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Seasons of Peace

Poems from Rumi

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| Seasons of Peace | Rumi | Guest House | Shadow and Light | Only Breath | The Hidden |
| Shadow and Light | The Self We Share | Who Says Words With My Mouth? | Two Kinds of Intelligence | Not Intrigued With Evening |

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Jelal'uddin Rumi - 13th century Sufi mystic and poet
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Thirst is angry with water.
Hunger bitter with bread.

The cave
wants nothing to do
with the sun.

This is dumb,
the self-defeating way
we've been.


A gold mine
is calling us
into its temple.

Instead, we bend
and keep picking up rocks
from the ground.

Every thing has a shine like gold,
but we should turn to the source!

The origin is what we truly are.


I add a little vinegar
to the honey I give.

The bite of scolding
makes ecstasy more familiar.


But look, fish,
you're already in the ocean:
just swimming there
makes you friends with glory.


What are these grudges about?

You are Benjamin.
Joseph has put a gold cup
in your grain sack
and accused you of being a thief.

Now he draws you aside
and says,
You are my brother.


I am a prayer.

You're the amen.

We move in eternal regions,
yet worry about property here.

This is the prayer of each:

You are the source of my life.
You separate essence from mud.
You honor my soul.

You bring rivers
from the mountain springs.
You brighten my eyes.

The wine you offer
takes me out of myself
into the self we share.


Doing that is religion.








From The Glance: Songs of Soul-Meeting, page 58. Translated by Coleman Barks.
Copyright, Penguin. Permission pending; fair use intended.

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