When I pick up the flute, the melody is yours
And when I place my foot, the direction is yours.
You have shown me such kindness and generosity,
How can my heart not be now and forever yours?
بهر تو زنم نوا چو نی بر زنم
کوی تو کنم گذر چو پی بر گیرم
چندین کرم و لطف که با من کردی
اندر دو جهان دل ازتو کی بر گیرم
Surpanakha lusted after Ram’s great virility,
But was spurned by his devotion to Sita’s purity.
She incited her brother to abduct Ram’s lovely bride,
Because of her lust, great vanity and wounded pride.
Ravana assumed the form of a sweet innocent deer,
Luring Sita away from Lakshmana’s vigilant care.
She was carried away in the evil lord’s chariot
To Lanka, where she wept and wept in bitter regret.
Hanuman flew to find her in the Ashoka garden,
Giving her Lord Ram’s ring to dispel her confusion.
The Sun King killed the dark lord with his bright arrow,
And relieved frightened Sita of her terrible sorrow.
Lord Ram had told Surpanakha who started this great war
One distant day they would share deep love, but not before.
Upasni Maharaj, the matchless Rishi of our time
Says they took birth as Victoria and Albert, the divine.
Darvish loves this story of the Lord’s eternal return,
Because he will never at last the sincere lover spurn.
Go, and take pain, take pain, take pain,
For only this is medicine!
Grieve not that you have no lucre,
But be sad if you have no pain!
Note: pain= longing for God
رو درد گزین درد گزین درد گزین
زیرا که ره چاره نداریم جز ین
دلتنگ مشو که نیستت رخت قرین
چون درد نباشدت بدان باش حزین
I whirl around you, the Sun, when I whirl
And the drum-beat I play is eternal.
When I sound the watch as guard on you roof,
I tap out the time on Venus’ head of curls.
گر چرخ زنم گرد تو خورشید زنم
ور طبل زنم نوبت جاوید زنم
چون حارس چوبک زن بام تو شوم
چوبک همه بر تارک ناهید زنم
Hanuman, the courageous Mind, says Ram, Ram, Ram;
All of his fantastic wit and strength is from love’s charm!
The Monkey God makes us all look like stupid fools,
Even if we have advanced degrees from the best schools.
He bears the ring to dam the river of Sita’s tears;
He easily finds the garden to remove her fears.
All the world’s anguish sobs in her terrible cries;
Without her Lord and Beloved, she vows to die!
From the tree above, he drops Ram’s ring into her hands,
And explains Ram will rescue her from Ravana’s land.
She now knows that her captivity will soon end:
All grace and fortune on the dear Master depend!
Darvish was walking in the dark forest of denial,
When his way was lit by the light from Sita’s bright smile.
This poet cries out with praise the love of Hafezian Rendi:
To seize the day with an unabashed joy like a malamati!
We have no problem with wild and drunken, naked riot;
Our playful Beloved is pure and chaste, sober and quiet.
To be sure, we have utterly no need for an audience:
We live out our passion in the lost heart’s joyous silence.
To the coy lover with long curly hair we turn our face;
To receive any other would be real, everlasting disgrace.
Tonight, with the moon rising on the glistening seashore,
The waves wash the mind until we hear the world no more.
The hum of her voice caresses the breast with a cool light;
The play of her eye teases the heart with a cruel delight.
Darvish walks the path of blame with a deep belly laugh:
To all but her ravishing silence, he vows to become deaf!
Dark is the night until your rising face
Dispels this blackness with your joyous grace.
Long have we waited for you as the stars
Wheel by, at last your rosy cheeks to kiss.
So much violence and stupidity have been born from me,
No heart has been happy for a moment because of me.
I demand justice, but what villainy comes out of me;
My cry is for all, but their outcry is on account of me!
از بس که فساد و ابلهی زاد از من
در عمر دمی نگشت دل شاد از من
من طالب داد و جمله بیداد از من
فریاد من از جمله و فریاد از من
Note: Perhaps Rumi was too demanding, and
later regretted it.
How can I laugh unless I see you laugh?
I am the slave of that bliss that has no mouth!
And what a shame when the eyes of the world
Regard you, they can’t see your divine mirth!
من کی خندم تات نبینم خندان
جان بنده آن خنده بی کام و دهان
افسوس که خنده ترا می بینند
وآن خنده تو ز چشم خلقان پنهان
I have heard the soul’s melody of longing for you;
No- the lover’s soul is dust itself longing for you!
The grains of dust that shine and spin like the soul,
Shine and spin from the light of longing desire for you.
از جان بشنیده ام نوای غم تو
نی خود جانهاست ذره های غم تو
آن صورتها که در درون می تابد
تابند ز روشنی هوای غم تو
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