Be with those who help your being

Be with those who help your being.

Don’t sit with indifferent people, whose breath
comes cold out of their mouths.
Not these visible forms, your work is deeper.

A chunk of dirt thrown in the air breaks to pieces.

If you don’t try to fly,
and so break yourself apart,
you will be broken open by death,
when it’s too late for all you could become.

Leaves get yellow. The tree puts out fresh roots

and makes them green.
Why are you so content with a love that turns you yellow?

Ode 2865 Trans. Coleman Barks

Look at Love...
Look at Love...
how it tangles
with the one fallen in love

look at spirit
how it fuses with earth
giving it new life

why are you so busy

with this or that or good or bad
pay attention to how things blend
why talk about all
the known and the unknown
see how unknown merges into the known

why think separately

of this life and the next
when one is born from the last

look at your heart and tongue

one feels but deaf and dumb
the other speaks in words and signs

look at water and fire

earth and wind
enemies and friends all at once

the wolf and the lamb

the lion and the deer
far away yet together

look at the unity of this

spring and winter
manifested in the equinox

you too must mingle my friends

since the earth and the sky
are mingled just for you and me

be like sugarcane
sweet yet silent
don't get mixed up with bitter words

my beloved grows
right out of my own heart
how much more union can there be

translated by Nader Khalili

 The Force of Friendship
A sea-cow, a dugong, finds a special pearl

and brings it up on land at night. By the light it gives off

the dugong can graze on hyacinths and lilies.

The excrement of the dugong is precious ambergris

because it eats such beauty. Anyone who feeds on Majesty

becomes eloquent. The bee, from mystic inspiration,

fills its rooms with honey.

So the dugong grazes at night in the pearl-glow.

Presently, a merchant comes and drops black loam

over the pearl, then hides behind a tree to watch.

The dugong surges about the meadow like a blind bull.

Twenty times it rushes at nothing, passing the mound

where the pearl is.

So Satan couldn't see

the spirit-center inside Adam.

 God says, *Descend*,

and a huge pearl from Aden gets buried under dirt.

The merchant knows,

but the dugong doesn't.

Every clay-pile with a pearl inside

loves to be near any other clay-pile with a pearl,

but those without pearls cannot stand to be near

the hidden companionship.

Remember the mouse on the riverbank?

There's a love-string stretching into the water

hoping for the frog.

Suddenly a raven grips the mouse

and flies off. The frog too, from the riverbottom,

with one foot entangled in the invisible string,

follows, suspended in the air.

Amazed faces ask,

"*When did a raven ever go underwater

and catch a frog?*"

The frog answers,

 "This is the force of Friendship."

What draws friends together

does not conform to Laws of Nature.

Form doesn't know about spiritual closeness.

If a grain of barley approaches a grain of wheat,

an ant must be carrying it. A black ant on black felt.

You can't see it, but if grains go toward each other,

it's there.

A hand shifts our birdcages around.

Some are brought closer. Some move apart.

Do not try to reason it out. Be conscious

of who draws you and who not.

Gabriel was always there with Jesus, lifting him

above the dark-blue vault, the night-fortress world,

just as the raven of longing carries the flying frog.

~Rumi Mathnawi, VI, 2922-2973

From 'This Longing' by Coleman Barks and John Moyne

 There is a candle in your heart...
There is a candle in your heart,

ready to be kindled.

There is a void in your soul,

ready to be filled.

You feel it, don't you?

You feel the separation

from the Beloved.

Invite Him to fill you up,

embrace the fire.

Remind those who tell you otherwise that

Love

comes to you of its own accord,

and the yearning for it

cannot be learned in any school.

From: 'Hush Don't Say Anything to God: Passionate Poems of Rumi'

Translated by Sharam Shiva

One Whisper of the Beloved

Lovers share a sacred decree –
to seek the Beloved.
They roll head over heels,
rushing toward the Beautiful One
like a torrent of water.
In truth, everyone is a shadow of the Beloved –
Our seeking is His seeking,
Our words are His words.

At times we flow toward the Beloved

like a dancing stream.
At times we are still water
held in His pitcher.
At times we boil in a pot
turning to vapor –
that is the job of the Beloved.

He breathes into my ear

until my soul
takes on His fragrance.
He is the soul of my soul –
How can I escape?
But why would any soul in this world
want to escape from the Beloved?

He will melt your pride

making you thin as a strand of hair,
Yet do not trade, even for both worlds,
One strand of His hair.

We search for Him here and there

while looking right at Him.
Sitting by His side we ask,
"O Beloved, where is the Beloved?"

Enough with such questions! –

Let silence take you to the core of life.

All your talk is worthless

When compared to one whisper
of the Beloved.
Ode 442 trans. by Jonathan Star and Shahram Shiva
A Garden Beyond Paradise: The Mystical

My dear friend
My dear friend
never lose hope
when the Beloved
sends you away.

If you're abandoned
if you're left hopeless
tomorrow for sure
you'll be called again.

If the door is shut

right in your face
keep waiting with patience
don't leave right away.

Seeing your patience

your love will soon
summon you with grace
raise you like a champion.

And if all the roads

end up in dead ends
you'll be shown the secret paths
no one will comprehend.

The beloved I know

will give with no qualms
to a puny ant
the kingdom of Solomon.
My heart has journeyed
many times around the world
but has never found
and will never find
such a Beloved again.

ah I better keep silence

I know this endless love
will surely arrive
for you and you and you.

trans. Nader Khalili.

The Story of My Life

i was ready to tell
the story of my life
but the ripple of tears
and the agony of my heart
wouldn't let me

i began to stutter
saying a word here and there
and all along i felt
as tender as a crystal
ready to be shattered

in this stormy sea

we call life
all the big ships
come apart
board by board

how can i survive

riding a lonely
little boat
with no oars
and no arms

my boat did finally break

by the waves
and i broke free
as i tied myself
to a single board

though the panic is gone

i am now offended
why should i be so helpless
rising with one wave
and falling with the next

i don't know
if i am
nonexistence
while i exist
but i know for sure
when i am
i am not
but
when i am not
then i am

now how can i be

a skeptic
about the
resurrection and
coming to life again

since in this world

i have many times
like my own imagination
died and
been born again

that is why
after a long agonizing life
as a hunter
i finally let go and got
hunted down and became free

Lovers...
Lovers think they are looking for each other,
but there is only one search: wandering
This world is wandering that, both inside one
transparent sky. In here
there is no dogma and no heresy.
The miracle of Jesus is himself, not what he said or did
about the future, Forget the future.
I'd worship someone who could do that.
On the way you may want to look back, or not,
but if you can say "There's nothing ahead",
there will be nothing there.
Stretch your arms and take hold the cloth of your clothes
with both hands. The cure for pain is in the pain.
Good and bad are mixed. If you don't have both,
you don't belong with us.
When one of us gets lost, is not here, he must be inside us.
There's no place like that anywhere in the world.

from 'The Essential Rumi" Coleman Barks with John

 Time to go Home
Late and starting to rain,
it's time to go home.
We've wandered long enough
in empty buildings.
I know it's tempting to stay
and meet those new people.
I know it's even more sensible
to spend the night here with them,
but I want to go home.

We've seen enough beautiful places

with signs on them saying
This is God's House.That's seeing the
grain like the ants do,
without the work of harvesting.
Let's leave grazing to cows and go
where we know what everyone really intends,
where we can walk around without clothes on.

~ from: 'Open Secret' Trans Coleman

Only You
Only you
I choose among the entire world.
Is it fair of you
letting me be unhappy?

My heart is a pen in your hand.

It is all up to you
to write me happy or sad.
I see only what you reveal
and live as you say.
All my feelings have the color
you desire to paint.

From the beginning to the end,

no one but you.

Please make my future

better than the past.

When you hide I change

to a Godless person,
and when you appear,
I find my faith.

Don't expect to find

any more in me
than what you give.

Don't search for

hidden pockets because
I've shown you that
all I have is all you gave.

Trans. Nader Khalili

IF
IF YOU CAN DISENTANGLE
yourself from your selfish self
all heavenly spirits
will stand ready to serve you

if you can finally hunt down

your own beastly self
you have the right
to claim Solomon's kingdom

you are that blessed soul who

belongs to the garden of paradise
is it fair to let yourself
fall apart in a shattered house

you are the bird of happiness

in the magic of existence
what a pity when you let
yourself be chained and caged

but if you can break free

from this dark prison named body
soon you will see
you are the sage and the fountain of life

translated by Nader Khalili

Whoever Brought Me Here,

Will Have To Take Me Home.
All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.

This drunkenness began in some other tavern.

When I get back around to that place,
I'll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
I'm like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?

Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?

I cannot stop asking.
If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn't come here of my own accord, and I can't leave that way.
Whoever brought me here, will have to take me home.

This poetry. I never know what I'm going to say.

I don't plan it.
When I'm outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.

Trans. Coleman Barks.