Rumi General /rg/

>my roomie likes rumi but doesn't like puns

They're not supposed to drink because they can't handle their liquor. Every Muslim I've ever known is a fucking lightweight and horrible people when they're drunk. The funny part is, they'll admit it, mostly.

They can not drink because they have not evolved to handle it.

that's also why their women have to cover, otherwise they will fly into a rape rage. that's also why they can't have statue of anything, otherwise some dumbfucks will fall down in front of it and start idolizing it, definitely an underevolved group

This

>implying Rumi didn't drink
lmao brainlet please

>They say there's no future for us. They're right.
>Which is fine with us.
This is amazing.

more like Rumi Kaur am i right?

post more

>reading translated poetry
why

Sperg-tastic post

Rumi was a total lad

It really varied across history, geography, and islamic school. Modern Sunnism doesn't represent the religion throughout its entire history.

هر که او از همزبانی شد جدا
بی زبان شد گرچه دارد صد نوا

happy now persianbro?

O what is this
That is the circle's bliss,
And ah! the heart's perdition
When it is gone

It cometh so,
Unseen, and goeth: let all know
Not flute and rum the reason be
Of ecstasy.

Not spring is this;
Nay, ours another season is-
Back of each languorous eye
Another unison doth lie.

Though every bough
Within the wood is dancing now,
Each bough as it doth swing
Out of another root doth spring.

Rain fell on the head
Of a man of passion,
Feel in such a fashion
To his house he fled.

Clapping wings, the swan:
'Pour on me They shower
Whose immortal power
I was fashioned on.'

If the formal glance
Doth thee entrance,
Rise this sphere above,
An thou canst more.

Not ten thousand skies
(Whoe'er is wise
And hath vision, knows)
Stir, or repose.

If all the heavens were
Weighed down by grief and care,
Whose love is strong and pure
No grief shall he endure.

Behold, the mote, who beat
His foot upon Love's street,
is now so mighty grown,
he claims the world his won.

By the door came suddenly
My beloved, and drunk was she;
The cup of the ruby crown
She quaffed, and sat down.

As I viewed her tresses loose,
As I touched her lover's noose,
My face was all glance to espy,
And all hand mine eye.

When from the skies
The sprinkled jewels fall,
Each atom flies
To its original.

Blown by the breeze
Of contrary caprice,
The atoms run
Full headlong from the sun.

When first the soul
The body's raiment wore,
The ocean bountiful
Of grace divines swelled o'er.

When the heart's reed
First tasted the lip's wine,
In ecstasy indeed
It raised a chant divine.

The fire of Thy passion
In my soul glowed,
the waters of Thy sweetness
In my heart flowed.

The waters proved a mirage,
The flames were snow;
Perchance I then was dreaming,
And waking now.

No night is it
From the house to wend,
For a stranger to quit
The one true Friend.

Tonight let all
That true comrades prove
With rapture fall
In the flames of Love.

Where thou Thy foot didst lay
The earth was glad and gay;
Pregnant with fecund mirth
She gave fair flowers birth.

And as the song of cheer
Rang through the stars and sphere,
The moon's eye from afar
Alighted on a star.

When from the cloud celestial
God's lighting dart,
What profits it, except they fall
On a consuming heart?

In all the world one heart it needs
That burns and bleeds,
Whereon God's lightning leaping bright
May set it swift alight.

As I stood before
My fair love's door,
Smiling, smiling she
Came forth to me.

Close, close she pressed
Me against her breast:
'My lover true,
Wise and godly, too!'

Now is the dawn ablaze,
The hour of returning light,
And they that watch by night
Must take their several ways.

Now in slumber fast
The watchman has closed his eyes;
Passionate heart, arise!
Take thy desire at last.

The breeze of the morn
Scatters musk in its train,
Fragrance borne
From my fair love's lane.

Ere the world wastes,
Sleep no more: arise!
The caravan hastes,
The sweet scent dies.

Lovers in their brief play
Gamble both worlds away,
A hundred years destroy
To win a moment's joy;

A thousand stages drive
To be one hour alive,
A thousand souls forsake
A single heart to take.

When the gale of the mystery blows
Tempestuous the heart's sea flows;
Not all hearts worthy be
To attest the mystery.

But the heart that ne'er departs
From the infinite sea of the hearts
Fed by the mystic wine
Bursts forth in a rapture fine.

The magic of Adam's body
When it was new and gay,
The essence pure of the spirit
Commingled with his clay.

But when the heavens shattered
His body's wizardry,
To earth returned the earthy,
The pure to purity.

What shall I do?
A strange game is in my net;
My head with a rapture rare and new
Danceth yet.

My heart is free;
But if upon the way I view
A fair maid, and she kisseth me,
What shall I do?

I am o'erwhelmed in the sea
Or whirling fantasy;
The torrent bears me down;
In the se I drown.

Eyes half-drowned in sleep,
My spirit let Him keep
Who with sleeping eye
Knows that asleep I lie.

Upon each other's face
All our life through
We gazed; such was our case
Till this day too.

Our hearts' secrets now
(Fearing any spy
On us) we speak by brown
And hear with the eye.

I whispered to my heart:
'If thou hast place to speak,
unto Friend impart
What sorrows my heart break.'

My heart answered me: 'Nay,
If the Friend giveth me place,
What should I care to say
Who gaze upon His face?'

What things yesternight
Between us were,
The tongue may not declare,
Nor the pen indite.

But when I take the road
Forth from this old abode,
The folds of my winding sheet
Will tell all complete.

This bough of the clusters sweet
Shall bear fruit one day;
This falcon of purpose fleet
Shall seize his prey.

I cometh and passeth away,
O when shall it come to stay
In my hart there?

A moment's rapture with the friend
If thou mayest spend,
A life of joy were thine, in this
Brief moment's bliss.

Beware; this moment do not waste,
If such thou hast;
Scare shall this joy, in a life o pain,
Return again.

When on the plain of death
My foot is place,
My clamour echoeth
Through the unseen waste.

Then doth amazement reign
In the vast serene,
For ne'er such a mood insane
In the world was seen.

If truly I asserted
My perfection's worth,
My skirt should never rest
Trailing in the earth.

Swift and unwearied
To heaven I would fly,
And proudly lift my head
Beyond the seventh sky.

Dude looks like he has a peanut bursting out of his head

How difficult is reading Hafez in the original? He writes in an 'literary' dialect of middle Persian right? Would it be like learning English and diving right into Shakespeare? Or worse, Chaucer?

That time period would actually be considered new persian. So in a sense, it ought to be easier to parse for a native speaker than e.g. chaucer would be for an english speaker.

But I think it's hard to compare these poets in terms of how "difficult" they are (and i'm by no means an authority), because to me, Chaucer and Shakespeare are supreme story tellers, skilled at bringing to life the day-to-day drama of ordinary humans, whereas the strength of Hafez is his ability to convey the mystical ontology of sufism.
So although the language of Chaucer of Shakespeare may pose an entry barrier for some, the content is quite accessible, whereas the metaphysical depth of Rumi and Hafez puts them far outside the purview of most people (native speaker or not). Just my opinion maaaaan

if you know anything about sufism you´d know they would often use wine as an allegory like points out
especially in the more erotic poems

Who else likes the bilingual Nicholson translation? Much better than the watered down new agey interpretations desu