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The Soul of Rumi Quotes
The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
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Jalal ad-Din Muhammad ar-Rumi4,667 ratings, 4.45 average rating, 187 reviews
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The Soul of Rumi Quotes
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“ON THE DAY I DIE
On the day I die, when I'm being carried
toward the grave, don't weep. Don't say,
He's gone! He's gone. Death has nothing to do with going away. The sun sets and
the moon sets, but they're not gone.
Death is a coming together. The tomb
looks like a prison, but it's really
release into union. The human seed goes
down in the ground like a bucket into
the well where Joseph is. It grows and
comes up full of some unimagined beauty.
Your mouth closes here, and immediately
opens with a shout of joy there.
---------------------------------
One who does what the Friend wants done
will never need a friend.
There's a bankruptcy that's pure gain.
The moon stays bright when it
doesn't avoid the night.
A rose's rarest essence
lives in the thorn.
----------------------------------
Childhood, youth, and maturity,
and now old age.
Every guest agrees to stay
three days, no more.
Master, you told me to
remind you. Time to go.
-----------------------------------
The angel of death arrives,
and I spring joyfully up.
No one knows what comes over me
when I and that messenger speak!
-------------------------------------
When you come back inside my chest no matter how far I've wandered off,
I look around and see the way.
At the end of my life, with just one breath left, if you come then, I'll sit up and sing.
--------------------------------------
Last night things flowed between us
that cannot now be said or written.
Only as I'm being carried out
and down the road, as the folds of my shroud open in the wind,
will anyone be able to read, as on
the petal-pages of a turning bud,
what passed through us last night.
-------------------------------------
I placed one foot on the wide plain
of death, and some grand
immensity sounded on the emptiness.
I have felt nothing ever
like the wild wonder of that moment.
Longing is the core of mystery.
Longing itself brings the cure.
The only rule is, Suffer the pain.
Your desire must be disciplined,
and what you want to happen
in time, sacrificed.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
On the day I die, when I'm being carried
toward the grave, don't weep. Don't say,
He's gone! He's gone. Death has nothing to do with going away. The sun sets and
the moon sets, but they're not gone.
Death is a coming together. The tomb
looks like a prison, but it's really
release into union. The human seed goes
down in the ground like a bucket into
the well where Joseph is. It grows and
comes up full of some unimagined beauty.
Your mouth closes here, and immediately
opens with a shout of joy there.
---------------------------------
One who does what the Friend wants done
will never need a friend.
There's a bankruptcy that's pure gain.
The moon stays bright when it
doesn't avoid the night.
A rose's rarest essence
lives in the thorn.
----------------------------------
Childhood, youth, and maturity,
and now old age.
Every guest agrees to stay
three days, no more.
Master, you told me to
remind you. Time to go.
-----------------------------------
The angel of death arrives,
and I spring joyfully up.
No one knows what comes over me
when I and that messenger speak!
-------------------------------------
When you come back inside my chest no matter how far I've wandered off,
I look around and see the way.
At the end of my life, with just one breath left, if you come then, I'll sit up and sing.
--------------------------------------
Last night things flowed between us
that cannot now be said or written.
Only as I'm being carried out
and down the road, as the folds of my shroud open in the wind,
will anyone be able to read, as on
the petal-pages of a turning bud,
what passed through us last night.
-------------------------------------
I placed one foot on the wide plain
of death, and some grand
immensity sounded on the emptiness.
I have felt nothing ever
like the wild wonder of that moment.
Longing is the core of mystery.
Longing itself brings the cure.
The only rule is, Suffer the pain.
Your desire must be disciplined,
and what you want to happen
in time, sacrificed.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“We watch a sunlight dust dance,
and we try to be that lively,
but nobody knows what music those particles hear.
Each of us has a secret companion musician to dance to.
Unique rhythmic play, a motion in the street we alone know and hear.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
and we try to be that lively,
but nobody knows what music those particles hear.
Each of us has a secret companion musician to dance to.
Unique rhythmic play, a motion in the street we alone know and hear.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“THE ONE THING YOU MUST DO
There is one thing in this world you must never forget to do. If you forget everything else and not this, there's nothing to worry about, but if you remember everything else and forget this, then you will have done nothing in your life.
It's as if a king has sent you to some country to do a task, and you perform a hundred other services, but not the one he sent you to do. So human being come to this world to do particular work. That work is the purpose, and each is specific to the person. If you don't do it, it's as though a priceless Indian sword were used to slice rotten meat. It's a golden bowl being used to cook turnips, when one filing from the bowl could buy a hundred suitable pots. It's like a knife of the finest tempering nailed into a wall to hang things on.
You say, "But look, I'm using the dagger. It's not lying idle." Do you hear how ludicrous that sounds? For a penny an iron nail could be bought to serve for that. You say, "But I spend my energies on lofty enterprises. I study jurisprudence and philosophy and logic and astronomy and medicine and the rest." But consider why you do those things. They are all branches of yourself.
Remember the deep root of your being, the presence of your lord. Give yourself to the one who already owns your breath and your moments. If you don't, you will be like the man who takes a precious dagger and hammers it into his kitchen wall for a peg to hold his dipper gourd. You'll be wasting valuable keenness and forgetting your dignity and purpose.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
There is one thing in this world you must never forget to do. If you forget everything else and not this, there's nothing to worry about, but if you remember everything else and forget this, then you will have done nothing in your life.
It's as if a king has sent you to some country to do a task, and you perform a hundred other services, but not the one he sent you to do. So human being come to this world to do particular work. That work is the purpose, and each is specific to the person. If you don't do it, it's as though a priceless Indian sword were used to slice rotten meat. It's a golden bowl being used to cook turnips, when one filing from the bowl could buy a hundred suitable pots. It's like a knife of the finest tempering nailed into a wall to hang things on.
You say, "But look, I'm using the dagger. It's not lying idle." Do you hear how ludicrous that sounds? For a penny an iron nail could be bought to serve for that. You say, "But I spend my energies on lofty enterprises. I study jurisprudence and philosophy and logic and astronomy and medicine and the rest." But consider why you do those things. They are all branches of yourself.
Remember the deep root of your being, the presence of your lord. Give yourself to the one who already owns your breath and your moments. If you don't, you will be like the man who takes a precious dagger and hammers it into his kitchen wall for a peg to hold his dipper gourd. You'll be wasting valuable keenness and forgetting your dignity and purpose.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“A man once asked Rumi, "Why is it you talk so much about silence?" His answer: "The radiant one inside me has never said a word.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“Solitude is a fount of healing which makes my life worth living. Talking is often a torment for me, and I need many days of silence to recover from the futility of words.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“One of the marvels of the world is
the sight of a soul sitting in prison with the key in its hand!”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
the sight of a soul sitting in prison with the key in its hand!”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“A story has come down about Rumi: a woman asks if he would say something to her young boy about his eating too much of a particular kind of white-sugar candy. Rumi tells her to come back in two weeks. She does, and he tells her again to come in two weeks. She does, and he advises the child to cut down on sweets.
"Why did you not say this a month ago?"
"Because I had to see if I could resist having that candy for two weeks. I couldn't. Then I tried again and was successful. Only now can I tell him to try not to have so much.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
"Why did you not say this a month ago?"
"Because I had to see if I could resist having that candy for two weeks. I couldn't. Then I tried again and was successful. Only now can I tell him to try not to have so much.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“BOWLS OF FOOD
Moon and evening star do their
slow tambourine dance to praise
this universe. The purpose of
every gathering is discovered:
to recognize beauty and love
what’s beautiful. “Once it was
like that, now it’s like this,”
the saying goes around town, and
serious consequences too. Men
and women turn their faces to the
wall in grief. They lose appetite.
Then they start eating the fire of
pleasure, as camels chew pungent
grass for the sake of their souls.
Winter blocks the road. Flowers
are taken prisoner underground.
Then green justice tenders a spear.
Go outside to the orchard. These
visitors came a long way, past all
the houses of the zodiac, learning
Something new at each stop. And
they’re here for such a short time,
sitting at these tables set on the
prow of the wind. Bowls of food
are brought out as answers, but
still no one knows the answer.
Food for the soul stays secret.
Body food gets put out in the open
like us. Those who work at a bakery
don’t know the taste of bread like
the hungry beggars do. Because the
beloved wants to know, unseen things
become manifest. Hiding is the
hidden purpose of creation: bury
your seed and wait. After you die,
All the thoughts you had will throng
around like children. The heart
is the secret inside the secret.
Call the secret language, and never
be sure what you conceal. It’s
unsure people who get the blessing.
Climbing cypress, opening rose,
Nightingale song, fruit, these are
inside the chill November wind.
They are its secret. We climb and
fall so often. Plants have an inner
Being, and separate ways of talking
and feeling. An ear of corn bends
in thought. Tulip, so embarrassed.
Pink rose deciding to open a
competing store. A bunch of grapes
sits with its feet stuck out.
Narcissus gossiping about iris.
Willow, what do you learn from running
water? Humility. Red apple, what has
the Friend taught you? To be sour.
Peach tree, why so low? To let you
reach. Look at the poplar, tall but
without fruit or flower. Yes, if
I had those, I’d be self-absorbed
like you. I gave up self to watch
the enlightened ones. Pomegranate
questions quince, Why so pale? For
the pearl you hid inside me. How did
you discover my secret? Your laugh.
The core of the seen and unseen
universes smiles, but remember,
smiles come best from those who weep.
Lightning, then the rain-laughter.
Dark earth receives that clear and
grows a trunk. Melon and cucumber
come dragging along on pilgrimage.
You have to be to be blessed!
Pumpkin begins climbing a rope!
Where did he learn that? Grass,
thorns, a hundred thousand ants and
snakes, everything is looking for
food. Don’t you hear the noise?
Every herb cures some illness.
Camels delight to eat thorns. We
prefer the inside of a walnut, not
the shell. The inside of an egg,
the outside of a date. What about
your inside and outside? The same
way a branch draws water up many
feet, God is pulling your soul
along. Wind carries pollen from
blossom to ground. Wings and
Arabian stallions gallop toward
the warmth of spring. They visit;
they sing and tell what they think
they know: so-and-so will travel
to such-and-such. The hoopoe
carries a letter to Solomon. The
wise stork says lek-lek. Please
translate. It’s time to go to
the high plain, to leave the winter
house. Be your own watchman as
birds are. Let the remembering
beads encircle you. I make promises
to myself and break them. Words are
coins: the vein of ore and the
mine shaft, what they speak of. Now
consider the sun. It’s neither
oriental nor occidental. Only the
soul knows what love is. This
moment in time and space is an
eggshell with an embryo crumpled
inside, soaked in belief-yolk,
under the wing of grace, until it
breaks free of mind to become the
song of an actual bird, and God.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
Moon and evening star do their
slow tambourine dance to praise
this universe. The purpose of
every gathering is discovered:
to recognize beauty and love
what’s beautiful. “Once it was
like that, now it’s like this,”
the saying goes around town, and
serious consequences too. Men
and women turn their faces to the
wall in grief. They lose appetite.
Then they start eating the fire of
pleasure, as camels chew pungent
grass for the sake of their souls.
Winter blocks the road. Flowers
are taken prisoner underground.
Then green justice tenders a spear.
Go outside to the orchard. These
visitors came a long way, past all
the houses of the zodiac, learning
Something new at each stop. And
they’re here for such a short time,
sitting at these tables set on the
prow of the wind. Bowls of food
are brought out as answers, but
still no one knows the answer.
Food for the soul stays secret.
Body food gets put out in the open
like us. Those who work at a bakery
don’t know the taste of bread like
the hungry beggars do. Because the
beloved wants to know, unseen things
become manifest. Hiding is the
hidden purpose of creation: bury
your seed and wait. After you die,
All the thoughts you had will throng
around like children. The heart
is the secret inside the secret.
Call the secret language, and never
be sure what you conceal. It’s
unsure people who get the blessing.
Climbing cypress, opening rose,
Nightingale song, fruit, these are
inside the chill November wind.
They are its secret. We climb and
fall so often. Plants have an inner
Being, and separate ways of talking
and feeling. An ear of corn bends
in thought. Tulip, so embarrassed.
Pink rose deciding to open a
competing store. A bunch of grapes
sits with its feet stuck out.
Narcissus gossiping about iris.
Willow, what do you learn from running
water? Humility. Red apple, what has
the Friend taught you? To be sour.
Peach tree, why so low? To let you
reach. Look at the poplar, tall but
without fruit or flower. Yes, if
I had those, I’d be self-absorbed
like you. I gave up self to watch
the enlightened ones. Pomegranate
questions quince, Why so pale? For
the pearl you hid inside me. How did
you discover my secret? Your laugh.
The core of the seen and unseen
universes smiles, but remember,
smiles come best from those who weep.
Lightning, then the rain-laughter.
Dark earth receives that clear and
grows a trunk. Melon and cucumber
come dragging along on pilgrimage.
You have to be to be blessed!
Pumpkin begins climbing a rope!
Where did he learn that? Grass,
thorns, a hundred thousand ants and
snakes, everything is looking for
food. Don’t you hear the noise?
Every herb cures some illness.
Camels delight to eat thorns. We
prefer the inside of a walnut, not
the shell. The inside of an egg,
the outside of a date. What about
your inside and outside? The same
way a branch draws water up many
feet, God is pulling your soul
along. Wind carries pollen from
blossom to ground. Wings and
Arabian stallions gallop toward
the warmth of spring. They visit;
they sing and tell what they think
they know: so-and-so will travel
to such-and-such. The hoopoe
carries a letter to Solomon. The
wise stork says lek-lek. Please
translate. It’s time to go to
the high plain, to leave the winter
house. Be your own watchman as
birds are. Let the remembering
beads encircle you. I make promises
to myself and break them. Words are
coins: the vein of ore and the
mine shaft, what they speak of. Now
consider the sun. It’s neither
oriental nor occidental. Only the
soul knows what love is. This
moment in time and space is an
eggshell with an embryo crumpled
inside, soaked in belief-yolk,
under the wing of grace, until it
breaks free of mind to become the
song of an actual bird, and God.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“The pathless path opens
whenever you genuinely say, There is no reality but God. There is only God.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
whenever you genuinely say, There is no reality but God. There is only God.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“My dear heart, never think you are better than others. Listen to their sorrows with compassion. If you want peace, don't harbor bad thoughts, do not gossip and don't teach what you do not know.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“Friend, our closeness is this : Anywhere
you put your foot, feel me in the firmness
under you.
How is it with this love,
I see your world, but not you?”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
you put your foot, feel me in the firmness
under you.
How is it with this love,
I see your world, but not you?”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“One Swaying Being
Love is not condescension, never that,
nor books, nor any marking on paper,
nor what people say of each other.
Love is a tree with branches reaching into eternity
and roots set deep in eternity, and no trunk!
Have you seen it?
The mind cannot.
Your desiring cannot.
The longing you feel for this love comes from inside you.
When you become the Friend,
your longing will be as the man in the ocean
who holds to a piece of wood.
Eventually wood, man, and ocean
become one swaying being,
Shams Tabriz, the secret of God.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
Love is not condescension, never that,
nor books, nor any marking on paper,
nor what people say of each other.
Love is a tree with branches reaching into eternity
and roots set deep in eternity, and no trunk!
Have you seen it?
The mind cannot.
Your desiring cannot.
The longing you feel for this love comes from inside you.
When you become the Friend,
your longing will be as the man in the ocean
who holds to a piece of wood.
Eventually wood, man, and ocean
become one swaying being,
Shams Tabriz, the secret of God.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“FORM IS ECSTATIC
There is a shimmering excitement in being sentient and shaped. The
caravan master sees his camels lost in it, nose to tail, as he himself is,
his friend, and the stranger coming toward them. A gardener watches the
sky break into song, cloud wobbly with what it is. Bud, thorn, the same.
Wind, water, wandering this essential state. Fire, ground, gone. That's
how it is with the outside. Form is ecstatic. Now imagine the inner:
soul, intelligence, the secret worlds!
And don't think the garden loses its
ecstasy in winter. It's quiet, but the roots are down there rioutous.
If someone bumps you in the street, don't be angry. Everyone careens
about in this surprise. Respond in kind. Let the knots untie, turbans
be given away. Someone drunk on this could drink a donkeyload a night.
Believer, unbeliever, cynic, lover, all combine in the spirit-form we are,
but no one yet is awake like Shams.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
There is a shimmering excitement in being sentient and shaped. The
caravan master sees his camels lost in it, nose to tail, as he himself is,
his friend, and the stranger coming toward them. A gardener watches the
sky break into song, cloud wobbly with what it is. Bud, thorn, the same.
Wind, water, wandering this essential state. Fire, ground, gone. That's
how it is with the outside. Form is ecstatic. Now imagine the inner:
soul, intelligence, the secret worlds!
And don't think the garden loses its
ecstasy in winter. It's quiet, but the roots are down there rioutous.
If someone bumps you in the street, don't be angry. Everyone careens
about in this surprise. Respond in kind. Let the knots untie, turbans
be given away. Someone drunk on this could drink a donkeyload a night.
Believer, unbeliever, cynic, lover, all combine in the spirit-form we are,
but no one yet is awake like Shams.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“I could not have known
what love is if I had never
felt this longing. Anything
done to excess becomes
boring, except this overflow
that moves toward you.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
what love is if I had never
felt this longing. Anything
done to excess becomes
boring, except this overflow
that moves toward you.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“PRAYER IS AN EGG
On Resurrection Day God will say, "What did you do with the strength and energy
your food gave you on earth? How did you use your eyes?
What did you make with
your five senses while they were dimming and playing out?
I gave you hands and feet
as tools for preparing the ground for planting. Did you, in the health I gave,
do the plowing?" You will not be able to stand when you hear those questions. You
will bend double, and finally acknowledge the glory. God will say, "Lift
your head and answer the questions." Your head will rise a little, then slump
again. "Look at me! Tell what you've done." You try, but you fall back flat
as a snake. "I want every detail. Say!" Eventually you will be able to get to
a sitting position. "Be plain and clear. I have given you such gifts. What did
you do with them?" You turn to the right looking to the prophet for help, as
though to say, I am stuck in the mud of my life. Help me out of this! They
will answer, those kings, "The time for helping is past. The plow stands there in
the field. You should have used it. "Then you turn to the left, where your family
is, and they will say, "Don't look at us! This conversation is between you and your
creator." Then you pray the prayer that is the essence of every ritual: God,
I have no hope. I am torn to shreds. You are my first and last and only refuge.
Don't do daily prayers like a bird pecking, moving its head up and down. Prayer is an egg.
Hatch out the total helplessness inside.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
On Resurrection Day God will say, "What did you do with the strength and energy
your food gave you on earth? How did you use your eyes?
What did you make with
your five senses while they were dimming and playing out?
I gave you hands and feet
as tools for preparing the ground for planting. Did you, in the health I gave,
do the plowing?" You will not be able to stand when you hear those questions. You
will bend double, and finally acknowledge the glory. God will say, "Lift
your head and answer the questions." Your head will rise a little, then slump
again. "Look at me! Tell what you've done." You try, but you fall back flat
as a snake. "I want every detail. Say!" Eventually you will be able to get to
a sitting position. "Be plain and clear. I have given you such gifts. What did
you do with them?" You turn to the right looking to the prophet for help, as
though to say, I am stuck in the mud of my life. Help me out of this! They
will answer, those kings, "The time for helping is past. The plow stands there in
the field. You should have used it. "Then you turn to the left, where your family
is, and they will say, "Don't look at us! This conversation is between you and your
creator." Then you pray the prayer that is the essence of every ritual: God,
I have no hope. I am torn to shreds. You are my first and last and only refuge.
Don't do daily prayers like a bird pecking, moving its head up and down. Prayer is an egg.
Hatch out the total helplessness inside.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“أيها العارف، هل تعرف
ما هو الليل؟
إنه ملاذ العاشقين.
وفي هذه الليلة المجيدة
فأنا سكران مع القمر.
لقد هام القمر عشقا
وجن الليل.”
― الروح لا تمل من العاشقين
ما هو الليل؟
إنه ملاذ العاشقين.
وفي هذه الليلة المجيدة
فأنا سكران مع القمر.
لقد هام القمر عشقا
وجن الليل.”
― الروح لا تمل من العاشقين
“Cautious people say, "I'll
do nothing until I can be sure." Merchants know better.
If you do nothing, you lose.
Don't be one of those merchants who won't risk the ocean!
This is much more important
than losing or making money. This is your connection to God!
You must set fire to have
light. Trust means you're ready to risk what you currently have. Think of your fear and
hope about your livelihood. They make you go to work
diligently every day. Now
consider what the prophets have done. Abraham wore fire for an anklet. Moses spoke
to the sea. David molded iron. Solomon rode the wind.
Work in the invisible world
at least as hard as you do in the visible. Be companions
with the prophets even though
no one here will know that you are, not even the helpers of the qutb, the abdals. You
can't imagine what profit will come! When one of those
generous ones invites you
into his fire, go quickly! Don't say, "But will it burn me? Will it hurt?”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
do nothing until I can be sure." Merchants know better.
If you do nothing, you lose.
Don't be one of those merchants who won't risk the ocean!
This is much more important
than losing or making money. This is your connection to God!
You must set fire to have
light. Trust means you're ready to risk what you currently have. Think of your fear and
hope about your livelihood. They make you go to work
diligently every day. Now
consider what the prophets have done. Abraham wore fire for an anklet. Moses spoke
to the sea. David molded iron. Solomon rode the wind.
Work in the invisible world
at least as hard as you do in the visible. Be companions
with the prophets even though
no one here will know that you are, not even the helpers of the qutb, the abdals. You
can't imagine what profit will come! When one of those
generous ones invites you
into his fire, go quickly! Don't say, "But will it burn me? Will it hurt?”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“WHAT WAS TOLD, THAT
What was said to the rose that made it open was said to me here in my chest.
What was told the cypress that made it strong and straight, what was
whispered the jasmine so it is what it is, whatever made sugarcane sweet, whatever
was said to the inhabitants of the town of Chigil in Turkestan that makes them
so handsome, whatever lets the pomegranate flower blush like a human face, that is
being said to me now. I blush. Whatever put eloquence in language, that's happening here.
The great warehouse doors open; I fill with gratitude, chewing a piece of sugarcane,
in love with the one to whom every that belongs!”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
What was said to the rose that made it open was said to me here in my chest.
What was told the cypress that made it strong and straight, what was
whispered the jasmine so it is what it is, whatever made sugarcane sweet, whatever
was said to the inhabitants of the town of Chigil in Turkestan that makes them
so handsome, whatever lets the pomegranate flower blush like a human face, that is
being said to me now. I blush. Whatever put eloquence in language, that's happening here.
The great warehouse doors open; I fill with gratitude, chewing a piece of sugarcane,
in love with the one to whom every that belongs!”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“I ask a flower, “How is it you are so wise so young?”
“With the first morning wind and
the first dew, I lost my innocence.”
I follow the one who showed me the way.
I extend one hand up, and with the other I touch the ground.
A great branch leans down from the sky.
How long will I keep talking of up and down?
This is not my home:
silence, annihilation, absence!
I go back where everything is nothing.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“With the first morning wind and
the first dew, I lost my innocence.”
I follow the one who showed me the way.
I extend one hand up, and with the other I touch the ground.
A great branch leans down from the sky.
How long will I keep talking of up and down?
This is not my home:
silence, annihilation, absence!
I go back where everything is nothing.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“The woman
has great power. Se can tie knots in your chest that only God's breathing loosens. Don't
take her appeal lightly.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
has great power. Se can tie knots in your chest that only God's breathing loosens. Don't
take her appeal lightly.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“QUALITIES
There is a sun-star rising outside form.
I am lost in that other. It's sweet not
to look at two worlds, to melt in meaning
as honey melts in milk. No one tires of
following the soul. I don't recall now what
happens on the manifest plane. I stroll
with those I have always wanted to know,
fresh and graceful as a water lily, or a rose.
The body is a boat; I am waves swaying against it. Whenever it anchors somewhere, I smash
it loose, or smash it to pieces. If I get
lazy and cold, flames come from my ocean and
surround me. I laugh inside them like gold purifying itself. A certain melody makes
the snake put his head down on a line in the dirt....Here is my head, brother: What
next! Weary of form, I come into qualities.
Each says, "I am a blue-green sea. Dive
into me!" I am Alexander at the outermost
extension of empire, turning all my armies
in toward the meaning of armies, Shams.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
There is a sun-star rising outside form.
I am lost in that other. It's sweet not
to look at two worlds, to melt in meaning
as honey melts in milk. No one tires of
following the soul. I don't recall now what
happens on the manifest plane. I stroll
with those I have always wanted to know,
fresh and graceful as a water lily, or a rose.
The body is a boat; I am waves swaying against it. Whenever it anchors somewhere, I smash
it loose, or smash it to pieces. If I get
lazy and cold, flames come from my ocean and
surround me. I laugh inside them like gold purifying itself. A certain melody makes
the snake put his head down on a line in the dirt....Here is my head, brother: What
next! Weary of form, I come into qualities.
Each says, "I am a blue-green sea. Dive
into me!" I am Alexander at the outermost
extension of empire, turning all my armies
in toward the meaning of armies, Shams.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“A moth flying into the flame says with its wingfire, 'Try this.'
The wick with its knotted neck broken, tells you the same.
A candle as it diminishes explains, 'Gathering more and more is not the way. Burn, become light and heat and help. Melt.'
The ocean sits in the sand letting its lap fill with pearls and shells, then empty.
A bittersalt taste hums, 'This.'
The phoenix gives up on good-and-bad, flies to rest on Mt. Qaf, no more burning and rising from ash. It sends out one message.
The rose purifies its face, drops the soft petals, shows its thorn, and points.
Wine abandons thousands of famous names, the vintage years and delightful bouquets, to run wild and anonymous through your brain.
The flute closes its eyes and gives its lips to Hamza’s emptiness.
Everything begs with the silent rocks for you to be flung out like light
over this plain, the presence of Shams.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
The wick with its knotted neck broken, tells you the same.
A candle as it diminishes explains, 'Gathering more and more is not the way. Burn, become light and heat and help. Melt.'
The ocean sits in the sand letting its lap fill with pearls and shells, then empty.
A bittersalt taste hums, 'This.'
The phoenix gives up on good-and-bad, flies to rest on Mt. Qaf, no more burning and rising from ash. It sends out one message.
The rose purifies its face, drops the soft petals, shows its thorn, and points.
Wine abandons thousands of famous names, the vintage years and delightful bouquets, to run wild and anonymous through your brain.
The flute closes its eyes and gives its lips to Hamza’s emptiness.
Everything begs with the silent rocks for you to be flung out like light
over this plain, the presence of Shams.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“Fold within fold, the beloved
drowns in its own being. This world
is drenched with that drowning.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
drowns in its own being. This world
is drenched with that drowning.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“We have been secretly fed
from beyond space and time. That's why we look for something more than this.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
from beyond space and time. That's why we look for something more than this.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“TWENTY SMALL GRAVES
There was a woman who bore a child almost every year, but the children never lived longer
than six months. Usually after three or four months they would die. She grieved long and
publicly. "I take on the work of pregnancy for nine months, but the joy vanishes quicker
than a rainbow." Twenty children went like that, in fevers to their small graves. One night
she had a revelation. She saw the place of unconditional love, call it the garden or source
of gardens. The physical eye cannot see its unseeable light. Lamp, green flower, these
are just comparisons, so that some of the love-bewildered may catch a fragrance. The woman
saw pure grace and, drunk with the seeing, fell to the ground. Those who have the vision said
then, "This morning meal is for those who rise with sincere devotion. The tragedies you've
had came from other times when you did not take refuge." "Lord, give me more grief.
Tear me to pieces, if it leads here." She said this and walked into the presence
she had seen. Her children were all there, "Lost to me," she cried, "but not to you."
Without this great grieving no one can enter the spirit.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
There was a woman who bore a child almost every year, but the children never lived longer
than six months. Usually after three or four months they would die. She grieved long and
publicly. "I take on the work of pregnancy for nine months, but the joy vanishes quicker
than a rainbow." Twenty children went like that, in fevers to their small graves. One night
she had a revelation. She saw the place of unconditional love, call it the garden or source
of gardens. The physical eye cannot see its unseeable light. Lamp, green flower, these
are just comparisons, so that some of the love-bewildered may catch a fragrance. The woman
saw pure grace and, drunk with the seeing, fell to the ground. Those who have the vision said
then, "This morning meal is for those who rise with sincere devotion. The tragedies you've
had came from other times when you did not take refuge." "Lord, give me more grief.
Tear me to pieces, if it leads here." She said this and walked into the presence
she had seen. Her children were all there, "Lost to me," she cried, "but not to you."
Without this great grieving no one can enter the spirit.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“BOOK BEAUTY
Here's the end of that story about the old woman who wanted to lure a man with strange
cosmetics. She made a paste of pages from the Qur'an to fill the deep creases on her face and
neck with. This is not about an old woman, dear reader. It's about you, or anyone who tries
to use books to make themselves attractive. There she is, sticking scripture, thick with
saliva, on her face. Of course, the bits keep falling off. "The devil," she yells, and
he appears! "This is a trick I've never seen. You don't need me. You are yourself a troop
of demons!" So people steal inspired words to get compliments. Don't bother. Death comes
and all talking, stolen or not, stops. Pity anyone unfamiliar with silence when that happens.
Polish your heart with mediation and quietness. Let the inner life grow generous and handsome
like Joseph. Zuleika did that and her "old woman's spring cold snap" turned to mid-July. Dry
lips wet from within. Ink is not rouge. Let language lie bygone. Now is where love breathes.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
Here's the end of that story about the old woman who wanted to lure a man with strange
cosmetics. She made a paste of pages from the Qur'an to fill the deep creases on her face and
neck with. This is not about an old woman, dear reader. It's about you, or anyone who tries
to use books to make themselves attractive. There she is, sticking scripture, thick with
saliva, on her face. Of course, the bits keep falling off. "The devil," she yells, and
he appears! "This is a trick I've never seen. You don't need me. You are yourself a troop
of demons!" So people steal inspired words to get compliments. Don't bother. Death comes
and all talking, stolen or not, stops. Pity anyone unfamiliar with silence when that happens.
Polish your heart with mediation and quietness. Let the inner life grow generous and handsome
like Joseph. Zuleika did that and her "old woman's spring cold snap" turned to mid-July. Dry
lips wet from within. Ink is not rouge. Let language lie bygone. Now is where love breathes.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“A love with no object is a true love.
All else, shadow without substance.
Have you seen someone fall in love
with his own shadow? That’s what we’ve done. Leave partial loves and find one that’s whole.
Where is someone who can do that?
They’re so rare, those hearts that carry the blessing and lavish it over everything.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
All else, shadow without substance.
Have you seen someone fall in love
with his own shadow? That’s what we’ve done. Leave partial loves and find one that’s whole.
Where is someone who can do that?
They’re so rare, those hearts that carry the blessing and lavish it over everything.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“Moses questions God about death
Moses asks God the most basic question, "You create us; then you kill us. "Why"
God says, I understand the purpose within your question; therefore I'll answer.
You want to know the meaning of phenomenal duration, so you can teach others
and help their souls unfold. Anyone who asks this question has some of the answer.
Sow seed corn, Moses, and you will experience the purpose of taking a form. Moses
plants and tends the crop; when the ears have ripened to the shape of their beauty,
he brings out to the field his blade and sharpening stone. The unseen voice comes,
Why did you work to bring the corn to perfection only now to chop it down? "Lord,
it is the winnowing time when we separate the corn grains we use for food from the straw
we use for bedding and fodder. They must be stored in different cribs in the barn."
Where did you learn this threshing-floor work? "You gave me discernment." Do you
not feel that I should have a similar discernment in the planting and harvesting
of forms that I do? So creation has a purpose. God has said, I was
a hidden treasure, and I desired to be known. That desire is part of manifestation.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
Moses asks God the most basic question, "You create us; then you kill us. "Why"
God says, I understand the purpose within your question; therefore I'll answer.
You want to know the meaning of phenomenal duration, so you can teach others
and help their souls unfold. Anyone who asks this question has some of the answer.
Sow seed corn, Moses, and you will experience the purpose of taking a form. Moses
plants and tends the crop; when the ears have ripened to the shape of their beauty,
he brings out to the field his blade and sharpening stone. The unseen voice comes,
Why did you work to bring the corn to perfection only now to chop it down? "Lord,
it is the winnowing time when we separate the corn grains we use for food from the straw
we use for bedding and fodder. They must be stored in different cribs in the barn."
Where did you learn this threshing-floor work? "You gave me discernment." Do you
not feel that I should have a similar discernment in the planting and harvesting
of forms that I do? So creation has a purpose. God has said, I was
a hidden treasure, and I desired to be known. That desire is part of manifestation.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“WOODEN CAGES
I may be clapping my hands, but I don't
belong to a crowd of clappers. Neither
this nor that, I'm not part of a group
that loves flute music or one that loves
gambling or drinking wine. Those who
live in time, descended from Adam, made
of earth and water, I'm not part of that.
Don't listen to what I say, as though
these words came from an inside and went
to an outside. Your faces are very
beautiful, but they are wooden cages.
You had better run from me. My words
are fire. I have nothing to do with
being famous, or making grand judgments,
or feeling full of shame. I borrow
nothing. I don't want anything from
anybody. I flow through human beings.
Love is my only companion. When union
happens, my speech goes inside toward
Shams. At that meeting all the secrets
of language will no longer be secret.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
I may be clapping my hands, but I don't
belong to a crowd of clappers. Neither
this nor that, I'm not part of a group
that loves flute music or one that loves
gambling or drinking wine. Those who
live in time, descended from Adam, made
of earth and water, I'm not part of that.
Don't listen to what I say, as though
these words came from an inside and went
to an outside. Your faces are very
beautiful, but they are wooden cages.
You had better run from me. My words
are fire. I have nothing to do with
being famous, or making grand judgments,
or feeling full of shame. I borrow
nothing. I don't want anything from
anybody. I flow through human beings.
Love is my only companion. When union
happens, my speech goes inside toward
Shams. At that meeting all the secrets
of language will no longer be secret.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
“ROSES UNDERFOOT
The sound of salaams rising as
waves diminish down in prayer,
hoping for some trace of the one
whose trace does not appear. If
anyone asks you to say who you
are, say without hesitation,
soul withing soul within soul.
There's a pearl diver who does
not know how to swim! No matter.
Pearls are handed him on the
beach. We lovers laugh to hear,
"This should be more that and
that more this,"coming from
people sitting in a wagon tilted
in a ditch. Going in search of
the heart, I found a huge rose
under my feet, and roses under
all our feet! How to say this
to someone who denies it? The
robe we wear is the sky's cloth.
Everything is soul and flowering.
---------------------------------
I open and fill with love and
other objects evaporate. All
the learning in books stays put
on the shelf. Poetry, the dear
words and images of song, comes
down over me like mountain water.
----------------------------------
Any cup I hold fills with wine
that lovers drink. Every word
I say opens into mystery. Any way I turn I see brilliance.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
The sound of salaams rising as
waves diminish down in prayer,
hoping for some trace of the one
whose trace does not appear. If
anyone asks you to say who you
are, say without hesitation,
soul withing soul within soul.
There's a pearl diver who does
not know how to swim! No matter.
Pearls are handed him on the
beach. We lovers laugh to hear,
"This should be more that and
that more this,"coming from
people sitting in a wagon tilted
in a ditch. Going in search of
the heart, I found a huge rose
under my feet, and roses under
all our feet! How to say this
to someone who denies it? The
robe we wear is the sky's cloth.
Everything is soul and flowering.
---------------------------------
I open and fill with love and
other objects evaporate. All
the learning in books stays put
on the shelf. Poetry, the dear
words and images of song, comes
down over me like mountain water.
----------------------------------
Any cup I hold fills with wine
that lovers drink. Every word
I say opens into mystery. Any way I turn I see brilliance.”
― The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems – Coleman Barks's Sublime Renderings of the 13th-Century Sufi Mystic's Insights into Divine Love and the Human Heart
