Not Christian or Jew or Muslim, not Hindu
Buddhist, sufi, or zen. Not any religion

or cultural system. I am not from the East
or the West, not out of the ocean or up

from the ground, not natural or ethereal, not
composed of elements at all. I do not exist,

am not an entity in this world or in the next,
did not descend from Adam and Eve or any

origin story. My place is placeless, a trace
of the traceless. Neither body or soul.

I belong to the beloved, have seen the two
worlds as one and that one call to and know,

first, last, outer, inner, only that
breath breathing human being.

HALLAJ

Hallaj said what he said and went to the origin
through the hoe in the scaffold.

I cut a cap's worth of cloth from his robe,
and it swamped over me from head to foot.

Years ago, I broke a bunch of roses
from the top of his wall. A torn from that 
is still in my palm working deeper.

From Hallaj, I learned to hunt ions,
but I became something hungrier than a lion.

I was a frisky colt. He broke me
with a quiet hand on the side of my head.

A person comes to him naked. It's cold.
There's a fur coat floating in the river.

"Jump in and get it," he says.
You dive in. You reach for the coat.
It reaches for you.

It's a live bear that has fallen in upstream,
drifting with the current.

"How long does it take!" Hallaj yells from the bank.
"Don't wait," you answer. "This coat
has decided to wear me home!"

A little part of a story, a hint.
Do you need long sermons on Hallaj!

The Essential Rumi - Coleman Barks

I Saw Goodness Getting Drunk

I am gone,
lost any sense of wanting the wine
of the nowhereness ask me,
I don't know where I am.
At times I plunge
to the bottom of the sea,
at times, rise up
like the Sun.
At times, the universe is pregnant by me,
at times I give birth to it.
The milestone in my life
is the nowhereness,
I don't fit anywhere else.
This is me:
a rogue and a drunkard,
easy to spot
in the tavern of Lovers.
I am the one shouting hey ha.
They ask me why I don't
behave myself.
I say, when you
reveal your true nature,
then I will act my age.
Last night, I saw Goodness getting drunk.
He growled and said,
I am a nuisance, a nuisance.
A hundred souls cried out, but
we are yours, we are yours, we are yours.
You are the light
that spoke to Moses and said
I am God, I am God, I am God.
I said Shams-e Tabrizi, who are you?
He said, I am you, I am you, I am you.
 

I swallowed
some of the Beloved's sweet wine,
and now I am ill.
My body aches,
my fever is high.
They called in the Doctor and he said,
drink this tea!
Ok, time to drink this tea.
Take these pills!
Ok, time to take these pills.
The Doctor said,
get rid of the sweet wine of his lips!
Ok, time to get rid of the doctor.

from Shiva's book - Hush Don't Say Anything to God: Passionate Poems of Rumi - Jain Publishing - 1999 .

Cry Out in Your Weakness

 

A dragon was pulling a bear into its terrible mouth.

A courageous man went and rescued the bear.
There are such helpers in the world, who rush to save
anyone who cries out. Like Mercy itself,
they run toward the screaming.

And they can’t be bought off.
If you were to ask one of those, "Why did you come
so quickly?" he or she would say, "Because I heard
your helplessness."
          Where lowland is,
that’s where water goes. All medicine wants
is pain to cure.
          And don’t just ask for one mercy.
Let them flood in. Let the sky open under your feet.
Take the cotton out of your ears, the cotton
of consolations, so you can hear the sphere-music.

Push the hair out of your eyes.
Blow the phlegm from your nose,
and from your brain.

Let the wind breeze through.
Leave no residue in yourself from that bilious fever.
Take the cure for impotence,
that your manhood may shoot forth,
and a hundred new beings come of your coming.

Tear the binding from around the foot
of your soul, and let it race around the track
in front of the crowd. Loosen the knot of greed
so tight on your neck. Accept your new good luck.

Give your weakness
to one who helps.

Crying out loud and weeping are great resources.
A nursing mother, all she does
is wait to hear her child.

Just a little beginning-whimper,
and she’s there.

God created the child, that is your wanting,
so that it might cry out, so that milk might come.

Cry out! Don’t be stolid and silent
with your pain. Lament! And let the milk
of loving flow into you.

The hard rain and wind
are ways the cloud has
to take care of us.

Be patient.
Respond to every call
that excites your spirit.

Ignore those that make you fearful
and sad, that degrade you
back toward disease and death.

 

The Essential Rumi - Trans. Coleman Barks, with John Moyne, A. J. Arberry, and Reynold Nicholson. Edison, New Jersey: Castle - 1997

- 1 -

 

و هذه  النار التي حلّت في الناي

هي نار العشق , كما أنَ الخمر تجيش

بما استقرّ فيها من فورة العشق

 

إن الناي نديم لكل من فرّقه الدهر

عن الحبيب , و إنّ انغامه قد مزَّقت ما

يغشّ أبصارنا من حُجُب

 

مَنْ رأى مثل الناي سمّاً و ترياقاً ؟

من رأى مثل الناي رفيقاً مشتاقاً ؟

 

إن الناي يروي لنا حديث الطريق

الذي ملأته الدماء, و يقصّ علينا قصص عشق المجنون

 

و هذه  الحكمة التي يرويها قد

حُرِّمت على من يشتري

على من لا عقل له , فليس

هناك من يشتري بضاعة اللسان

سوى الأذن

- 2 -

 

لقد أصبحتْ أيامُنا متشابها

في الهموم , و صارت الحرق و الآلام

ملازمة لهذه الأيام

فإذا ذهبت الأيام فقل : اذهبي , فلا

خوف لدينا من ذهابك , و لتبق أنت

يا من ليس لك نظير في الطهر

و النقاء

كلّ من لم يكن من فصيلة السمك

فإنه يشبع من الماء , و كل من كان بلا

رزق طال يومه

 

و لا يستطيع غرٌّ أن يدرك حال من

أنضجتهم التجارب , فلنقصر القول

على ما قلناه و نكتف به

أيها الولد! إلام تظلّ أسير الذهب

و الفضة ؟ حطّم قيودك و تحرر منها

إنّك لو أردت أن تغترف البحر

بكوز , فهل يسع هذا الكوز أكثر مما

يكفيك يوماً واحداً ؟

و مع هذا  فإن عين الحريص على الدنيا لا تمتلىء و لا يغمض لها

جفن , و ما يحفل الصدف بالدر إلا

حين يغتمض

و كلّ من تمزقت ثيابه من العشق ,

فإنه يصبح طاهراً من الحرص , و من

كلّ العيوب

فلتَسعد أنت يا من عشقُه الجميل

سرّ هيامنا , و يا من هو الطبيب لكل ما

نشكوه من علل

يا من هو  الدواء لغرورنا و كبريائنا

يا من لنا مثل أفلاطون

!   و جالينوس

إن العشق جعل جسم الأرض

يعلو على الأفلاك , فرقص الجبل

و أضحى خفيف الحركة

العشق حلّ في روح الطور أيها

العاشق , فسكر الطور و خرّ موسى

صعقاً

آه  لو كانت شفتاي تقترنان

بشفتي حبيبي , إذاً لكنتُ كالناي

أقول ما ينبغي قوله

فكلّ من فرّقه الدهر عن أهل

لسانه, يصبح بلا لسان حتى و لو

!! سمع له مئة صوت 

و حين يذبل الورد و ينقضي عهدُ

بستانه , لا يعود البلبل بعد هذا  يروي لك قصة أشجانه

- 5 -

 

إن المعشوق هو  الكلّ و أما

العاشق فحجاب , و المعشوق هو

الحيّ و أما العاشق فميت

 

و كيف يكون لي عقل يدرك ما

أمامي و ما ورائي , حينما لا يكون نور

حبيبي أمامي  و ورائي؟

 

إنّ العشق يقتضينا أن نبوح بهذا

القول , و إلا فكيف تكون المرآة , إذا لم

تعكس صور المرئيات ؟

 

آوَ تدري لِمَ أظلمت صفحة مرآتك ؟

إنّها أظلمت لأنّ الصدأ قد علاها  , و لم

ينفصل عنها

 

الحب و الصوفيون - إختارها ب.ش./أ. ب. - السفير الثقافي - الجمعة 16/2/1996