Jalaluddin Rumi, a thirteenth-century Persian poet, is regarded by many as a saint and as one of the world’s greatest poets. “Most of his lyric poetry,” writes translator Kabir Helminski, “was spoken spontaneously and recorded by its hearers. Rumi did not make too much of his own poetry. He once said that just as a host must plunge his hands into the cleaning of tripe, because that is what his guest has an appetite for, so he occupied himself with poetry.”

— Pamela Penick

 

Search The Darkness
Sit with your friends; don’t go back to sleep.
Don’t sink like a fish to the bottom of the sea.

Surge like an ocean,
don’t scatter yourself like a storm.

Life’s waters flow from darkness.
Search the darkness, don’t run from it.

Night travelers are full of light,
and you are, too; don’t leave this companionship.

Be a wakeful candle in a golden dish,
don’t slip into the dirt like quicksilver.

The moon appears for night travelers,
be watchful when the moon is full.
Didn’t I Say?
Didn’t I say, “Don’t go there; I am your friend.
In this mirage of existence, I am the fountain of life.”
Even if your anger takes you a hundred thousand years away,
in the end you will return, for I am your goal.
Didn’t I say, “Don’t be content with earthly forms;
I am the designer of the intimate chamber of your contentment.”
Didn’t I say, “I am the sea, and you are a single fish;
don’t strand yourself on dry land; I am your clear sea.”
Didn’t I say, “Don’t get caught in the trap like a helpless bird;
I am the power of flight — your feet and your wings.”
Didn’t I say, “They will waylay you and make you cold;
I am the fire and your warm desire.”
Didn’t I say, “They will implant their qualities in you
until you forget that the best qualities are here.”
Didn’t I say, “You do not know from what direction
your affairs are put in order.”
I am the Creator beyond directions.
If light is in your heart, find your way home.
If you are of God, know your Benefactor.
And He Is With Us
Totally unexpected my guest arrived.
“Who is it?” asked my heart.
“The face of the moon,” said my soul.

As he entered the house,
we all ran into the street madly looking for the moon.
“I’m in here,” he was calling from inside,
but we were calling him outside unaware of his call.
Our drunken nightingale is singing in the garden,
and we are cooing like doves, “Where, where, where?”

A crowd formed: “Where’s the thief?”
And the thief among us is saying,
“Yeah, where’s the thief?”
All our voices became mixed together
and not one voice stood out from the others.

And He is with you means He is searching with you.
He is nearer to you than yourself. Why look outside?
Become like melting snow; wash yourself of yourself.
With love your inner voice will find a tongue
growing like a silent white lily in the heart.

Helminski’s most recent collection of Rumi’s poems, Love Is a Stranger, is available for $11 postpaid from Threshold Books, RD 4 Box 600, Putney, Vermont 05346. We’re grateful for permission to reprint these selections.