Tuesday, October 6, 2015

The Growing Phenomenon of Rumi.....The Sufi

The Growing Phenomenon of Rumi



Jalāl ad-Dīn Muḥammad Balkhī, also known as Jalāl ad-Dīn Muḥammad Rūmī, and popularly known as Mowlānā but known to the English-speaking world simply as Rumi, (30 September 1207 – 17 December 1273), was a 13th-century Persian poet, jurist, theologian, and mystic. Rūmī is a descriptive name meaning “the Roman” since he lived most of his life in an area called Rūm because it was once ruled by the Byzantine Empire.

He has been called the greatest mystical poet of any age. During a period of 25 years, he composed over 70,000 verses of poetry. Poetry focusing on varied and diverse topics. His work covers deeply philosophical and mystical, with poems of fiery soulful expression to passionate love verses filled with yearning and desire.

He collection has an all embracing universality. A call from an independent soul yearning for true freedom from dogma and hypocrisy.

Rumi also writes about the abolishin of the established fear-based religious orders of the world. For Rumi fear-based religion is poison and his remedy is love-based doctrine--a life journey free of guilt, fear and shame.

Barely known in the West as recently as 15 years ago, Rumi is now one of the most widely read poets in America. His is an exciting new literary and philosophical force.

"Rumi deals with the human condition and that is always relevant," says Shahram Shiva. "Rumi is able to verbalize the highly personal and often confusing world of personal growth and development in a very clear and direct fashion. He does not offend anyone, and he includes everyone. The world of Rumi is neither exclusively the world of a Sufi, nor the world of a Hindu, nor a Jew, nor a Christian; it is a state of an evolved human. A human who is not bound by cultural limitations; a one who touches every one of us. Today Rumi's poems can be heard in churches, synagogues, Zen monasteries, as well as in the downtown New York art/performance/music scene."

Rumi's work has been translated into many of the world's languages including Russian, German, French, Italian and Spanish, and is appearing in a growing number of genres including concerts, workshops, readings, paintings, dance performances and other artistic creations.


A Few of Rumi's Works - 

Time bringeth swift to end
The rout men keep;
Death’s wolf is nigh to rend
These silly sheep.

See, how in pride they go
With lifted head,
Till Fate with a sudden blow
Smiteth them dead.


Thou who lovest, life a crow,
Winter’s chill and winter’s snow,
Ever exiled from the vale’s
Roses red, and nightingales:

Take this moment to thy heart!
When the moment shall depart,
Long thou ‘lt seek it as it flies
With a hundred lamps and eyes.


The heavenly rider passed;
The dust rose in the air;
He sped; but the dust he cast
Yet hangeth there.

Straight forward thy vision be,
And gaze not left or night;
His dust is here, and he
In the Infinite.


Who was he that said
The immortal spirit is dead,
Or how dared he say
Hope’s sun hath passed away?

An enemy of the sun,
Standing his roof upon,
Bound up both his eyes
And cried: ‘Lo, the sun dies!’


‘Who lifteth up the spirit,
Say, who is he?’
‘Who gave in the beginning
This life to me.

Who hoodeth, life a falcon’s,
Awhile mine eyes,
But presently shall loose me
To hunt my prize.’


As salt resolved in the ocean
I was swallowed in God’s sea,
Past faith, past unbelieving,
Past doubt, past certainty.

Suddenly in my bosom
A star shone clear and bright;
All the suns of heaven
Vanished in that star’s light.


Flowers every night
Blossom in the sky;
Peace in the Infinite;
At peace am I.

Sighs a hundredfold
From my heart arise;
My heart, dark and cold,
Flames with my sighs.


He that is my souls’ repose
Round my heart encircling goes,
Round my heart and soul of bliss
He encircling is.

Laughing from my earthy bed
Like a tree I lift my head,
For the Fount of Living mirth
Washes round my earth.


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.



If life be gone, fresh life to you
God offereth,
A life eternal to renew
This life of death.

The Fount of Immorality
In Love is found;
The come, and in this boundless sea
Of Love be drowned.



Happy was I
In the pearl’s heart to lie;
Till, lashed by life’s hurricane,
Life a tossed wave I ran.

The secret of the sea
I uttered thunderously;
Like a spent cloud on the shore
I slept, and stirred no more.


He set the world aflame,
And laid me on the same;
A hundred tongues of fire
Lapped round my pyre.

And when the blazing tide
Engulfed me, and I sighed,
Upon my mouth in haste
His hand He placed.



Though every way I try
His whim to satisfy,
His every answering word
Is a pointed sword.

See how the blood drips
From His finger-tips;
Why does He find it good
To wash in my blood?


Remembering Thy lip,
The ruby red I kiss;
Having not that to sip,
My lips press this.

Not to Thy far sky
Reaches my stretched hand,
Wherefore kneeling, I
Embrace the land.


I sought a soul in the sea
And found a coral there;
Beneath the foam for me
An ocean was all laid bare.

Into my heart’s night
Along a narrow way
I groped; and lo! the light,

An infinite land of day.




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