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Sidi Jalaluddin Rumi
Life of Rumi
"
Reason is powerless in the
expression of Love. Love alone is capable of revealing the truth of Love
and being a Lover. The way of our Prophets is the way of Truth. If you
want to live, die in Love; die in Love if you want to remain alive."
I
silently moaned so that for a hundred centuries to come, The world will
echo in the sound of my hayhâ1
{hayhâ and hayhât, a corruption of the same
term in Persian means 'alas' or 'woe to me!'}
It will
turn on the axis of my hayhât (Divan, 562:7)
The
name Mowlana Jalaluddin Rumi stands for Love and ecstatic flight into the
infinite. Rumi is one of the great spiritual masters and poetical geniuses
of mankind and was the founder of the Mawlawi Sufi order, a leading
mystical brotherhood of Islam.
Rumi
was born in Wakhsh (Tajikistan) under the administration of Balkh in 30
September 1207 to a family of learned theologians. Escaping the Mongol
invasion and destruction, Rumi and his family traveled extensively in the
Muslim lands, performed pilgrimage to Mecca and finally settled in Konya,
Anatolia, then part of Seljuk Empire. When his father Bahaduddin Valad
passed away, Rumi succeeded his father in 1231 as professor in religious
sciences. Rumi 24 years old, was an already accomplished scholar in
religious and positive sciences.
He was
introduced into the mystical path by a wandering dervish, Shamsuddin of
Tabriz. His love and his bereavement for the death of Shams found their
expression in a surge of music, dance and lyric poems,
`Divani Shamsi Tabrizi'. Rumi is the
author of six volume didactic epic work, the
`Mathnawi' and discourses,
`Fihi ma Fihi', written to introduce
his disciples into metaphysics.
If
there is any general idea underlying Rumi's poetry, it is the absolute
love of GOD. His influence on thought, literature and all forms of
aesthetic expression in the world of Islam cannot be overrated.
Mevlana
Jalaluddin Rumi died on December 17, 1273. Men of five faiths followed his
bier. That night was named Sebul Arus (Night of Union). Ever since, the
Mawlawi dervishes have kept that date as a festival.
Look! This Is Love: Poems of Rumi.
“The
day I've died, my pall is moving on -
But do not think my heart is still on earth!
Don't weep and pity me: "Oh woe, how awful!"
You fall in devil's snare - woe, that is awful!
Don't cry "Woe, parted!" at my burial -
For me this is the time of joyful meeting!
Don't say "Farewell!" when I'm put in the grave -
A curtain is it for eternal bliss.
You saw "descending" - now look at the rising!
Is setting dangerous for sun and moon?
To you it looks like setting, but it's rising;
The coffin seems a jail, yet it means freedom.
Which seed fell in the earth that did not grow there?
Why do you doubt the fate of human seed?
What bucket came not filled from out the cistern?
Why should the Yusaf "Soul" then fear this well?
Close here your mouth and open it on that side.
So that your hymns may sound in Where- no-place!”
Schimmel,
Annemarie.
Look! This Is Love: Poems of Rumi.
Boston, Mass.: Shambhala Publications, 1991.
Source :
www.rumi.org.uk |
