Molana Jalal-e-Din Mohammad Molavi Rumi

مولانا جلال الدین محمد بلخی معروف به مولوی رومی

Rumi , ”Molanaye Rome”

(1207 – 1273)
Born in Balkh, a city in old Khorasan (North Eastern Iran). He spent many years in Qunieh, a city in the Byzantine “Eastern Rome” (Today’s Turkey), where he was buried.

 ای عاشقان ای عاشقان هنگام کوچ است از جهان

From Koliyat Shams
Translation by: Farshid Eqbal

O lovers, O lovers, it is time to abandon the world;
The drum of departure reaches my spiritual ear from heaven. 

Behold, the driver has risen and made ready the files of camels,
And begged us to acquit him of blame: why, O travelers, are you asleep?

These sounds before and behind are the noise of departure and of the camel-bells;
With each moment a soul and a spirit is setting off into the Void. 

From these stars like inverted candles, from these blue awnings of the sky
There has come forth a wondrous people, that the mysteries may be revealed.

A heavy slumber fell upon thee from the circling spheres:
Alas for this life so light, beware of this slumber so heavy!

O soul, seek the Beloved, O friend, seek the Friend,
O watchman, be wakeful: it behooves not a watchman to sleep.

On every side is clamor and tumult, in every street are candles and torches,
For to-night the teeming world gives birth to the world everlasting. 

T’hou wert dust and art spirit, thou wert ignorant and art wise;
He who has led thee thus far will lead thee further also.

How pleasant are the pains he makes thee suffer while he gently draws thee to himself!
His flames are as water: do not frown upon him.

To dwell in the soul is his task, to break vows of penitence is his task;
By his manifold artifice these atoms are trembling at their core.

O ridiculous puppet that leapest out of thy hole, as if to say, ‘I am the lord of the land,’
How long wilt thou leap?  Abase thyself, or they will bend thee, like a bow.

Thou didst sow the seed of deceit, thou didst indulge in derision, 
Thou didst regard God as nothing: see now, O “screant! 

O ass, thou wert best with straw; thou art a caldron: thou wert best black;
Thou wert best at the bottom of a well, O disgrace of thy house and family!

In me there is Another by whom these eyes sparkle;
 If water scalds, ’tis by fire; understand this.

I have no stone in my hand, I have no quarrel with any one, 
I deal harshly with none, because I am sweet as a garden of roses. 

Mine eye, then, is from that source and from another universe; 
Here a world and there a world: I am seated on the threshold. 

On the threshold are they alone whose eloquence is mute; 
‘Tis enough to utter this intimation: say no more, draw back thy tongue.