|The prophets have wondered to themselves, |
"How long should we keep pounding this cold iron?
How long do we have to whisper into an empty cage?"
Every motion of created beings comes from the creator.
The first soul pushes, and your second soul responds,
beginning, so don't stay timid.
Load the ship and set out.
No one knows for certain whether the vessel will sink
or reach the harbor.
Cautious people say,
"I'll do nothing until I can be sure."
Merchants know better.
If you do nothing, you lose.
Don't be one of those merchants who won't risk the ocean!
This is much more important than losing or making money.
This is your connection to God!
You must set fire to have light.
Trust means you're ready to risk what you currently have.
Think of your fear and hope about your livelihood.
They make you go to work diligently every day.
Now consider what the prophets have done.
Abraham wore fire for an anklet.
Moses spoke to the sea.
David molded iron.
Solomon rode the wind.
Work in the invisible world
at least as hard as you do in the visible.
Be companions with the prophets
even though no one here will know that you are,
not even the helpers of the qutb, the abdals.
You can't imagine what profit will come!
When one of those generous ones invites you
into his fire, go quickly!
Don't say, "But will it burn me? Will it hurt!"
Mathnawi III 3077-3109
by Coleman Barks
From Rumi : One Handed Basket Weaving
|When you are not with me, |
I sometimes resemble a fish put live in the skillet,
writhing its little cooking time left,
or the empty eyes of graffiti faces, or
a house with no one home.
Other times, my love for your soul
spreads out over the city like music.
Quadrant to quadrant
the jeweled tambourine feet move,
palace to ghetto.
The cultured, the craftsman, the slave,
all begin to hum and sing this.
Ghazal (Ode) 2323
Version by Coleman Barks, with Nevit Ergin
|I see my beauty in you. |
I become a mirror
that cannot close its eyes to your longing.
My eyes wet with yours in the early light.
My mind every moment giving birth,
always conceiving, always in the the ninth month….
And then, an empty sky
and everything is soul and flowering.
Everything is soul and flowering.
Every thing is soul and flowering.
How do I stand this?
We become these words we say….
I never know what I’m
going to say.
I don’t plan it.
When I’m outside the saying of it,
I hardly speak at all.