For those who love the poetry and stories of Jalal al-Din Rumi the 13th century Sufi Mystic. Daily posts present a variety of translators and translations. Many English speaking people are coming to an appreciation of Rumi's poetry through the translations of Coleman Barks and Camille and Kabir Helminski. Examples of those popular works are offered on Sunlight along with the lesser known translations of Nader Khalili. Jonathan Star. Annemarie Schimmel. William Chittick and Ibrahim Gamard.
Who is in the house of my heart,I cried in the middle of the night. Love said,"It is I but what are all these images that fill your house?"I said they are the reflection of your beautiful face. She asked,"But what is this image full of pain?"I said it is me lost in the sorrows of lifeand showed her my soul full of wounds. She offered me one end of a thread and said:"Take it so I can pull you backbut do not break the delicate string."I reached towards her but she struck my hand. I asked why the harshness?She said,"To remind you that whoever comes to love's holy space,proud and full of himself will be sent away. Look at love with the eyes of your heart."
-- Translation by Azima Melita Kolin and Maryam Mafi "Rumi: Hidden Music" HarperCollins Publishers Ltd. 2001
I cried out at midnight,"Who lives in the house of my heart?"An answer came back,"It is I whose radianceputs the Sun and Moon to shame."
He then asked,"Why is this house of the heartso full of images?"I said. "They are the reflections of you,whose face is the envy of Chigil."He asked. "What is this other imageall soaked in blood?"I said. "It is mewith my heart torn openand my feet caught in the mud."
I tied a noose round the neck of my souland brought it to Him:"Here is the one who turned his back on love -Do no let him escape this time."
He gave me one end of a threadwhich was twisted with guile and deceit. He said. "Pull on this end,I will pull on the other,And let's hope the thread doesn't breakin the pulling."
From the chamber of my soulthe form of my Belovedshone more radiant than ever. I reached out and grabbed Him with my hand -He knocked it away and said,"Don't cling to me!"I said. "You've become harsh like all the rest."
He said. "Don't insult me - I am harsher than all the rest!But what I do is born of love not malice or spite. I am here to make your heart a shrine of love,not a pen for holding sheep. ."
The Beautiful One has made this world out of gold. Rub your eyes and seethat He is the keeper of your heart.
-- Version by Jonathan Star "Rumi - In the Arms of the Beloved" Jeremy P. Tarcher/Putnam. New York 1997
In the middle of the night,I cried out. "Who lives in this love I have? You said. "I do but I'm not herealone. Why are these other imageswith me?" I said. "They are reflections of you,just as the beautiful inhabitants of Chigilin Turkestan resemble each other."
You said. "But who is this other livingbeing?" "That is my wounded soul."
Then I brought that soul to you as a prisoner. "This one is dangerous,"I said. "Don't let him off easy."
You winked and gave me one endof a delicate thread. "Pull it tight,but don't break it." I reached my handto touch you. You struck it down.
"For good reason. But certainly notto keep you away! Whoever enters this placesaying "Here I am" must be slapped.
This is not a pen for sheep. There are no separating distances here. This is love's sanctuary.
I cried out at midnight. "Who is in this house of the heart?"He said. "It is I by whose countenance the sun and the moon areput to shame." He said. "Why is this house of the heart full of all sorts of images?" I said. "These are reflections of You whose face is the envy of Chigil*." He said. "What is this other image full of the heart's blood?"I said. "This is the image of me heart wounded and feet in the mire." I bound the neck of my soul and brought it before him as atoken: "It is a sinner of love; do not acquit your sinner." He gave me the end of a thread a thread full of mischief and craft; he said. "Pull that I may pull pull and at the same time do not break." From that tent of the soul the form of my Turk flashed outfairer than before; I reached out my hand to him; He struck my hand saying. "Let go!" I said. "You have turned harsh like So-and-so." He said. "Know that I am harsh for a good purpose not harsh out ofrancour and spite. Whoever enters in saying. 'It is I,' I strike him on the brow,for this is the sanctuary of Love animal it is not a sheepcote." Salah-i Dil u Din* is truly the image of that Turk; rub your eyes and behold the image of the heart the image of the heart.
-- Translation by A. J. Arberry "Mystical Poems of Rumi 1" The University of Chicago Press. 1968
* Chigil in Turkestan was proverbial for its handsome inhabitants.* Salah al-Din Zarkub was first Rumi's friend and later his spiritual inspiration after Rumi accepted the likelihood of Shams al-Din's death. According to Sultan Valad. Rumi's son. Rumi said of Salah al-Din:
"That Shams al-Din of whom we always spokehas come back to us! Why do we slumber?Changed into new clothes he has returnedto flaunt and strut and show his beauty."
(Translation by Franklin D. Lewis. "Rumi. Past and Present. East and West". Sunlight footnote.)
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