one
who shall sing it sleep, and yearns
To fly to its original home,
It is hushed by being rocked in its cradle
When the hands of its nurse set the cradle moving
and
The soul is like the Messiah in the cradle of the body;
Where there is the Mary who fashioned our cradle?
(T.291.8)"
* "headache": the relapse from ecstasy into consciousness.
* "Cupbearer": the cupbearer is God, who intoxicates all
creations with the rapture of love (see Gulshini Raz, 805 seq.).
* "my languishing eye": the word is used adjectively=drunk.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~
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Thursday, January 21st, 2010
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From: <sshomi@gmail.com>
Date: Thu, Jan 21, 2010 at 7:51 AM
Subject: [Sunlight] "I have returned, like the new year" -- Ghazal 1375
To: Sunlight@yahoogroups.com
~
Here, Sunlight offers Ghazal (Ode) 1375, from Rumi's "Diwan-e
Shamsi" ("The Collection of Shams"), in a poetic translation from
Nader Khalili, and in a literal translation from 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
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
-- Translation by Nader Khalili
"Rumi, Fountain of Fire"
Cal-Earth Press, 1994
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I have returned, like the new year, to break the
locks of the prison and smash the claws and teeth of these
man-eating spheres.
The seven waterless planets are devouring the
creatures of earth -- I will throw water upon their fire and still
their winds.
I have flown from the beginningless King like a
falcon in order to kill the parrot-eating owls* of this ruined
monastery.
From the beginning I made a covenant to
sacrifice my spirit to the King. May my spirit's back be broken
should I break my pledge and covenant!
Today I am Asaf, Solomon's vizier, sword and
firman in hand -- I will break the necks of any who are
arrogant before the King.
If you see the garden of the rebellious
flourishing for a day or two, grieve not! For I will cut their
roots from a hidden direction.
I will break nothing but injustice or the evil-
intentioned tyrant -- should anything have a mote of savor, then
I am an unbeliever should I break it
Wherever there is a polo ball, it is taken away
by the mallet of Oneness -- if a ball does not roll down the
field. I will smash it with the blow of my mallet.
I now reside in His banquet, for I saw that His
intention is Gentleness. I became the least servant of His way
in order to break Satan's legs.
I was a single nugget, but when the Sultan's
hand grasped hold of me, I became the mine -- if you place me
in the balance, I will break the scales.
When you allow a ruined and drunken man like
myself into your house, do you not know at least this much: I
will break this and break that?
If the watchman shouts, "Hey!" I will pour a
cup of wine on his head; and if the doorman seizes hold of
me, I will break his arm.
If the spheres do not rotate round my heart, I
will pull them up by the roots; if the heavens act with
villainy, I will smash the turning heavens.
Thou hast spread the tablecloth of Generosity
and invited me to lunch -- why doest Thou rebuke me when I
break the bread?
No, no -- I sit at the head of Thy table, I am the
chief of Thy guests. I will pour a cup or two of wine upon the
guests and break their shame.
Oh Thou who inspirest my spirit with poetry
from within! Should I refuse and remain silent, I fear I would
break Thy command.
If Shams-i Tabrizi should send me wine and
make me drunk, I would be free of cares and break down the
pillars of the universe.
-- Translation by William Chittick
"The Sufi Path of Love"
SUNY Press, Albany, 1984
Sunlight footnote:
*In Mowlana's world view, there are two spheres: the seen and the
unseen, perceived also as light and the dark, or God (King) and
arrogant humans who mock and impersonate their Creator. He sharply
divides the world of matter from the world of spirit (or soul as the
embodied spirit). The birds of the light, such as parrots, eagles and
and falcons, are from the spirit world and are messengers of the
Beloved. They fly during the day and thrive in the light of sun. The
owl, on the other hand, is from the world of darkness, cannot
tolerate light, and becomes blind from the light of the divine. So it
is the enemy of the falcon, the nightingale and the parrot.
Compare this verse from the Mathnawi:
The spirit is the falcon, but bodily dispositions are crows. The
falcon has received many wounds from crows and owls (M V: 842-843).
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~
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Friday, January 15th, 2010
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From: <sshomi@gmail.com>
Date: Fri, Jan 15, 2010 at 7:37 AM
Subject: [Sunlight] "It is here" - - Quatrain 61
To: Sunlight@yahoogroups.com
~
Today, Sunlight offers two interpretations of Quatrain 61:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If you have a spirit, lose it,
lose it to return where with one word,
we came from. Now, thousands of words,
and we refuse to leave.
-- Version by Coleman Barks
"Unseen Rain"
Threshold Books, 1986
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If you have illusions about heaven
lose them.
The soul heard of one attribute of Love
and came to earth.
A hundred attributes of heaven
could never charm her back.
It is here the soul discovers
the reality of Love.
-- Translation by Azima Melita Kolin
and Maryam Mafi
Rumi: Whispers of the Beloved
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd, 1999
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~
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Wednesday, January 13th, 2010
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From: <sshomi@gmail.com>
Date: Wed, Jan 13, 2010 at 8:28 AM
Subject: [Sunlight] "Everywhere the secret of God is coming" -- Ghazal 837
To: Sunlight@yahoogroups.com
~
Today, Sunlight offers three presentations of Ghazal (Ode) 837 -
a poetic translation by Nader Khalili; an interpretive version by
Coleman Barks (based on the translation by A.J. Arberry);
and Arberry's translation:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
everywhere
the aroma of God
begins to arrive
look at these people
not knowing their feet from head
as they begin to arrive
every soul is seeking His soul
every soul parched with thirst
they've all heard the voice
of the quencher of thirst
everyone tastes the love
everyone tastes the milk
anxious to know
from where the real mother
begins to arrive
waiting in fever
wondering ceaselessly
when will that final union
begin to arrive
Moslems and Christians and Jews
raising their hands to the sky
their chanting voice in unison
begin to arrive
how happy is the one
whose heart's ear
hears that special voice
as it begins to arrive
clear your ears my friend
from all impurity
a polluted ear
can never hear the sound
as it begins to arrive
if your eyes are marred
with petty visions
wash them with tears
your teardrops are healers
as they begin to arrive
keep silence
don't rush to finish your poem
the finisher of the poem
the creator of the word
will begin to arrive
-- Translation by Nader Khalili
"Rumi, Fountain of Fire"
Cal-Earth Press, 1995
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
We can't help being thirsty,
moving toward the voice of water.
Milk-drinkers draw close to the mother.
Muslims, Christians, Jews, Buddhists,
Hindus, shamans, everyone hears
the intelligent sound and moves,
with thirst, to meet it.
Clean your ears. Don't listen
for something you've heard before.
Invisible camel bells, slight footfalls in sand.
Almost in sight! The first word they call out
will be the last word of our last poem.
-- Version by Coleman Barks
"Rumi: We Are Three"
Maypop Books, 1987
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Everywhere the secret of God is coming - see how the people
are coming uncontrollably;
From him for whom all souls are athirst, to the thirsty the cry
of the water carrier is coming.
They are milk drinkers of divine generosity, and are on the
watch to see from whence the mother is coming.
The are in separation, and all are waiting to see whence
union and encounter are coming.
From Moslems, Jews, and Christians alike every dawn the
sound of prayer is coming;
Blessed is that intelligence into whose heart's ear from heaven
the sound of "come hither" is coming.
Keep your ear clean of scum, for a voice is coming from
heaven;
The defiled ear hears not that sound - only the deserving gets
his deserts.
Defile not your eye with human cheek and mole, for that
Emperor of eternal life is coming;
And if it has become defiled, wash it with tears, for the cure
comes from those tears.
A caravan of sugar has arrived from Egypt; the sound of
footfall and bells is coming.
Ha, be silent, for to complete the ode our speaking King is
coming.
-- Translation by A.J. Arberry
"Mystical Poems of Rumi 1"
The University of Chicago Press 1968/1991
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~
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Monday, January 11th, 2010
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From: <sshomi@gmail.com>
Date: Mon, Jan 11, 2010 at 8:27 AM
Subject: [Sunlight] "The lesson of poverty" -- Ghazal 2015
To: Sunlight@yahoogroups.com
~
Today, Sunlight offers Ghazal (Ode) 2015, from the Diwan-e Shams
of Rumi, in a recent translation by Raficq Abdulla, a version by
Jonathan Star, a version by Coleman Barks (derived from Arberry), and
in translation by A.J. Arberry:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A beggar smiled at me and offered me alms,
In a dream last night, my heart sprang with delight.
His beauty and grace which shone from his tattered,
Presence took me by storm until I woke at dawn.
His poverty was riches, it covered my body in silk.
In that dream I heard the beckoning sighs of lovers.
I heard soft cries of agonized joy saying: "Take this,
Drink and be complete!" I saw before me a ring,
Jeweled in poverty and then it nested on my ear.
From the root of my surging soul a hundred tremors,
Rose as I was taken and pinned down by the surging sea.
The heaven groaned with bliss and made a beggar of me.
-- Translation by Raficq Abdulla*
"Words of Paradise -- Selected poems of Rumi"
Penguin Books Ltd., England, 2000
* Raficq Abdulla is a South African-born Muslim. He has created
numerous radio programs about Islam for the BBC, including a series
of talks on the Prophet Muhammad and the Four Caliphs, and a program
on the life and work of Jalaluddin Rumi.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"A Mine of Rubies"
Last night I learned how to be a lover of God,
To live in this world and call nothing my own.
I looked inward
And the beauty of my own emptiness
filled me till dawn.
It enveloped me like a mine of rubies.
Its hue clothed me in red silk.
Within the cavern of my soul
I heard the voice of a lover crying,
"Drink now! Drink now!" -
I took a sip and saw the vast ocean -
Wave upon wave caressed my soul.
The lovers of God dance around
And the circle of their steps
becomes a ring of fire round my neck.
Heaven calls me with its rain and thunder -
a hundred thousand cries
yet I cannot hear. . . .
All I hear is the call of my Beloved.
-- Version by Jonathan Star
"Rumi - In the Arms of the Beloved "
Jeremy P. Tarcher/Putnam, New York 1997
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Last night my teacher taught me the lesson of poverty,
having nothing and wanting nothing.
I am a naked man standing inside a mine of rubies,
clothed in red silk.
I absorb the shining and now I see the ocean,
billions of simultaneous motions
moving in me.
A circle of lovely, quiet people
becomes the ring on my finger.
The the wind and the thunder of rain on the way.
I have such a teacher.
-- Version by Coleman Barks
"The Essential Rumi"
HarperSanFrancisco, 1995
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Last night I saw Poverty in a dream, I became beside myself
from its beauty.
From the loveliness and perfection of the grace of poverty I
was dumbfounded until dawn.*
I saw poverty like a mine of ruby, so that through its hue I
became clothed in silk.
I heard the clamorous rapture of lovers, I heard the cry of
"Drink now, drink!"
I saw a ring all drunken with poverty; I saw its ring in my own
ear.*
From the midst of my soul a hundred surgings rose when I
beheld the surging of the sea.
Heaven uttered a hundred thousand cries; I am the slave of
such a leader.
-- Translation by A. J. Arberry
"Mystical Poems of Rumi 2"
The University of Chicago Press, 1991
* Mohammad said: "I take refuge from poverty in You (i.e.
God)," and also: "My poverty is my pride." These two
seemingly contradictory statements are explained by the
Sufis as pertaining to two types of poverty. One which
comes close to heresy is the poverty of the heart, taking
away from it learning, morality, patience, submission,
and trust in God. The other type makes man devoid of all
worldly attachments for the sake of God and is a spiritual
self-surrender and self-annihilation. Such poverty is the
first step in Sufism.
* "...ring in my own ear": In the past, rings were inserted
in the ears of slaves as a sign of servitude.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~
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Tuesday, January 5th, 2010
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From: <sshomi@gmail.com>
Date: Mon, Jan 4, 2010 at 8:03 AM
Subject: [Sunlight] "This we have now"
To: Sunlight@yahoogroups.com
~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This We Have Now
This we have now
is not imagination.
This is not
grief or joy.
Not a judging state,
or an elation,
or sadness.
Those come
and go.
This is the Presence
that doesn't.
It's dawn, Husam,
here in the splendor of coral,
inside the Friend, the simple truth
of what Hallaj said.
What else could human beings want?
When grapes turn to wine,
they're wanting
this.
When the nightsky pours by,
it's really a crowd of beggars,
and they all want some of this!
This
that we are now
created the body, cell by cell,
like bees building a honeycomb.
The human body and the universe
grew from this, not this
from the universe and the human body.
-- Mathnawi I: 1803-13
Version by Coleman Barks
"The Essential Rumi"
HarperSanFrancisco, 1995
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~
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Monday, December 14th, 2009
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From: <sshomi@gmail.com>
Date: Mon, Dec 14, 2009 at 9:04 AM
Subject: [Sunlight] Coming again to the Beloved -- Ghazal 3079
To: Sunlight@yahoogroups.com
~
Sunlight presents Ode 3079 - in a version by Coleman Barks and in a translation by A.J. Arberry:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
MEADOWSOUNDS
We've come again to that knee of seacoast
no ocean can reach.
Tie together all human intellects.
They won't stretch to here.
The sky bares its neck so beautifully,
but gets no kiss. Only a taste.
This is the food that everyone wants,
wandering the wilderness, "Please give us
your manna and quail."
We're here again with the beloved.
This air, a shout. These meadowsounds,
an astonishing myth.
We've come into the presence of the one
who was never apart from us.
When the waterbag is filling, you know
the water carrier's here!
The bag leans lovingly against your shoulder.
"Without you I have no knowledge,
no way to reach anyone."
When someone chews sugarcane,
he's wanting this sweetness.
Inside this globe the soul roars like thunder.
And now silence, my strict tutor.
I won't try to talk about Shams.
Language cannot touch that presence.
-- Version by Coleman Barks
"The Essential Rumi"
HarperSanFrancisco, 1995
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We have come once again to a lord to whose knee no sea
reaches.
Tie together a thousand minds, they will not reach Him; how
shall a hand or foot reach the moon in heaven?
The sky stretched out its throat eagerly to Him; it found no
kiss, but it swallowed a sweetmeat.
A thousand throats and gullets stretched towards His lip.
"Scatter too on our heads manna and quails."
We have come again to a Beloved, from whose air a shout has
reached our ears.
We have come again to that sanctuary to bow the brow which
is to surpass the skies.
We have come again to that meadow to whose bolbol `anqa is
a slave.*
We have come to Him who was never apart from us; for the
waterbag is never filled without the existence of a water-carrier.
The bag always clings to the body of the water-carrier, saying,
"Without you, I have no hand or knowledge or opinion."
We have come again to that feast with the sweet dessert of
which the sugarcane chewer attained his desire.
We have come again to that sphere, in whose bent the soul
roars like thunder.
We have come again to that love at whose contact the div has
become peri-like.
Silence! Seal the rest under your tongue, for a jealous tutor
has been put in charge of you.
Speak not of the talk of the Pride of Tabriz, Shams-e Din, for
the rational mind is not suitable for that speech.
-- Translation by A. J. Arberry
"Mystical Poems of Rumi 2"
The University of Chicago Press, 1991
* Anqa or Simorg is the legendary bird by which the Sufis sometimes
represent the unknown God. Simorg is sometimes considered to symbolize
the perfect man.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~
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Thursday, December 10th, 2009
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From: <sshomi@gmail.com>
Date: Thu, Dec 10, 2009 at 9:01 AM
Subject: [Sunlight] "The quarry of annihilation"
To: Sunlight@yahoogroups.com
~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You imprisoned in air nine spheres of emerald till
you brought into orbit a form of earth.*
Water, what are you washing? Wind, what are
you seeking? Thunder, why are you roaring? Sphere,
why are you turning?
Love, why are you laughing? Reason, why are
you binding? Patience, why are you content? Face, why
are you pale?
What place is there for the head on the road of
fidelity? What worth has life itself in the religion of
manliness?
That man is perfect in quality who is the quarry
of annihilation; there is room for not one hair in the circle
of uniqueness.
Whether anguish or joy, it is far from freedom;
cold is that person who remains in hotness and coldness.
Where is the gleam of the charming brow if you
have seen my moon? Where is the gleam of drunkeness if
you have drunk spiritual wine?
Has not disquietude from this purse and that bowl
seized you? After all you are not a blind ass; what are you
circling around?
With the breast unwashed what profits it to wash
the face? From greed you are like a broom, you are always
in this dust.
Every day for me is Friday, and this sermon of
mine is perpetual; this pulpit of mine is high, my screen is
true manliness.
When the steps of this pulpit become empty of men,
the spirits and the angels will bring a present from God.
*In the past it was believed that the earth was encircled by nine spheres.
-- Ghazal (Ode) 2589
Translation by A. J. Arberry
"Mystical Poems of Rumi 2"
The University of Chicago Press, 1991
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~
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Friday, November 20th, 2009
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From: <sshomi@gmail.com>
Date: Thu, Nov 19, 2009 at 10:58 AM
Subject: [Sunlight] Only your name, only your wine -- Ghazal 2162
To: Sunlight@yahoogroups.com
~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
rebellious i feel again
i swear i can tear
every chain
you wrap around me
i'm that crazy
fastened fellow who
cages monsters
by his magical tongue
i don't want
this mortal life
i don't desire
this mortal soul
you my life
you my soul
you my love
that's who i want
when you hide away
i feel darkness in my faith
and when you appear
i'm filled with grace
if i drank from this jar
it's because of your reflection
and if i breathe without you
i regret it for the rest of my life
without you i swear
even if i fly
i'm sad
as a dark cloud
without you
even in a rose garden
i feel in prison
i swear again
the music to my ear
is only your name
the dance of my soul
is only with your wine
please come again
and reconstruct
this house of mine
this is my existence
going to an abbey
or going to a mosque
i'm only there
in search of you
-- Ghazal 2162
Poetic translation by Nader Khalili
"Rumi, Fountain of Fire"
Cal-Earth Press, 1994
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~
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