Love, a question ...by Pablo Neruda

Love, a question
has destroyed you.

I have come back to you
from thorny uncertainty.

I want you straight as
the sword or the road.

But you insist
on keeping a nook
of shadow that I do not want.

My love,
understand me,
I love all of you,
from eyes to feet, to toenails,
inside,
all the brightness, which you kept.

It is I, my love,
who knocks at your door.
It is not the ghost, it is not
the one who once stopped
at your window.
I knock down the door:
I enter all your life:
I come to live in your soul:
you can not cope with me.

You must open door to door,
you must obey me,
you must open your eyes
so that I may search in them,

You must see how I walk
with heavy steps
along all the roads
that, blind, were waiting for me.

Do not fear,
I am yours,
but
I am not the passenger or the beggar,
I am your master,
the one you were waiting for,
and now I enter
your life,
no more to leave it,
love, love, love,
but to stay.

~ Pablo Neruda

Love has nothing to do with the five senses and the six directions...by Rumi

Love has nothing to do 
with the five senses and the six directions

Its goal is only to experience 
the attraction exerted by the Beloved. 

Afterwards, perhaps,
permission will come from God

The secrets that ought to be told will be told
with an eloquence nearer to the understanding
than these subtle confusing allusions.

The secret is partner with none
but the knower of the secret:
in the skeptic's ear the secret is no secret at all.

~ Rumi
Mathnawi VI:5-8
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance"
Threshold Books, 1996

There's hidden sweetness in the stomach's emptiness...by Rumi

There's hidden sweetness in the stomach's emptiness.
We are lutes, no more, no less. 

If the soundbox is stuffed full of anything, no music.
If the brain and belly are burning clean with fasting, 
every moment a new song comes out of the fire.

The fog clears, and new energy makes you
run up the steps in front of you.
Be emptier and cry like reed instruments cry.
Emptier, write secrets with the reed pen.

When you're full of food and drink, Satan sits
where your spirit should, an ugly metal statue
in place of the Kaaba. When you fast,
good habits gather like friends who want to help.

Fasting is Solomon's ring. Don't give it
to some illusion and lose your power,
but even if you have, if you've lost all will and control,
they come back when you fast, like soldiers appearing
out of the ground, pennants flying above them.

A table descends to your tents,
Jesus' table.
Expect to see it, when you fast, this table
spread with other food, better than the broth of cabbages.

~ Rumi
From The Illuminated Rumi,
Translated by Coleman Barks

Danza Sufi

Hours...by Rumi

Hours make the young old. 
All changes have arisen from the hours: 
the one who is freed from hours is freed from change. 

When for an hour you escape from the hours, 
"How" no longer remains: 
you become familiar with that which is without "How."

Hours are not acquainted with timelessness.
For the one who is possessed by time,
there is no way there except bewilderment.

~ Rumi
Mathnawi III:2073-2076
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance"
Threshold Books, 1996

Such a bird can only fly above and beyond any known universe ~ Rumi

If you dwell very long 
in a heart depressed and dark 
be aware you've fallen low 
in will and quest 

A heart filled with grief 
whirling and spinning endlessly
can never feel at peace

What makes you
tremble in fear
that's your true worth now

Whatever seems to be
your healing source
is the cause of your pain

Whatever you think
is sure secure and forever
is what has hunted you down

Whenever your mind flies
it can only land
in the house of madness

Whenever love arrives
there is no more space
for your self claim

A heart filled with love
is like a phoenix
that no cage can imprison

Such a bird can only fly
above and beyond
any known universe

~ Rumi
Translated by Nader Khalili
"Rumi, Fountain of Fire"
Burning Gate Press, Los Angeles, 1994

Everyday I meditate upon this, and every night I groan...by Rumi

Everyday I meditate upon this, and every night I groan
Why is my own existence to myself the least known?

Whence have I come, why this coming here?
Where to must I go, when will my home to me be shown?

I am in desperate awe, why was I ever created?
For this, my creation, whatsoever was the reason?

Whatever is of the celestial realm, of that I speak
I am ready to go, my clothes are packed to be away thrown.

Why, take me to the tavern of that mighty King
I am drunk of that aroma, only by that wind may be blown

Joyous be that day that in search of the beloved
I take wing towards that land, upon that air I am flown.

Where is that ear that can hear my speech and song?
Who is the one who puts voice in this mouth of dust and stone?

Who is in these eyes through which gazes out to see?
Who is the one who wears this garment of flesh and bone?

Until I am lead without a doubt to my way home,
I will hold my breath, will only complain and moan.

Let me taste the wine of eternal communion
Cry out in drunkenness, intoxicated, broken, alone.

I did not come here on my own accord, nor will I thus leave
He who brought me here, shall return me to my very own.

Think not that I write these verses in a sober state
If sober, such seeds I could not possibly have sown.

Shams-e Tabriz, if you show not your face here and now
My earthly corpse, by God, I shall surely disown.

Between my beloved and I this is the only veil
It is time to unveil and disrobe the light that brightly shone

With extreme joy I tear and shred my earthly garment
By casting of my clothes, into the glory of my soul I’ve grown.

I wear this earthly corps for what use, to what avail?
I am not a cawing crow, of heavenly birds is my tone

I am a bird of Paradise, I am not of the earthy realm
For a few days imprisoned in my cage of flesh and bone.

My soul is my guide, for my soul is of that abode
I will not speak of the earthly, I am of the unknown.

The fragrant morning breeze brings news of union
With joy and with song I’ll leave this cage, this earthly throne.

From Divan -e-Shams By RUMI
Image courtesy:Mahmud Farshchian’s miniature work “Shams and Rumi