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Rumi and his poetry
- Thread starter robtex
- Start date
ametist
Active Member
Lovers
O lovers, lovers it is time
to set out from the world.
I hear a drum in my soul's ear
coming from the depths of the
stars.
Our camel driver is at work;
the caravan is being readied.
He asks that we forgive him
for the disturbance he has caused
us,
He asks why we travelers are
asleep.
Everywhere the murmur of
departure;
the stars, like candles
thrust at us from behind blue veils,
and as if to make the invisible
plain,
a wondrous people have come
forth.
Shams Tabrizi (Friend of Rumi. he had a big influence on rumi. i thought it would be nice to post it here
O lovers, lovers it is time
to set out from the world.
I hear a drum in my soul's ear
coming from the depths of the
stars.
Our camel driver is at work;
the caravan is being readied.
He asks that we forgive him
for the disturbance he has caused
us,
He asks why we travelers are
asleep.
Everywhere the murmur of
departure;
the stars, like candles
thrust at us from behind blue veils,
and as if to make the invisible
plain,
a wondrous people have come
forth.
Shams Tabrizi (Friend of Rumi. he had a big influence on rumi. i thought it would be nice to post it here
Because I cannot sleep
I make music at night.
I am troubled by the one
whose face has the color of spring flowers.
I have neither sleep nor patience,
neither a good reputation nor disgrace.
A thousand robes of wisdom are gone.
All my good manners have moved a thousand miles away.
The heart and the mind are left angry with each other.
The stars and the moon are envious of each other.
Because of this alienation the physical universe
is getting tighter and tighter.
The moon says, 'How long will I remain
suspended without a sun?'
Without Love's jewel inside of me,
let the bazaar of my existence be destroyed stone by stone.
O Love, You who have been called by a thousand names,
You who know how to pour the wine
into the chalice of the body,
You who give culture to a thousand cultures,
You who are faceless but have a thousand faces,
O Love, You who shape the faces
of Turks, Europeans, and Zanzibaris,
give me a glass from Your bottle,
or a handful of being from Your Branch.
Remove the cork once more.
Then we'll see a thousand chiefs prostrate themselves,
and a circle of ecstatic troubadours will play.
Then the addict will be freed of craving.
and will be resurrected,
and stand in awe till Judgment Day.
He called God....Love, with a capital L.
I make music at night.
I am troubled by the one
whose face has the color of spring flowers.
I have neither sleep nor patience,
neither a good reputation nor disgrace.
A thousand robes of wisdom are gone.
All my good manners have moved a thousand miles away.
The heart and the mind are left angry with each other.
The stars and the moon are envious of each other.
Because of this alienation the physical universe
is getting tighter and tighter.
The moon says, 'How long will I remain
suspended without a sun?'
Without Love's jewel inside of me,
let the bazaar of my existence be destroyed stone by stone.
O Love, You who have been called by a thousand names,
You who know how to pour the wine
into the chalice of the body,
You who give culture to a thousand cultures,
You who are faceless but have a thousand faces,
O Love, You who shape the faces
of Turks, Europeans, and Zanzibaris,
give me a glass from Your bottle,
or a handful of being from Your Branch.
Remove the cork once more.
Then we'll see a thousand chiefs prostrate themselves,
and a circle of ecstatic troubadours will play.
Then the addict will be freed of craving.
and will be resurrected,
and stand in awe till Judgment Day.
He called God....Love, with a capital L.