Guest guest Posted May 23, 2008 Report Share Posted May 23, 2008 LAMENT I cried at midnight, “who lives in my heart’s house?†He said “it is I, by whose light, sun and moon are shamed, Why is your heart’s home filled with stone idols?†I said “they’re only your reflection whose face Is a mirror of Chigil, Turkestan’s land of beauty .†He asked “what’s this boil, daubed with heart’s blood?†I said “this is me, so weary, my feet are muddied by the mireâ€. I noosed my soul’s neck and took it to you as a token. He said " It’s a talisman of Love, don’t sacrifice your amulet! " He gave me the end of a thread full of laughter and play, “Pull†he said “without breaking it, in the pulling.†From my soul’s tent flaired my Beloved, fairer than before, I stretched my hands out, he hit them saying “let go!†I said “You’re a harsh master ! “no, he replied I’m strict for your real good, not from cruel spite. Wheover comes in saying it’s ‘me’, I slap on the face. For this is a temple of love, not a fool’s sheep pen . Assuredly Shams of Tabriz is the image of that One, Open your eyes, look into your heart, and see his reflection! From some versifications of Rumi's Mathnawi Alan Jacobs Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted May 23, 2008 Report Share Posted May 23, 2008 , Alan Jacobs <alanadamsjacobs wrote: hi, Jacob, on my browser Firefox these poems are full of: ’ and ?†it could be: " Era -a fan of Mevlana Jalaluddin Rumi. > LAMENT > > I cried at midnight, “who lives in my heart’s house?†> He said “it is I, by whose light, sun and moon are shamed, > Why is your heart’s home filled with stone idols?†> I said “they’re only your reflection whose face > Is a mirror of Chigil, Turkestan’s land of beauty .†> > He asked “what’s this boil, daubed with heart’s blood?†> I said “this is me, so weary, my feet are muddied by the mireâ€. > > I noosed my soul’s neck and took it to you as a token. > He said " It’s a talisman of Love, don’t sacrifice your amulet! " > He gave me the end of a thread full of laughter and play, > “Pull†he said “without breaking it, in the pulling.†> > From my soul’s tent flaired my Beloved, fairer than before, > I stretched my hands out, he hit them saying “let go!†> > I said “You’re a harsh master ! “no, he replied > I’m strict for your real good, not from cruel spite. > Wheover comes in saying it’s ‘me’, I slap on the face. > For this is a temple of love, not a fool’s sheep pen . > > Assuredly Shams of Tabriz is the image of that One, > Open your eyes, look into your heart, and see his reflection! > > > From some versifications of Rumi's Mathnawi > Alan Jacobs > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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