If only they knew the subtleties of Layla’s love…

amazingwindowblaconyamazinggateopen

 

Translation:

If only they understood the subtleties of Layla’s love
Her love would be all they needed to experience of love
If he meets someone from Layla’s neighborhood
he’ll abase himself before him and fall to pieces
If not for her, he wouldn’t have been abased
Kissing this wall and that
until he becomes carried away in love for her
winking at other than her, while she has her disguises

 

 

Original:

وَلَوْ فَهِمُوا دَقَائِقَ حُبِّ لَيْلَىٰ
كَفَاهُمِ فِي صَبَابَتِهِ اخْتِبَارَا
إِذْ يَبْدُو امْرُؤٌ بحَيِّ لَيْلَىٰ
يَذِلُّ لَهُ وَيَنْكَسِرُ انْكِسَارَا
وَلَوْلاَهَا لَمَا أَضْحَى ذَلِيلاً
يُقَبِّلُ دَا الجِدَارَا وَدَا الجِدَارَا
إِلَى أَنْ صَارَ غَيِّبًا فِي هَوَاهَا
يُشِيرُ لِغَيْرِهَا وَلَهَا أَشَارَا

 

 

 

Translation:

The slave to love is well-pleased with his madness.
Let him wear out his life even as he will.
Reprove him not; your blame will nothing serve:
Forsaking love is not his religion.
I swear by him for whom ‘Aqīq is mentioned–
a lover’s oath by his beloved—none
But ye are mine; yet have I to repent me
Remissness in loving, waveringness.
Why, when I hear the dove coo in the glade,
Why yearn I ever at his sorrowing?
And though his way is weeping without tears,
When the lover weeps, the tears pour from his eyes.

 

translation from Martin Lings’ Sufi Poetry: A Medieval Anthology p. 88

 

marocwindow

 

Original:

رَضِىَ المُتَيّمُ فِي الهَوىٰ بِجُنونِهِ
خَلُّوهُ يَفْنَىٰ عُمْرِهِ بفُنُونِهِ
لا تَعْذِلُوهُ فَلَيْسَ يَنْفَعْ عَذْلُكُمْ
ليس السلو عن الهوى من دينه
قَسَمًا بَمَنْ ذُكِرَ العَقِيقَ لأجْلِهِ
قَسَمَ المُحِبِ بِحُبِّهِ ويَمِينِهِ
مَالي سِواكُمُ غَيْرَ أني تائِبٌ
عَن فَاتِراتِ الحُبِّ أو تَلوينِهِ
مالي إذا هَتَفَ الحَمامُ بأيْكةٍ
أبداً أحِنْ لشَجْوِهِ وشِجُونِهِ
وإذا البُكَاءُ بِغَيْرِ دَمْعٍ دأبُهُ
والصَبُّ يَجْرِي دَمْعِهِ بِعِيونِهِ



maghribhall

 

Soft were its sides, and soft its breeze…

bigmuqarnas

One of my favorite recordings of Andausian Sufi music—the beauty of the music is only matched by the beauty of the poetry:

 

Translation:
Soft were its sides and soft its breeze,
      and the clouds were flashing and thundering,
And the raindrops were descending from the crevices of the clouds
      like tears shed by a passionate lover because he is parted from her he loves.
And drink the pure essence of its wine with its intoxication,
       and listen rapturously to a singer who chanteth there :
“O the pure wine that in Adam’s time related
        concerning the Garden of Eden an authentic tradition !
Verily, the fair women scattered it from the water of their mouths like musk
         and the virgins bestowed it on us without stint.”

trans. by  R.A. Nicholson The Tarjuman al-Ashwaq


tandome2

Original:

رقَّتْ حواشيها ورقَّ نسيمها                    فالغَيمُ يَبْرُقُ والغمامَة ُ تَرعُدُ
والودقِ ينزلُ منْ خلالِ سحابهِ                   كدُموعِ  صَبٍّ للفِرَاقِ تَبَدَّدُ
واشرَبْ سُلافة َ خَمِرها بخمارها         ، واطربْ على غردٍ هنالكَ تُنشدُ
وسلافة ٌ منْ عهدِ آدمَ أخبرتْ                 عنْ جنة ِ المأوى حديثاً يُسْندُ
إنَّ الحسانَ تفلنها منْ ريقهِ                    كالمسكِ جادَ بها علينا الخرَّدُ

 

 

Screen-shot-2011-09-20-at-11.12.07

Bulleh Shah, if God were found…

 

silk-painting-with-ducks-japanshahinayatkhan

 

Bulleh Shah

Translation:

O beloved one:
If God were to be found by bathing and washing,
then God would be found by fish and frogs.

If God were to be found by roaming in jungle,
then God would be found by cows and buffaloes.

O Mian Bulleh
God is found by hearts righteous and pure.

You have read a thousand books
but have you read your ‘self’?

You rush to mosques and temples
in indecent haste,
have you tried to enter your Self?

You are enagged in
needless battle with Satan
have you ever fought with your nafs?

You have reached the sky
But have failed to reach
what’s in your heart!

Come to my abode, My friend
morning, noon and night!

Destroy the mosque,
destroy the temple
do as you please;
But do not break the human heart
for God dwells therein!

I search for You in jungle and wilderness
I have searched far and wide.
Do not torment me thus My Love
morning, noon and night!

Come to my abode, My Love
morning, noon and night!

 

morikuni_tachibana_water_buffalo koifish

mughalhunt

 

Original (transliteration):

Je rab milda nahateya dhoteya,
te o milda dadduan machiyan noon.
Je rab milda jangal pahareyan,
te o milda gaiyaan bachiyan noon.
Je rab milda mandir – masiti,
te o milda cham chidikhiyan noon.
Ve Bulleya rab onhan noon milda..
Ati dil-eya achiyyan sachhiya noon.

 

krishnaforestchistisaintsmughalsaint

Who am I?

 

 

 

Bulleh Shah

Translation:

Bulleh, what do I know about who I am?

I am not a believer in the mosques, nor do I follow the rites of unbelief. I am not among the pure or polluted. I am neither Moses nor Pharoah.

I am not in the Vedas or in the scriptures; I am neither in drugs nor alcohol. I am not among the drunks, neither in waking nor sleeping.

I am not in joy or sadness, neither pollution nor purity. I am not of water or of earth, nor am I of fire or air.

I am not an Arab nor from Lahore, nor an Indian from Nagaur. I am neither Hindu nor a Turk form Peshawar. Nor do I live in Nadaun.

I have not discovered the secret of religion; nor am I born of Adam and Eve. I have not given myself a name, nor am I found sitting still or moving around.

I know I am the First, I know I am Last, I do not recognize anyone else. None is wiser than I. Bulleh, who is the Lord standing here?

 

 

 

Original:

بلھا کی جاناں میں کون
نہ میں مومن وچ مسیت آں
نہ میں وچ کفر دی ریت آں
نہ میں پاکاں وچ پلیت آں
نہ میں موسٰی، نہ فرعون
بلھا کی جاناں میں کون
نہ میں اندر بید کتاباں
نہ وچ بھنگاں، نہ شراباں
نہ رہنا وچ خراباں
نہ وچ جاگن، نہ سون
بلھا کی جاناں میں کون
نہ وچ شادی نہ غمناکی
نہ میں وچ پلیتی پاکی
نہ میں آبی نہ میں خاکی
نہ میں آتش نہ میں پون
بلھا کی جاناں میں کون
نہ میں عربی، نہ لاہوری
نہ میں ہندی شہر رنگوری
نہ ہندو نہ ترک پشوری
نہ میں رہنا وچ ندون
بلھا کی جاناں میں کون
نہ میں بھیت مذہب دا پایاں
نہ میں آدم حوا جایا
نہ میں اپنا نام دھرایا
نہ وچ بھٹن، نہ وچ بھون
بلھا کی جاناں میں کون
اول آخر آپ نوں جاناں
نہ کوئی دوجا پچھاناں
میتھوں ہور نہ کوئی سیانا
بلھا! او کھڑا ہے کون؟
بلھا کی جاناں میں کون​

 

 

Rumi

 

What is to be done, O Muslims? for I do not know myself.
I am neither Christian, nor Jew, nor Magian, nor Muslim.
I am not of the East, nor of the West, nor of the land, nor of the sea;
I am not of Nature’s quarry, nor of the heaven circling above.
I am not made of earth, nor of water, nor of wind, nor fire;
nor of the Divine Throne, nor the carpet, nor the cosmos, nor mineral.
I am not from India, nor China, nor Bulgaria, nor Turkestan;
I am not from the kingdom of the two Iraqs, nor from the earth of Khurasan.
Neither of this world, nor the next, I am, nor of Heaven, nor of Hell;
Nor from Adam, nor from Eve, nor from Eden nor Rizwan.
My place is the Placeless, my trace is the Traceless;
‘Tis neither body nor soul, for I myself am the Beloved.
I have cast aside duality, I have seen the two worlds as one;
One I seek, One I know, One I see, One I say.

He is the First, He is the Last, He is the Outward, He is the Inward;
I know no one other than He, none but he who is He
Drunk with Love’s cup, the two worlds have been lost to me;
I have no business save carouse and revelry.
If once in my life I spent a moment without you,
From that time and from that hour I repent of my life.
If once in this retreat I win a moment with you,
I will trample on both worlds, and dance in ecstasy
O Shams of Tabriz, I am so drunk in this world,
That except for drunkenness and revelry, I have no tale to tell.

Original:

چه تدبیر ای مسلمانان که من خود را نمیدانم
نه ترسا و یهودیم نه گبرم نه مسلمانم

نه شرقیم نه غربیم نه بریم نه بحریم
نه ارکان طبیعیم نه از افلاک گردانم

نه از خاکم نه از بادم نه از ابم نه از اتش
نه از عرشم نه از فرشم نه از کونم نه از کانم

نه از دنیی نه از عقبی نه از جنت نه از دوزخ
نه از ادم نه از حوا نه از فردوس رضوانم

مکانم لا مکان باشد نشانم بی نشان باشد
نه تن باشد نه جان باشد که من از جان جانانم

دویی از خود بیرون کردم یکی دیدم دو عالم را
یکی جویم یکی گویم یکی دانم یکی خوانم

ز جام عشق سرمستم دو عالم رفت از دستم
بجز رندی و قلاشی نباشد هیچ سامانم

اگر در عمر خود روزی دمی بی او بر اوردم
از ان وقت و از ان ساعت ز عمر خود پشیمانم

الا ای شمس تبریزی چنان مستم در ین عالم
که جز مستی و قلاشی نباشد هیچ درمانم

 

morocco_djellaba

Shushtari

After extinction I came out, and I
Eternal now am, though not as I
And who am I, O I, but I?
خرجت في حين بعد الفنا
ومن هنا بقيت بلا أنا
ومن أنا يا أنا إلا أنا

 

(Abul-l-Hassan ash-Shushtari of Andalusia; trans.by  Martin Lings)

‘Sufi Poems: A Mediaeval Anthology’ by Martin Lings