Maulana's Love Lessons (iii)

If we come to sleep
we are His drowsy ones

And if we come to wake
we are in His hands

If we come to weeping,
we are His cloud full of raindrops

And if we come to laughing,
we are His lightning in that moment

If we come to anger and battle
it is the reflection of His wrath

And if we come to peace and pardon
it is the reflection of His love

Who are we in this complicated world?


...



In the early morning hour,
Just before dawn, lover and beloved wake
And take a drink of water.
She asks, "Do you love me or yourself more?
Really, tell the absolute truth."
He says, "There is nothing left of me.
I am like a ruby held up to the sunrise.
Is it still a stone, or a world
Made of redness? It has no resistance to sunlight."
This is how Hallaj said, Ana al-Haqq
And told the truth!
The ruby and the sunrise are one.


I was going to tell you my story
but waves of pain drowned my voice.
I tried to utter a word but my thoughts
became fragile and shattered like glass.
Even the largest ship can capsize
in the stormy sea of love,
let alone my feeble boat
which shattered to pieces leaving me nothing
but a strip of wood to hold on to.
Small and helpless, rising to heaven
on one wave of love and falling with the next
I don't even know if I am or I am not.
When I think I am, I find myself worthless,
when I think I am not, I find my value.
Like my thoughts, I die and rise again each day
so how can I doubt the resurrection?
Tired of hunting for love in this world,
at last I surrender in the valley of love
and become free.


For years, copying other people,
I tried to know myself from within,
I could not decide what to do.
Unable to see, I heard my name being called.
Then I walked outside.


Take someone who does not keep score,
who is not looking to be richer,
or afraid of losing something,
who has not the slightest interest even
in his won personality:
he is free.


Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and right-doing,
there is a field. I will meet you there.


Poles apart,
I am the color of dying,
you are the color of being born.
Unless we breathe in each other,
there can be no garden.


During the day I was singing with you.
At night we slept in the same bed.
I was not conscious day or night.
I thought I knew who I was,
but I was you.


The minute I heard my first love story
I started looking for you,
not knowing how blind that was.
Lovers do not finally meet somewhere.
They are in each other all along.


Maulana Jalaluddin Rumi