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Best Famous Jalal Ad-Din Muhammad Rumi Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Jalal Ad-Din Muhammad Rumi poems. This is a select list of the best famous Jalal Ad-Din Muhammad Rumi poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Jalal Ad-Din Muhammad Rumi poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of jalal ad-din muhammad rumi poems.

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Written by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi | Create an image from this poem

If A Tree Could Wander

Oh, if a tree could wander

     and move with foot and wings!

It would not suffer the axe blows

     and not the pain of saws!

For would the sun not wander

     away in every night ?

How could at ev’ry morning

     the world be lighted up?

And if the ocean’s water

     would not rise to the sky,

How would the plants be quickened

     by streams and gentle rain?

The drop that left its homeland,

     the sea, and then returned ?

It found an oyster waiting

     and grew into a pearl.

Did Yusaf not leave his father,

     in grief and tears and despair?

Did he not, by such a journey,

     gain kingdom and fortune wide?

Did not the Prophet travel

     to far Medina, friend?

And there he found a new kingdom

     and ruled a hundred lands.

You lack a foot to travel?

     Then journey into yourself!

And like a mine of rubies

     receive the sunbeams? print!

Out of yourself ? such a journey

     will lead you to your self,

It leads to transformation

     of dust into pure gold!

 

Look! This is Love – Poems of Rumi,

Annemarie Schimmel

Written by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi | Create an image from this poem

There Is A Candle In Your Heart

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

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Written by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi | Create an image from this poem

I Was Dead

i was dead i came alive i was tears i became laughter

all because of love when it arrived my temporal life from then on changed to eternal

love said to me you are not crazy enough you don’t fit this house

i went and became crazy crazy enough to be in chains

love said you are not intoxicated enough you don’t fit the group

i went and got drunk drunk enough to overflow with light-headedness

love said you are still too clever filled with imagination and skepticism

i went and became gullible and in fright pulled away from it all

love said you are a candle attracting everyone gathering every one around you

i am no more a candle spreading light i gather no more crowds and like smoke i am all scattered now

love said you are a teacher you are a head and for everyone you are a leader

i am no more not a teacher not a leader just a servant to your wishes

love said you already have your own wings i will not give you more feathers

and then my heart pulled itself apart and filled to the brim with a new light overflowed with fresh life

now even the heavens are thankful that because of love i have become the giver of light

 

- Rumi.
Ghazal number 1393, translated by Nader Khalili

 

Written by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi | Create an image from this poem

Be Lost In The Call

Lord, said David, since you do not need us, why did you create these two worlds?

Reality replied: O prisoner of time, I was a secret treasure of kindness and generosity, and I wished this treasure to be known, so I created a mirror: its shining face, the heart; its darkened back, the world; The back would please you if you’ve never seen the face.

Has anyone ever produced a mirror out of mud and straw? Yet clean away the mud and straw, and a mirror might be revealed.

Until the juice ferments a while in the cask, it isn’t wine.
If you wish your heart to be bright, you must do a little work.

My King addressed the soul of my flesh: You return just as you left.
Where are the traces of my gifts?

We know that alchemy transforms copper into gold.
This Sun doesn’t want a crown or robe from God’s grace.
He is a hat to a hundred bald men, a covering for ten who were naked.

Jesus sat humbly on the back of an ***, my child! How could a zephyr ride an ***? Spirit, find your way, in seeking lowness like a stream.
Reason, tread the path of selflessness into eternity.

Remember God so much that you are forgotten.
Let the caller and the called disappear; be lost in the Call.

 

 

- Rumi

Written by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi | Create an image from this poem

The Way Things Should

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.

Written by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi | Create an image from this poem

Reason says Love says

Reason says, “I will beguile him with the tongue;” Love says, “Be silent.
I will beguile him with the soul.
” The soul says to the heart, “Go, do not laugh at me and yourself.

What is there that is not his, that I may beguile him thereby?”

He is not sorrowful and anxious and seeking oblivion that I may beguile him with wine and a heavy measure.
The arrow of his glance needs not a bow that I should beguile the shaft of his gaze with a bow.

He is not prisoner of the world, fettered to this world of earth, that I should beguile him with gold of the kingdom of the world.
He is an angel, though in form he is a man; he is not lustful that I should beguile him with women.

Angels start away from the house wherein this form is, so how should I beguile him with such a form and likeness? He does not take a flock of horses, since he flies on wings; his food is light, so how should I beguile him with bread?

He is not a merchant and trafficker in the market of the world that I should beguile him with enchantment of gain and loss.
He is not veiled that I should make myself out sick and utter sighs, to beguile him with lamentation.

I will bind my head and bow my head, for I have got out of hand; I will not beguile his compassion with sickness or fluttering.
Hair by hair he sees my crookedness and feigning; what’s hidden from him that I should beguile him with anything hidden.

He is not a seeker of fame, a prince addicted to poets, that I should beguile him with verses and lyrics and flowing poetry.
The glory of the unseen form is too great for me to beguile it with blessing or Paradise.

 

Translated by A.
J.
Arberry

‘Mystical Poems of Rumi’ The University of Chicago Press 1991

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Written by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi | Create an image from this poem

Whoever Brought Me Here

All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing? I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I’m sure of that, and I intend to end up there.

This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place, I’ll be completely sober.
Meanwhile, I’m like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming when I fly off, but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice? Who says words with my mouth?

Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul? I cannot stop asking.
If I could taste one sip of an answer, I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn’t come here of my own accord, and I can’t leave that way.
Whoever brought me here, will have to take me home.

This poetry.
I never know what I’m going to say.
I don’t plan it.
When I’m outside the saying of it, I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.

Trans.
Coleman Barks.

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Written by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi | Create an image from this poem

A Stone I died

~

A stone I died and rose again a plant; A plant I died and rose an animal; I died an animal and was born a man.
Why should I fear? What have I lost by death?

Written by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi | Create an image from this poem

We Are As The Flute

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.

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From Khamush.
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Written by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi | Create an image from this poem

This is to Love

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

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