Every single day I ponder over these questions
and night after night I ask myself:
Why am I so ignorant of what's really going on inside my heart?
What am I doing here?
Where have I come from?
What's my reason for being here?
Where do I go from here?
Everything seems so strange around me these days
and I keep asking myself:
Why God had to create me in the first place?
For what purpose?
Why did He bring me here into this world?
Why doesn't He let me get settled down somewhere in here?
I know for sure that my soul will ultimately ascend
to His upper Heavens,
But I'd rather just let go of everything right now
and fly up high into the sky.
I'm a bird from the Garden of Paradise,
I'm not from this dusty earth.
My body's trapped in this worldly cage for just two or three days.
The happiest day of my life is the day
when I finally fly away towards my Friend (God),
flapping my wings faster than ever
to quickly reach my Friend's Upper Realms.
Who is hiding inside my ears listening to my own tunes?
Who is hiding inside my mouth putting words into it?
Who is hiding inside my eyes looking out into the unknown?
What kind of soul is this totally naked soul of mine?
Don't tell me God is also the shirt to my naked soul.
I will not remain idle or take a brake even for an instant,
until through my constant striving and searching
You finally show me my path and my destination.
Give me a taste of your wine of reunion
so I can smash the gates of this worldly prison
with my loud cries of God-intoxication.
I didn't make it here all by myself so I can leave on my own,
You've dragged me all the way out here,
so you need to take me back to where I come from.
Don't think that I always express myself through poetry,
When I'm wide awake and not intoxicated,
I don't think about poetry even for an instant.
SHAMS OF TABRIZ!
If you would turn around and show your face to me again,
I swear to God that I'd shatter my already dead and decomposed body
into a thousand pieces for you.
Rumi.
غزل مشهور حضرت مولانا جلال الدين بلخي "رومي" از ديوان كبير
روزها فکر من اینست و همه شب سخنم
که چرا غافل از احوال دل خویشتنم
از کجا آمده ام، آمدنم بهر چه بود؟
به کجا می روم؟ آخر ننمایی وطنم
مانده ام سخت عجب، کز چه سبب ساخت مرا
یا چه بوده است مراد وی ازین ساختنم
جان که از عالم علوی است، یقین می دانم
رخت خود باز برآنم که همانجا فکنم
مرغ باغ ملکوتم، نیم از عالم خاک
دو سه روزی قفسی ساخته اند از بدنم
ای خوش آنروز که پرواز کنم تا بر دوست
به هوای سر کویش، پر و بالی بزنم
کیست در گوش که او می شنود آوازم؟
یا کدامست سخن می نهد اندر دهنم؟
کیست در دیده که از دیده برون می نگرد؟
یا چه جان است، نگویی، که منش پیرهنم؟
تا به تحقیق مرا منزل و ره ننمایی
یک دم آرام نگیرم، نفسی دم نزنم
می وصلم بچشان، تا در زندان ابد
از سرعربده مستانه به هم در شکنم
من به خود نامدم اینجا، که به خود باز روم
آنکه آورد مرا، باز برد در وطنم
تو مپندار که من شعر به خود می گویم
تا که هشیارم و بیدار، یکی دم نزنم
شمس تبریز، اگر روی به من بنمایی
والله این قالب مردار به هم درشکنم
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