Rumi

 Losing my Self

I became God's interpreter.

Now, drunk or sober

I barely utter a word.

Rumi

 Cruel autumn has arrived!

The rose's red dress is torn

the willow's branches have dropped

repenting for missed prayers.

The lily has drawn her sword

the jasmine is shielded ready to fight.

The nightingale

jealous of the rose's admirers

suffers in silence.

The trees lifting their arms in despair

wonder why the buds are hidden

and who has broken the violets' back.

Cruel autumn has arrived but behold

the hope of spring for whatever

autumn destroys spring will replenish.

All this talk of roses, nightingales, and gardens

is only a screen I hide behind

because Love is jealous.

The Path To LOVE

 

Rumi

 While still in the cage of your being

behold the spirit bird before it flies away

Rumi

 

Beauty is the Garden

scent of roses, murmuring water

flowing gently . . .

Can words describe the indescribable?

Rumi

 

One day you will see me sprawled in the tavern

my turban pawned, my prayer rug stained with wine.

Intoxicated with the teasing kiss of my beloved

I see his curls dancing on the palm of my hand.

Rested, he is tempting me to stay awake

and feast with him till dawn.

How blessed I am that this charmer

entices my spirit away from this world.

Rumi

 

Your benevolence has no rival!

Every door is shut except Yours

so a stranger lost at night

finds no other door but Yours.

🔷 ⚜️ 🔷

Friends Talk II

 

Rumi's Blessing Words

 

where,

your 

Love 

has

brought

us

to

this

silence

Playful Moon

 

Let Your Love Flow

- So glad to see you again!

Rumi

 

light green

 

I came with many knots in my heart,

like the magician's rope.

You undid them all at once.

I see now the splendor of the Student

and that of the Teacher's art.

Love and this body sit inside your presence,

one demolished, the other drunk.

We smile. We weep. Tree limbs

turning sere, then light green.

From RUMI "Bridge To The Soul" -  2007

Trans. Coleman Barks

Time & Eternity

 

From now on the nightingales

will sing of us sitting here outdoors,

where wind lifts the hair of the willow

and starts her dancing.

God knows what they say

to each other then.

From Rumi's "Outdoors and The Passion of The Grass"

Rumi

The real work belongs to someone who desires God

and has severed himself from any other work.

The rest are like children who play together until it gets dark

for these few short days.

Or like someone who awakes and springs up, still drowsy,

and then is lulled back to sleep

by the suggestion of an evil nurse:

"Go to sleep, my darling, I won't let anyone disturb you."

Rumi

 

Dam the torrent of ecstasy when it runs in flood,

so that it won't bring shame and ruin.

But why should I fear ruin?

Under the ruin waits a royal treasure.

He that is drowned in God wishes to be more drowned.

While his spirit is tossed up and down 

by the waves of the sea,

he asks, "Is the bottom of the sea more delightful, or the top? 

Is the Beloved's arrow more fascinating, or the shield?"

O heart, if you recognize any difference 

between joy and sorrow,

these lies will tear you apart.

Although your desire tastes sweet,

doesn't the Beloved desire you

to be desireless?

The life of lovers is in death:

you will not win the Beloved's heart

unless you lose your own.

 

Translation: Kabir & Camille Helminski

From The RUMI Collection 

Edited by Kabir Helminski

Shambhala, 1999

Rumi

Till the cloud weeps, how should the garden smile?

The weeping of the cloud and the burning of the sun 

are the pillars of this world: twist these two strands together. 

Since the searing heat of the sun and the moisture of the clouds

keep the world fresh and sweet,

keep the sun of your intelligence burning bright

and your eye glistening with tears.

Translation: Kabir & Camille Helminski

From The RUMI Collection

Edited by Kabir Helminski 

Shambhala, 1999

Peter Pringle

 

Rumi

You that give new life to this planet

you that transcend logic, come. I am only

an arrow. Fill your bow with me and let fly.

Rumi: Edited & Translation by Coleman Barks

Harper Collins 2007

From "A Bowl Fallen From The Roof"

Rumi

your love has brought us to this silence,
where the only obligation
is to walk slowly through a meadow
and look