Selected Rumi Poems
- Thread starter Awani
- Start date
- Joined
- Dec 22, 2008
- Messages
- 11,075
There is a field
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
and rightdoing there is a field.
I'll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about ideas, language,
even the phrase each other
doesn't make any sense.
Who makes these changes?
Who makes these changes?
I shoot an arrow right,
It lands left.
I ride after a deer and find myself
chased by a hog.
I plot to get what I want
and end up in prison.
I dig pits to trap others
and fall in.
I should be suspicious
of what I want.
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
and rightdoing there is a field.
I'll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about ideas, language,
even the phrase each other
doesn't make any sense.
Who makes these changes?
Who makes these changes?
I shoot an arrow right,
It lands left.
I ride after a deer and find myself
chased by a hog.
I plot to get what I want
and end up in prison.
I dig pits to trap others
and fall in.
I should be suspicious
of what I want.
Last edited:
- Joined
- Dec 22, 2008
- Messages
- 11,075
Ode 314 (could it be 3.14?)
Those who don't feel this Love
pulling them like a river,
those who don't drink dawn
like a cup of spring water
or take in sunset like supper,
those who don't want to change,
let them sleep.
This Love is beyond the study of theology,
that old trickery and hypocrisy.
I you want to improve your mind that way,
sleep on.
I've given up on my brain.
I've torn the cloth to shreds
and thrown it away.
If you're not completely naked,
wrap your beautiful robe of words
around you,
and sleep.
Those who don't feel this Love
pulling them like a river,
those who don't drink dawn
like a cup of spring water
or take in sunset like supper,
those who don't want to change,
let them sleep.
This Love is beyond the study of theology,
that old trickery and hypocrisy.
I you want to improve your mind that way,
sleep on.
I've given up on my brain.
I've torn the cloth to shreds
and thrown it away.
If you're not completely naked,
wrap your beautiful robe of words
around you,
and sleep.
Last edited:
- Joined
- Dec 22, 2008
- Messages
- 11,075
This is for Salazius and Andro who always like to talk about something being more cooked or less cooked.
Chickpea to Cook (translated by Coleman Barks)
A chickpea leaps almost over the rim of the pot
where it's being boiled.
"Why are you doing this to me?"
The cook knocks him down with the ladle.
"Don't you try to jump out.
You think I'm torturing you.
I'm giving you flavor,
so you can mix with spices and rice
and be the lovely vitality of a human being.
Remember when you drank rain in the garden.
That was for this."
Grace first. Sexual pleasure,
then a boiling new life begins,
and the Friend has something good to eat.
Eventually the chickpea
will say to the cook,
"Boil me some more.
Hit me with the skimming spoon.
I can't do this by myself.
I'm like an elephant that dreams of gardens
back in Hindustan and doesn't pay attention
to his driver. You're my cook, my driver,
my way into existence. I love your cooking."
The cook says,
"I was once like you,
fresh from the ground. Then I boiled in time,
and boiled in the body, two fierce boilings.
My animal soul grew powerful.
I controlled it with practices,
and boiled some more, and boiled
once beyond that,
and became your teacher."
Chickpea to Cook (translated by Coleman Barks)
A chickpea leaps almost over the rim of the pot
where it's being boiled.
"Why are you doing this to me?"
The cook knocks him down with the ladle.
"Don't you try to jump out.
You think I'm torturing you.
I'm giving you flavor,
so you can mix with spices and rice
and be the lovely vitality of a human being.
Remember when you drank rain in the garden.
That was for this."
Grace first. Sexual pleasure,
then a boiling new life begins,
and the Friend has something good to eat.
Eventually the chickpea
will say to the cook,
"Boil me some more.
Hit me with the skimming spoon.
I can't do this by myself.
I'm like an elephant that dreams of gardens
back in Hindustan and doesn't pay attention
to his driver. You're my cook, my driver,
my way into existence. I love your cooking."
The cook says,
"I was once like you,
fresh from the ground. Then I boiled in time,
and boiled in the body, two fierce boilings.
My animal soul grew powerful.
I controlled it with practices,
and boiled some more, and boiled
once beyond that,
and became your teacher."
- Joined
- Jul 5, 2012
- Messages
- 3,071
I’m surprised I don’t know this thread existed. Or maybe I forgot?
Anyways, from a Coleman Barks translation, for your enjoyment:
Flutes for Dancing.
It’s lucky to hear the
flutes for dancing
coming down the road.
The ground is glowing.
The table set in the yard.
We will drink all this wine tonight
because it’s Spring. It is.
It ‘s a growing sea.
We are clouds over the sea,
or flecks of matter
in the ocean when the ocean
seems lit from within.
I know I’m drunk
when I start this ocean talk.
Would you like to see the moon split
in half with one throw”?
Anyways, from a Coleman Barks translation, for your enjoyment:
Flutes for Dancing.
It’s lucky to hear the
flutes for dancing
coming down the road.
The ground is glowing.
The table set in the yard.
We will drink all this wine tonight
because it’s Spring. It is.
It ‘s a growing sea.
We are clouds over the sea,
or flecks of matter
in the ocean when the ocean
seems lit from within.
I know I’m drunk
when I start this ocean talk.
Would you like to see the moon split
in half with one throw”?