No heart left to give -- Ghazal 566 - Rumi

[Guest guest]

"Love Tricks"

 

Who is this Beautiful One,

This One who stays up all night

teaching love tricks to Venus and the Moon?

This One

whose enchanting gaze

seals up the two eyes of heaven?

 

O seekers, it is your own heart!

 

Day and night,

I am so taken by Him

that no one can be taken by me.

At the beginning I was born of his love,

In the end I gave Him my heart.

A fruit which falls from a branch

must first cling to that same branch.

 

A man may run from his own shadow,

searching for light,

but will he ever find a place to rest?

 

The tip of His curl is saying,

"Walk this tightrope."

The fire of His candle is saying,

"O Moth, come here."

O heart, be steady,

dance gently upon that rope.

 

But the moment you hear His call

fly into the candle's flame.

 

When you knew the rapture of this burning

you would not go on for another moment

without its heat.

Even if the water of life

were pouring all around

it would not lure you from the flames.

 

-- Version by Jonathan Star

"Rumi, In The Arms Of The Beloved"

Jeremy P. Tarcher/Putnam, New York 1997

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

A fair idol that all the night teaches tricks to Venus and the

moon, his two eyes by witchery sew up the two eyes of heaven.

Look out for your hearts, Moslems, for I at all events am so

commingled with Him that no heart is commingled with me.

First I was born of His love, finally I gave my heart to

Him; when fruit is born of a branch, from that branch it hangs.

I am fleeing from my own shadow, for the light is hidden

from the shadow; where shall he rest at last who flees from his

shadow?

The- tip of His tress is saying, "Ha, quick, to the rope-trick!"

The cheek of His candle is saying, "Where is the moth, that it

may burn?"

For the sake of that rope-trick be brave,* and become a

hoop; fling yourself into the fire, when His candle is kindled.

When you have seen the joy of burning you will no more

endure without the flame; even if the water of life came to

you, it would not stir you from the flame.

 

-- Translation by A. J. Arberry

"Mystical Poems of Rumi 1"

The University of Chicago Press, 1968

 

ÿ *Also translated as, "make haste."