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When the
raindrop becomes a pearl
by Rumi
The reflection cast from good friends is needed
until you become, without the aid of any reflector,
a drawer of water from the sea.
Know that at first the reflection is just imitation,
but when it continues to recur,
it turns into direct realization of truth.
Until it has become realisation,
Do not part from the friends who guide you
Do not break away from the shell
until the raindrop has become a pearl.
Masnavi Vol II: 566-8
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The protection
against God's anger"
by Rumi

A sober-minded man said to Jesus,
"What in this existence is hardest to bear?"
"O dear soul," he replied, "the hardest is God's
anger,
from which Hell is trembling as we are."
"And what is the protection against God's anger?"
Said Jesus, "To abandon your own anger at once."
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Goft `Isâ-râ yeki hoshyâr sar
"Chist dar hasti ze jomleh sa`b-tar"
Goftesh "Ay jân sa`b-tar kheshm-e Khodâ
keh az ân Duzakh larzad cho mâ"
Goft "Azin kheshm-e Khodâ cheh bovad amân"
Goft "Tark-e kheshm-e khvish andar zamân"
--
Mathnawi IV: 113-115
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance"
Threshold Books, 1996
(Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra)
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How the
high God admonished Moses (a) on
account of the shepherd.
by Rumi
courtesy: Sunlight

A revelation came to Moses from God--"Thou
hast parted
My servant from Me.
Didst thou come (as a prophet) to unite, or didst
thou come
to sever?
So far as thou canst, do not set foot in
separation: of (all)
things the most hateful to Me is divorce.
I have bestowed on every one a (special) way of
acting: I have
given to every one a (peculiar) form of expression.
In regard to him it is (worthy of) praise, and in
regard to thee
it is (worthy of) blame: in regard to him honey, and in regard
to thee poison.
I am independent of all purity and impurity, of
all slothful-
ness and alacrity (in worshipping Me).
I did not ordain (Divine worship) that I might
make any profit;
nay, but that I might do a kindness to (My) servants.
In the Hindoos* the idiom' of Hind (India) is
praiseworthy;
in the Sindians the idiom of Sind is praiseworthy.
I am not sanctified by
their glorification (of Me); 'tis they
that become sanctified and pearl-scattering (pure and radiant)
I look not at the tongue
and the speech; I look at the inward
(spirit) and the state (of feeling).
I gaze into the heart (to
see) whether it be lowly, though the
words uttered be not lowly,
Because the heart is the
substance, speech (only) the accident;
so the accident is subservient, the substance is the (real) object.
How much (more) of these
phrases and conceptions and
metaphors? I want burning, burning: become friendly with
that burning!
Light up a fire of love
in thy soul, burn thought and expression
entirely (away)!
0 Moses, they that know
the conventions are of one sort,
they whose souls and spirits burn are are of another sort."
To lovers there is a
burning (which consumes them) at every
moment: tax and tithe are not (imposed) on a ruined village.
If he (the lover) speak
faultily, do not call him faulty; and if
he be bathed in blood, do not wash (those who are) martyrs.
For martyrs, blood is
better than water: this fault (committed
by him) is better than a hundred right actions (of another).
Within the Ka'ba the rule
of the qibla does not exist: what
matter if the diver has no snow-shoes?
Do not seek guidance from the drunken: why dost
thou order
those whose garments are rent in pieces to mend them?
The religion of Love is apart from all religions:
for lovers,
the (only) religion and creed is -- God.
If the ruby have not a
seal (graven on it), 'tis no harm: Love
in the sea of sorrow is not sorrowful.
"The Mathnawi of
Jalalu'ddin Rumi"
Edited and translated by Reynold A. Nicholson
Volume II, verses 1750-1771
Published by "E.J.W.Gibb Memorial",
Cambridge, England.
First published 1926, Reprinted 1990.
Nicholson's Note:
* "In the Hindoos the idiom. . ." --I.e. the
local and traditional
forms of speech used in the practice of religion.
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Unity is the proper attribute
BY Rumi

The hearty unripe grapes, capable of ripening,
at last become one in heart
by the breath of the masters of heart.
They grow rapidly to grapehood,
shedding duality and hatred and strife.
Then in maturity, they rend their skins,
till they become one:
unity is the proper attribute
for one who is one with others.
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Ghure-hâ-ye nik k-ishân qâbeland
az dam-e ahl-e del âkher yekdeland
Su-ye anguri hami rânand tiz
tâ doi bar khizad va kin o setiz
Pas dar anguri hami darand pust
tâ yeki gardand vahdat vasf-e ust
Mathnawi II: 3723-3725
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Daylight"
Threshold Books, 1994
Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra
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The Knots Untie

Fire is whispering a secret in smoke's
ear, "This aloe wood loves me because
I help it live out its purpose. With
me it becomes fragrance, and then
disappears altogether!" The knots
untie and open into absence, as you do
with me, my friend. Eaten by flame,
and smoked out into the sky! This is
most fortunate. What's unlucky is not
to change and disappear. The black soil
must crumble to give itself to plants.
Think how sperm and egg become a smiling
face and head. Bread must dissolve to
turn into thought. Gold and silver in
their raw forms aren't worth much. This
way leads through humiliation and contempt.
We've tried the fullness of presence. Now
it's time for desolation. Love is pulling
us out by the ears to school. Love wants
us clean of resentment and those impulses
that misguide our souls. We're asleep,
but Khidr keeps sprinkling water on our
faces. Love will tell us the rest of
what we need to know soon. Then we'll
be deeply asleep and profoundly awake
simultaneously like cave companions.
--
Version by Coleman Barks, with Nevit Ergin
"The Glance"
Viking-Penguin, 1999
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The fire the day before yesterday whispered
secretly to
the smoke, "The aloes-wood cannot rest without me, and with me
it is happy.
It knows well my worth, and
expresses thanks to me, for
the aloes-wood has perceived that in its passing away there is
profit.
The aloes-wood was knotted and
tied from head to foot;
in the release of nonexistence these knots were resolved.
Hail and welcome to you, my flame-eating friend,
my
passer-away and martyr and pride of all witnesses."
See how heaven and earth are pawns of existence;
flee
into nonexistence from the blindness of the one and the blueness of
the other.
Every soul which flees away
from poverty and nonexistence
is misfortune fleeing away from prosperity and good fortune.
Without expunging, no one profits from the tablet
of non-
existence; make peace between me and expunging, O loving One!
Until yonder dark earth passed
away from itself, I did not
begin to augment or escape from inertia.
So long as sperm was sperm and did not become
obliterated
from seminal fluid, it attained not the cypress' stature nor the
cheeks' beauty.
When bread and broth ferment in the intestines,
they then
become reason and soul, the despair of the envious.
So long as black rock did not pass away from
itself, it did not
become gold and silver, neither found its way into coins.
First comes lowliness and bondage, then
afterwards there is
kingship; in the ritual prayer men first stand, and then sit.
For a lifetime you have made trial of your own
being; once it
is also necessary to experience not-being.
The pomp and pride of poverty and passing-away is
no empty
boast; whenever smoke appears it is not without a fire.
If our minds and desires belong not to love, how
did love
wantonly rob us of heart and turban?
Love entered, and draws us along by the ear every
morning to
the school of those who fulfill their covenants.
Love sets flowing the water of penitence from the
eye of the
believer, to wash his breast clean of anger and stubborn denial.
You are fallen asleep and the water of Khidar
splashes beside
you; leap up from slumber and seize the goblet of immortality.
Let love tell you the rest of it secretly from
me; be one with the
Companions of the Cave, alike sleeping and waking.
Translation by A. J. Arberry
"Mystical Poems of Rumi 1"
The University of Chicago Press, 1968
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A WORLD INSIDE THIS WORLD

There is another world inside this one -
no words can describe it.
There is living, but no fear of death;
There is Spring, but never a turn to Autumn.
There are legends and stories
coming from the walls and ceilings.
Even the rocks and trees recite poetry.
Here an owl becomes a peacock,
A wold becomes a beautiful shepherd.
To change the scenery, change your mood;
To move around, just will it.
Stand for a moment
And look at a desert of thorns -
it becomes a flowery garden.
See that boulder on the ground?
It moves, and a mine of rubies appears.
Wash you hands and face
in the waters of this place -
The cooks have prepared a great feast!
Here all beings give birth to angels.
When they see me ascending to the heavens
every corpse springs back to life.
I have seen many kinds of trees
growing from the Earth,
But who has ever seen the birth of paradise?
I have seen water, but who has ever seen
one drop of water
give birth to a hundred warriors?
Who could ever imagine such a place?
Such a heaven? Such a Garden of Eden?
Whoever reads this poem - translate it.
Tell the whole world about this place!
Ghazal (Ode) 3401
Version by Jonathan Star from a translation by Shahram Shiva
"A Garden Beyond Paradise: The Mystical Poetry of
Rumi"
Bantam Books, 1992
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The burning flame of his heart

Two hundred Jupiters are drunk on my Moon.
One blink of his eyes has enchanted
a hundred Samaritans.
His every word blazes with the call, I am the way,
lighting a fire in the belly of every infidel.
The burning flame of his heart
has reached the heavens
and his life-giving spirit has turned the horizon red. . .
O Lion of God, to where are you rushing?
O Great Solomon, your Seal is the crown
of all angels and demons.
O Nimble Soul,
you are moving so fast
that you don't even care to look
at the ones you have just slaughtered.
You hear the screams of the killing-ground
but do not even break your stride to listen!
He looked at me with his dagger-gaze.
I drowned in the waters of his eyes.
Through the scalding pain of non-existence
I am gone, vanished. I have become
Shamsuddin, the Light of Tabriz.
Now I will let Shams tell my story,
for all my words are his.
Ghazal (Ode) 3401
Version by Jonathan Star from a translation by Shahram Shiva
"A Garden Beyond Paradise: The Mystical Poetry of
Rumi"
Bantam Books, 1992
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