Through love bitter things seem sweet.
Through love scraps of copper are turned to gold.
Through love dregs taste like clear wine.
Through love agonies are healing balms.
Through love thorns become roses.
Through love vinegar becomes rich wine.
Through love the scaffold becomes a throne.
Through love disaster becomes good fortune.
Through love a prison becomes a rose garden.
Through love burning fire is a fragrant light.
Through love the devil becomes an angel.
Through love stones become soft as butter.
Through love grief is like delight.
Through love demons become servants of God.
Through love stings are like honey.
Through love lions are harmless as mice.
Through love sickness is health.
Through love the dead are resurrected.
Through love the emperor becomes a salve.
From the Teachings of Rumi by Andrew Harvey
Drops of rain
Petrichor of his thoughts
Seeking the unknown
In the red color of roses
In the fragrance of night blooming jasmine
In the sound of rain
In the restlessness of waves
In the silence of doves
In the chattering of sparrows
In the dancing trees
In the mad breeze
In the lectures of Sheikhs
In the whirling of Sufi’s
Seeking the unknown in this dull pain
When the Ramadan banner flies, soul restrains nature, so it can taste its own food.
The strength of horses and the intensity of fire,
these are the powers of sacrifice.
Fasting, we honor the guest.
Clouds of courage give rain,
because it was in this month that the Qur’an rained down,
light through an opening.
Grab the rope.
Be lifted out of the body’s pit.
Announce to Egypt, Joseph of Canaan has come.
Jesus dismounts to the donkey,
and the sacramental table descends.
Wash your hands. Wash your face.
Do not eat or speak as you normally do.
Other food and other words will come in the silence.
From the big Red Book
By Coleman Barks
Songs that never stop,
Dance that never ceases,
Poetry that never ends,
In her garden, flowers are blooming tonight.
The dragon of my desires,
woke up this morning.
My body is a battle zone.
An intellectual is all the time showing off,
Lovers dissolve and become bewildered.
Intellectuals try not to drown,
While the whole purpose of love is drowning.
Intellectuals invent ways to rest,
then lie down in those beds.
Lovers feel ashamed of comforting ideas.
You have seen a glob of oil on water?
That is how a lover is with intellectuals, there, but alone in a circle of himself.
Some intellectual tries to give sound advice to a lover,
All he hears back is, I love you, I love you.
Love is musk.
Do not deny it when you smell the scent.
Love is a tree.
Lovers, the shade under the long branches.
To the intellectual mind,
A child must grow up and learn to be an adult.
In the station of love,
You see old men getting younger and younger.
Shams chose to live low in the roots for you,
So now, he soars in the air
as your sublimely articulating love.
From The Big Red Book
By Coleman Barks
Drift away the clouds that cover your sky,
and watch yourself fly,
like a dove.