"tabriz" poems
Love is not condescension, never
that, nor books, nor any marking
on paper, nor what people say of
each other. Love is a tree with
branches reaching into eternity
and roots set deep in eternity,
and no trunk! Have you seen it?
The mind cannot. Your desiring
cannot. The longing you feel for
this loves comes from inside you.
When you become the Friend, your
longing will be as the man in
the ocean who holds to a piece of
wood. Eventually, wood, man, and
oceans become one swaying being,
shams Tabriz, the secret of God.
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He comes, a moon whose like the sky ne'er saw, awake or dreaming.
Crowned with eternal flame no flood can lay.
Lo, from the flagon of thy love, O Lord, my soul is swimming,
And ruined all my body's house of clay!
When first the Giver of the grape my lonely heart befriended,
Wine fired my ***** and my veins filled up;
But when his image all min eye possessed, a voice descended:
'Well done, O sovereign Wine and peerless Cup!'
Love's mighty arm from roof to base each dark abode is hewing,
Where chinks reluctant catch a golden ray.
My heart, when Love's sea of a sudden burst into its viewing,
Leaped headlong in, with 'Find me now who may!'
As, the sun moving, clouds behind him run,
All hearts attend thee, O Tabriz's Sun!
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''A few words of my soul to my heart''
O' Jamil what you seek is a sea of love and not tiny streams
Waves of which will carry you to mystic craved dreams
You will need the light of Shams⒈, a heart of Rumi⒉ the great
And eyes of Iqbal⒊ to explore the love of divine that await
O' Jamil be prepared to sink deep below in waters of love
There is no reverting back thereafter to the world above
You will fade away as small particles in this sacred sea
Only then you will be intoxicated with essence of thee
✑
Notes:-
⒈ Shams, Shams-e-Tabrizi or Shams Al-Din Mohammad was a Iranian Sufi, mystic born in the city of Tabriz in Iranian Azerbaijan.
⒉ Jalal Ad-Din Muḥammad Balkhi also known as Jalal Ad-Din Muḥammad Rumi and popularly known as Mowlana but known to the English-speaking world simply as Rumi, he was a 13th-century Persian poet, jurist, theologian, and Sufi mystic.
⒊ Sir Muhammad Iqbal was a Persian and Urdu poet of Pakistan, philosopher and a politician who had great visions for humanity.
✒ ℐamil Hussain
Oct 16, 2016
Oct 16, 2016 at 4:10 PM UTC
My homeland!
You have been watching your crippled borders
with wistful looks for gloomy centuries
Soon we will wipe your bloodred tears
after heroic and holy adventures
Yet you are in a deep disappointment
because of the hands lent to the unscrupulous
But never unlearn the destiny ever:
history is always betrayed,
talents are envied,
virtues are misused...
They love politics, not the history,
'Cause they have a historical fear
and it reminds them how they had been abused...
I have found even their "sumptuous" justice
which is carried in their ***** bulky pockets...
My dear,
It is very near,
In Karabakh, the stars will twinkle in a joy
50 million times I will mention your name
and to Jıdır we will be running bare feet.
The echoes will fill the preconceived ears
In Shusha, I will call you,
In Tabriz, we will meet...
Sep 29, 2020
Sep 29, 2020 at 6:00 PM UTC
Beloved
I yearn night and day
each blood tinged second
for the intravenous
of Your intoxicating Presence
like ripe, ruby grapes crave
to be tread and pressed into
the drunken bliss
of holy wine
Like the cow maiden Radha
and Princess Mirabai
pine for their peacock plumed
Blue Lord’s
rapturous darshan
Like Magdalene’s tears rolling
down her love soaked cheeks
seek only to wash and kiss
gentle Jesus’ celestial
Lotus feet
Like the great scholar Rumi
scouring the desolate streets
of Damascus
searches for even the
faintest echo
ghostly glimpse
of his beloved
God mad vagabond
Shams of Tabriz
Like my breath liberated from this
time bound, earthly form
soars free, unfettered
a shooting star
exploding into the
chaotic brilliance
of Your perfect Love
Your incomprehensible, pristine,
pure, primordial Peace
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 11:56 PM UTC
She is an ocean and a desert
a white candle and a deep sapphire;
the great tempest sent by you
to test my heart's voyage.
It is she whom I taste upon my lips
not the foam of a raging sea.
She who stung my eyes to tears
not the burning sands.
Her flame that lights my path
not the flickering lamp.
She it was who purchased my freedom
not the great jewel of Tabriz.
And it was she who opened
my soul. No great wind
nor wave, that set my
ship on a course to your
unfound shores.
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 1:27 PM UTC
Cada respiración es una canción de amor
De izquierda a derecha, nos rebasa
Regresaremos al mundo del más allá.
A tal destino nadie puede desafiar.
Venimos de los cielos
Ahí fraternizamos con los Ángeles
Al mismo lugar nos elevaremos
A esa ciudad, pasando los siete cielos.
Estamos por encima de los cielos
y trascendemos a los ángeles
¿Por qué deberíamos transigir?
La Casa de las Canciones es nuestro destino.
Vivamos con buena Fortuna
El destino es contradictorio,
Alegres a nuestras vidas demos
La victoria del orgullo mundano.
El dulce aroma de esta brisa
Brota del rizo de ese cabello
Radiante fantasía sobre sus rodillas
Sobre de esa cara gustoso se fija.
Las personas son como los dementes
Nacen del mar del alma
Manténgase a flote muchas lunas
Al mar, el demente, controla.
Desde ese mar llegó la ola
Mientras el barco tomaba forma
Del naufragio nadie podría salvarse
Volviendo al mar por esa tormenta.
Lo que parecía malo, era la gracia
la amabilidad estaba en la ira de la ola
El amanecer de la conciencia aparece
Iluminando ese camino divino.
Desde Tabriz comenzó a brillar
La Luz de la Verdad, me llama
Tu luz que siendo la Distinta Luz
Divina, no obstante, conecta todo.
Rumi-Divan-e Shams
Tomado de la magnífica traducción al inglés de Shahriar Shahriari
Vancouver, Canada July 20, 1998
Jan 30, 2019
Jan 30, 2019 at 1:35 PM UTC