Thursday, April 22, 2021

Rumi ~ This horse of wood

"The story admits of being told up to this point,
  But what follows is hidden, and inexpressible in words.
  If you should speak and try a hundred ways to express it,
  'Tis useless; the mystery becomes no clearer,
  You can ride on saddle and horse to the sea-coast,
  But then you must use a horse of wood (i.e. a boat).
  A horse of wood is useless on dry land,
  It is the special vehicle of voyagers by sea.
  Silence is this horse of wood,
  Silence is the guide and support of men at sea."

  {The Masnavi of Jalaluddin Rumi. Abridged translation by
    E. H. Whinfield, p.326.}




Wednesday, April 21, 2021

Mahmud Shabistari - Tavern Haunters




THE tavern is the abode of lovers,
The place where the bird of the soul nests,
The rest-house that has no existence
In a world that has no form.
The tavern-haunter is desolate in a lonely desert,
Where he sees the world as a mirage.
The desert is limitless and endless,
For no man has seen its beginning or ending.
Though you feverishly wander for a hundred years
You will be always alone.
For the dwellers there are headless and footless,
Neither the faithful nor infidels,
They have renounced both good and evil,
And have cast away name and fame,
From drinking the cup of selflessness;

p. 55

Without lips or mouth,
And are beyond traditions, visions, and states,
Beyond dreaming of secret rooms, of lights and miracles.

They are lying drunken through the smell of the wine-dregs,
And have given as ransom
Pilgrim's staff and cruse,
Dentifrice and rosary.

Sometimes rising to the world of bliss,
With necks exalted as racers,
Or with blackened faces turned to the wall,
Sometimes with reddened faces tied to the stake.

Now in the mystic dance of joy in the Beloved,
Losing head and foot like the revolving heavens.
In every strain which they hear from the minstrel
Comes to them rapture from the unseen world.

For within the mere words and sounds
Of the mystic song
Lies a precious mystery.

p. 56

From drinking one cup of the pure wine,
From sweeping the dust of dung-hills from their souls,
From grasping the skirts of drunkards,
They have become Sūfīs.



Read "The secret rose garden"
of  Sa'd Ud Din Mahmud Shabistari


Monday, April 19, 2021

Shams Tabrizi ♡ A journey without me



 I went on a journey without me
There I found joy without me
The moon that hid, could not see
Cheek to cheek with me, without me
For beloved set my soul free
I was reborn without me
Without spirit drunk are we
Always happy without me
Erase me from memory
I remember, without me
Without me with joy I plea
May I always be without me
Closed all doors, I could not flee
Then I entered without me
His heart enchained, on his knee
I too am chained without me.
By Shams’ cup, drunken me
His cup never stay without me.