A Poem by Charles Upton, after Jalaluddin Rumi
What is this sorrow grips me like the night?
Is it blind? Does it see me lost to light?
Earth shows my image, yet in heaven I'm free:
What hand can lift a star from off the sea?
Who claims the ever-living One has died—
The Sun of Hope is gone, his days are done?
Sun-killer climbed the roof and shut his eyes
Then cried out like a fool, “I've killed the Sun!”
Every day my heart drinks one new wine
Whose sweetness kills the taste of all wines past;
He first ferments love-sickness, that Winemaster
And then serves up oblivion at last.
Any one might have a friend or lover;
Anyone hold a job, or play a part;
Like the Prophet and his khalif in their cavern,
I'm with Him in the furnace of my heart!
That love from which my lifeless life takes life
A love so fine, so sweet, where does it live?
Is it from mortal flesh or from beyond it?
Or a glance that he, Tabriz’s Sun, might give?
O wounded heart, your cure has finally come;
Breathe easy now, your healing has been born;
A love who grants the wish of every lover
Has come into this world in human form.
To behold the beauty of the King, what joy!
My soul takes life from that exquisite face.
(In a dream I saw the black chains of His love—
What could it mean? That dream disturbs my peace.)
That musky Tatar curl is pure delight;
To hunt a prey like me, delightful sport.
In Spring, in early Spring, the world is sweet
Like sugar and candy holding hands—so right.
From your tall shape the cypress stole its grace,
The rose tore open its shirt when it saw your face!
For God’s sake, lift a mirror, then you’ll see:
“Not one like me, from end to end of space!”
Did the perfumed rose ever catch your scent? No, never.
Have the sun or stars ever seen your light? No, never.
“It’s night”, you say, “behold my darkened window.”
If you go, it’s night; but otherwise—No, never!
I found no peace, I died of shame, without you.
When I came to court I quit my life, without you.
Without you how can I break the grip of sorrow?
Choked with loss I cried tears of blood, without you.
“I'll tear my heart from your ground!” I say—but I can’t.
“I'll learn to breathe without you!”—but I can’t.
“I'll drive your longing from my heart!” I brag;
If I were man enough I'd do it—but I can’t.
I have no-one, only You—where can I turn?
No cure for this ravaged heart. Where can I turn?
“How long”, you ask, “will we whirl with the whirling stars?”
It’s the only trade I know. Where can I turn?
“You’ll get no help from me, my friend” he said;
“Just silly drunkenness and wine and laughter.
To kill sobriety and drive out reason
Is why God sent me down into this slaughter.”
I'll take the blame for you a hundred times.
If I break my pledge to you, I'll pay the price.
As long as I draw breath, I'll stand your blows,
Till the Day of Resurrection—this you know.
Your slap is sweeter than another’s kiss;
Your wound is richer than another’s gift;
Your cruelty, kinder than another’s care;
Your insult, dearer than another’s bliss.
If I fill the sky with groans, I am forgiven.
If I water the plains with tears, I am forgiven.
You are my soul; that’s why I must pursue you—
And if soul follow self instead? I am forgiven.
The Water of Life—a drop from your shining face.
Of that world of light the Moon is just a trace.
“I want Moonlight, Moonlight, all night long!” I cried;
The night is your night-black curls—the Moon, your face.
O Friend, our friendship makes a mighty union;
Where you might walk, I’ll be the earth for you.
In the creed of lovers it’s a dark transgression
Through your eyes to see the world, but not see you.
I'm glad this passing world can’t make me happy;
Drunk without wine—superb intoxication!
Why do I need to hear some other story
When endless blessings rise from my secret glory?
May the heart of Love never look upon this world.
What’s worthy to be seen by Love, but Love?
The day I die I'll cast away these eyes
If, gazing on this world, they turned from Love;
This dying earth, how long to smell and taste it?
It’s time to meet that One of perfect grace.
In the mirror of His face I'll find myself;
In the mirror of my heart I'll see His face.
The fruit will set on the blossoming branch—some day.
The hungry hawk will seize the dove—some day.
His image comes and goes; when will it stay?
It will make its home inside your heart—some day.
