Poems By Rumi

Be Lost in the Call Lord, said David, since you do not need us,
why did you create these two worlds?
Reality replied: O prisoner of time,
I was a secret treasure of kindness and generosity,
and I wished this treasure to be known,
so I created a mirror: its shining face, the heart;
its darkened back, the world;
The back would please you if you've never seen the face.
Has anyone ever produced a mirror out of mud and straw?
Yet clean away the mud and straw,
and a mirror might be revealed.
Until the juice ferments a while in the cask,
it isn't wine. If you wish your heart to be bright,
you must do a little work.
My King addressed the soul of my flesh:
You return just as you left.
Where are the traces of my gifts?
We know that alchemy transforms copper into gold.
This Sun doesn't want a crown or robe from God's grace.
He is a hat to a hundred bald men,
a covering for ten who were naked.
Jesus sat humbly on the back of an ass, my child!
How could a zephyr ride an ass?
Spirit, find your way, in seeking lowness like a stream.
Reason, tread the path of selflessness into eternity.
Remember God so much that you are forgotten.
Let the caller and the called disappear;
be lost in the Call.

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!

Oh, if a tree could wander
     and move with foot and wings!
It would not suffer the axe blows
     and not the pain of saws!
For would the sun not wander
     away in every night ?
How could at ev?ry morning
     the world be lighted up?
And if the ocean?s water
     would not rise to the sky,
How would the plants be quickened
     by streams and gentle rain?
The drop that left its homeland,
     the sea, and then returned ?
It found an oyster waiting
     and grew into a pearl.
Did Yusaf not leave his father,
     in grief and tears and despair?
Did he not, by such a journey,
     gain kingdom and fortune wide?
Did not the Prophet travel
     to far Medina, friend?
And there he found a new kingdom
     and ruled a hundred lands.
You lack a foot to travel?
     Then journey into yourself!
And like a mine of rubies
     receive the sunbeams? print!
Out of yourself ? such a journey
     will lead you to your self,
It leads to transformation
     of dust into pure gold!

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.
We are as the flute, and the music in us is from thee; we are as the mountain and the echo in us is from thee.  We are as pieces of chess engaged in victory and defeat: our victory and defeat is from thee, O thou whose qualities are comely!  Who are we, O Thou soul of our souls, that we should remain in being beside thee?  We and our existences are really non-existence; thou art the absolute Being which manifests the perishable.  We all are lions, but lions on a banner: because of the wind they are rushing onward from moment to moment.  Their onward rush is visible, and the wind is unseen: may that which is unseen not fail from us!  Our wind whereby we are moved and our being are of thy gift; our whole existence is from thy bringing into being.

 

This Marriage May these vows and this marriage be blessed. May it be sweet milk, this marriage, like wine and halvah. May this marriage offer fruit and shade like the date palm. May this marriage be full of laughter, our every day a day in paradise. May this marriage be a sign of compassion, a seal of happiness here and hereafter. May this marriage have a fair face and a good name, an omen as welcomes the moon in a clear blue sky. I am out of words to describe how spirit mingles in this marriage.

Kulliyat-i-Shams 2667
 

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This World Which Is Made of Our Love for Emptiness Praise to the emptiness that blanks out existence. Existence: This place made from our love for that emptiness!  Yet somehow comes emptiness, this existence goes.  Praise to that happening, over and over! For years I pulled my own existence out of emptiness.  Then one swoop, one swing of the arm, that work is over.  Free of who I was, free of presence, free of dangerous fear, hope, free of mountainous wanting.  The here-and-now mountain is a tiny piece of a piece of straw blown off into emptiness.  These words I'm saying so much begin to lose meaning: Existence, emptiness, mountain, straw:  Words and what they try to say swept out the window, down the slant of the roof.

Dear Readers, please do not assume that you understand anything you read on this blog.