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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