Rumi: The Guest House

Firstly I found the poem in Portuguese. It was on a splendid blog having as motto a quote from Montaigne: Filosofar é aprender a morrer.

O ser humano é uma casa de hóspedes.
Toda manhã uma nova chegada.

A alegria, a depressão, a falta de sentido, como visitantes inesperados.

Receba e entretenha a todos
Mesmo que seja uma multidão de dores
Que violentamente varrem sua casa e tira seus móveis.
Ainda assim trate seus hóspedes honradamente.
Eles podem estar te limpando
para um novo prazer.

O pensamento escuro, a vergonha, a malícia,
encontre-os à porta rindo.

Agradeça a quem vem,
porque cada um foi enviado
como um guardião do além.

(http://projetophronesis.wordpress.com/2010/10/05/rumi-a-casa-dos-hospedes/)

Listen now to the verses as they are read in this video: each one in English, then in Portuguese. It differs here and there with the version above.

(video by Timeless Teaching)

I tried to translate it in English. I wasn't satisfied at all with my rendering. Eventually I found a splendid English version on the net, by Coleman Barks, a man who, despite the lack of knowledge of Persian, has given great translations of Rumi's poems.

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

(http://www.panhala.net/Archive/The_Guest_House.html)

(http://www.tripadvisor.com.br/ShowUserReviews-g294321-d498786-r13800668-Kuychi_Rumi-Urubamba_Sacred_Valley.html)

And here is in Romanian. I found it on a blog with a great name, Reflectii pe o frunza (Reflexions on a Leaf), and the blogpost had a great title, Esente de Rumi in Khartoum (Essences of Rumi, in Khartoum). I modified it a little.

Fiinta asta omeneasca este o casa de oaspeti
Iar fiecare dimineata e un nou venit
O bucurie, o-ntristare, o josnicie,
O priza de constiinta trecatoare,
Toate apar precum un oaspete neasteptat

Intampina-i si bucura-i pe toti!
Chiar pe-o gramada de pareri de rau
Ce-ti zguduie casa, de mobilele toate ti-o goleste
Si-atunci chiar, poarta-te frumos, ca-i oaspe
Si poate ca te va calauzi spre-o noua incantare

Gandul intunecat, rusinea, rautatea,
Intampina-le zambitor la usa
Razi, si invita-le 'nauntru

Fii recunoscator oricarui oaspete ce vine,
Caci e-un trimis,
Un sol de dincolo.

(Reflectii pe o frunza)

(Iranian Film and Poetry)

Say I Am You

(video by rahmana2)

Say I Am You, the poem of Rumi. The music on this video (composed by Eleni Karaindrou) is the theme of Mia aioniotita kai mia mera - Eternity and a Day (Theo Angelopoulos).

(Sufi)

(Iranian Film and Poetry)

Y.Z. Kami

Y. Z. Kami - Untitled, 2005
oil on linen

First I saw this portrait, in the lobby of Freer Gallery: it had a strange mix of vigor and wisdom, a strong male in mystic contemplation.

Then I saw a huge construction of concentric circles with a void in the center. As I was coming closer I noticed that color was subtly changing from one circle to the other and each circle was composed by small cassettes containing text. The characters were Arabic. There were thousands of Arabic characters.

The whole had a title: it was the Masnavi of Rumi; the verses were painted in each small cassette within the circles.

Y. Z. Kami - The Book of Massnavi'I Manavi of Rumi, 2008
oil and paper on linen

Six books of poetry, about twenty-six thousand verses: this is the Masnavi of Rumi. It's Rumi, so they are Sufi poems, chanting the intrinsic meaning of all things. It's Rumi and it's Sufi, so the poems are allegoric, fed by Persian, Arabic, Indian and Greek myths. Rumi considered it the Root of the Roots of Religion. I've always admired the ecumenical flavor within the mystique of Sufi. And the courage of allegories, their daring ambiguity.

closer

Y.Z. Kami took the introductory verses, the The Song of the Reed: the reed is lamenting its separation from the bed of reeds along the river's edge.

Here are the first four verses, as they were translated in English during the time:

Hear, how yon reed in sadly pleasing tales
Departed bliss and present woe bewails!
With me, from native banks untimely torn,
Love-warbling youths and soft-ey'd virgins mourn. (Jones, 1772)

From reed-flute hear what tale it tells;
What plaint it makes of absence' ills.
From jungle-bed since me they tore,
Men's, women's, eyes have wept right sore. (Redhouse, 1881)

Hearken to the reed-flute, how it complains,
Lamenting its banishment from its home:--
Ever since they tore me from my osier bed,
My plaintive notes have moved men and women to tears. (Whinfield, 1887)

Listen to this reed how it complains:
it is telling a tale of separations.
Saying, Ever since I was parted from the reed-bed,
man and woman have moaned in my lament (Nicholson, 1926)

more closer

Listen to the story told by the reed,
of being separated.
Since I was cut from the reedbed,
I have made this crying sound.
Anyone apart from someone he loves
understands what I say. (Barks, 1994)

Listen to this Ney, while it's complaining,
The story of separation from God it's explaining.
Ever since they plucked me from my original ground,
Men and women cry upon my painful sound. (Türkman, 1992)

Listen to the song of the reed,
How it wails with the pain of separation:
Ever since I was taken from my reed bed
My woeful song has caused men and women to weep. (Jonathan Star, 1997)

the closest

And here is the whole song, as translated by Shahriar Shahriari in 1998:

1. Pay heed to the grievances of the reed
Of what divisive separations breed

2. From the reedbed cut away just like a weed
My music people curse, warn and heed

3. Sliced to pieces my bosom and heart bleed
While I tell this tale of desire and need.

4. Whoever who fell away from the source
Will seek and toil until returned to course

5. Of grievances I sang to every crowd
Befriended both the humble and the proud

6. Each formed conjecture in their own mind
As though to my secrets they were blind

7. My secrets are buried within my grief
Yet to the eye and ear, that's no relief

8. Body and soul both unveiled in trust
Yet sight of soul for body is not a must.

9. The flowing air in this reed is fire
Extinct, if with passion won't inspire

10. Fire of love is set upon the reed
Passion of love this wine will gladly feed

11. Reed is match for he who love denied
Our secrets unveiled, betrayed, defied.

12. Who has borne deadly opium like the reed?
Or lovingly to betterment guide and lead?

13. Of the bloody path, will tell many a tale
Of Lover's love, even beyond the veil.

14. None but the fool can hold wisdom dear
Who will care for the tongue if not ear?

15 In this pain, of passing days we lost track
Each day carried the pain upon its back

16. If days pass, let them go without fear
You remain, near, clear, and so dear.

17. Only the fish will unquenchingly thirst,
Surely passing of time, the hungry curst.

18. State of the cooked is beyond the raw
The wise in silence gladly withdraw.

19. Cut the chain my son, and release the pain
Silver rope and golden thread, must refrain

20. If you try to fit the ocean in a jug
How small will be your drinking mug?

21. Never filled, ambitious boy, greedy girl,
Only if satisfied, oyster makes pearl.

22. Whoever lovingly lost shirt on his back
Was cleansed from greed and wanton attack

23. Rejoice in our love, which would trade
Ailments, of every shade and every grade

24. With the elixir of self-knowing, chaste
With Hippocratic and Galenic taste.

25. Body of dust from love ascends to the skies
The dancing mountain thus begins to rise

26. It was the love of the Soul of Mount Sinai
Drunken mountain, thundering at Moses, nigh.

27. If coupled with those lips that blow my reed
Like the reed in making music I succeed;

28. Whoever away from those lips himself found
Lost his music though made many a sound.

29. When the flower has withered, faded away
The canary in praise has nothing to say.

30. All is the beloved, the lover is the veil
Alive is the beloved, the lover in death wail

31. Fearless love will courageously dare
Like a bird that's in flight without a care

32. How can I be aware, see what's around,
If there is no showing light or telling sound?

33. Seek the love that cannot be confined
Reflection in the mirror is object defined.

34. Do you know why the mirror never lies?
Because keeping a clean face is its prize.

35. Friends, listen to the tale of this reed
For it is the story of our life, indeed!

(Contemporary Art)

(Iranian Film and Poetry)

(Sufi)

De ziua lui Jean: Ingerii lui Bill Viola in dialog cu Rumi

Muhammad is said to have said, Whoever belongs to God, God belongs to Him.

La Multi Ani, Jeane, cu Sanatate, cu Bucurie, cu Noroc, cu Fericire,alaturi de toti cei ce iti sunt dragi.

Si pentru ca esti congener cu Profetii cei mai vechi si mai noi, iti voi oferi pe blog pe cei Cinci Ingeri Ai Mileniului, asa cum i-a vazut Bill Viola - am avut prilejul sa vad lucrarea lui, care este arta video, acum cativa ani la Whitney Museum of Art la New York.

Inchipuie-ti o sala uriasa in care este intuneric deplin - si deodata o lumina dintr-un video - este Ingerul Creatiei - apoi intuneric - apoi lumina din alt video - este Ingerul Nasterii - apoi intuneric - apoi lumina din alt video - este Ingerul Focului - apoi intuneric - apoi lumina din alt video - este Ingerul Plecarii - apoi intuneric - apoi lumina din alt video - este Ingerul Inaltarii.

Bill Viola este inspirat de spiritualitati cu care suntem mai putin obisnuiti: arta lui isi cauta izvoare de har in spiritualitatea sufita si in cea budista.

Si atunci m-am hotarat sa pun imaginile celor cinci ingeri inchipuiti de Bill Viola in dialog cu Rumi: cei chemati la Inaltare suntem noi, zice Rumi.

Angel of Creation
At every instant and from every side, resounds the call of Love: We are going to sky, who wants to come with us?
We have gone to heaven, we have been the friends of the angels,
And now we will go back there, for there is our country.


Angel of Birth
We are higher than heaven, more noble than the angels:
Why not go beyond them? Our goal is the Supreme Majesty.
What has the fine pearl to do with the world of dust?









Angel of Fire
Why have you come down here? Take your baggage back. What is this place?
Luck is with us, to us is the sacrifice!...
Like the birds of the sea, men come from the ocean--the ocean of the soul.



Angel Departing
How could this bird, born from that sea, make his dwelling here?
No, we are the pearls from the bosom of the sea, it is there that we dwell:
Otherwise how could the wave succeed to the wave that comes from the soul?




Angel Ascending
The wave named Am I not your Lord has come, it has broken the vessel of the body;
And when the vessel is broken, the vision comes back, and the union with Him.




(Sufi)

(Contemporary Art)

Odilon Redon - si Rumi, despre vesnicul Huuu

Un panou faurit de Odilon Redon, aflat acum la Rijksmuseum. Micile vietati care se misca printre flori, frunze, pietris. Oricine ii apartine Domnului, Domnul ii apartine. Se spune ca Mohamed ar fi spus. Micile vietati, rasufland usor si neregulat, suntem noi, fiinte fragile si tematoare, parca mereu gata sa ne evaporam, iesiti din vesnicul Huuu.

Muhammed is said to have said,

Whoever belongs to God, God belongs to.

Our weak, uneven breathings,

these dissolving personalities,

were breathed out by the eternal

Huuuuuuuu, that never changes!

A drop of water constantly fears

that it may evaporate into the air,

or be absorbed by the ground.

It doesn't want to be used up

in those ways, but when it lets go

and falls into the ocean it came from,

it finds protection from the other deaths.

Its droplet form is gone,

but its watery essence has become

vast and inviolable.

Listen to me, friends, because you

are a drop, and you can honor yourselves

in this way. What could be luckier

than to have the ocean come

to court the drop?

For God's sake, don't postpone your yes!

Give up and become the giver.

(Rumi)

Odilon Redon - Guardian Spirit of the Waters

Un poem creat de Rumi

meditat in fata imaginii Duhului Pazitor al Apelor

Little tiny drops of water contain the world

I can’t see them but I know they’re there

A billion angels not only dance on the head of a pin

they carry it through the heavens

on the shoulders of a billion more angels

also dancing on heads of pins

carried on a billion more angel shoulders

ad infinitum

all to an uncanny but also unreproducible music

that may be

Allah’s actual breath

or

the bells and flutes

played by hosts of other angels

ranged in orchestras of Light

which I also cannot see

but which I also know are there

along with gardens of Paradise

winding through valleys of a beauty so dazzling

one quick tiny blink of squinted look of our earthly eyes

through our interlaced fingers

maybe even behind dark glasses

would make us swoon a hundred years

or more just one digital flick of our ocular apprehension

actually witnessing such a place for itself

might make our hearts burst out of our chests

with its unutterable gorgeousness

so all these things which I can’t see

all these whispers of truths

and expenditures of credulity

all these things we talk about or avoid talking

about beginning with God’s reality or unreality

and going even to our little baby finger

and wondering how it came about

to being so perfect just as it is

and especially when

either

wiggling freely in the air almost by itself

or

able to reach a place in our eyelid

to dislodge an eyelash

while we watch it in a mirror

I mean just look all around and inside us

if you want proofs of these things

one glimpse there also with their fantastic rainbow bridges

arcing across chasms of scintillating light

or canyons of glass

with herds of grazing fabulous animals in them

chewing bright grasses

while looking with their deep black innocent eyes

making tiny vapor drops of breath

around their nostrils

each one of which contains a world

(Icon and Orthodoxy)

Flower Clouds - Be Lost in the Call

Incercare de a medita poemul lui Rumi in fata Norilor de Flori ai lui Odilon Redon

Odilon Redon - Flower Clouds

Rumi - Be Lost in the Call

Lord, said David, since you do not need us,

why did you create these two worlds?

Reality replied: O prisoner of time,

I was a secret treasure of kindness and generosity,

and I wished this treasure to be known,

so I created a mirror:

its shining face, the heart;

its darkened back, the world;

The back would please you if you've never seen the face.

Has anyone ever produced a mirror out of mud and straw?

Yet clean away the mud and straw, and a mirror might be revealed.
Until the juice ferments a while in the cask,

it isn't wine.

If you wish your heart to be bright,

you must do a little work.

My King addressed the soul of my flesh:

You return just as you left.

Where are the traces of my gifts?

We know that alchemy transforms copper into gold.

This Sun doesn't want a crown or robe from God's grace.

He is a hat to a hundred bald men,

a covering for ten who were naked.

Jesus sat humbly on the back of an ass, my child!

How could a zephyr ride an ass?

Spirit, find your way, in seeking lowness like a stream.

Reason, tread the path of selflessness into eternity.

Remember God so much that you are forgotten.

Let the caller and the called disappear;

be lost in the Call.

Lasa-te pierdut in sanul Chemarii

Doamne, spuse David, nevoie de noi Tu nu ai,

Dece atunci aste doua Lumi faurit-ai?

Raspuns dadu Realitatea: o, rob al Timpului ...

Sunt o comoara tainica de blandete si de marinimie,

Comoara cunoscuta am voit sa o fac,

Asa ca faurit-am o oglinda: fata ei stralucitoare este inima;

cea intunecata, lumea;

Iar spatele oglinzii ti-ar multumi de nu i-ai zari niciodata fata.

A faurit cineva vreodata vreo oglinda din noroi si pulbere?

Curata-le deci, si noroiul, si pulberea,

Si vei vedea oglinda.
Dar seama tine: pana ce mustul nu fierbe oleaca,

Vin nu e vinul, doar must.

Asa ca de voiesti ca inima sa-ti fie luminoasa,

Iti trebuie un pic de osteneala.

Imparatul meu a intrebat sufletul carnii mele:

Te intorci asa cum ai plecat,

Unde sunt urmele darurilor mele?

Stim ca alchimia din arama aur face.

Soarele, el nici coroana nu vrea,

Si nici vestmant, sa-i fie faurite din harul divin.

El este ca o palarie mare

Pentru o suta de oameni chei,

Acopera zece care-s dezbracati.

Iisus a stat smerit pe spinarea unui asin, copile!

Cum ar putea zefirul sa calareasca un magar?

Duhule, gaseste-ti drumul, cautand smerenia precum suvoiul apei.

Iar tu, Gandire, croieste-ti pasul identitatii tale intru ale vesniciei.

Aminteste-i Domnului mult, mult, ca te-ai lasat pierdut.

Lasa-i pe Cel ce cheama si pe cel chemat sa dispara,

Lasa-te pierdut in sanul Chemarii.

(Sufi)