What is the desire of my Beloved? -- Ghazal 1837 -- Rumi

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from Rumi's "Diwan-e Shams" ("The Collection of Shams"), as a poetic

version by Coleman Barks, and in translation by A.J. Arberry: > > ^

^ ^ ^ ^ >"The Blocked Road" > I wish I knew what you wanted. You

block the road and won't give me rest. You pull my lead-rope one way,

then the other. You act cold, my darling! Do you hear what I say? >

Will this night of talking ever end? Why am I still embarrassed and

timid about you? You are thousands. You are one. Quiet, but most

articulate. > Your name is Spring. Your name is wine. Your name is

the nausea that comes from wine! > You are my doubting and the

lightpoints in my eyes. > You are every image, and yet I'm homesick

for you. > Can I get there? Where the deer pounces on the lion, where

the one I'm after's after me? > This drum and these words keep

pounding! Let them both smash through their coverings into silence. >

-- Version by Coleman Barks (Derived from the translation by A.J.

Arberry) "Like This" Maypop, 1990 >

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ > Lord, would that I knew

what is the desire of my Beloved; He has barred my road of escape,

robbed me of my heart and my repose. Lord, would that I knew whither

He is dragging me, to what purpose He is dragging my toggle in every

direction. Lord, would that I knew why He is stonyhearted, that

loving King of mine, my long-suffering Darling. Lord, would that I

knew whether my sighing and my clamor, "My Lord and my defense!" –

will reach my Beloved at all. Lord, would that I knew where this

will end; Lord, this my night of writing is very long. Lord, what is

this ferment of mine, all this bashfulness of mine? – Seeing that you

are mine, you are at once my one and my thousand. Your love is

always both silent and eloquent before the image of my eye, my

sustenance and my fate! Now I call him quarry, now I call him

spring, now I nickname him wine, now my crop sickness. He is my

unbelief and faith, my light-beholding eye, that of mine and this of

mine – I cannot escape from him. No more patience has remained for

me, nor sleep, nor tears nor wrath; Lord, how long will he raid all

the four of mine? Where is the house of water and clay, compared

with that of soul and heart? Lord, my sole desire has become my

hometown and habitation*. This heart is banished from the town,

stuck in dark mire, lamenting, "O God, where is my family and

retinue?" Lord, if only I might reach my city and behold the

companion of my Palace, and all that city of my friend! Gone then my

hard road, the heavy load from my back; my long-suffering Darling

would come, carrying off my load. My lion-catching deer would drink

to the full of my milk, he whose quarry I am would have become my

quarry. Black-faced night is then not the mate and consort of my

day; stonyhearted autumn follows not in the wake of my springtide.

Will you not be silent? How long will you beat this drum? Alas, my

veiled lip, that you have become veil-rending! > -- Translation by

A. J. Arberry "Mystical Poems of Rumi 2" The University of Chicago

Press, 1991 > *"The house of water and clay" symbolizes the human

body where the soul, coming from a spiritual land, must sojourn and

the original abode back to which it wishes to fly. > >

>LoveAlways, > >Mazie Chat with friends online, try MSN Messenger:

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