Let's get poetically spiritual.

The following poem is one of my all time favs. 'Twas written by the man himself, Mawlana Jalaludin Rumi (1207 - 1273), Sufi master and poet extrodinaire. Sufism is a mystical order in Islam, whose adherents focus highly on the spiritual aspect of the religion, intoxicating themselves with the love for God, 24-7. They lead a rather bohemian lifestyle (Muslim-style, of course), and have been labelled as "the hippies of the Muslim world" for their indifference and passive attitude towards the outside world, as well as their rabid simplicity through spirituality. They have been around for centuries to date. Theory has it that the Sufis played a part in bringing Islam to the masses in Southeast Asia; among other regions, I assume.

The poem I am about to bring you was originally written in Persian, but for the obvious reason that I and possibly none others of those accessing this blogsite understands the language (unless the Ayatollah or any of his people has this site in their favourites folder, of course), I present you the English translation of it:


Hearken to this Reed forlorn,
breathing even since 'twas torn
from its rushy bed, a strain
of impassioned love and pain.
The secret of my song, though near,
none can see and none can hear.
Oh, for a friend to know the sign
and mingle all his soul with mine!
'Tis the flame of love that fired me,
'tis the wine of love inspired me.
Wouldst thou learn how lovers bleed,
hearken, hearken to the Reed!


As with other Sufi poems, it is very easy to read this one as that of a man professing his love for a woman. However, the poem should be understood within its context. Sufis believe that man should be in a constant state of misery and wandering depression in his lifetime, for want of being reunited with his lover, his maker, God almighty. Every being can only be truly happy once this happens. To express this notion, numerous beautiful metaphors are used in Sufi poetry. One that I can remember off hand is that of a drop of water, formed by collected dew on the surface of a leaf, gloriously falling into a river or lake, hence achieving its union with its source (presumably by referring to the Qur'an, these dudes were aware of the water cycle even back then).

Wine is a recurrent metaphor in Sufi poetry, but it is not to be misunderstood with the coarse act of alcohol consumption. It is merely used to symbolise the act of intoxicating oneself with the love for God.

Let me now attempt a (very) brief explanation of the poem from what I understand of it. Excuse the crudeness of my account, for I have neither the words nor the artfulness to match its beauty.

The poem is a narrative about a reed stalk that has been chopped off from its root and crafted into a musical instrument, presumably a flute. Having been cruelly separated from its source, the tunes that egresses from the flute everytime man plays it is a wail of sadness expressing its overbearing desire to be reunited with its root. This, of course, is a metaphor for man's perennial plight.

Tis love so true, that transcends lust and other superficial desires. Tis the primordial and original love.

Now isn't that awe inspiring?