Compare with James Taylor’s song, the lyrics of which seem worthy of the Diwan-i Shams
Lyrics:
There’s something in the way she moves,
Or looks my way, or calls my name,
That seems to leave this troubled world behind.
And if I’m feeling down and blue,
Or troubled by some foolish game,
She always seems to make me change my mind.
And I feel fine anytime she’s around me now,
She’s around me now
Just about all the time
And if I’m well you can tell she’s been with me now,
She’s been with me now quite a long, long time
And I feel fine.
It isn’t what she’s got to say
But how she thinks and where she’s been
To me, the words are nice, the way they sound
I like to hear them best that way
It doesn’t much matter what they mean
If she says them mostly just to calm me down
And I feel fine anytime she’s around me now,
She’s around me now
Just about all the time
And if I’m well you can tell she’s been with me now,
She’s been with me now quite a long, long time
And I feel fine.
Every now and then the things I lean on lose their meaning
And I find myself careening
Into places where I should not let me go.
– She has the power to go where no one else can find me
And to silently remind me
Of the happiness and the good times that I know, got to know.
And I feel fine anytime she’s around me now,
She’s around me now
Just about all the time
And if I’m well you can tell she’s been with me now,
She’s been with me now quite a long, long time
And I feel fine.
Lyrics from http://www.elyrics.net
As Rumi is said to have written elsewhere:
You come to us from another world;
From beyond the stars and a void of space
Transcendent, pure – of unimaginable beauty.
Bringing with You the essence of Love.
You transform all who are touched by You -
Mundane concerns, troubles and sorrows dissolve in Your presence
Bringing joy to ruler & ruled, to peasants and kings.
You bewilder us with Your grace;
All evil is transformed into goodness.
You are the Master Alchemist!
You light the fire of Love in earth & sky,
In heart & soul of every being.
Through Your loving, existence & non-existence merge
All opposites unite
All that is profane becomes sacred again.
Be sure that in the Religion of Love, there are no believers or unbelievers
The following was one of Ibn ‘Arabi’s favorite verses of poetry, oft-quoted by Sufi authors ranging from al-Ghazzali to Fakhr ad-din ‘Iraqi to Emir ‘abd al-Qadir to explain the mysterious relationship between God and the heart.
When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man’s art, and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
-William Shakespeare
Translation:
O you present in my heart
Thinking of you, I am glad
If she doesn’t visit my eye
then my heart replaces it
I have not vanished, but my body
is wasting away from weakness
The blamer did not find me
and no watchman sees me
If fate had known me
the people would have come to me
Nothing remains except love
ask it, and it will answer for me
-Abu’l Hasan Shushtari
Original:
يَا حاضِراً في فُؤادي بِالفكرِ فِيكمْ أطيبُ
إِنْ لمْ يزُرْ شخصُ عيني فالقلبُ عِندي ينُوبُ
مَا غِبتُ لَكِنَّ جِسْمي من النُّحول يذوبُ
فَلمْ يَجدْني عذولٌ وَلاَ رآنِي رَقِيبُ
وَلوْ دَرَى الدَّهْرُ عَنِّي جَاءت إِلىَّ شعُوبُ
لَمْ يَبْقَ غَيْرُ غَرامٍ فَسَلهُ عَنِّي يِجُيبُ
Translation of Lyrics:
Strumming the strings of his guitar,
Strumming the strings of his guitar,
A Sultan complained of his Queen.
Two wells of stars, your black eyes,
And a moonless rose, your black hair,
Your black hair, your black hair,
Two wells of stars, your black eyes.
The rosemary bush smells of your body,
The rosemary bush smells of your body,
No jasmine on earth is more tender
No jasmine on earth is more tender.
Although a powerful king, I am a beggar,
Although a powerful king, I am a beggar,
If I lack the flames of your love,
Of your love, of your love,
If I lack the fire of your love.
Do not mess with me anymore,
Do not mess with me anymore,
Because you know too well
Because you tease me
Because you tease me.
Original:
Rasgueando las cuerdas de su guitarra,
Rasgueando las cuerdas de su guitarra,
Un sultán se quejaba de su sultana.
Son dos pozos de estrellas tus ojos negros,
Y una rosa sin luna tu pelo negro,
Tu pelo negro, tu pelo negro,
Son dos pozos de estrellas, tus ojos negros.
A mata de romero huele tu cuerpo,
A mata de romero huele tu cuerpo,
No hay en la tierra mora jazmin mas tierno
No hay en la tierra mora jazmin mas tierno
Siendo un rey poderoso soy un mendigo,
Siendo un rey poderoso soy un mendigo,
Si me faltan las llamas de tu cariño,
De tu cariño, de tu cariño,
Si me faltan las llamas de tu cariño.
No te metas más conmigo,
No te metas más conmigo,
Porque de sobra tú sabes
Que tú roneas conmigo,
Que tú roneas conmigo.
The poems of the Andalusian Sufi, Abu’l-Hasan Shushtari (d. 1269) parallel and perhaps indirectly influenced some of my favorite Flamenco lyrics. Compare this pair of songs:
Your love for me is not a fantasy
However much they forbid that I love you,
like a jib to the water I will resist.
Only your tender love I would have for company
I wanted to give you more and more I’d give you,
Because I know that without you I won’t live,
because wherever you are I will follow,
that’s why I love you and dream of you.
Your love for me is not fantasy,
the memory hurts me every day,
I am of your love that abandons me,
and loved me and wanted me.
You and I on the blanket,
you and I under the moon,
your dark eyes were glistening
reflecting the tenderness
A love looks strong,
my heart,
if my eyes didn’t look at you
every day
You were something that goes and never comes
and clear was your farewell and clear was my sorrow.
Without your love, I only love the earth
without your love, two minutes is one day,
that’s why I love you and you take my life.
I would like to hear the voice of the wind
that brings the sighs that you give,
your sorrows are like mine,
like the waves of the ocean
Your love for me is not fantasy,
the memory hurts me every day,
I am of your love that abandons me,
and loved me and wanted me
Por más que a mí me quiten que te quiera
como el foque al agua remetiera
sólo tu amor tendré por compañera
que más te quise dar y más te diera,
Porque sé que sin ti yo no vivo,
porque donde tú estés te persigo,
por eso te quiero y sueño contigo.
Tu amor para mí no es fantasía,
me duele el recuerdo cada día,
soy de tu querer que me abandona,
y me quería y me quería.
Tú y yo sobre la manta,
tú y yo bajo la luna,
brillaban tus ojos negros
reflejando la ternura.
Fuerte mira un amor,
sentrañas mías,
si no te vieran mis ojos
todos los días.
Fuiste algo que pasa y nunca llega
y claro fue tu adiós y clara mi pena.
Sin tu amor sólo a la tierra quiero
sin tu amor dos minutos es un día,
por eso te quiero y me quitas la vía.
Quisiera escuchar la voz del viento
que trae los suspiros que tú das,
tus penas son como las mías,
como la oleá del mar.
Tu amor para mí no es fantasía,
me duele el recuerdo cada día,
soy de tu querer que me abandona,
y me quería y me quería.
Shustari:
My neglect of you is reprehensible, your love is obligatory
my longing is everlasting, and union is elusive
On the tablet of my heart, your love has been marked
my tears are the ink, and beauty is the writer
The reader of my thoughts constantly recites
lessons on the signs of the beautiful one
My gaze wanders in the heaven of your beauty
its penetrating star pierces my mind
Talk about others, listening to that is forbidden
for all of me is stolen and your beauty is the thief
They said to me: repent of loving the one you love
so I replied: I repent of my neglect
The torments of love are sweet for every lover
even if, for another, they are hard and never-ending
Translation modified from: L.M. Alvarez. Abu’l-Hasan Shushtari: Songs of Love and Devotion. p. 55
You who took my heart from me, your love stole my senses
You hid me from myself, and in myself, I don’t appear
I’m hidden form my sight, as if I were invisible
So I went out to look for me, maybe I’ll find myself…
Love of the beautiful, o brother, is my art
and my drink is from my own flask
Original:
يا مَن أخَذْ قَلْبي مِنِّي هَواكَ هَيَّمَني
حجَبْتَني عني بِيَّا فَما أظْهَر
وغِبْتُ عن عيْني كأنِّي لم أظْهر
فَصِرتُ أطلُبني لَعلَّ بِي أظْفَر
عِشْقُ المليحْ يا صاحْ فَنِّي وشُرْبي مِنْ دَنِّي
I live in love
Take me with you because I cannot find myself outside of your love
CHORUS
I live in love and for me your kisses
are like the source of my thought
Take me with you because I cannot find myself outside of your love
At dawn, I feels she calls me
like a whirlwind, she wakes up my soul!
I want you to feel as I feel,
to call me during the night in your dreams
to be like the tree which gives you shelter
when you need the shade (x2)
Take me with you because I cannot find myself outside of your love
Chorus x 2
God brought you with Him.
I ask you when
I will go to heaven (x2)
so I may kiss your lips
I love you, I do love you
I am a prisoner of your love (x2)
Que me lleve contigo porque ya no me hallo
fuera de tu cariño…
ESTRIBILLO
Yo vivo enamoraO y para mi tus besos
son como la fuente de mi pensamiento
que me yeve contigo porque ya no me hallo
fuera de tu cariño…
Y al amanecer siento que me yama
como un torbellino despierta mi alma!
quiero q sientas como yo siento
y q me yames de noches en sueños
Ser como el arbol que te acobija
cuando la sombra la necessito( x2)
que me yeve contigo porque ya no me hallo fuera de tu cariño
ESTRIBILLO(x2)
Dios q te yevo con él.
yo le pregunto a usté cuando
me va a subir a los cielos(x2)
para besarte tus labios
Te quiero yo a ti te quiero,
de tu cariño soy prisionero(x2)
The one I love visited me before morning
and made lovely my shame and infamy
He made me drink and said: “sleep and relax
there’s no sin for the one who loves us.”
So pass round the cup, you whom I love and adore
Adoring whom I love is the essence of righteousness
If you poured it for the dead, they’d return to life
It is the joy and repose of the spirits
Original:
زَارني من أُحب قبل الصباحِ فَحَلالي تهَتُّكي وافتِضاحِي
وسقاني وقال نم وتسلَّى ما عَلى مَن أحَبَّنا من جُناحِ
فَأدِر كأس من أُحِبُّ وأهْوى فَهوى من أُحِبُّ عَين صَلاحِ
لوْ سَقاهَا لميِّت عاد حَيًّا فَهي راحى وَراحة الأرْواحِ
Condemned to live sad
Is he who loves much.
You, my heart, never withstood
The love that the pain inflames.
Again my tortured heart
Sought shelter in thy breast, uselessly;
No one will console the burning thirst
Nor is it is satisfied with the delights of passion.
And always, for any act,
There is a price of suffering,
Until the sweetness of the last touch
Eventually dies in regret.
And like the bodies snared
One day everything goes and there is only loneliness.
Perhaps will there be someone to kill
the fire of this damned passion?
I know love is a sin
So I also cursed the heavens
that I was tied for life
to one who deceived me
Love never failed me
With tenderness and embraces
But freed my longings,
Never such remembered.
And always, for any act,
There is a price of suffering,
Until the sweetness of the last touch
Eventually dies in regret.
And like the bodies snared
One day everything goes and there is only loneliness.
Perhaps will there be someone to kill
the fire of this damned passion?
Original:
Condenado a viver triste
É sina de quem muito ama.
Nunca tu, meu coração, resististe
Ao amor que a dor inflama.
Mais uma vez meu torturado coração
Buscou abrigo no teu peito, inutilmente;
Não há quem lhe console a sede ardente
Nem ele se farta das delícias da paixão.
E sempre, para qualquer acto,
Há que pagar com o sofrimento,
Até que a doçura do último tacto
Acabe por morrer num lamento.
Por mais que os corpos se enlacem
Um dia tudo passa e só fica a solidão.
Haverá porventura alguém
que mate o fogo de tão maldita paixão?
Eu sei que amar é pecado
Por isso também a mim o céu castigou
Fiquei pra vida amarrado
A quem sempre me enganou
Jamais o amor me faltou
Com ternuras e afagos
Mas libertar meus anseios,
Nunca de tal se lembrou.
E sempre, para qualquer acto,
Há que pagar com o sofrimento
Até que a doçura do último tacto
Acabe por morrer num lamento.
Por mais que os corpos se enlacem,
Um dia tudo passa e só fica a solidão.
Haverá alguém capaz de matar
O fogo de tão maldita paixão?
Hafez
Translation:
I am the friend of the sweet face, and of the heart-snatching hair
I’m infatuated with the intoxicated eye and pure, unmixed wine
You asked, “Say one word about the secret of the covenant of Alast.”
“Once I’ve drunk two cups of wine, then I’ll tell you,” I replied.
I am the Paradisal Adam, but in this worldly journey
Now I’m a captive of the beauty of youth
In love, there is no escape from pain and suffering
I am standing like the candle, don’t try to scare me with fire
Shiraz is the mine of ruby lips and the quarry of beauty
Because of that, a poor jeweler like me is so distraught
I’ve seen so many drunken eyes in this city, I think
I’m tipsy, although I’ve had nothing to drink
From all six directions, it is a city full of lovely glances
And I’ve nothing if I don’t buy all six of them
If Fortune should be so kind as to guide me to the Friend
Even the Houri’s hair will sweep the sweet dust from off my bed
Hafiz, my nature’s like a radiant, hopeful bride
But no mirror have I to see myself, and because of that I sigh
Dick Davis’ translation:
My love’s for pretty faces,
For heart-bewitching hair;
I’m crazy for good wine,
A languorous, drunk stare …
In love there’s no escaping
The burning of desire;
I stand here like a candle –
Don’t scare me with your fire.
I am a man from heaven,
But on this path I see
My love of youth and beauty
Have made a slave of me.
If Fate will help me, I
Will take myself elsewhere –
My bed will be swept clean
By some sweet houri’s hair.
Shiraz is like a mine
Of ruby lips, a store
Of loveliness … and I’m
A jeweler who’s dirt-poor.
I’ve seen so many drunk
Eyes in this town, I think
I’m drunk, although I swear
I’ve had no wine to drink.
You asked me to explain
Eternity for you –
Well certainly, when I
Have downed a drink or two.
Hafez, my nature’s like
A hopeful bride, but I
Lack mirrors to array
Myself – that’s why I sigh.
Flee to God’s Qur’an, take refuge in it
there with the spirits of the prophets merge.
The Book conveys the prophets’ circumstances
those fish of the pure sea of Majesty.
I long to escape the prison of my ego
and lose myself in you.
There is no salvation for the soul
but to fall in Love.
Only lovers can escape
out of these two worlds.
This was ordained in creation.
Only from the heart
can you reach the sky:
The Rose of Glory
can grow only from the heart.
Hafez
( the poem inscribed on his tomb)
مژده‌ى وصل تو كو كز سر جان برخيزم
طاير قدسم و از دام جهان برخيزم
Where are the tidings of union with you, so that from life I may rise?
I am a bird of heaven, from the world’s snare I must rise
به ولاى تو كه گر بنده‌ى خويشم خوانى
از سر خواجگى كون و مكان برخيزم
I swear by your love, if you call me your slave
From the mastery of the universe I will rise
يارب از ابر هدايت برسان بارانى
پيشتر زانكه چو گردى ز ميان برخيزم
O Lord, let the cloud of guidance rain
Before that time when, like dust from the earth, I rise
بر سر تربت من با مى و مطرب بنشين
تا ببويت ز لحد رقص‌كنان برخيزم
Sit beside my grave with musician and wine
So from your scent, dancing from the dust, I may rise
خيز و بالا بنما اى بت شيرين‌حركات
كه چو حافظ ز سر جان و جهان برخيزم
O sweetly-moving idol, rise and show me your shape
So, like Hafez, from life and world, dancing, I may rise
گرچه پيرم، تو شبى تنگ درآغوشم كش
تا سحرگه ز كنار تو جوان برخيزم
Though I am old, for one night, in your bosom hold me tight
So when morning comes, young from your embrace, I may rise
There is a candle in the heart of man, waiting to be kindled.
In separation from the Friend, there is a cut waiting to be stitched.
O, you who are ignorant of endurance and the burning fire of love–
Love comes of its own free will, it can’t be learned in any school.
THE SHIP SUNK IN LOVE
Should Love’s heart rejoice unless I burn?
For my heart is Love’s dwelling.
If You will burn Your house, burn it, Love!
Who will say, ‘It’s not allowed’?
Burn this house thoroughly!
The lover’s house improves with fire.
From now on I will make burning my aim,
From now on I will make burning my aim,
for I am like the candle: burning only makes me brighter.
Abandon sleep tonight; traverse for one night
the region of the sleepless.
Look upon these lovers who have become distraught
and like moths have died in union with the One Beloved.
Look upon this ship of God’s creatures
and see how it is sunk in Love.
O light, from seeing your beauty, my soul became candle-like
Turn my fortune so I can shed myself candle-like
The promise of the morning breeze, of joining Thee day and night
Burning, yellow, shaking, crying and humble, candle-like.
Thy flowing hair, like scissors sheer my soul at its height
In this fire of separation burn me no more, candle-like.
Pearls overflowing from the sea of my eye, fill my bosom in delight
My burning heart sent its flames blazing upward, candle-like.
Solar flares set in the celestial lantern, sooth the sight
Every morn dam my tears and shed no more, candle-like.
Thy face is spring-like, thy fire sorrows fight
How long burn in this solstice of separation, candle-like?
From the memory of thy light, every night flames take flight
If only my heart’s fire would burn my soul candle-like.
How long burn thyself Shams-e Tabrizi, thy love beaming bright?
We know of nothing other than this burning, candle-like.
(trans. by Shahriar Shahriari)
Original:
ای منور از جمالت دیده ی جانم چو شمع
از در بختم درآ تا جان بر افشانم چو شمع
از هوای خنده ی صبح وصالت روز و شب
زرد و لرزان و گدازان زار و گریانم چو شمع
زلف چون مقراض بر كش رشته جانم ببر
بیش از این در آتش هجران مسوزانم چو شمع
آستین و دامنم پر در شد از دریای عشق
تا علم زد آتش دل از گریبانم ، چو شمع
آتش خورشید را ، در مشعل سبز فلك
هر سحر از آبگیر دیده ، بنشانم چو شمع
ای رخت نوروز عالم زآتش ، جانسوز شمع
چند سوزی در شب یلدای هجرانم چو شمع
آفتاب از خاطرم ، شعله فروزد هر شبی
آتش دل گر بسوزد ، رشته ی جانم چو شمع
چند سوزی خویشتن را شمس تبریزی ز عشق
ماورای سوختن ، كاری نمیدانم چو شمع
Ana Moura
Translation:
My eyes are two candles
Casting a sad light on my face
Your eyes are two candles
Casting a sad light on my face
Marked by the pains
Of longing and grief
When I hear the ringing of the bells
And the afternoon is coming to an end
I pray, out of longing for you
An “Our Father” for me
But you do not know how to pray
Nor how to ache with longing
Why do you disturb me so
Why do I want you so much?
For my despair you are like
The clouds that fly high
Every day I wait for you
Every day you stand me up
Original:
Os meus olhos são dois círios
Dando luz triste ao meu rosto
Os teus olhos são dois círios
Dando luz triste ao meu rosto
Marcado pelos martírios
Da saudade e do desgosto.
Quando oiço bater trindades
E a tarde já vai no fim
Eu peço às tuas saudades
Um padre nosso por mim.Mas não sabes fazer preces
Não tens saudades nem pranto
Por que é que tu me aborreces
Por que é que eu te quero tanto?
És para meu desespero
Como as nuvens que andam altas
The weeping of the guitar
begins.
The goblets of dawn
are smashed.
The weeping of the guitar
begins.
Useless
to silence it.
Impossible
to silence it.
It weeps monotonously
as water weeps
as the wind weeps
over snowfields.
Impossible
to silence it.
It weeps for distant
things.
Hot southern sands
yearning for white camellias.
Weeps arrow without target
evening without morning
and the first dead bird
on the branch.
Oh, guitar!
Heart mortally wounded
by five swords.
Guitar
Six bars cage my lonely heart
And rattle with its sad love moans
Six stars cluster round my eye
and dance, shimmering on silver thrones
Six dark girls, three bronze, three thin
Sing sighing for their distant homes
Six hairs heave with love’s breath
Braid flames into my wooden bones
Six rivers run over my mouth
And ripple with its quiet groans
Six threads from your skirt’s wide hem
Have hooked my ear and won’t let go
Six barbed lines make a net to catch
My spirit in its shadowed grove
Six bolts of lightning flash across
My mouth, smiling as thunder rolls
My body pierced by music from
The six strings of this compound bow
These six veins wrap around my heart
And bleeding song from five swords’ strokes
Form six paths for your love to flow
Through my heartsick and stricken soul
And weave love’s sweet, sad melodies
Between your fingers; strikes and blows
Segovia
Lean your body forward slightly to support the guitar against your chest, for the poetry of the music should resound in your heart.
“The guitar is fit for tender and sweet dialogue
with the girl we love
if the girl becomes disloyal to us
the cello—to confide our sorrow to a friend
and if the friend is also unfaithful
then the organ, to communicate
our affliction to God” ‘
- Andres Segovia The Guitar and I, Vol. 2 (1972. LP: MCA-2536)
In the violin and cello, we feel the human warmth of their timbres; and the guitar–the guitar condenses and refines the music played on it as the hundred fragrances of the forest are refined and condensed in a tiny flask.
I like very much the true flamenco, which is played with heavy fingers, roughly but from the soul. But flamenco has departed from the good simple tradition. The flamencos should not be professionals.
I belong to the scarce minority of artists who work in good faith, around whom the phenomenal world vanishes, as it happens to the mystics when they give themselves to prayer.
Among God’s creatures two, the dog and the guitar, have taken all the sizes and all the shapes, in order not to be separated from the man.
The advice I am giving always to all my students is above all to study the music profoundly….
Music is like the ocean, and the instruments are little or bigger islands, very beautiful for the flowers and trees.
The guitar is a small orchestra. It is polyphonic. Every string is a different color, a different voice The guitar is a miniature orchestra in itself.
In addition to Ibn ‘Arabi’s famous poem (see this post), the “religion of love,” the root of all religion and worship beyond all distinctions and differentiations, plays an important role in other Sufi poetry, especially that of Rumi and Hafez:
Rumi
ملت عشق از همه دین‌ها جداست
عاشقان را ملت و مذهب خداست
The sect of Love is different from all other religions
For lovers, their sect and religion is simply God
طریق عشق ز هفتاد و دو برون باشد
چو عشق و مذهب تو خدعه و ریاست بخسب
The way of love is outside of the seventy-two sects
Go to sleep, for your love and religion are deceit and conceit
خرد نداند و حیران شود ز مذهبعشق
اگر چه واقف باشد ز جمله مذهب‌ها
Wisdom is bewildered by the religion of love
Although it knows all other religions
بسگل ز جز این عشق اگر در یتیمی
زیرا که جز این عشق تو را خویش و پدر نیست
در مذهب عشاق به بیماری مرگست
هر جان که به هر روز از این رنج بتر نیست
Leave all that is other than this love, if you are an orphaned pearl
For apart from this love, you have neither family nor father
In the religion of lovers, whosoever’s suffering does not make him better
He is possessed of the sickness of death
تا شب میگو که روز ما را شب نیست
در مذهب عشق و عشق را مذهب نیست
عشق آن بحریست کش کران ولب نیست
بس غرقه شوند و ناله و یارب نیست
Until night, say that there is no night for our day
In religion, there is no Love, and Love has no religion
Love is that ocean without boundary or shore
Where lovers drown without sigh or cry
در راه طلب عاقل و دیوانه یکیست
در شیوهٔ عشق خویش و بیگانه یکیست
آن را که شراب وصل جانان دادند
در مذهب او کعبه و بتخانه یکیست
In the way of seeking, the sane and the mad are one
On the path of love, friend and stranger are one
That one who has tasted the wine of union with the supreme soul
In his religion, the Ka’aba and idol-temple are one
عاشق تو یقین دان که مسلمان نبود
در مذهب عشق کفر و ایمان نبود
در عشق تن و عقل و دل و جان نبود
هرکس که چنین نگشت او آن نبود
In loving you there are certainly no Muslims
In the religion of Love, there is no infidelity or disbelief
In Love, there is neither body nor reason nor heart nor soul
Everyone who does this is not separate from that
در عشق موافقت بود چون جانی
در مذهب هر ظریف معنی دانی
از سی و دو دندان چو یکی گشت دراز
بی‌دندان شد از چنان دندانی
In love there is harmony because you become pure spirit
you will know the essence of the religion of each subtle one
If one of the 32 teeth grows large
from that tooth, you will become toothless
با دو عالم عشق را بیگانگی
اندرو هفتاد و دو دیوانگی
سخت پنهانست و پیدا حیرتش
جان سلطانان جان در حسرتش
غیر هفتاد و دو ملت کیش او
تخت شاهان تخته‌بندی پیش او
Love is a stranger to the two worlds: in it are seventy-two madnesses.
It is hidden; only its bewilderment is manifest:
The soul of the spiritual sultan longs for it.
Love’s religion is other than the seventy-two sects:
Beside it the throne of kings is just a floorboard.
unverified “Rumi”
I was unable to find Persian poems attributed to Rumi that correspond to these English verses that have been attributed to him. If these are indeed translations and you know the original from which they are derived please let me know in the comments section. In any event, I am sure Malwana wouldn’t object to these verses, even if they never came from his pen.
“I belong to no religion.
My religion is Love.
Every heart is My temple”
Whatever you think of War, I am far, far from it
Whatever you think of Love, I am that, only that, all that
Like a compass I stand firm with one leg on my faith
And, with the other leg, roam all over the seventy-two nations
The Seventy-Two nations learn their secrets from us:
We are the reed-flute whose song unites all nations and faiths
In all mosques, temples, and churches, I find one shrine alone
I profess the religion of love,
Love is my religion and my faith.
My mother is love, My father is love
My prophet is love My God is love
I am a child of love
I have come only to speak of love
And part of my way is love of lands for the sake of their people
and people, in what they love, have many ways
-Abu Firas Hamadani
و منْ مذهبي حبُّ الديارِ لأهلها وَللنّاسِ فِيمَا يَعْشَقُونَ مَذَاهِبُ
لابو فراس الحمداني-
Ḥallāj
تَفَكَّرتُ في الأَديانِ جِدّ مُحَقّق فَأَلفَيتُها أَصلاً لَهُ شَعبٌ جَمّا
1. Is it a flash of lightning that shone over the mottled mountain, or did Layla lift, from her face, the veil?
2. Yes, she unveiled her face at night, and made it day with the light of her shining beauty
3. O rider of the strenuous she-camel—mayest thou be protected from destruction!—if thou shalt cross o’er rugged land, or make thy journey through torrent-bottoms
4. And if thou passest along Na’man of the thorn-bush, turn thou aside unto a valley there I have known of old, wide spreading,
5. Then at the right of al-’Alaman, skirting Na’man to the East, incline, and repair to its sweet-scented arin
6. And when thou hast reached unto long mountains opposing the sandy stretch, inquire after a heart that has perished in that dear torrent-bed
7. And recite a greeting unto the dear folk dwelling there on my behalf (and say, ‘I left him thirsting passionately for your presence’):
8. ‘O inhabitants of Nejd, is there no compassion for one a prisoner to a loved companion, who desireth not release?
9. Why have ye not sent a greeting to the impassioned one, in the folds of the dust-free winds at evening,
10.’Whereby he may live anew, who supposed your shunning him to be but a jest, and yet believed jesting far removed from your wants?’
11. O thou who reproachest a passionate heart, ignorant of what he has long been enduring—mayest thou never achieve success!—
12. Thou hast wearied thyself in counseling him whose determined view it is, that he will not look upon prosperity and good fortune:
13. Refrain—may I have naught of thee!—and reject thou him whose bowels have been mercilessly wounded by wide-eyed enchanters.
14. Thou wast the truest of friends, before thou didst offer thy counsel to one passionate with love; and hast thou ever seen amorous swain friendly disposed to counsellors?
15. If thou seekest my reformation, for my own part, I never desired any reformation for the ruin of my heart in passion
16. What is it that the reproachers desire, in reproaching one who has clothed himself in profligacy, and taken his rest and is at repose?
17. O people of my affection, is it possible that he who hopes for union with you should attain his ambition, and so his mind enjoy rest?
18. Since ye were absent form my gaze, truly my sighing fills all the quarts of Egypt with lamentation
19. and when I remember you, I sway with emotion as though I have been given to drink of wine, because of the fragrance of your memory
20. And when I am urged to feign forgetfulness of my bond with you, I find my bowels are very jealous of that bond
21. Fresh forever be the recollection of those days passed by, with neighbors in whose company our nights were festivals indeed
22. When the tribe’s enclosure was my homeland too, and the dwellers of al-Ghaḍa were my heart’s whole comfort, and when I came down as I pleased to water there freely;
23. And its dear people were my desire, and the shade of its palm-trees my joy, and the sands of its twain valleys my place of repose.
24. Alas for that time and its sweetness, days when I ever found rest from weariness!
25. I swear by Zamzam and Abraham’s station, and he who came to the Sacred House crying, ‘Labbayk, to Thee I come, O Lord!’ a journeyer in the land:
26. Never did the breeze wafting from the East sway the sweet-scented wormwood of the sand-hills, but that it brought new life from you to the lovers slain by passion
Translation modified from The Mystical Poem of Ibn al-Farid by A.J. Arberry
َامْ هبَّــــت الريـــــحُ مِنْ تلقاءِ كاظمــةٍ
وأَومض البرق في الظَّلْماءِ من إِضم
فما لعينيك إن قلت اكْفُفاهمتـــــــــــــــا
وما لقلبك إن قلت استفق يهـــــــــم
أيحسب الصب أن الحب منكتـــــــــــم
ما بين منسجم منه ومضطــــــــرم
لولا الهوى لم ترق دمعاً على طـــــللٍ
ولا أرقت لذكر البانِ والعلــــــــــمِ
فكيف تنكر حباً بعد ما شـــــــــــــهدت
به عليك عدول الدمع والســـــــــقمِ
وأثبت الوجد خطَّيْ عبرةٍ وضــــــــنى
مثل البهار على خديك والعنــــــــم
نعم سرى طيف من أهوى فأرقنـــــــي
والحب يعترض اللذات بالألــــــــمِ
يا لائمي في الهوى العذري معـــــذرة
مني إليك ولو أنصفت لم تلــــــــــمِ
Ibrahim Niasse
Translation:
Did lightning flash towards the meadows, gleaming?
O grant me a person that when the lightning flashes, he weeps
You only glimpse it weakly, woe to you, and you are inflamed with love
And glistening tears are stilled in the hour of Life
Recalling the days of youth which have passed
And nothing remains save agony and pain
May God pour out rain on a land in Madina for indeed she is
The travellers’ halt, in it, tattered rags are mended
Home of the beloved of God and he is His entrusted one
Residing in it [al-Madina], surrounded by all his followers
Home to the one whose heart is preoccupied with his love
For his remembrance is to the heart is like a meadow and grassland
Home to the most exalted of creation, beautiful of character and form
Home to he who, in creation, gives and holds back
And [he is] the best of them in himself, in relation by marriage, and in descent
In knowledge and in manners, most mindful and most reverent
Indeed, he is the best of creation in absolute magnificence and splendour.
Awe-inspiring, in his gait, he strides powerfully
[He is] Rosy of colour and black of eye
putting to shame the eye of the wild cow grazing in the bush
Large-eyed, with long lashes, and broad of brow is the Messenger of God,
and his character is more expansive
with eyebrows fine and curved, the face of TaHa is round
and his beard is thick, and his chest, wide
His shoulders are broad, and his bones large
and of stocky build is the sublime TaHa
Likewise his biceps are large, and large are his forearms
His palms are welcoming/generous and shine with lights
his fingers were long and unclipped
and thick, these are among his sublime features
his teeth are white, and they shine forth when he smiles
like grains of white clouds or the flashing lightning
The hair on his head is luxurious and manly
and he is soft-spoken and silent, for he is reverent
and his sorrows are connected to his contemplation
and if he speaks, he speaks goodness and the truth that is due
he but glances and he prevails over the earth
he leads his companions and the angels follow him
And the neck of the Messenger of God resembles a doll
When he separates his hair, it [neck] shines and glows
Like the hidden pearls, and its smell is like musk
for there is none altogether like the Messenger of God in fortune
the Most clement of God’s creatures and most just of His creation
Among people, most generous is he, [and] even the bravest [of them]
He serves families, mends [sews] his sandals
He cuts meats and he patches clothes
So modest, that he answers to whoever calls upon him
For his anger is only for his Master (Mawla), and he returns to The Truth
He never refrained from that which is lawful even if it were pleasant
And he was not consumed, in most times, with satiating his appetite
Sometimes he rides on horses،at times
On donkeys, and sometimes on foot he walks, striding briskly
And likewise his clothing was fragrant with perfume
He sits with [different] groups, while voices are yet raised
Sometimes he jokes, at other times, he creates bonds of friendship
Never did he fear any king, for indeed his state is lofty
He never despised the poor, but invited them all
And by God, the Master of creation, he brings together creation
The Master honoured him with the greatest of honours
And He singled him out as the one who benefits creation
Upon him be the blessings of God as long as [the sun] shines forth from the East
And [as long as] the doves sing on the branches cooing
And as long as the dust of time is repelled from the place which
adorns his praises with song and rhyme
And upon his family and companions as long as the words of the longing lover [ask]
Did lightning flash towards the meadows, gleaming?
Original:
Ibn ‘Arabi
He saw the lightning flash and yearned toward the East. If it had flashed West west he’d have turned.
I burn for the lightning, for the flash, not for this or that – some piece of ground.
The East wind told me a tradition about them, from the wreck of my heart, from ecstasy, sorrow, my disarray
From drunkenness, reason, longing, the wound of love, from tears, my eyelids, the fire, my heart:
He whom you desire is between your ribs, turned side to side in the heat of your sigh.
I told them tell him he’s the one who kindled the fire blazing in my heart.
It is extinguished only in our coming together. If it burns out of control, who can be blamed for loving?
From: Stations of Desire: Translations from Tarjuman al-ashwaq by Michael Sells
Original:
رأى البرْقَ شرقيّاً، فحنّ إلى الشرْقِ، ولو لاحَ غربيَّاً لحنَّ إلى الغربِ
فإنّ غَرامي بالبُرَيْقِ ولمحِهِ وليسَ غرَامي بالأماكِنِ والتُّرْبِ
رَوَتْهُ الصَّبَا عنهُمْ حَديثاً مُعَنْعَناً عن البثّ عن وَجدي عن الحزْن عن كربي
عن السكرِ عن عقلي عن الشوق عن جوًى عن الدَّمعِ عن جفني عن النَّارعن قلبي
بأنّ الذي تهواه بينَ ضُلوعكم تقلِّبهُ الأنفاسُ جنباً إلى جنبِ
فقلتُ لها: بلِّغ إليهِ فإنَّهُ هو الموقِدُ النّارَ التي داخلَ القلبِ
فإن كان إطفاءٌ، فوَصْلٌ مُخلَّدٌ وإن كان إحتراقٌ، فلا ذنبَ للصّبّ
Shushtari
Whether lightning flashes at al-Himā
or you watch for it, cast off restraint
Say to whomever finds in it a bad omen:
I was happy, when I saw the lightning.
When it appeared over the high place of worship,
it taught the morning to shine
When a wanderer came in the darkness,
it turned his night to day
His sun rose from his deepest self to the summit of perfection,
leaving him perplexed.
Drunkenness afflicted him from what he saw and
the kindness of the cupbearer rounding toward him
He poured for him a convivial old vintage,
the choicest wine, an overpowering drink.
His intoxication made him stagger, and he called out:
“Friend don’t abandon the great ones
Be wanton, like me.
Drinking this has left me with no choice.”
Through it, the moment is purified, since it passed ’round
to the builder of the wall.
How odd: Layla’s Qays
complains that the one who visited him fled.
Layla did not leave him
instead she put a veil on her face.
When she came before him without it
her Majnun called what he saw a disgrace
translation from: Abu’l Hasan al-Shushtari Songs of Love and Devotion by Lourdes Maria Alvarez
Original:
إذا بُرَيْق الحمى استنارَا أو شمته فاخلع العذَارَا
وقلْ لمنْ شامه فإنيّ آنست لمّا رأيت نارَا
لمَّا بَدت في رُبيَ المُصَلَّى علمت الصبحَ الاسفرارَا
ومُدْلِج في الدجى أتاهَا قَد صيرت ليله نهَارا
وأشرقت شمَسه بأوج الكمالِ من ذاتِه فخارا
يميلَ من سِكر ماتراه منْ لطف ساق علِيه دَارا
سقاهَ من خندريس أنْس سلافة تعقر القفارا
رنَّحَهُ سُكرهُ فَنادى ياصَاح لا تترك الكبَارَا
وكنْ خليعاً كما ترَاني لم يُبْقِ لي شربها اِختيارا
بها صَفَاَ الوقت حين دارت عَلى الذي قد بنَى الجدارا
يَا عجبا مَالقيس ليلى يشكو الذَّي وصْلُه النّفارا
لمَّا بدت دونَه تَسمَّى مَجْنَونها ما رآه عَارا
لَيلاه مَا باعَدْتُه لكن أرْخَتْ عَلى وجهِهِا الخمَارا
Imru’l Qays
Friend, do you see yonder lightning? Look, there goes its gleam
flashing like two hands now in the heaped-up, crowned stormcloud:
Its glimmer illumining the sky, or like the flicker of a monk’s lamp
When, tilting it, he soaks with oil the tightly twisted wick.
أصاحي ترى برقا كأن وميضه كلمع اليدين في حبي مكلل
يضيء سناه أو مصابيح راهب أهان السليط في الذبال المفتل
Hafez
A lightning flash from Layla’s house at dawn,
Goodness knows, what it did to the love-torn heart of Majnun.
Tonight I heard that you, oh beloved, would come –
Be my head sacrificed to the road along which you will come riding!
All the gazelles of the desert have put their heads on their hands
In the hope that one day you will come to hunt them….
The attraction of love won’t leave you unmoved;
Should you not come to my funeral,
You’ll definitely come to my grave.
My soul has risen to my lips (I am on the verge of death);
Come so that I may remain alive –
After I am no longer – for what purpose will you come?
Original:
Khabaram raseed imshab ki nigaar khuahi aamad;
Sar-e man fidaa-e raah-e ki sawaar khuahi aamad.
Ham-e aahwan-e sehra sar-e khud nihada bar kaf;
Ba-umeed aanki rozi bashikaar khuahi aamad.
Kashishi ki ishq daarad naguzaradat badinsaa;
Ba-janazah gar nayai ba-mazaar khuahi aamad.
Balabam raseed jaanam fabiya ki zindah maanam;
Pas azan ki man na-maanam bacha kar khuahi aaamad.
compare with this ghazal of Hafez:
Translation:
Last night, the wind told me of my friend who’s gone away
I will give my heart to the wind, come what may
It’s gotten to the point where my only friends are
the evening’s flashing lightning, the breeze at break of day
In the curl of your tress, my defenseless heart
never longed for the place where it once lay
Today I see the worth of the words they used to say
O Lord, bless those who warned me about this day
Recalling you, my heart would bleed whenever the wind
would undo the rosebud’s robe in flirting play
By dawn, my feeble existence had all but slipped away
When with hope of union with you, the wind brought a new day
Hafez, your beautiful nature will fulfill your desire
May good souls be sacrificed in beauty’s way
Original:
دوش آگهی ز یار سفرکرده داد باد من نیز دل به باد دهم هر چه باد باد
کارم بدان رسید که همراز خود کنم هر شام برق لامع و هر بامداد باد
در چین طره تو دل بی حفاظ من هرگز نگفت مسکن مالوف یاد باد
امروز قدر پند عزیزان شناختم یا رب روان ناصح ما از تو شاد باد
خون شد دلم به یاد تو هر گه که در چمن بند قبای غنچه گل می‌گشاد باد
از دست رفته بود وجود ضعیف من صبحم به بوی وصل تو جان بازداد باد
Jami
