Rumi
Rumi
Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī, also known as Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Balkhī, Mawlānā/Mevlânâ, Mevlevî/Mawlawī, and more popularly simply as Rumi, was a 13th-century Persian poet, jurist, Islamic scholar, theologian, and Sufi mystic. Rumi's influence transcends national borders and ethnic divisions: Iranians, Tajiks, Turks, Greeks, Pashtuns, other Central Asian Muslims, and the Muslims of South Asia have greatly appreciated his spiritual legacy for the past seven centuries. His poems have been widely translated into many of the world's languages and transposed into...
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth30 September 1207
When a man makes up a story for his child, he becomes a father and a child together, listening.
I am a child whose teacher is LOVE surely my master won't let me grow to be a fool.
If you desire healing, let yourself fall ill let yourself fall ill.
When the rose is gone and the garden faded you will no longer hear the nightingale's song. The Beloved is all; the lover just a veil. The Beloved is living; the lover a dead thing. If love withholds its strengthening care, the lover is left like a bird without care, the lover is left like a bird without wings. How will I be awake and aware if the light of the Beloved is absent? Love wills that this Word be brought forth.
True beauty is a ray That springs from the sacred depths of the soul, and illuminates the body, just as life springs from the kernel of a stone and gives colour and scent to a flower.
When I die, I shall soar with angels, and when I die to the angels, what I shall become you cannot imagine.
The glance of Love is crystal clear.
Infinite mercy flows continually But you're asleep and can't see it.
Except for Love, nothing you see will remain forever.
Stop looking for something out there and begin seeing within.
Whoever is loved is beautiful, but the opposite is not true, that whoever is beautiful is loved.
In Winter the bare boughs that seem to sleep Work covertly, preparing for their Spring.
THIS TORTURE Why should we tell you our love stories when you spill them together like blood in the dirt? Love is a pearl lost on the ocean floor, or a fire we can’t see, but how does saying that push us through the top of the head into the light above the head? Love is not an iron pot, so this boiling energy won’t help. Soul, heart, self. Beyond and within those is one saying, How long before I’m free of this torture!
She loved him so much she concealed his name in many phrases, the inner meanings known only to her.