Category Archives: Rumi

Through Love 

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


Ramadan Silence


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

©2017 Parus

Lovers vs Intellectuals


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

©2017 Parus

Look for the District of Joy


Sultan Valad, our Master’s son, recounted: One day I said to my father, “The friends claim that when they do not see you it causes them pain and their inner joy disappears.”

My father replied, “Whoever does not feel joyful in my absence does not really know me; the one who really knows me feel happy even without me; he will be suffused with me, with the thought of me, with my thought.” He added, “Every time, my son, that you find yourself in a state of mystic sweetness know that this state is me in you.”Sultan Valad added,

This is why my father used to say,

“When you look for me, look in the district of joy:
We are the inhabitants of the world of joy.”

From the teachings of Rumi
By Andrew Harvey

©2017 Parus

You Yourself Become Illusion


I know this world; it never fulfills its promises.
You won’t find a real friend in the whole world.
Don’t go on gazing at that glided disk in the sky:
It has nothing inside it, not even a straw mat!

So many idiots swarm into the trap of this world
Like blind men who don’t have a stick to hand!

They worry for this world and tremble at its poverty.
Bizarre lunacy which nothing can ever cure!

It’s easy to credit the world’s beauty since it stays veiled.
In reality, it’s hideous old hag, without any allure.
Whoever submits to her witchcraft is like a serpent
Without feet, or hands, or intelligence, or religion.
What an absurd fate to give your life to this world!

It’s the fate of all those who don’t find the path to Him.
What is this copper full of dross, that forgets its copper-nature
And imagines that the philosophers stone doesn’t exist?

Because of a vain image, you yourself become illusion
And then all you can know is grief, anguish, and disaster.

Translations by Andrew Harvey

©2017 Parus