Allspirit

Category: Sufism

  • A Zero-Circle

    By Rumi

    Be helpless and dumbfounded,
    unable to say yes or no.
    Then a stretcher will come
    from grace to gather us up.

    We are too dulleyed to see the beauty.
    If we say Yes we can we’ll be lying.

    If we say No, we don’t see it,
    that No will behead us
    and shut tight the window into spirit.

    So let us not be sure of anything,
    beside ourselves, and only that, so
    miraculous beings come running to help.

    Crazed, lying in a zero-circle, mute,
    we will be saying finally,
    with tremendous eloquence, Lead us.

    When we’ve totally surrendered to that beauty,
    we’ll become a mighty kindness.

     

    From Say I am You
    Poetry Interspersed with Stories of Rumi and Shams
    Translated by John Moyne and Coleman Barks

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  • You Worry Too Much

    By Rumi

    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?

    From: Hush Don’t Say Anything to God: Passionate Poems of Rumi
    Translated by Sharam Shiva

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  • Without the eyes…

    By Rumi

    Without the eyes – two clouds – the lightning of the heart:
    The fire of God’s threat, how could it be allayed?
    How would the herbage grow of union, sweet to taste?
    How would the fountains all gush forth with water pure?
    How would the rosebed tell its secret to the meadow?
    How would the violet make contracts with jasmine?
    How would the plane tree lift its hands in prayer, say?
    How would the trees’ heads toss free in the air of Love?
    How would the blossoms shake their sleeves in days of spring
    To shed their lovely coins about the garden wide?
    How would the tulip’s cheek be red like flames and blood?
    How would the rose draw out its gold now from its purse?
    How would the ringdoves call like seekers, “Where, oh where?”
    How would the stork repeat his laklak from his soul,
    To say: “O Helper high, Thine is the kingdom, Thine!”
    How would the dust reveal the secrets of its heart?
    How would the sky become a garden full of light?

    Translated by Annemarie Schimmel

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  • Whoever Brought Me Here, Will Have To Take Me Home

    By Rumi

    All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
    Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
    I have no idea.
    My soul is from elsewhere, I’m sure of that,
    and I intend to end up there.

    This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
    When I get back around to that place,
    I’ll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
    I’m like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
    The day is coming when I fly off,
    but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
    Who says words with my mouth?

    Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
    I cannot stop asking.
    If I could taste one sip of an answer,
    I could break out of this prison for drunks.
    I didn’t come here of my own accord, and I can’t leave that way.
    Whoever brought me here, will have to take me home.

    This poetry. I never know what I’m going to say.
    I don’t plan it.
    When I’m outside the saying of it,
    I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.

    From: Essential Rumi

    Coleman Barks with John Moyne

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  • When I die…

    By Rumi

    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

    RUMI, ghazal number 911,
    translated May 18, 1992,
    by Nader Khalili

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  • Time to go Home

    By Rumi

    Late and starting to rain,
    it’s time to go home.
    We’ve wandered long enough
    in empty buildings.
    I know it’s tempting to stay
    and meet those new people.
    I know it’s even more sensible
    to spend the night here with them,
    but I want to go home.

    We’ve seen enough beautiful places
    with signs on them saying
    This is God’s House.That’s seeing the
    grain like the ants do,
    without the work of harvesting.
    Let’s leave grazing to cows and go
    where we know what everyone really intends,
    where we can walk around without clothes on.

    From: Open Secret Coleman Barks

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  • There is a candle in your heart…

    By Rumi

    There is a candle in your heart,
    ready to be kindled.
    There is a void in your soul,
    ready to be filled.
    You feel it, don’t you?
    You feel the separation
    from the Beloved.
    Invite Him to fill you up,
    embrace the fire.
    Remind those who tell you otherwise that
    Love
    comes to you of its own accord,
    and the yearning for it
    cannot be learned in any school.

    From: Hush Don’t Say Anything to God: Passionate Poems of Rumi
    Translated by Sharam Shiva

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