Rumi’nations contain annotations to various quotes of Rumi in a slim volume but gilded with secret wisdom of the East from which all great religions of the world had drunk deeply and in turn changed the way we look at truth of human condition. 154 pages; available through lulu.com
Posts Tagged ‘love’
Love has gone and left me and the days are all alike;
Eat I must, and sleep I will,—and would that night were here!
But ah!—to lie awake and hear the slow hours strike!
Would that it were day again!—with twilight near!
Love has gone and left me and I don’t know what to do;
This or that or what you will is all the same to me;
But all the things that I begin I leave before I’m through,—
There’s little use in anything as far as I can see.
Love has gone and left me,—and the neighbors knock and borrow,
And life goes on forever like the gnawing of a mouse,—
And to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow
There’s this little street and this little house.
“Love is the fulcrum on which I hoist myself. Don’t catch me when I fall. I cannot but fall where love has spread my rest.”
This is a quote I just tweeted off the cuff.
I’m waiting for the man I hope to wed.
I’ve never seen him – that’s the funny part.
I promised I would wear a rose of red,
Pinned on my coat above my fluttered heart,
So that he’d know me – a precaution wise,
Because I wrote him I was twenty-three,
And Oh such heaps and heaps of silly lies. . .
So when we meet what will he think of me?
It’s funny, but it has its sorry side;
I put an advert. in the evening Press:
“A lonely maiden fain would be a bride.”
Oh it was shameless of me, I confess.
But I am thirty-nine and in despair,
Wanting a home and children ere too late,
And I forget I’m no more young and fair -
I’ll hide my rose and run…No, no, I’ll wait.
An hour has passed and I am waiting still.
I ought to feel relieved, but I’m so sad.
I would have liked to see him, just to thrill,
And sigh and say: “There goes my lovely lad!
My one romance!” Ah, Life’s malign mishap!
“Garcon, a cafè creme.” I’ll stay till nine. . .
The cafè’s empty, just an oldish chap
Who’s sitting at the table next to mine. . .
I’m waiting for the girl I mean to wed.
She was to come at eight and now it’s nine.
She’d pin upon her coat a rose of red,
And I would wear a marguerite in mine.
No sign of her I see…It’s true my eyes
Need stronger glasses than the ones I wear,
But Oh I feel my heart would recognize
Her face without the rose – she is so fair.
Ah! what deceivers are we aging men!
What vanity keeps youthful hope aglow!
Poor girl! I sent a photo taken when I was a student, twenty years ago.
(Hers is so Springlike, Oh so blossom sweet!)
How she will shudder when she sees me now!
I think I’d better hide that marguerite -
How can I age and ugliness avow?
She does not come. It’s after nine o’clock.
What fools we fogeys are! I’ll try to laugh;
(Garcon, you might bring me another bock)
Falling in love, just from a photograph.
Well, that’s the end. I’ll go home and forget,
Then realizing I am over ripe
I’ll throw away this silly cigarette
And philosophically light my pipe.
* * * * *
The waiter brought the coffee and the beer,
And there they sat, so woe-begone a pair,
And seemed to think: “Why do we linger here?”
When suddenly they turned, to start and stare.
She spied a marguerite, he glimpsed a rose;
Their eyes were joined and in a flash they knew. . .
The sleepy waiter saw, when time to close,
The sweet romance of those deceiving two,
Whose lips were joined, their hearts, their future too.
Never more crimson my love’s cheeks tinted
Than the sun in leave- taking hour blushed,
Said she, ‘You’re much sinn’d ‘gainst as I, by death,
We part to be one with earth’s treasures mix’d’.
The Planets whizz past the pod
And see the confluence of the living
And the dead-these are memories
The Greater Pod beyond the pulse
Of Time and Space
Has laid out by rule and line.
Seek memory what is not graven in your eye-
I seek your verity and dare not make difference of what is or what was.
It is the seed in What will be-
Love is a pod where nothing spills asunder.
I let Venus immolate in a fireball
That belllowed a storm in her wake.
Andromeda and her sisters wept
While my silvery shafts broke fall
Between the Great Divide of matter-
No matter the dark matter do have a say
When I say yea to be integral
And indivisible of the Pod Illumined
Beyond my silly sentiments of
Being straight as an arrow
In a Space where the bulls eye
Pulses every point one dwells upon.
I take the blame I bowed my knees to gods
That sounded euphonious
But left those who dared not bear a name as such.
Love was silent and yet carried her name well;
So was he who chose Love but dared not
Seek gender as such.