Rumi poems-Shahram Shiva
Odes & Quatrains
To Love is to reach God.
Never will a Lover's chest
feel any sorrow.
Never will a Lover's robe
be touched by mortals.
Never will a Lover's body
be found buried in the earth.
To Love is to reach God.
To heal the burning of your sorrow,
I seek a flame.
To gather the dust of your door,
I seek the palms of my hands.
To deal with you hiding behind your holiness,
I seek a good time instead.
It is your turn now,
you waited, you were patient.
The time has come,
for us to polish you.
We will transform your inner pearl
into a house of fire.
You're a gold mine.
Did you know that,
hidden in the dirt of the earth?
It is your turn now,
to be placed in fire.
Let us cremate your impurities.
The Lovers
will drink wine night and day.
They will drink until they can
tear away the veils of intellect and
melt away the layers of shame and modesty.
When in Love,
body, mind, heart and soul don't even exist.
Become this,
fall in Love,
and you will not be separated again.
Love rests on no foundation.
It is an endless ocean,
with no beginning or end.
Imagine,
a suspended ocean,
riding on a cushion of ancient secrets.
All souls have drowned in it,
and now dwell there.
One drop of that ocean is hope,
and the rest is fear.
My head is bursting
with the joy of the unknown.
My heart is expanding a thousand fold.
Every cell,
taking wings,
flies about the world.
All seek separately
the many faces of my Beloved.
Love came,
and became like blood in my body.
It rushed through my veins and
encircled my heart.
Everywhere I looked,
I saw one thing.
The Beloved's name written
on my limbs,
on my left palm,
on my forehead,
on the back of my neck,
on my right big toe…
Oh, my friend,
all that you see of me
is just a shell,
and the rest belongs to the Beloved.
I am in Love!
I am in Love with him.
All this advise--
what's the use?
I have drunk poison.
All this sugar
what's the use?
You say hurry,
tie up his feet.
But its my heart that's gone crazy,
all this rope
around my feet--
what's the use?
There is a certain Love
that is formed out of the
elixir of the East.
There is a certain cloud,
impregnated with a
thousand lightnings.
There is my body,
in it an ocean formed of his glory,
all the creation,
all the universes,
all the galaxies,
are lost in it.
I wish I could give you a taste of
the burning fire of Love.
There is a fire
blazing inside of me.
If I cry about it, or if I don't,
the fire is at work,
night and day.
People make clothing to cover their intellect,
but the heart of Lovers
is a shroud,
inflamed in golden hues of his Love.
By day I praised you
and never knew it.
By night I stayed with you
and never knew it.
I always thought that
I was me--but no,
I was you
and never knew it.
O D E S
Go Back to Sleep
Go back to sleep.
Yes, you are allowed.
You have no Love in your heart,
go back to sleep.
His Love and his sorrow
are exclusive to us,
you go back to sleep.
I have been burnt
by the sun of the sorrow of Love.
You have no such yearning in your heart,
go back to sleep.
The path of Love,
has seventy-two folds and countless facets.
Your love and religion
is all about deceit and hypocrisy,
go back to sleep.
We put ourselves in Love's hands,
and will wait for her bidding,
since you are in your own hands,
you can go back to sleep.
I consume nothing but pain and blood,
and you, the finest delicacies;
and of course after each feast,
you may want to take a nap.
So just go back to sleep.
I have torn to pieces my robe of speech,
and have let go of the desire to converse.
You who are not naked yet,
go back to sleep.
Didn't I Tell You
Didn't I tell you
not to go to that place?
It is me, who is your intimate friend.
In this imaginary plain of non-existence,
I am your spring of eternal life.
Even if you lose yourself in wrath
for a hundred thousand years,
at the end you will discover,
it is me, who is the culmination of your dreams.
Didn't I tell you
not to be satisfied with the veil of this world?
I am the master illusionist,
it is me, who is the welcoming banner at the gate of your contentment.
Didn't I tell you?
I am an ocean, you are a fish;
do not go to the dry land,
it is me, who is your comforting body of water.
Didn't I tell you
not to fall in this trap like a blind bird?
I am your wings, I am the strength in your wings,
I am the wind keeping you in flight.
Didn't I tell you
that they will kidnap you from the path?
They will steal your warmth,
and take your devotion away.
*Btw, some background about Rumi and his work,by Shiva(As if, anyone will read this).
Rumi is now the best read poet in America. Every time I hear this statement I get a warm feeling in my heart. I began translating Rumi in 1988, and performing his poetry in 1990. In all of these years I never thought that he would become so popular in the West, in such a short time. Rumi-I am constantly reminded-is a miracle. Everything about him is absolute magic, from the story of his life, to his super-human ability of remaining in constant touch with the flow of intense creative energy for more than two decades. In addition, he inspired the Mevlevi Order of The Whirling Dervishes, who continue his passion for whirling today, and tour the world.
Rumi was born on the Eastern shores of the Persian Empire in 1207 (in the city of Balkh in what is now Afghanistan), and finally settled in the town of Konya, in what is now Turkey. His life story reads like a fairy tale. A genius theologian, a pillar of Islam, a brilliant sober scholar, meets a wandering wild darvish by the name of Shams of Tabriz, and almost overnight is transformed into an enraptured lover of God. It seems that the universe brought these two opposing characters together to remind us for eternity that it is never what you expect when it comes to mysticism. It is impossible to know where your next inspiration may come from, or who will become the conduit for your transformation. For Rumi the life of mystics is a "gathering of lovers, where there is no high or low, smart or ignorant, no proper schooling required." Rumi and his spiritual friend Shams left an undying legacy of the way-of-the-heart triumphing over intellect and logic.
Excerpt from Shahram Shiva's book
Hush Don't Say Anything to God: Passionate Poems of Rumi (Jain Publishing, 1999)
The Growing Phenomenon of Rumi
Rumi, the 13th century Persian mystic poet, has been called the greatest mystical poet of any age. His Spiritual and literary influence is so pervasive in the East that his name is often prefaced by the reverential term "Moulana" (Our Master). During a period of 25 years, he composed over 70,000 verses of poetry -- poetry of divine love, mystic passion and ecstatic illumination. Scholars of his work today believe that Rumi is one of the greatest poets of all time, and that his work is comparable to that of Dante and Shakespeare.
Barely known in the West as recently as 10 years ago, Rumi is now the most read poet in America. His is an exciting new literary and philosophical force. One reason for Rumi's popularity is that "Rumi is able to verbalize the highly personal and often confusing world of personal/spiritual growth and mysticism in a very forward and direct fashion. He does not offend anyone, and he includes everyone. The world of Rumi is neither the world of a Sufi, nor the world of a Hindu, nor a Jew; it is the highest state of the human being, an ensaan-e kaamel, which means a complete human. And a complete human is not bound by cultural limitations; he touches every one of us. Today Rumi's poems can be heard in churches, synagogues, Zen monasteries, as well as in the downtown New York art/performance/music scene." says Shahram Shiva. The new age author Andrew Harvey says Rumi is "not only a supreme poet, but also an essential guide to the new mystical renaissance that is struggling to be born today. He is the spiritual inspiration for the 21st century."
Rumi's work has been translated into many of the world's languages including Russian, German, French, Italian and Spanish, and is appearing in a growing number of formats including concerts, workshops, readings, dance performances and other artistic creations.
Keeping an open mind is virtue-but not so open that your brains fall out.-James Oberg
