Because I cannot sleep
I make music at night.
I am troubled by the one
whose face has the color of spring flowers.
I have neither sleep nor patience,
neither a good reputation nor disgrace.
A thousand robes of wisdom are gone.
All my good manners have moved a thousand miles away.
The heart and the mind are left angry with each other.
The stars and the moon are envious of each other.
Because of this alienation the physical universe
is getting tighter and tighter.
The moon says, 'How long will I remain
suspended without a sun?'
Without Love's jewel inside of me,
let the bazaar of my existence be destroyed stone by stone.
O Love, You who have been called by a thousand names,
You who know how to pour the wine
into the chalice of the body,
You who give culture to a thousand cultures,
You who are faceless but have a thousand faces,
O Love, You who shape the faces
of Turks, Europeans, and Zanzibaris,
give me a glass from Your bottle,
or a handful of being from Your Branch.
Remove the cork once more.
Then we'll see a thousand chiefs prostrate themselves,
and a circle of ecstatic troubadours will play.
Then the addict will be freed of craving.
and will be resurrected,
and stand in awe till Judgement Day.
a degeneration of something important in the culture. Grotesque
I have read this before but each time I read it, I find another beautiful line, another probing thought...
There is such a disconnect in subject matter from the beginning to the end that I can hardly distinguish what the author wants us to think. They beginning is the best in my opinion; it seems to hint of depression and a passive despair of the purpose of life.
All my good manners have gone thousand miles away. A pertinent line to the younger generation who have in the wrong path of life and have no inspiration to live in regular and disciplined life it is felt. A nice poem.
So deep.... Even I do not know what the exactly mean, I feel the word came from deep ocean spirituality
Amusing poem You who give culture to a thousand cultures, You who are faceless but have a thousand faces, O Love, You who shape the faces
O Love, You who have been called by a thousand names, You who know how to pour the wine into the chalice of the body, You who give culture to a thousand cultures, You who are faceless but have a thousand faces, ...//// love for you o great
Matchless Sufi Poet Rumi transports us into the realm of mysticism- far from the mundane. Thanks.
So many passionate images flow and swirl about in this poem that is created to be read many many times through and still be rewarding