tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238560328056859718.post1936319995087425516..comments2023-10-02T07:10:28.076-07:00Comments on Love: The Song of the Reed ....by Rumi ANDY LALhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01141610123030233739noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238560328056859718.post-42619090466581693232013-09-30T11:23:22.815-07:002013-09-30T11:23:22.815-07:00The Song of the Reed
Mathnawi I: 1-18
Listen* ...The Song of the Reed <br />Mathnawi I: 1-18 <br /><br /><br />Listen* to the reed (flute),* how it is complaining!* It is <br />telling about separations,* <br />(Saying), "Ever since I was severed from the reed field,* men and <br />women have lamented in (the presence of) my shrill cries.* <br />"(But) I want a heart (which is) torn, torn from separation, so <br />that I may explain* the pain of yearning."* <br />"Anyone one who has remained far from his roots,* seeks a return <br />(to the) time of his union.* <br />"I lamented in every gathering; I associated with those in bad or <br />happy circumstances. <br />"(But) everyone became my friend from his (own) opinion; he did <br />not seek my secrets* from within me. <br />"My secret is not far from my lament, but eyes and ears do not <br />have the light* (to sense it). <br />"The body is not hidden from the soul, nor the soul from the body; <br />but seeing the soul is not permitted."* <br />The reed's cry is fire* -- it's not wind! Whoever doesn't have <br />this fire, may he be nothing!* <br />It is the fire of Love that fell into the reeds. (And) it is the <br />ferment of Love that fell into the wine.* <br />The reed (is) the companion of anyone who was severed from a <br />friend; its melodies tore our veils.* <br />Who has seen a poison and a remedy like the reed? Who has seen <br />a harmonious companion and a yearning friend like the reed? <br />The reed is telling the story of the path full of blood;* it is <br />telling stories of Majnoon's (crazed) love.* <br />There is no confidant (of) this understanding* except the senseless! <br />* There is no purchaser of that tongue* except the ear [of the <br />mystic.] <br />In our longing,* the days became (like) evenings;* the days <br />became fellow-travellers with burning fevers. <br />If the days have passed, tell (them to) go, (and) don't worry. <br />(But) You remain!* -- O You, whom no one resembles in Purity! <br /><br />Everyone becomes satiated by water,* except the fish. (And) <br />everyone who is without daily food [finds that] his days become <br />long.* <br />None (who is) "raw" can understand the state of the "ripe."* <br />Therefore, (this) speech must be shortened. So farewell!* <br /><br /><br />-- From "The Mathnawî-yé Ma`nawî" [Rhymed <br />Couplets of Deep Spiritual Meaning] of <br />Jalaluddin Rumi. <br />Translated from the Persian by Ibrahim Gamard <br />(with grateful acknowledgement of R.A. Nicholson's <br />1926 translation) <br />ANDY LALhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01141610123030233739noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238560328056859718.post-84471116025642013592013-09-30T11:21:17.413-07:002013-09-30T11:21:17.413-07:00Listen
as this reed
pipes its plaint
unfolds it...Listen <br />as this reed <br />pipes its plaint <br />unfolds its tale <br />of separations: <br />Cut from my reedy bed <br />my crying <br />ever since <br />makes men and women <br />weep <br />I like to keep my breast <br />carved with loss <br />to convey <br />the pain of longing --- <br />Once severed <br />from the root <br />thirst for union <br />with the source <br />endures <br /><br /><br />I raise my plaint <br />in any kind of crowd <br />in front of both <br />the blessed and the bad <br />For what they think they hear me say, they love me -- <br />None gaze in me my secrets to discern <br />My secret is not separate from my cry <br />But ears and eyes lack light to see it. <br /><br /><br />Not soul from flesh <br />nor flesh from soul are veiled <br />yet none is granted leave to see the soul. <br />Fire, not breath, makes music through that pipe -- <br />Let all who lack that fire be blown away. <br />It is love's fire that inspires the reed <br />It's love's ferment that bubbles in the wine <br />The reed, soother to all sundered lovers -- <br />its piercing modes reveal our hidden pain: <br /><br />(What's like the reed, both poison and physic, <br />Soothing as it pines and yearns away?) <br />The reed tells the tale of a blood-stained quest <br />singing legends of love's mad obsessions <br /><br /><br />Only the swooning know such awareness <br />only the ear can comprehend the tongue <br /><br /><br />In our sadness time slides listlessly by <br />the days searing inside us as they pass. <br /><br /><br />But so what if the days may slip away? <br />so long as you, Uniquely Pure, abide. <br /><br /><br />Within this sea drown all who drink but fish <br />If lived by bread alone, the day seems long <br />No raw soul ever kens the cooked one's state <br />So let talk of it be brief; go in piece. <br /><br /><br />Break off your chains <br />My son, be free! <br />How long enslaved <br />by silver, gold? <br />Pour the ocean <br />in a pitcher, <br />can it hold more <br />than one day's store? <br />The jug, like a greedy eye, <br />never gets its fill <br />only the contented oyster holds the pearl <br /><br /><br />The one run ragged by love and haggard <br />gets purged of all his faults and greeds <br />Welcome, Love! <br />sweet salutary suffering <br />and healer of our maladies! <br /><br /><br />cure of our pride <br />of our conceits, <br />our Plato, <br />Our Galen! <br />By Love <br />our earthly flesh <br />borne to heaven <br />our mountains <br />made supple <br />moved to dance <br /><br /><br />Love moved Mount Sinai, my love, <br />and it made Moses swoon. [K7:143] <br /><br /><br />Let me touch those harmonious lips <br />and I, reed-like, will tell what may be told <br /><br /><br />A man may know a myriad of songs <br />but cut from those who know his tongue, he's dumb. <br />Once the rose wilts and the garden fades <br />the nightingale will no more sing his tune. <br /><br /><br />The Beloved is everything -- the lover, a veil <br />The Beloved's alive -- the lover carrion. <br />Unsuccored by love, the poor lover is <br />a plucked bird <br />Without the Beloved's <br />surrounding illumination <br />how perceive what's ahead <br />and what's gone by? <br /><br /><br />Love commands these words appear <br />if no mirror reflects them <br />in whom lies the fault? <br />The dross obscures your face <br />and makes your mirror <br />unable to reflect <br /><br /><br />-- Mathnawi I: 1 - 34 <br />Translation by Professor Franklin D. Lewis <br />"Rumi -- Past and Present, East and West" <br />Oneworld, Oxford, 2000 <br /><br />ANDY LALhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01141610123030233739noreply@blogger.com