This flesh of mine is as pure silver, while my inner reality is as pure gold....by Ibn 'Arabi

With my very own hands 
I laid my little daughter to rest because she is of my very flesh, 

Thus am I constrained to submit to the rule of parting, 
so that my hand is now empty and contains nothing. 

Bound to this moment we are in, caught between the yesterday that has gone
and the tomorrow that is yet to come.

This flesh of mine is as pure silver,
while my inner reality is as pure gold.

Like a bow have I grown, and my true posture is as my rib.
My Lord it is who says that He has created me in a state of suffering and loss.

How then can I possibly hope for any rest,
dwelling as I do in such a place and state?

~ Ibn 'Arabi

My heart has become able To take on all forms...by Ibn Arabi

My heart has become able
To take on all forms.
It is a pasture for gazelles,
For monks an abbey.

It is a temple for idols
And for whoever circumambulates it, the Kaaba.
It is the tablets of the Torah
And also the leaves of the Koran.

I believe in the religion
Of Love
Whatever direction its caravans may take,
For love is my religion and my faith.

~ Ibn Arabi
from Perfect Harmony: (Calligrapher's Notebooks) ,
by Muhyiddin Ibn Arabi

I wondered at a love..by Ibn Arabi

She said: I wondered at a love
that struts its glory
through the garden's
flowers as they blossom.

I said: don't wonder
at what you see.
You see yourself
in the mirror of a man.

~ Ibn Arabi
from Perfect Harmony: (Calligrapher's Notebooks) ,
by Muhyiddin Ibn Arabi

 

Hear, O my beloved...by Ibn Arabi

“Hear, O my beloved!
you are the reason for the being of the world
You are the centre-point of the sphere and its encompassing
You are its complexity and simplicity

You are the order brought [sent] down between heaven and earth
I did not create for you realizations
Except that you realize Me in them
And when you realize Me you realize your self
Do not strive to realize Me in the realization of your self
By my eye you will see Me and your self
You will not see Me, however, by[with] the eye of your self

Beloved
How often have I called you and you do not hear
How often have I [stood before you]presented myself to you and you do not witness [recognize]
How often have I embodied myself in scents and you do not inhale
And in the flavours and you do not savour the taste for My sake

What is the matter with you, that you do not feel me when you touch?
Why do you not recognize Me in the fragrances of musk?
Why do you not see Me? Why do you not hear Me?
What is the matter with you?

I am your most heady rapture beyond any delight
My craving for you is more intense than any born for an object of desire

I am better for you than any good thing
I am the Beautiful
I am the Elegant [witty, comely]
Love Me. Love Me. Love Me alone.
Desire Me, Ardently.

Be consumed in me[distressed, troubled, obsessed]not engrossed in other than Me.
Take Me in , receive Me, you will not find an intimate like me
Everything wants you for itself, but I want you for your sake,
But you, you avoid me.

Beloved!
You cannot meet me half-way in your drawing close to me
My drawing close to you outweighs a hundredfold the means by which you approach me.
I am closer to you than your self.
And your self, which performs these acts, is other than Me , created.

Beloved!
I am jealous of you from you.
I cannot bare to see you with otherness or with yourself.
Be with Me in Me,
with yourself just as you are with Me.
Then, my Beloved, you will not even feel the Union,
The Union.
Had we found a path toward separation,
we would let the separation savour separation.

Beloved!
Come, hand in hand, enter Reality that It may decide between us with the judgment of eternity
Beloved antagonist
Pleasure cannot be found in dispute between lovers,. Pleasure is in the converse.

As the poet said;
I wished her dead because of loving her
So that shed be my adversary on the Last Day
(Say; Do you have an understanding of the High Assembly when they are disputing?
Had the outcome of this severance been only appearance before the Judge, then what about the joy of and gazing upon the face of a beloved?)
O heart! O heart!

Ibn Arabi . XII Century
Translated by Abraham Abadi and Aaron Cass