Tag Archives: Tabriz

CRADLE MY HEART By Jalaluddin Rumi


Iman Maleki Painting


Last night,
I was lying on the rooftop,
thinking of you.
I saw a special Star,
and summoned her to take you a message.
I prostrated myself to the Star
and asked her to take my prostration
to that Sun of Tabriz.
So that with his light, he can turn
my dark stones into gold.
I opened my chest and showed her my scars,
I told her to bring me news
of my bloodthirsty Lover.
As I waited,
I paced back and forth,
until the child of my heart became quiet.
The child slept, as if I were rocking his cradle.
Oh Beloved, give milk to the infant of the heart,
and don’t hold us from our turning.
You have cared for hundreds,
don’t let it stop with me now.
At the end, the town of unity is the place for the heart.
Why do you keep this bewildered heart
in the town of dissolution?
I have gone speechless, but to rid myself
of this dry mood,
oh Saaqhi, pass the narcissus of the wine.

Hush Don’t Say Anything to God:
Passionate Poems of Rumi
Translated by Shahram Shiva


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Rumi Poem and Iman Maleki Painting

Painting by Iman Maleki A painting of two young Iranian girls. A girl reading poems from Hafiz for another girl on the roof of a city building!

By Jalaluddin Rumi

That moon, which the sky ne’er saw even in dreams, has returned
And brought a fire no water can quench.
See the body’ s house, and see my. soul,
This made drunken and that desolate by the cup of his love.
When the host of the tavern became my heart-mate,
My blood turned to wine and my heart to kabab.
When the eye is filled with thought of him, a voice arrives :
W ell done, O flagon, and bravo, wine!
Love’s fingers tear up, root and stem,
Every house where sunbeams fall from love.
When my heart saw love’s sea, of a sudden
It left me and leaped in, crying, , Find me.’
The face of Shamsi Din, Tabriz’s glory, is the sun
In whose track the cloud-like hearts are moving.

From Divan-i Shams
translated by R. A. Nicholson

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Love says, “Be silent. I will beguile him with the soul.”

By Jalaluddin Rumi 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 […]

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The Word: Wheat by Rumi; The Sound: One Truth by Omer Faruk Tekbilek

Omar Faruk Tekbilek had been studying Sufism, the mystical branch of Islam, with the thought of becoming a Sufi cleric. At 15, he quit school to become a professional musician. “But I never quit studying, though,” he maintains. “In fact, I am still studying; it’s endless. Music for me is not something to show off. It’s my life. It’s the shortest path to God. Playing is prayer for me.”

Mevlana Jelaluddin Rumi Poem:

If wheat sprouts out of my grave,
the bread you make of it will get you drunk.
The baker and the dough will go insane,
and the oven will recite intoxicating verses.
If you come to visit my grave,
My tomb will appear to dance.
Brother! Don’t come without a tambourine,
for the sad can’t join in God’s celebration.
Though deep in the grave, the chin closed tight,
this mouth still chews the beloved’s opium and sugarplum.
If you tear a piece off that shroud and fasten it round your chest,
a tavern will open up from your soul.
From every direction comes the sound of the harp,
and hue and cry from the drunk.
Every action will perforce give rise to another one.
God has created me from love’s wine;
even if death takes me, I am the same love.
I am intoxication; my origin is the wine of love.
Tell me: what comes from wine except intoxication?
Toward the lofty soul of Shams of Tabriz
my soul is flying, lingering not even a single moment.

Rumi translations courtesy of Reynold A. Nicholson.


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