Rumi

Rumi was born on the Eastern shores of the Persian Empire in 1207 (in the city of Balkh in what is now Afghanistan), and finally settled in the town of Konya, in what is now Turkey. His life story reads like a fairy tale. A genius theologian, a pillar of Islam, a brilliant sober scholar, meets a wandering wild darvish by the name of Shams of Tabriz, and almost overnight is transformed into an enraptured lover of God. It seems that the universe brought these two opposing characters together to remind us for eternity that it is never what you expect when it comes to mysticism. http://www.rumi.net/rumi.html

THE SPIRIT OF THE SAINTS

"There is a Water that flows down from Heaven

To cleanse the world of sin by grace Divine.

At last, its whole stock spent, its virtue gone,

Dark with pollution not its own, it speeds

Back to the Fountain of all purities;

Whence, freshly bathed, earthward it sweeps again,

Trailing a robe of glory bright and pure.

This Water is the Spirit of the Saints,

Which ever sheds, until itself is beggared,

God's balm on the sick soul; and then returns

To Him who made the purest light of Heaven"

RU1-02

WILLING SLAVES

From deep within my heart

I always catch

the scent of my Beloved.

How can I help but

follow that fragrance?

Last night I was walking through Love's garden

where a glimmer of my soul

became a teeming river of light!

Laughing roses sprang up along the banks.

Dazzling waters rolled past the thorns of being

with speed enough to elude the sword of death.

Every tree and blade of grass danced in the meadow.

But to an eye without this vision,

all seemed plain and ordinary.

Suddenly a great cypress shot up from the ground!

The whole garden roared with delight -

the jasmines exploded,

the broad-leafed trees clapped their hands.

A face of fire,

A cup of fire,

A heart of fire -

all were blazing with joy.

Surrounded by flames, my soul called out,

"O God, where shall I run?"

In the world of Oneness

there is nothing but yourself,

there is no room for counting.

But in the world of things

there is so much counting.

You may count a thousand apples in your hand -

If you want them all to be one,

make applesauce.

You may count a thousand grapes in your hand -

If you want the precious wine

crush them all together.

The message behind the words

is the voice of the heart.

The source of all activity

is that utter stillness.

Now Shams-e Tabriz is in the royal seat

and all my rhymes

have lined up like willing slaves.

RU3-01

WOMAN

If you rule your wife outwardly, yet inwardly you are

ruled by her whom you desire,

This is characteristic of Man: in other animals love is

lacking, and that shows their inferiority.

The Prophet said that woman prevails over the wise, while

ignorant men prevail over her; for in them the fierceness

of the animal is immanent.

Love and tenderness are human qualities, anger and lust

are animal qualities.

Woman is a ray of God: she is not the earthly beloved.

She is creative: you might say she is not created. (*)

(*) Sweeping aside the veil of form, the poet beholds in woman

the eternal Beauty, the inspirer and object of all love,

and regards her, in her essential nature, as the medium

through which that Beauty reveals itself and exercises

creative activity.

Ibnu'l-'Arabi went so far as to say that the most perfect

vision of God is enjoyed by those who contemplate Him in

woman.

RU1-01

           THE TRUTH WITHIN US

   "'Twas a fair orchard, full of trees and fruit
    And vines and greenery.  A Sufi there
    Sat with eyes closed, his head upon his knee,
    Sunk deep in meditation mystical.

    'Why', asked another, 'dost thou not behold
    These signs of God the Merciful displayed
    Around thee, which He bids us contemplate?'

    'The signs', he answered, 'I behold within;
    Without is naught but symbols of the Signs.'

    What is all beauty in the world?  The image,
    Like quivering boughs reflected in a stream,
    Of that eternal Orchard which abides
    Unwithered in the hearts of Perfect Men."

                 RU1-03

    In the eyes of his master, amongst the slaves,
    Luqman was despicable on account of his body.

    He used to send the slaves to the garden,
    that fruit might come for his pleasure.

    Amongst the slaves Luqman was like a parasite;
    full of ideas, dark-complexioned as night.

    Those slaves, being impelled by greed,
    ate the whole of the fruit with enjoyment,     

    And told their master that Luqman had eaten it;
    the master became bitter and sorely displeased with Luqman.

    When Luqman inquired the cause,
    he opened his lips to reproach his master.       

    "O Sire," said Luqman,
    "an unfaithful servant is not approved in the sight of God.

    Put us all to the test, O noble sir:
    give us our fill of hot water,             

    And afterwards make us run into a great plain,
    thou being mounted and we on foot.

    Then behold the evil-doer,
    the things that are done by Him who revealeth mysteries!" 

    The master gave the servants hot water to drink,
    and they drank it in fear.             

    Afterwards he was driving them into the plains,
    and they were running amidst the cornfields.               

    From distress they began to vomit:
    the hot water was bringing up the fruit from them.

    When Luqman began to vomit from his navel,
    there was coming up from within him the pure water.

    Inasmuch as Luqman's wisdom can show forth this,
    then what must be the wisdom of the Lord of existence!

    On the day when all the innermost thoughts shall be searched out,
    there will appear from you something latent, which is not desired.

    When they shall be given hot water to drink,
    all the veils will be cut asunder from that which is abhorred.

    The fire is made the torment of the infidels
    because fire is the test for stones.

    How oft, how oft, have we spoken gently to our stony hearts,
    and they  would not accept the counsel!

    For a bad wound the vein gets a bad remedy:
    the teeth of the dog are suitable for the donkey's head.

    The wicked women to the wicked men is wisdom:
    the ugly is the mate and fitting for the ugly.

    Whatever, then, you wish to mate with,
    go, become absorbed in the loved,
    and assume its shape and qualities.

    If you wish for the light,
    make yourself ready to receive the light;
    if you wish to be far,
    become self-conceited and far;

    And if you wish a way out of this ruined prison,
    do not turn your head away from the Beloved,
    but bow in worship and draw nigh.
         RU2-01

THE ASCENDING SOUL

    I died as mineral and became a plant,
    I died as plant and rose to animal,
    I died as animal and I was a 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."

          RU1-05

A PRAYER FOR GOOD BEHAVIOUR

    Let us beseech God to help us to self-control (adab): he
      who lacks self-control is deprived of the grace of the
      Lord.

    The undisciplined man does not corrupt himself alone: he
      sets the whole world afire.

    Whatever befalls thee of gloom and sorrow is the result of
      thy irreverence and insolence.

    Any one behaving with irreverence in the path of the
      Friend is a brigand who robs men: he is no man.

    Through discipline Heaven was filled with light, through
      discipline the Angels became immaculate and holy.

    By reason of irreverence the sun is eclipsed, and insolence
      caused 'Azazil to be turned back from the door.

   RU1-04

THIS ETERNAL PLAY

At dawn the Moon appeared in the sky.
It floated down and looked at me.
Then, like a hawk snatching its prey,
        it grabbed hold of me
        and dragged me across the sky.

When I looked I could not see myself.
By the magic of the Moon's light
        my body dissolved into pure spirit.
In this form I journeyed on
Merging with a boundless light.
Then the secret of this eternal play
        opened up before me.

The nine spheres of heaven
        were enveloped in light.
The ship of my soul
        was lost in a shoreless sea....

Suddenly the Sea of Being formed into waves.
Thoughts rose up,
        images and forms broke on the shore.
Then everything returned to the way it was before,
        merging into that vast Spirit.

The fortune of this sight
        comes from Shams, the Truth of Tabriz.
Without his grace,
        no one could ever ride the Moon
        or become the endless Sea.

    RU3-02

THE MAN WHO FLED FROM AZRAEL

At morn, to Solomon in his hall of justice
A noble suitor came, running in haste,
His countenance pale with anguish, his lips blue.
"What ails, thee, Khwajah?" asked the King.
  Then he:
"Twas Azrael - ah, such a look he cast
On me of rage and vengeance."  "Come now, ask
What boon thou wilt." "Protector of our lives,
I pray thee, bid the Wind convey me straight
To Hindustan: thy servant, there arrived,
Shall peradventure save his soul from Death."

How folks do ever flee from dervishhood
Into the jaws of greed and idle hope!
Your fear of dervishhood is that doomed man's
    terror,
Greed and ambition are your Hindustan.
Solomon bade the Wind transport him swiftly
Over the sea to farthest Hindustan.
On the morrow, when the King in audience sate,
He said to Azrael, "Wherefore didst thou look
Upon that Musulman so wrathfully
His home knew him no more?"  "Nay, not in
    wrath,"
Replied the Angel, "did I look on him;
But seeing him pass by, I stared in wonder,
For God had bidden me take his soul that day
In Hindustan. I stood there marvelling.
Methought, even if he had a hundred wings,
'Twere far for him to fly to Hindustan."

Judge all things of the world by this same rule
And ope you eyes and see! Away from whom
Shall we fly headlong? From ourselves?
    Absurd!
From God then? Oh, the vain and woeful
    crime!
         RU1-06

THE BIRDS OF PARADISE

Lovers of truth - rise up!
Let us go toward heaven.
We have seen enough of this world,
   it's time to see another . . . .

No, no - don't stop here.
The garden may flow with beauty
But let us go to the Gardener Himself.

Let us go,
   bowing to the ocean
   like a raging torrent.
Let us go,
   riding upon the foaming waters
   of the sea.

Let us travel from this desert of
   hunger and tears
   to the feast of newlyweds.
Let us change our expression
   from one of saffron
   to the blossoms of the Judas tree.

Our hearts beat fast.
We tremble like leaves about to fall.
Let us become the immovable mountain.

There is no escape from pain for one in exile;
There is no escape from dust
   for one who lives in a dustbowl.
Let us be like the birds of paradise,
   that fly about drinking sweet water.

We are surrounded by the forms
   of a formless creator.
Enough with these forms!
Let us go to the Formless One.

Love is our steady guide
   on this road full of hardships.
Even if the king offers you his protection,
   it is better
   to travel with the caravan.

We are the rain that falls upon
   a leaky roof -
Let us miss the holes
   and fall smoothly down the spout.

We are crooked bows
   with strings that run from our head
   to our toes;
Soon we will be straight,
   like an arrow in flight.

We run like mice when we see a cat -
Yet we are the lion's roar..
Let us become that Lion.

Let our souls
   mirror the love of our Master.
Let us go before Him
   with a handful of gifts.

Now let us be silent
So that the Giver of Speech may speak.
Let us be silent
So we can hear Him calling us
   secretly in the night.

      RU3-03

RU1 - Rumi, Poet and Mystic

Reynold A. Nicholson, trans.

George Allen and Unwin LTD

- 01 p. 44

- 02 p. 41

- 03  p. 47

   - 04  p. 64

   - 05  p. 103

- 06  p. 66

RU2 - The Mathnawi of Jalalu'ddin Rumi, Vol. 1
    Reynold A. Nicholson, trans.
   Luzac & Co. LTD
    - 01  p. 195

RU3 - Rumi - In the Arms of the Beloved

Jonathan Star , trans.

Jeremy P. Tarcher/Putnam, New York 1997

- 01 p. 128

         - 02  p. 126

  - 03 p. 65