I do not know who I am (sufi poem)

[Spirit of Light]

“Not a believer in the mosque am I,
Nor a disbeliever with his rites am I.
I am not the pure amongst the impure,
I am neither Moses nor Pharaoh.
Bulleh, I know not who I am.

Not in the holy books am I,
Nor do I dwell in bhang or wine,
Nor do I live in a drunken haze,
Nor in sleep or waking known.
Bulleh, I know not who I am.

Not in happiness or in sorrow am I found.
I am neither pure nor mired in filthy ground.
Not of water nor of land,
Nor am I in air or fire to be found.
Bulleh, I know not who I am.

Not an Arab nor Lahori,
Not a Hindi or Nagouri,
Nor a Muslim or Peshawari,
Not a Buddhist or a Christian.
Bulleh, I know not who I am.

Secrets of religion have I not unravelled,
I am not of Eve and Adam.
Neither still nor moving on,
I have not chosen my own name!
Bulleh, I know not who I am.

From first to last, I searched myself.
None other did I succeed in knowing.
Not some great thinker am I.
Who is standing in my shoes, alone?

Bulleh, I know not who I am.”

― Bulleh Shah

 

[sun rise]

A Rumi poem:

Today with Spring finally here,

we ought to be living outdoors with our friends.​

Let’s go to those strangers in the field
and dance around them like bees from flower to flower,
building in the beehive air
our true hexagonal homes.

Someone comes in from outside saying,
Don’t play music just for yourselves.
Now we’re tearing up the house like a drum,
collapsing walls with our pounding.
We hear a voice from the sky calling the lovers
and the odd, lost people. We scatter lives.
We break what holds us, each one a blacksmith
heating iron and walking to the anvil.
We blow on the inner fire.
With each striking we change.

The whole place goes up, all stability gone in smoke.
Sometimes high, sometimes low, we begin anywhere,
we have no method.
We’re the bat swung by powerful arms.
Balls keep rolling from us, thousands of them underfoot.

Now we’re still. Silence also is wisdom, a flame
hiding in Sufi wool.

 

[Unveiled Artist]

“Not a believer in the mosque am I,
Nor a disbeliever with his rites am I.
I am not the pure amongst the impure,
I am neither Moses nor Pharaoh.
Bulleh, I know not who I am.

Not in the holy books am I,
Nor do I dwell in bhang or wine,
Nor do I live in a drunken haze,
Nor in sleep or waking known.
Bulleh, I know not who I am.

Not in happiness or in sorrow am I found.
I am neither pure nor mired in filthy ground.
Not of water nor of land,
Nor am I in air or fire to be found.
Bulleh, I know not who I am.

Not an Arab nor Lahori,
Not a Hindi or Nagouri,
Nor a Muslim or Peshawari,
Not a Buddhist or a Christian.
Bulleh, I know not who I am.

Secrets of religion have I not unravelled,
I am not of Eve and Adam.
Neither still nor moving on,
I have not chosen my own name!
Bulleh, I know not who I am.

From first to last, I searched myself.
None other did I succeed in knowing.
Not some great thinker am I.
Who is standing in my shoes, alone?

Bulleh, I know not who I am.”

― Bulleh Shah

That's beautiful. Maybe have it framed?

 

[Spirit of Light]

That's beautiful. Maybe have it framed?

It is a beautiful poem yes Actually i just discovered the poet Bulleh Shah, He was a sufi poet born year 1680

 

[sayak83]

“Not a believer in the mosque am I,
Nor a disbeliever with his rites am I.
I am not the pure amongst the impure,
I am neither Moses nor Pharaoh.
Bulleh, I know not who I am.

Not in the holy books am I,
Nor do I dwell in bhang or wine,
Nor do I live in a drunken haze,
Nor in sleep or waking known.
Bulleh, I know not who I am.

Not in happiness or in sorrow am I found.
I am neither pure nor mired in filthy ground.
Not of water nor of land,
Nor am I in air or fire to be found.
Bulleh, I know not who I am.

Not an Arab nor Lahori,
Not a Hindi or Nagouri,
Nor a Muslim or Peshawari,
Not a Buddhist or a Christian.
Bulleh, I know not who I am.

Secrets of religion have I not unravelled,
I am not of Eve and Adam.
Neither still nor moving on,
I have not chosen my own name!
Bulleh, I know not who I am.

From first to last, I searched myself.
None other did I succeed in knowing.
Not some great thinker am I.
Who is standing in my shoes, alone?

Bulleh, I know not who I am.”

― Bulleh Shah

Here is a famous song version of this poem.

 

[Spirit of Light]

Here is a famous song version of this poem.

Thank you for sharing @sayak83

 

[Spirit of Light]

“When I run after what I think I want,
my days are a furnace of stress and anxiety;
if I sit in my own place of patience,
what I need flows to me, and without pain.
From this I understand that
what I want also wants me,
is looking for me and attracting me.
There is a great secret here
for anyone who can grasp it.”
― Shams-i Tabrizi

 

[URAVIP2ME]

“When I run after what I think I want,
my days are a furnace of stress and anxiety;
if I sit in my own place of patience,
what I need flows to me, and without pain.
From this I understand that
what I want also wants me,
is looking for me and attracting me.
There is a great secret here
for anyone who can grasp it.”
― Shams-i Tabrizi

The ^ above^ reminds me of the words found at Ecclesiastes 12:8-14; 1:14
The greatest futility or vanity is " Everything is futile. " (chasing after the wind / vexation of the spirit)
The conclusion of the matter, everything having been heard is:
Fear the true God and keep His commandments, for this is the whole obligation of man.......