Written by
Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi |
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 NEXT Poem Links Rumi Homepage Rumi Wisdom Mystical Poems of Rumi The Poetseers Sufi Poets
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Written by
Hart Crane |
How many dawns, chill from his rippling rest
The seagull's wings shall dip and pivot him,
Shedding white rings of tumult, building high
Over the chained bay waters Liberty--
Then, with inviolate curve, forsake our eyes
As apparitional as sails that cross
Some page of figures to be filed away;
--Till elevators drop us from our day . . .
I think of cinemas, panoramic sleights
With multitudes bent toward some flashing scene
Never disclosed, but hastened to again,
Foretold to other eyes on the same screen;
And Thee, across the harbor, silver-paced
As though the sun took step of thee, yet left
Some motion ever unspent in thy stride,--
Implicitly thy freedom staying thee!
Out of some subway scuttle, cell or loft
A bedlamite speeds to thy parapets,
Tilting there momently, shrill shirt ballooning,
A jest falls from the speechless caravan.
Down Wall, from girder into street noon leaks,
A rip-tooth of the sky's acetylene;
All afternoon the cloud-flown derricks turn . . .
Thy cables breathe the North Atlantic still.
And obscure as that heaven of the Jews,
Thy guerdon . . . Accolade thou dost bestow
Of anonymity time cannot raise:
Vibrant reprieve and pardon thou dost show.
O harp and altar, of the fury fused,
(How could mere toil align thy choiring strings!)
Terrific threshold of the prophet's pledge,
Prayer of pariah, and the lover's cry,--
Again the traffic lights that skim thy swift
Unfractioned idiom, immaculate sigh of stars,
Beading thy path--condense eternity:
And we have seen night lifted in thine arms.
Under thy shadow by the piers I waited;
Only in darkness is thy shadow clear.
The City's fiery parcels all undone,
Already snow submerges an iron year . . .
O Sleepless as the river under thee,
Vaulting the sea, the prairies' dreaming sod,
Unto us lowliest sometime sweep, descend
And of the curveship lend a myth to God.
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Written by
Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi |
What will
our children do in the morning? Will they wake with their hearts wanting to play,
the way wings
should? Will they have dreamed the needed flights and gathered
the strength from the planets that all
men and women need to balance
the wonderful charms of
the earth so that her power and beauty does not make us forget our own? I know all about the ways of the heart – how it wants to be alive. Love so needs to love
that it will endure almost anything, even abuse,
just to flicker for a moment. But the sky’s mouth is kind,
its song will never hurt you, for I sing those words. What will our children do in the morning
if they do not see us
fly? From Love Poems from God, by Daniel Ladinsky. Copyright © 2002 by Daniel Ladinsky. Reprinted by permission of the author.
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Written by
Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi |
This is love: to fly to heaven, every moment to rend a hundred veils;
At first instance, to break away from breath –
first step, to renounce feet;
To disregard this world, to see only that which you yourself have seen I said, “Heart, congratulations on entering the circle of lovers,
“On gazing beyond the range of the eye,
on running into the alley of the breasts.”
Whence came this breath, O heart?
Whence came this throbbing, O heart?
Bird, speak the tongue of birds: I can heed your cipher!
The heart said, “I was in the factory whilst the home of water and clay was abaking.
“I was flying from the workshop whilst the workshop was being created.
“When I could no more resist, they dragged me; how shall I
tell the manner of that dragging?” “Mystical Poems of Rumi 1?, A.J. Arberry
The University of Chicago Press, 1968 Links
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Written by
Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi |
We are as the flute, and the music in us is from thee;
we are as the mountain and the echo in us is from thee. We are as pieces of chess engaged in victory and defeat:
our victory and defeat is from thee,
O thou whose qualities are comely! Who are we, O Thou soul of our souls,
that we should remain in being beside thee? We and our existences are really non-existence;
thou art the absolute Being which manifests the perishable. We all are lions, but lions on a banner:
because of the wind they are rushing
onward from moment to moment. Their onward rush is visible,
and the wind is unseen:
may that which is unseen not fail from us! Our wind whereby we are moved and our being are of thy gift;
our whole existence is from thy bringing into being. NEXT Poem
From Khamush.com
Links Rumi Homepage Rumi Wisdom Mystical Poems of Rumi Sufi Poets The Poetseers
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Written by
John Berryman |
The high ones die, die. They die. You look up and who's there?
—Easy, easy, Mr Bones. I is on your side.
I smell your grief.
—I sent my grief away. I cannot care
forever. With them all align & again I died
and cried, and I have to live.
—Now there you exaggerate, Sah. We hafta die.
That is our 'pointed task. Love & die.
—Yes; that makes sense.
But what makes sense between, then? What if I
roiling & babbling & braining, brood on why and
just sat on the fence?
—I doubts you did or do. De choice is lost.
—It's fool's gold. But I go in for that.
The boy & the bear
looked at each other. Man all is tossed
& lost with groin-wounds by the grand bulls, cat.
William Falukner's where?
(Frost being still around.)
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