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The Book of Love: Poems of Ecstasy and Longing
Now in paperback, this is the definitive collection of America′s bestselling poet Rumi′s finest poems of love and lovers. In Coleman Barks′ delightful and wise renderings, these poems will open your heart and soul to the lover inside and out.
′There are lovers content with longing.
I′m not one of them.′
Rumi is best known for his poems expressing the ecstasies and mysteries of love of all kinds - erotic, divine, friendship -and Coleman Barks collects here the best of those poems, ranging from the ′wholeness′ one experiences with a true lover, to the grief of a lover′s loss, and all the states in between: from the madness of sudden love to the shifting of a romance to deep friendship - these poems cover all ′the magnificent regions of the heart′.
′There are lovers content with longing.
I′m not one of them.′
Rumi is best known for his poems expressing the ecstasies and mysteries of love of all kinds - erotic, divine, friendship -and Coleman Barks collects here the best of those poems, ranging from the ′wholeness′ one experiences with a true lover, to the grief of a lover′s loss, and all the states in between: from the madness of sudden love to the shifting of a romance to deep friendship - these poems cover all ′the magnificent regions of the heart′.
206 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2002
About the author
Jalal ad-Din Muhammad ar-Rumi
1,135 books15k followersSufism inspired writings of Persian poet and mystic Jalal ad-Din Muhammad ar-Rumi; these writings express the longing of the soul for union with the divine.
Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī - also known as Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Balkhī, Mevlânâ/Mawlānā (مولانا, "our master"), Mevlevî/Mawlawī (مولوی, "my master") and more popularly simply as Rumi - was a 13th-century Persian poet, jurist, Islamic scholar, theologian and Sufi mystic who lived in Konya, a city of Ottoman Empire (Today's Turkey). His poems have been widely translated into many of the world's languages, and he has been described as the most popular poet and the best-selling poet in the United States.
His poetry has influenced Persian literature, but also Turkish, Ottoman Turkish, Azerbaijani, Punjabi, Hindi, and Urdu, as well as the literature of some other Turkic, Iranian, and Indo-Aryan languages including Chagatai, Pashto, and Bengali.
Due to quarrels between different dynasties in Khorāṣān, opposition to the Khwarizmid Shahs who were considered devious by his father, Bahā ud-Dīn Wālad or fear of the impending Mongol cataclysm, his father decided to migrate westwards, eventually settling in the Anatolian city Konya, where he lived most of his life, composed one of the crowning glories of Persian literature, and profoundly affected the culture of the area.
When his father died, Rumi, aged 25, inherited his position as the head of an Islamic school. One of Baha' ud-Din's students, Sayyed Burhan ud-Din Muhaqqiq Termazi, continued to train Rumi in the Shariah as well as the Tariqa, especially that of Rumi's father. For nine years, Rumi practised Sufism as a disciple of Burhan ud-Din until the latter died in 1240 or 1241. Rumi's public life then began: he became an Islamic Jurist, issuing fatwas and giving sermons in the mosques of Konya. He also served as a Molvi (Islamic teacher) and taught his adherents in the madrassa. During this period, Rumi also travelled to Damascus and is said to have spent four years there.
It was his meeting with the dervish Shams-e Tabrizi on 15 November 1244 that completely changed his life. From an accomplished teacher and jurist, Rumi was transformed into an ascetic.
On the night of 5 December 1248, as Rumi and Shams were talking, Shams was called to the back door. He went out, never to be seen again. Rumi's love for, and his bereavement at the death of, Shams found their expression in an outpouring of lyric poems, Divan-e Shams-e Tabrizi. He himself went out searching for Shams and journeyed again to Damascus.
Rumi found another companion in Salaḥ ud-Din-e Zarkub, a goldsmith. After Salah ud-Din's death, Rumi's scribe and favourite student, Hussam-e Chalabi, assumed the role of Rumi's companion. Hussam implored Rumi to write more. Rumi spent the next 12 years of his life in Anatolia dictating the six volumes of this masterwork, the Masnavi, to Hussam.
In December 1273, Rumi fell ill and died on the 17th of December in Konya.
Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī - also known as Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Balkhī, Mevlânâ/Mawlānā (مولانا, "our master"), Mevlevî/Mawlawī (مولوی, "my master") and more popularly simply as Rumi - was a 13th-century Persian poet, jurist, Islamic scholar, theologian and Sufi mystic who lived in Konya, a city of Ottoman Empire (Today's Turkey). His poems have been widely translated into many of the world's languages, and he has been described as the most popular poet and the best-selling poet in the United States.
His poetry has influenced Persian literature, but also Turkish, Ottoman Turkish, Azerbaijani, Punjabi, Hindi, and Urdu, as well as the literature of some other Turkic, Iranian, and Indo-Aryan languages including Chagatai, Pashto, and Bengali.
Due to quarrels between different dynasties in Khorāṣān, opposition to the Khwarizmid Shahs who were considered devious by his father, Bahā ud-Dīn Wālad or fear of the impending Mongol cataclysm, his father decided to migrate westwards, eventually settling in the Anatolian city Konya, where he lived most of his life, composed one of the crowning glories of Persian literature, and profoundly affected the culture of the area.
When his father died, Rumi, aged 25, inherited his position as the head of an Islamic school. One of Baha' ud-Din's students, Sayyed Burhan ud-Din Muhaqqiq Termazi, continued to train Rumi in the Shariah as well as the Tariqa, especially that of Rumi's father. For nine years, Rumi practised Sufism as a disciple of Burhan ud-Din until the latter died in 1240 or 1241. Rumi's public life then began: he became an Islamic Jurist, issuing fatwas and giving sermons in the mosques of Konya. He also served as a Molvi (Islamic teacher) and taught his adherents in the madrassa. During this period, Rumi also travelled to Damascus and is said to have spent four years there.
It was his meeting with the dervish Shams-e Tabrizi on 15 November 1244 that completely changed his life. From an accomplished teacher and jurist, Rumi was transformed into an ascetic.
On the night of 5 December 1248, as Rumi and Shams were talking, Shams was called to the back door. He went out, never to be seen again. Rumi's love for, and his bereavement at the death of, Shams found their expression in an outpouring of lyric poems, Divan-e Shams-e Tabrizi. He himself went out searching for Shams and journeyed again to Damascus.
Rumi found another companion in Salaḥ ud-Din-e Zarkub, a goldsmith. After Salah ud-Din's death, Rumi's scribe and favourite student, Hussam-e Chalabi, assumed the role of Rumi's companion. Hussam implored Rumi to write more. Rumi spent the next 12 years of his life in Anatolia dictating the six volumes of this masterwork, the Masnavi, to Hussam.
In December 1273, Rumi fell ill and died on the 17th of December in Konya.
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November 7, 2020
Let me tell you an anecdote. Two years ago, on a certain sunny day, I was walking home after my classes. I was missing home but wasn’t sad nor was I feeling any sense of loneliness; I was quite happy that day. I was listening to Thais from Meditation Act II, a composition of Jules Massenet and my mind was quite at peace. The day seemed quite ordinary; nothing spectacular was happening anywhere within my sight. But then, suddenly, out of nowhere, something overwhelming happened to me. I have a habit of looking at the clouds and the leaves of the tall trees dancing against the sky while I am walking. At this moment I was doing the same, and saw a bird fly across the sky. I am not sure which bird it was, maybe a falcon, but seeing it repeatedly soaring in circles, noticing the beautiful soft arc of its wings, moved something inside me. Maybe it was the music, or the summer leaves, but at that instance they all seemed to be merging and becoming one with the flight of that strange bird. It was almost as if I was a part of something mystic and surreal and I felt I was a part of that mysterious amalgamation too. I do not know how to explain this, but I felt one with everything that was around me and as if everything that I was seeing was happening inside me at the same time as it was happening outside of me. At this moment, my eyes welled up with tears and the tears started flowing down in streams. These tears while dripping from my chin brought me back to my senses. I have never felt so euphoric in my life and I certainly doubt if I ever will again. Those few seconds, which almost felt like had soaked up hours of that day, changed everything for me. I don’t know what that was but it was definitely something divine. I never felt anything near to that feeling again, until now at least, but I always long for it. And everytime I read Rumi, he reminds me of that feeling that passed away so soon and digs up those strong emotions which were left buried deep inside my senses. Everytime I read his poems, I experience something close to those magical emotions as he always manages to stir them from within; from my soul.
There’s a strange frenzy in my head,
of birds flying,
each particle circulating on its own.
Is the one I love everywhere?
It has been more than three years since my first introduction to Rumi. I started with The Essential Rumi, a great complication and translation of his best poems. I picked up this book to pass my time during one of my insomniac nights, which happened to be tonight. I read every poem; some in a rush and some a word at a time. Rumi is like a wise teacher and a friend who sits next to you, wraps you in his arms and recites in soft whispers the deepest secrets of his mystical world against your ear. He talks only about love and there never seem to be any variations of it. It is always about the love that revolves around us, is within us, and flows in and out like a stream finding its way to its river, and the river to its sea but there is no way of knowing which is which; just as water is water, love is love.
You’ve so distracted me,
your absence fans my love.
Don’t ask how.
Then you come near.
“Do not…,” I say, and
“Do not…,” you answer.
Don’t ask why that delights me.
* * *
In your light I learn how to love.
In your beauty, how to make poems.
You dance inside my chest
where no one sees you,
but sometime I do,
and that sight becomes this art.
He talks in stories, at times in riddles about various human emotions but ends them with the divine love which he experiences and urges us to experience them with him. He talks about the soul and heart; the insides of the insides. For him, everything in this world is futile except that. He understands human heart but doesn’t want to understand anything apart from the spiritual bliss with which he is always drunk. He talks about wine and taverns, the bliss of being in intoxication and teaches you that that is how it feels like to be in love, only while being sober. Choose your jar of wine wisely. According to him, everything is a state of mind. You become your obsession; hence obsess over something that would last. The love we experience for anything in this world doesn’t last and only is a result of a deep sadness that it births from or arrives when this love dies. Hence, he says, take pleasure in that undying bliss which is inside you. Look within, he says, and find yourself and dance with that self of yours like a madman in joy. For Rumi, the heart is a hidden casket filled with secrets, all you need to do is dig deep and find that trunk for which the key is You. The God that you pray to or the divinity you search for is in everything that surrounds you and is manifested inside you. There are many forms of kneeling and kissing the ground, he says; any path you choose will lead to the same destination, only some will take longer than the others. His love is not religious, and he refuses to belong to anyone. Everything is about the soul and the one within that soul; the ears of the ear, the eyes of the eye, and the life of the life. In his world, all the dualities of our world cease to exist. Only the One remains.
You that come to birth and bring the mysteries,
your voice-thunder makes us very happy.
Roar, lion of the heart,
and tear me open!
* * *
You are an ocean in a drop of dew,
all the universes in a thin sack
of blood! What are these pleasures
then, these joys, these worlds,
that you keep reaching for, hoping
they will make you more alive?
There is so much more that has been said yet still remains to be said about this soulful poet. I have deeply been in love with Rumi since the day I read my first poem of his. This 800 years old friend of mine has always managed to speak to me in the toughest of times. He has taught me that I am more than my restrictions; personal and societal. That I am more than my body, fears, joys and sorrows. That I am more than anything I could imagine being. Everything is within me and I am within everything. You are invincible, he says. You are divine, he says. You are magic, he says. If you can understand Rumi as himself, you will also fall in love with him. If you don’t, well then you don’t.
Poems are the rough notations for the music we are.
There’s a strange frenzy in my head,
of birds flying,
each particle circulating on its own.
Is the one I love everywhere?
It has been more than three years since my first introduction to Rumi. I started with The Essential Rumi, a great complication and translation of his best poems. I picked up this book to pass my time during one of my insomniac nights, which happened to be tonight. I read every poem; some in a rush and some a word at a time. Rumi is like a wise teacher and a friend who sits next to you, wraps you in his arms and recites in soft whispers the deepest secrets of his mystical world against your ear. He talks only about love and there never seem to be any variations of it. It is always about the love that revolves around us, is within us, and flows in and out like a stream finding its way to its river, and the river to its sea but there is no way of knowing which is which; just as water is water, love is love.
You’ve so distracted me,
your absence fans my love.
Don’t ask how.
Then you come near.
“Do not…,” I say, and
“Do not…,” you answer.
Don’t ask why that delights me.
* * *
In your light I learn how to love.
In your beauty, how to make poems.
You dance inside my chest
where no one sees you,
but sometime I do,
and that sight becomes this art.
He talks in stories, at times in riddles about various human emotions but ends them with the divine love which he experiences and urges us to experience them with him. He talks about the soul and heart; the insides of the insides. For him, everything in this world is futile except that. He understands human heart but doesn’t want to understand anything apart from the spiritual bliss with which he is always drunk. He talks about wine and taverns, the bliss of being in intoxication and teaches you that that is how it feels like to be in love, only while being sober. Choose your jar of wine wisely. According to him, everything is a state of mind. You become your obsession; hence obsess over something that would last. The love we experience for anything in this world doesn’t last and only is a result of a deep sadness that it births from or arrives when this love dies. Hence, he says, take pleasure in that undying bliss which is inside you. Look within, he says, and find yourself and dance with that self of yours like a madman in joy. For Rumi, the heart is a hidden casket filled with secrets, all you need to do is dig deep and find that trunk for which the key is You. The God that you pray to or the divinity you search for is in everything that surrounds you and is manifested inside you. There are many forms of kneeling and kissing the ground, he says; any path you choose will lead to the same destination, only some will take longer than the others. His love is not religious, and he refuses to belong to anyone. Everything is about the soul and the one within that soul; the ears of the ear, the eyes of the eye, and the life of the life. In his world, all the dualities of our world cease to exist. Only the One remains.
You that come to birth and bring the mysteries,
your voice-thunder makes us very happy.
Roar, lion of the heart,
and tear me open!
* * *
You are an ocean in a drop of dew,
all the universes in a thin sack
of blood! What are these pleasures
then, these joys, these worlds,
that you keep reaching for, hoping
they will make you more alive?
There is so much more that has been said yet still remains to be said about this soulful poet. I have deeply been in love with Rumi since the day I read my first poem of his. This 800 years old friend of mine has always managed to speak to me in the toughest of times. He has taught me that I am more than my restrictions; personal and societal. That I am more than my body, fears, joys and sorrows. That I am more than anything I could imagine being. Everything is within me and I am within everything. You are invincible, he says. You are divine, he says. You are magic, he says. If you can understand Rumi as himself, you will also fall in love with him. If you don’t, well then you don’t.
Poems are the rough notations for the music we are.
November 17, 2010
I am not sure whom to give credit for this book to, Rumi or Coleman Barks. For the gift of translating it we certainly owe a debt to Barks but for the power and the truth contained we more deeply owe Rumi.
This is not a book of love poems for a sweetheart or a Valentine. This is a book to be given or read only in the cases of deepest and most positive realization that your life is bound up in another; romantic or otherwise. These poems are not about the kind of love which belongs on Hallmark cards, in fact, Barks refused to lend his translations to that exact company. These poems are about the kind of love that has a deep resonance rather than a high pitched squeal. I won't be so shallow as to say "love hurts" would be a theme, I will go farther and say "love consumes" would best sub-title this book. Not the everyday consumerism that leads us to be drunk on our credit card bills at malls and department stores but the same feeling over addictive and unstoppable behavior for the well being of another.
I cannot get across what this book is worth in terms of "love" alone, more aptly this book is religious even if not one of the major ones. Perhaps this is the first holy book of a new religion. However, if you only want to find very hot, sexy poetry, you will find it; only cute, vampirey "cannot live without you" poetry you will gag on it. So you must approach this book expecting more. It will satisfy all the basics, but only if you deeply read and employ your intellect to understand the profound place Rumi speaks from can you reasonably understand this book.
However you choose to approach it (I recommend the latter) this book will be one you can and will turn to again and again no matter who you are.
This is not a book of love poems for a sweetheart or a Valentine. This is a book to be given or read only in the cases of deepest and most positive realization that your life is bound up in another; romantic or otherwise. These poems are not about the kind of love which belongs on Hallmark cards, in fact, Barks refused to lend his translations to that exact company. These poems are about the kind of love that has a deep resonance rather than a high pitched squeal. I won't be so shallow as to say "love hurts" would be a theme, I will go farther and say "love consumes" would best sub-title this book. Not the everyday consumerism that leads us to be drunk on our credit card bills at malls and department stores but the same feeling over addictive and unstoppable behavior for the well being of another.
I cannot get across what this book is worth in terms of "love" alone, more aptly this book is religious even if not one of the major ones. Perhaps this is the first holy book of a new religion. However, if you only want to find very hot, sexy poetry, you will find it; only cute, vampirey "cannot live without you" poetry you will gag on it. So you must approach this book expecting more. It will satisfy all the basics, but only if you deeply read and employ your intellect to understand the profound place Rumi speaks from can you reasonably understand this book.
However you choose to approach it (I recommend the latter) this book will be one you can and will turn to again and again no matter who you are.
July 6, 2021
The rating of one star is for Barks and his appropriation and raping of Mowlavi's masterpiece. Do yourself a big favor and skip this. If you must use a translation and if you really want to taste some of the wisdom of West Asia, Reynold Alleyne Nicholson's is what you are looking for. Unlike Barks, Nicholson actually knew Persian...
Sure enough Barks is talented: it takes lots of skill to turn some of the most eloquent prose, one closest to human nature and its connection with a transcendental reality, into a projection of one's own clinical obsession with sex and materialistic erotic love.
A big pat on the back for editorials who are all in for the cash and feel no remorse in desecrating the beauty of this world, serving readers who don't care to frown at the freak show.
Sure enough Barks is talented: it takes lots of skill to turn some of the most eloquent prose, one closest to human nature and its connection with a transcendental reality, into a projection of one's own clinical obsession with sex and materialistic erotic love.
A big pat on the back for editorials who are all in for the cash and feel no remorse in desecrating the beauty of this world, serving readers who don't care to frown at the freak show.
April 16, 2019
The Music We Are
Did you hear that winter’s over?
The basil and the carnations
cannot control their laughter.
The nightingale, back from his wandering,
has been made singing master over
all the birds. The trees reach out
their congratulations. The soul
goes dancing through the king’s doorway.
Anemones blush because the have seen
the rose naked. Spring, the only fair
judge, walks in the courtroom, and
several December thieves steal away.
Last year’s miracles will soon be
forgotten. New creatures whirl in
from nonexistence, galaxies scattered
around their feet. Have you met them?
Do you hear the bud of Jesus crooning
in the cradle? A single narcissus
flower has been appointed Inspector
of Kingdoms. A feast is set. Listen.
The wind is pouring wine! Love
used to hide inside images. No more!
The orchard hangs out its lanterns.
The dead come stumbling by in shrouds.
Nothing can stay bound or be imprisoned.
You say, “End this poem here and
wait for what’s next.” I will. Poems
are rough notations for the music we are.
What a marvelous poem for spring and for the Easter season of resurrection (my own tradition). I'm surprised to find this Islamic poet has written a poem with so many seemingly Christian references, even the choices of the plants basil and carnation. At the level of the mystic, perhaps all the seemingly divergent lines converge ...
My morning readings of Rumi this year have been a mixed pleasure — sometimes — as with this poem — intense, ecstatic, full of light and delight — but other times “meh.” But who knows, the "meh" poems may speak to me at some other time of life. I am not sure how to rate this book, in part because I’m not sure of the quality of the translation, and was not crazy about the casual commentary. Coleman Barks, who I understand is the great popularizer of Rumi’s poetry in the contemporary U.S., creates his own interpretations based on several respected translations (not on the original Persian). Barks breaks up the text into short poems, changes the form, adds titles, and groups the poems into many short chapters according to his perception of their themes.
My favorites in this collection were the poems of longing, desire, ecstatic love and union — intended to convey an experience of divine love. Many of the poems dwelt on Rumi’s beloved male friend, companion and muse, Shams Tabriz. However, many of the poems are didactic in a way that’s a bit off-putting for a modern reader — or at least for me. My next step with Rumi will be to seek out the editions of Reynold Nicholson’s 1925 translation, edited by Michael Bielas. But here's one more I loved in Bark's rendition:
A Great Wagon
When I see your face, the stones start spinning!
You appear; all studying wanders.
I lose my place.
Water turns pearly.
Fire dies down and doesn’t destroy.
In your presence I don't want what I thought
I wanted, those three little hanging lamps.
Inside your face the ancient manuscripts
seem like rusty mirrors.
You breathe, new shapes appear,
and the music of desire as widespread
as spring begins to move
like a great wagon.
Drive slowly. Some of us
walking alongside are lame."
Did you hear that winter’s over?
The basil and the carnations
cannot control their laughter.
The nightingale, back from his wandering,
has been made singing master over
all the birds. The trees reach out
their congratulations. The soul
goes dancing through the king’s doorway.
Anemones blush because the have seen
the rose naked. Spring, the only fair
judge, walks in the courtroom, and
several December thieves steal away.
Last year’s miracles will soon be
forgotten. New creatures whirl in
from nonexistence, galaxies scattered
around their feet. Have you met them?
Do you hear the bud of Jesus crooning
in the cradle? A single narcissus
flower has been appointed Inspector
of Kingdoms. A feast is set. Listen.
The wind is pouring wine! Love
used to hide inside images. No more!
The orchard hangs out its lanterns.
The dead come stumbling by in shrouds.
Nothing can stay bound or be imprisoned.
You say, “End this poem here and
wait for what’s next.” I will. Poems
are rough notations for the music we are.
What a marvelous poem for spring and for the Easter season of resurrection (my own tradition). I'm surprised to find this Islamic poet has written a poem with so many seemingly Christian references, even the choices of the plants basil and carnation. At the level of the mystic, perhaps all the seemingly divergent lines converge ...
My morning readings of Rumi this year have been a mixed pleasure — sometimes — as with this poem — intense, ecstatic, full of light and delight — but other times “meh.” But who knows, the "meh" poems may speak to me at some other time of life. I am not sure how to rate this book, in part because I’m not sure of the quality of the translation, and was not crazy about the casual commentary. Coleman Barks, who I understand is the great popularizer of Rumi’s poetry in the contemporary U.S., creates his own interpretations based on several respected translations (not on the original Persian). Barks breaks up the text into short poems, changes the form, adds titles, and groups the poems into many short chapters according to his perception of their themes.
My favorites in this collection were the poems of longing, desire, ecstatic love and union — intended to convey an experience of divine love. Many of the poems dwelt on Rumi’s beloved male friend, companion and muse, Shams Tabriz. However, many of the poems are didactic in a way that’s a bit off-putting for a modern reader — or at least for me. My next step with Rumi will be to seek out the editions of Reynold Nicholson’s 1925 translation, edited by Michael Bielas. But here's one more I loved in Bark's rendition:
A Great Wagon
When I see your face, the stones start spinning!
You appear; all studying wanders.
I lose my place.
Water turns pearly.
Fire dies down and doesn’t destroy.
In your presence I don't want what I thought
I wanted, those three little hanging lamps.
Inside your face the ancient manuscripts
seem like rusty mirrors.
You breathe, new shapes appear,
and the music of desire as widespread
as spring begins to move
like a great wagon.
Drive slowly. Some of us
walking alongside are lame."
March 10, 2011
The problem with translations is that one never knows how much of what one is reading is the translator’s voice, and how much is the original artist’s voice.
Banks is credited with “popularising” Rumi’s works in America. That’s the essence of the difficulty I had with this translation. To “translate” a work, one “expresses the sense of (a word, book etc) in another language”, while to “popularise” a work is to “present a specialised subject in a popular or readily understandable form”.
In his note on the translation, Banks admits that in “translating Rumi into American” he may have distorted what Rumi searched for in his poems: the ecstasy of Divine Love.
Having watched both live and DVD performances of the Whirling Dervishes (a spiritual meditative dance based on the teachings of Rumi), I approached this volume with the expectation of experiencing that same sense of immersion in – or union with – the Divine beloved. Instead, I was left with a weird sense of dislocation.
While Banks’ intentions in attempting this translation were clearly a sincere attempt to express the ecstasy he has found in Rumi’s original words, this reader was unable to share in that lyrical ecstasy.
Contemporary images celebrated sexual union, but not ecstatic union. While there’s nothing wrong with celebrating sex, Rumi celebrates sex in the same way that Kabbalists would on a Sabbath: as a ‘tikkun’. In this translation, the idea of “sex as Divine union with the Other” was lost in modern crudity. For example, ���Is this the way a man prays, with his balls? Does your penis long for union like this? Is that why her legs are so covered with this stuff?” [Pg 85] Stuff? Stuff?
The modern language, too, was conveyed without any mystical rhythm. In musical terms this would be the steady cadence of a liturgical chant (the exquisite sound of the Gregorian or Benedictine chants). In seeking to convey the lightness of the mystical trance in simple, modern (popular!) terms, the language in this translation became heavy and, with a few notable exceptions, left me sadly earthbound.
Banks is credited with “popularising” Rumi’s works in America. That’s the essence of the difficulty I had with this translation. To “translate” a work, one “expresses the sense of (a word, book etc) in another language”, while to “popularise” a work is to “present a specialised subject in a popular or readily understandable form”.
In his note on the translation, Banks admits that in “translating Rumi into American” he may have distorted what Rumi searched for in his poems: the ecstasy of Divine Love.
Having watched both live and DVD performances of the Whirling Dervishes (a spiritual meditative dance based on the teachings of Rumi), I approached this volume with the expectation of experiencing that same sense of immersion in – or union with – the Divine beloved. Instead, I was left with a weird sense of dislocation.
While Banks’ intentions in attempting this translation were clearly a sincere attempt to express the ecstasy he has found in Rumi’s original words, this reader was unable to share in that lyrical ecstasy.
Contemporary images celebrated sexual union, but not ecstatic union. While there’s nothing wrong with celebrating sex, Rumi celebrates sex in the same way that Kabbalists would on a Sabbath: as a ‘tikkun’. In this translation, the idea of “sex as Divine union with the Other” was lost in modern crudity. For example, ���Is this the way a man prays, with his balls? Does your penis long for union like this? Is that why her legs are so covered with this stuff?” [Pg 85] Stuff? Stuff?
The modern language, too, was conveyed without any mystical rhythm. In musical terms this would be the steady cadence of a liturgical chant (the exquisite sound of the Gregorian or Benedictine chants). In seeking to convey the lightness of the mystical trance in simple, modern (popular!) terms, the language in this translation became heavy and, with a few notable exceptions, left me sadly earthbound.
August 21, 2009
The man wrote 800 years ago in a radically different language and culture, and every word comes through.
December 30, 2017
You had better run from me.
My words are fire.
*
In the dream you’re running toward a mirage.
As you run, you’re proud of being the one
who sees the oasis.
[…] This love of spying far-off
satisfactions, this traveling, keeps you
from tasting the real water of where you are,
and who.
My words are fire.
*
In the dream you’re running toward a mirage.
As you run, you’re proud of being the one
who sees the oasis.
[…] This love of spying far-off
satisfactions, this traveling, keeps you
from tasting the real water of where you are,
and who.
May 20, 2017
On my end table forever. To be read every day. Rumi. Everyone needs to read the whole collection of Rumi books.
March 30, 2015
A lot of people have mistakenly considered this to be a book about romantic love, about love between two people. I guess this is why Rumi is the word of God for fanatic lovers and is quoted so extensively. (I was guilty of this too, at one point!)
The book is actually about something else altogether, and something way beyond the scope of worldly emotions and relationships. The call of longing and the ecstasy of union he writes of is all about our search for our Self, or God, whichever you choose. I wish not to speak much of this because it is too daunting a task.
To some it may strike a few chords, to some it may not make any sense at all. If however this book falls in your hand at the right time in your life, it is gold.
The extent of enjoyment and wisdom you stand to get from this book does not depend on the book at all; it solely rests on how ripe you are for it.
This is a book to be kept lovingly on your bed stand and read on one of those nights; you know which.
The book is actually about something else altogether, and something way beyond the scope of worldly emotions and relationships. The call of longing and the ecstasy of union he writes of is all about our search for our Self, or God, whichever you choose. I wish not to speak much of this because it is too daunting a task.
To some it may strike a few chords, to some it may not make any sense at all. If however this book falls in your hand at the right time in your life, it is gold.
The extent of enjoyment and wisdom you stand to get from this book does not depend on the book at all; it solely rests on how ripe you are for it.
This is a book to be kept lovingly on your bed stand and read on one of those nights; you know which.
June 2, 2016
I came across this book while looking for a decent translation to supplement my own reading of the originals.
Coleman Barks neither speaks nor reads Persian, Turkish, or Arabic, the languages in which Rumi composed his poetry. He has based his "translation" on the works of other Rumi translators. As a result, all form, structure, and rhythm is lost, along with any diluted meaning he may have found.
Not only that, but he refers in his introduction and notes to the Bible. In a collection of works by the world's most well-known Sufi scholar and mystic. Supposedly, he is credited for the New Age popularity of Rumi in America. I can see how that came about.
Avoid at all costs.
Coleman Barks neither speaks nor reads Persian, Turkish, or Arabic, the languages in which Rumi composed his poetry. He has based his "translation" on the works of other Rumi translators. As a result, all form, structure, and rhythm is lost, along with any diluted meaning he may have found.
Not only that, but he refers in his introduction and notes to the Bible. In a collection of works by the world's most well-known Sufi scholar and mystic. Supposedly, he is credited for the New Age popularity of Rumi in America. I can see how that came about.
Avoid at all costs.
January 28, 2016
Really 2.5 stars... I give 3 for Rumi's poetry but deduct points for the translator, who puts far too much of himself in this book. He even includes a phone number to give you a free CD of his. Um, okay? I came here to read enlightening poetry, not to be shelled your products. Ugh.
August 15, 2013
Rather than attempt to review the wonder that is Coleman Barks's sterling re-interpretations of Rumi's staggeringly beautiful mystic poetry, I'm going to simply extract four lines that have been blowing my mind pretty consistently in recent days:
"Why did you stop praising?"
"Because I've never heard anything back."
"This longing you express
is the return message." (from "Love Dogs," p. 146)
...and there it is. My mind is blown. As it was by almost every freaking poem in this collection. Let the praise and the longing in these pages guide you to that place where everything is music.
"Why did you stop praising?"
"Because I've never heard anything back."
"This longing you express
is the return message." (from "Love Dogs," p. 146)
...and there it is. My mind is blown. As it was by almost every freaking poem in this collection. Let the praise and the longing in these pages guide you to that place where everything is music.
December 18, 2017
"Coleman Barks ... neither speaks nor reads Persian, he is a popular interpreter of Rumi, rewriting the poems based on other English translations."
That is one of the creepiest statements I have ever read.
This is the second book by Coleman Barks about Rumi's poetry that I have read. But this time, I felt it more pronounced: that feeling that the translation is flawed, something is missing, Sufi poetry must be way deeper and more spiritual, and most certainly less awkwardly written!
I did love some verses, but it was not a specific, it was rather in a really vague manner.
Next time, I will read Rumi directly translated from Persian, and I think I will opt for an Arabic translation. No more American appropriated take on Rumi for me.
That is one of the creepiest statements I have ever read.
This is the second book by Coleman Barks about Rumi's poetry that I have read. But this time, I felt it more pronounced: that feeling that the translation is flawed, something is missing, Sufi poetry must be way deeper and more spiritual, and most certainly less awkwardly written!
I did love some verses, but it was not a specific, it was rather in a really vague manner.
Next time, I will read Rumi directly translated from Persian, and I think I will opt for an Arabic translation. No more American appropriated take on Rumi for me.
June 18, 2018
I’m already a fan of Sufism and this book was so good I was literally drowning inside the poems.
“We tremble, thinking we’re about to dissolve into nonexistence, but nonexistence fears even more that it might be given human form.”
“I am so small I can barely be seen, how can this great love be inside me.”
“If anyone asks you to say who you are, say without hesitation, soul within soul, within soul.”
“How is it with this love, I see your world and not you.”
.
“We tremble, thinking we’re about to dissolve into nonexistence, but nonexistence fears even more that it might be given human form.”
“I am so small I can barely be seen, how can this great love be inside me.”
“If anyone asks you to say who you are, say without hesitation, soul within soul, within soul.”
“How is it with this love, I see your world and not you.”
.
October 27, 2023
i was on board with this until i was reading the words "vaginal juices"
February 11, 2024
წიგნის კითხვისას მავლავის ორდენის წევრად იქცევით იქამდე, სანამ ერთ სიტყვაში ჩატეული სიცოცხლის მთელს არსს, სიყვარულს არ იპოვით.
ამ წიგნზე ვერ ვილაპარაკებ, "არყოფნის მორევიდან" ვერასოდეს ამოვალ. უბრალოდ ყველანაირი ადამიანური გრძნობა უნდა გაგიცხოველდეს. აი, მაგ ცხოველური გრძნობების ქაოტური ნარევიდან თუ ოდესმე გამოვალ რუმის მკითხველი, ალბათ, ამ წიგნის შესახებაც გეტყვით ორიოდე სიტყვას.
"ორმა ზღვამ იცნო ერთმანეთი და ორი სული
დაუკერებლად ერთმანეთზე გადააკერა"
არსთა მესნევში კი წერია ეს, მაგრამ ყველაზე მეტად ამით დავახასიათებდი ამ საოცარ წიგნს.
და ბოლოს...
ალბათ მხოლოდ იმ ადამიანს შეუძლია ასეთი რამის შექმნა, ვის ცხოვრებაშიც შამს თებრიზი იყო...
p.s ვინც შორეული ჰორიზონტიდან დანახული ნახევარმთვარისკენ მიიწევთ, აუცილებლად წასაკითხ წიგნთა სიას უნდა მიამატოთ (ან იქნებ ასეთი სულისკვეთება სუბიექტურიცაა ამ წიგნისა და ავტორის სიყვარულის გამო, ვინ იცის...)
p.s.s ადამიანი რომ ასეთ წიგნს გაჩუქებს უნდა ჩათვალო, რომ ახალი სიცოცხლე გაჩუქა.
شكرا
ლამის დამავიწყდა...
გიორგი ლობჟანიძე უნდა შევაწუხოთ ქართველობამ მგონი, რომ ჩვენმა ენამაც დაამშვენოს აღმოსავლური სრულყოფილება.
OPA DZAAN KAI IYO
ამ წიგნზე ვერ ვილაპარაკებ, "არყოფნის მორევიდან" ვერასოდეს ამოვალ. უბრალოდ ყველანაირი ადამიანური გრძნობა უნდა გაგიცხოველდეს. აი, მაგ ცხოველური გრძნობების ქაოტური ნარევიდან თუ ოდესმე გამოვალ რუმის მკითხველი, ალბათ, ამ წიგნის შესახებაც გეტყვით ორიოდე სიტყვას.
"ორმა ზღვამ იცნო ერთმანეთი და ორი სული
დაუკერებლად ერთმანეთზე გადააკერა"
არსთა მესნევში კი წერია ეს, მაგრამ ყველაზე მეტად ამით დავახასიათებდი ამ საოცარ წიგნს.
და ბოლოს...
ალბათ მხოლოდ იმ ადამიანს შეუძლია ასეთი რამის შექმნა, ვის ცხოვრებაშიც შამს თებრიზი იყო...
p.s ვინც შორეული ჰორიზონტიდან დანახული ნახევარმთვარისკენ მიიწევთ, აუცილებლად წასაკითხ წიგნთა სიას უნდა მიამატოთ (ან იქნებ ასეთი სულისკვეთება სუბიექტურიცაა ამ წიგნისა და ავტორის სიყვარულის გამო, ვინ იცის...)
p.s.s ადამიანი რომ ასეთ წიგნს გაჩუქებს უნდა ჩათვალო, რომ ახალი სიცოცხლე გაჩუქა.
شكرا
ლამის დამავიწყდა...
გიორგი ლობჟანიძე უნდა შევაწუხოთ ქართველობამ მგონი, რომ ჩვენმა ენამაც დაამშვენოს აღმოსავლური სრულყოფილება.
OPA DZAAN KAI IYO
August 12, 2013
I wanted to read this book after many references made by Khaled Hosseini to Rumi and Forough Farrokhzad.
As a Muslim this is entirely new to me.
New to me in the aspect that I felt like I was reading a book that is more related to Zen more so than Islam; that is why I carried on reading the poetry from that aspect.
It wasn't a religious book for me but more of spiritual and fictitious, that was the only way that let me enjoy it and finish it.
Having said that I loved a lot of the poetry, didn't get many poems and most of all became intrigued to read about this mysterious being that is more famous in the west than here among Muslims and how this character became a signature of the soul and the realm of love and emotions in their purest forms. I certainly found trails of that in the poetry. but I am more curious than pleased.
As a Muslim this is entirely new to me.
New to me in the aspect that I felt like I was reading a book that is more related to Zen more so than Islam; that is why I carried on reading the poetry from that aspect.
It wasn't a religious book for me but more of spiritual and fictitious, that was the only way that let me enjoy it and finish it.
Having said that I loved a lot of the poetry, didn't get many poems and most of all became intrigued to read about this mysterious being that is more famous in the west than here among Muslims and how this character became a signature of the soul and the realm of love and emotions in their purest forms. I certainly found trails of that in the poetry. but I am more curious than pleased.
August 12, 2013
I didn't read it end to end, but then again, it's not a novel. That said, some poems in this collection are absolutely exquisite. Among my favourites,
"Excuse my wandering.
How can one be orderly with this?
It's like counting leaves in a garden
along with the song notes of partridges
and crows. Sometimes organisation
and computation become absurd."
And this one is beautiful too,
"If you love love,
look for yourself."
Keep a copy in your shelf to pick a page randomly once in a while and please yourself.
"Excuse my wandering.
How can one be orderly with this?
It's like counting leaves in a garden
along with the song notes of partridges
and crows. Sometimes organisation
and computation become absurd."
And this one is beautiful too,
"If you love love,
look for yourself."
Keep a copy in your shelf to pick a page randomly once in a while and please yourself.
July 1, 2011
To be perfectly honest, I thought Rumi's Book of Love was a little overrated. Perhaps it was just my translation, but I thought a lot of the poems alluded to obscure cultural (and obviously religious) themes, which makes it extremely curious to me why he is so popularly quoted in modern America. Anyway, there were a few shreds of lightness that I did capture and like, which made up for the parables that were not absorbed... and of course, those are the most quotable. Somehow this bothers me; it makes me think, perhaps something is begin misread or misinterpreted when we quote Rumi. We are taking what we think we understand, without actually understanding all of the teachings of Sufism. So my conclusion is: further study of Sufism is required for me to change my mind about Rumi because my comprehension level just isn't there.
Upon a little investigation, I came upon this tidbit about Coleman Barks on Wikipedia:
Coleman Barks (born 1937) is an American poet. Although he neither speaks nor reads Persian, he is nonetheless renowned as an interpreter of Rumi and other mystic poets of Persia.
... What?
Upon a little investigation, I came upon this tidbit about Coleman Barks on Wikipedia:
Coleman Barks (born 1937) is an American poet. Although he neither speaks nor reads Persian, he is nonetheless renowned as an interpreter of Rumi and other mystic poets of Persia.
... What?
April 17, 2021
I believe I made the right decision in choosing to read this collection at spring’s arrival. Looking up from a page of Rumi’s wisdom to the finally visible grass outside, pausing to consider the depth of a poem and hearing the recently returned birds, and smelling renewal in the air all worked to enhance this reading experience for me. Some of the poems themselves reminded me of spring, and after a very long winter, I am welcoming spring with open arms.
(“🎶 Little darlin’, it’s been a long, cold, lonely winter
Little darlin’, it seems like years since it’s been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun 🎶”)
(“🎶 Little darlin’, it’s been a long, cold, lonely winter
Little darlin’, it seems like years since it’s been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun 🎶”)
January 28, 2018
"Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere.
They’re in each other all along."
Since, its not the actual text but the translation, so didn't enjoy one bit of those "translated poems"... The meaning & essence was lost somewhere because of using such heavy language... :/
Rather than enjoying it, I found all of the poems extremely boring -_-
This is the book about divine love.. http://www.venerabilisopus.org/en/boo...
They’re in each other all along."
Since, its not the actual text but the translation, so didn't enjoy one bit of those "translated poems"... The meaning & essence was lost somewhere because of using such heavy language... :/
Rather than enjoying it, I found all of the poems extremely boring -_-
This is the book about divine love.. http://www.venerabilisopus.org/en/boo...
December 6, 2020
Coleman Barks is a literary orientalist. He somehow 'translated' Rumi without knowing Persian, without having studied Islam or Sufism. Still, he wrote over a dozen books on Rumi because they turned a profit.
These translations are way out of the lane of the real poems. For authentic translations by students of Persian and Sufism, you should take a look at Persian Poetics on Instagram.
This book is just decontextualization and obscuring of Rumi for coin.
These translations are way out of the lane of the real poems. For authentic translations by students of Persian and Sufism, you should take a look at Persian Poetics on Instagram.
This book is just decontextualization and obscuring of Rumi for coin.
April 12, 2013
This book talks about love. But when you expect kind of love which solely involved feeling, this in not the proper book for you. Rumi talked about love in deeper sight. Love is not only about ecstasy and agony, it's also about the purity of love which also purify your soul. If you really dip yourself into this book, you'll be enlightened at the end. You just can't skim this read.
July 22, 2020
If you want what is visible reality can give,
you're an employee.
If you want the unseen world,
you're not living your truth.
Both the wishes are foolish,
but you'll be forgiven for forgetting
that what you really want is
love's confusing joy.
you're an employee.
If you want the unseen world,
you're not living your truth.
Both the wishes are foolish,
but you'll be forgiven for forgetting
that what you really want is
love's confusing joy.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 5, 2014
Rumi gets under your skin like no other poet can. He is one of my favorite poets, along with Pablo Neruda and Charles Bukowski.
June 30, 2012
if you like poems, i'm sure this is one the best books out there. i adore rumi so much : )
Read
March 28, 2019Ku ka dhimbje, sherimet do te vijne;
Ku ka varferi, pasuria do te mberrije.
Ku ka pyetje, do te jepen pergjigje;
Ku ka lundrues, uji do te rrjedhe.
Harxho me pak kohe tue kerkue uje, etje fito!
Atehete uji nga lart dhe poshte do gufoje.
Ku ka varferi, pasuria do te mberrije.
Ku ka pyetje, do te jepen pergjigje;
Ku ka lundrues, uji do te rrjedhe.
Harxho me pak kohe tue kerkue uje, etje fito!
Atehete uji nga lart dhe poshte do gufoje.
April 9, 2012
Ramadan started, so I have to store it in the unfinished shelf
August 10, 2010
came back to finish it :)
what amazes me the most is Rumi's ability to love.
and I don't think one can find (in a lifetime) many people with such positive vision and endless energy.
and I kept wondering through out the book if Rumi ever met anyone he hated or if those he loved actually deserved all that love...did Rumi ever felt cheated on or experienced jealousy?
it's truly wonderful to contain all that love, but was Rumi ever challenged or tested for what he believed in?
This book can be a sanctuary for someone who believes in love but lost the sight of it.
As for those who think that love is an illusion, they should not waste their time reading this book.
As for those who experienced the true form of love, this book may not be sufficient...it may even leave them cold and empty.
one star was lost in translation :)
August 10, 2010
came back to finish it :)
what amazes me the most is Rumi's ability to love.
and I don't think one can find (in a lifetime) many people with such positive vision and endless energy.
and I kept wondering through out the book if Rumi ever met anyone he hated or if those he loved actually deserved all that love...did Rumi ever felt cheated on or experienced jealousy?
it's truly wonderful to contain all that love, but was Rumi ever challenged or tested for what he believed in?
This book can be a sanctuary for someone who believes in love but lost the sight of it.
As for those who think that love is an illusion, they should not waste their time reading this book.
As for those who experienced the true form of love, this book may not be sufficient...it may even leave them cold and empty.
one star was lost in translation :)
June 21, 2016
Really nice collection of poetry. I couldn't help myself and I just highlighted everthing I could relate to. According to a passage in the book, Rumi's poetry is gay despite it being labeled like that who cares right? Love is love.
One of my favorites is this line:
Things change; nothing wrong with that. What's truly alive is always changing.
One of my favorites is this line:
Things change; nothing wrong with that. What's truly alive is always changing.
February 14, 2016
Rumi's poetry and life are mystical and transcendental. I am grateful for stumbling upon this book during a Valentines day apart from my beloved. However, the translator's vignettes at the beginning of each chapter brought me back to the subzero degree lonely day that is right now. Maybe both are connected and need each other but one was delightful and one cost this book two stars;)
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