Prof.Dr.Annemarie Schimmel(Prof. Emeritus)
Disa poezi nga Jalal al-Din RUMI, tė pėrkthyera nga Prof.Dr.Annemarie Schimmel :
Without the eyes...
Without the eyes - two clouds - the lightning of the heart:
The fire of God's threat, how could it be allayed?
How would the herbage grow of union, sweet to taste?
How would the fountains all gush forth with water pure?
How would the rosebed tell its secret to the meadow?
How would the violet make contracts with jasmine?
How would the plane tree lift its hands in prayer, say?
How would the trees' heads toss free in the air of Love?
How would the blossoms shake their sleeves in days of spring
To shed their lovely coins about the garden wide?
How would the tulip's cheek be red like flames and blood?
How would the rose draw out its gold now from its purse?
How would the ringdoves call like seekers, "Where, oh where?"
How would the stork repeat his laklak from his soul,
To say: "O Helper high, Thine is the kingdom, Thine!"
How would the dust reveal the secrets of its heart?
How would the sky become a garden full of light?
*******
Ghazal 1919
Look! This is love -- to fly toward the heavens,
To tear a hundred veils in every wink,
To tear a hundred veils at the beginning,
To travel in the end without a foot,
And to regard this world as something hidden
And not to see with one's own seeing eye!
I said: "O heart, may it for you be blessed
To enter in the circle of the lovers,
To look from far beyond the range of eyesight,
To wander in the corners of the bosom!
O soul, from where has come to you this new breath?
O heart, from where has come this heavy throbbing?
O bird, speak now the language of the birds
Because I know to understand your secret!"
The soul replied: "Know, I was in God's workshop
While He still baked the house of clay and water.
I fled from yonder workshop at a moment
Before the workshop was made and created.
I could resist no more. They dragged me hither
And they began to shape me like a ball!
*******
"We worship Thee!" -- that is the garden's prayer
in winter time.
"We ask Thy help!" -- that is its cry then
in time of spring.
"We worship Thee" -- that means: I come to beg,
imploring Thee:
Don't leave me in this sorrow, Lord, make wide
the door of joy!
"We ask Thee, Lord, for help" -- that is, the fullness
of ripe, sweet fruit.
Now break my branches and my twigs -- protect me,
My Lord, My God!
Nga libri : Diwan-i Shams-i Tabrizi, 2046
*******
Ghazal (Ode) 2821
At the time of evening prayer
everyone spreads cloth and candles,
But I dream of my beloved,
see, lamenting, grieved, his phantom.
My ablution is with weeping,
thus my prayer will be fiery,
and I burn the mosque's doorway
when my call to prayer strikes it. . . .
Is the prayer of the drunken,
tell, is this prayer valid?
For he does not know the timing
and is not aware of places.
Did I pray for two full cycles?
Or is this perhaps the eighth one?
And which Sura did I utter?
For I have no tongue to speak it.
At God's door - how could I knock now,
For I have no hand or heart now?
You have carried heart and hand, God!
Grant me safety, God, forgive me. . . .
Nga libri : "I Am Wind, You are Fire"
*******
HOW SHOULD THE SOUL not take wings
when from the Glory of God
It hears a sweet, kindly call:
"Why are you here, soul? Arise!"
How should a fish not leap fast
into the sea form dry land
When from the ocean so cool
the sound of the waves reaches its
How should the falcon not fly
back to his king from the hunt
When from the falconer's drum
it hears to call: "Oh, come back"?
Why should not every Sufi
begin to dance atom-like
Around the Sun of duration
that saves from impermanence?
What graciousness and what beauty?
What life-bestowing! What grace!
If anyone does without that, woe-
what err, what suffering!
Oh fly , of fly, O my soul-bird,
fly to your primordial home!
You have escaped from the cage now-
your wings are spread in the air.
Oh travel from brackish water
now to the fountain of life!
Return from the place of the sandals
now to the high seat of souls!
Go on! Go on! we are going,
and we are coming, O soul,
From this world of separation
to union, a world beyond worlds!
How long shall we here in the dust-world
like children fill our skirts
With earth and with stones without value,
with broken shards without worth?
Let's take our hand from the dust grove,
let's fly to the heavens' high,
Let's fly from our childish behaviour
and join the banquet of men!
Call out, O soul, to proclaim now
that you are rules and king! You have the grace of the answer,
you know the question as well!
Fragment prej librit "The Triumphal Sun : A Study of the Works of Jalaloddinn Rumi "
nga Prof.Dr.Annemarie Schimmel(Prof. Emeritus) (State University of New York Press, 1993, p. 332-336)
" Rumi's poetry has been produced under the spell of Divine Love.
Save love, save love, we have no other work! Divan 1475/15557
This love, the veritable astrolabe of God's secrets, was kindled by his meeting with Shams, but differs from the experiences of those mystics who saw the Divine Beauty reflected in beautiful youths. His experience of love,separation, and spiritual union was dynamic; it overwhelmed him and burned him. Therefore, his words about love, which form the warp of his poetry from the first to the last pager, are colorful and fiery.
He knows, like his predecessors in the path of mystical love, that earthly love is but a preparation for the heavenly love. It is a step towards perfection : . . . man's heart can be educated through human love to perfect obedience and surrender to the friend's will. The happiness of such love, however, will soon vanish; real love should, therefore, be directed towards Him who does not die. This Divine love may start with a sudden rapture or take the form of a slow spiritual development: when the hook of love falls into a man's throat God most High draws him gradually so that the bad faculties and blood which are in him may go out of him little by little.
Eventually, the lover is totally immersed in the ocean of Divine love and those people who are still fettered by hope and fear or think of recompensation for good and punishment for evil deeds, will never understand him.
Love is a quality innate in everything created:
All the particles of the world are loving, Every part of the world is intoxicated by meeting. D 2674/28365
The basis of truth is explained once more in a letter of Mowlana's:
In the eighteen thousand of worlds, everything loves something, is in love with something. The height of each lover is determined by the height of his beloved. Whose beloved is more tender and more lovely, his eminence is also higher. . . Mektuplar I.
But true love is, at the same time, the prerogative of man. He alone can express it and live through it in all its stages. Rumi, although sometimes using language influenced by the discussions of Avicenna and the theoreticians of Sufism concerning the nature of love, knows that this experience,as produced by Divine power, cannot be described in human words.
He begins his Mathnavi with a praise of this love:
How much I may explain and describe love,
When I reach love, I become ashamed.
Although the commentary by the tongue is illuminating,
love without tongues is more radiant. Mathnawi I, 112f.
More than a decade later, he still sings:
Love cannot be described; it is even greater than a hundred
resurrections,
for the resurrection is a limit, whereas love is limitless. Love has
five hundred wings, each of which reaches from the Divine Throne to the
lowest earth. . . Mathnawi V, 2189 f.
Once man has reached the limits of love in this life, his journey continues
in the Life Divine, in which he is faced with ever new abysses of love which
induce him into deeper longing. Love and longing are mutually interdependent;
love grows stronger the more the Divine Beauty unfolds in eternity, in ever
new forms.
Ever more shall I desire
than time's bounded needs require.
Ever as more flowers I pluck
Blossoms new gay spring's attire.
And when through the heavens I sweep
Rolling spheres will flash new fire.
Perfect Beauty only can
True eternal love inspire. Ghazzaliyat IV 277 f.
Mowlana Jalaloddin sees the power of love everywhere:
Love is like an ocean on which the skies are only foam,
agitated like Zoleykha in her love for Joseph,
and the turning of the skies is the result of the wave of love:
if love were not there, the world would be frozen. Mathnavi V 3853 f.
One may explain these lines, and also many similar verses found in Rumi's work, as an expression of the almost magnetic force of love which attracts everything, sets it in action, and eventually brings it back to its origin. But Rumi's view is closer to the notion of love as 'the essential desire' of God as defined first in Sufism by Hallaj, who was overwhelmed by the dynamic essence of God which caused the Creator to say: 'I was a hidden treasure, and I wanted to be known. . . '
Rumi emphasizes this dynamic character of love again and again in ever new images:
Love makes the ocean boil like a kettle, and makes the mountains like sand. Mathnavi V 2735
It is the only positive force in the world:
The sky revolves for the sake of the lover,
and for the sake of love is the dome turning,
not for the sake of baker and blacksmith,
not for the sake of superintendent and pharmatician. Divan 1158/12293 4.
Love is the physician of all illnesses, Plato and Galen in one, and the cause and goal of existence:
If this heaven were not a lover,
its breast would have no purity,
and if the sun were not a lover,
in its beauty were no light,
and if earth and mountain were not lovers,
grass would not grow out of their breasts. Divan 2674/28369 ff.
As the sun changes doleful shades and destitute darkness into colorful beauty, love is the great alchemy which transforms life: 'love means to fall in a goldmine.' Divan 1861/19618
From love bitterness's become sweet,
from love copper becomes gold,
from love the dregs become pure,
from love the pains become medicine,
from love the dead become alive,
from love the king is made a slave. Mathnawi II 1529 f.
as Rumi says in his great hymn in honor of love's power. Much later, he continues in the same strain:
Love makes the dead bread into soul, and makes the soul which was perishable eternal. Mathnawi V 2014
A verse which must be seen in connection with his thoughts on the constant upward development which traverses the whole gamut of existence from minerals to man and angel.
The same idea underlies an oft-quoted passage written towards the end of Mowlana's life:
When the demon becomes a lover, he carries away the ball, he becomes a Gabriel, and his demon - qualities die. "My Satan has become a Muslim' becomes here conspicuous, Yazid became, thanks to his bounty, a Bayazid. Mathnawi VI 3648 f; cf. Divan 1012/10675
That means the base faculties of man, the nafs, seen here in accordance with the Prophetic tradition in the old Arabic image of the demon, can be fully conquered and educated only by love, not by loveless austerities and sheer asceticism. Eventually, man will be blessed with the Prophet's own experience: his demonic qualities become sanctified and serve him only in the way towards God. The stronger the 'demon' was previously, the higher will his rank be in the angelic world, once he has given himself to the power of love; even an accursed sinner like Yazid could, by such an alchemy,be transformed into a Bayazid-like saint. Such an annihilation by love of the nafs,the personal representative of all evil of 'the world', as well as of independent, separate existence can be seen in Koranic terms:
Love is Moses who slays the Pharaoh of existence by means of his Miraculous rod. . . Divan 1970/20807
And it is the police-officer who helps the soul to break down the door of the prison of the world.
Love, which destroys the borders of separation, is the truly uniting force: it gives union to hundreds of thousands of atoms; their faces which are at present directed towards various, and often conflicting, directions and to egotistic goals, are turned by love towards the One Eternal Sun. There, they will be united in the whirling, mystical dance and, lost to themselves, live in a higher unity, no longer distinct as rose and thorn, or as Turk and Hindu.
For the religion of love knows no difference between the seventy-two sects: it is different from all religions.
But how to explain this love? Even examples and parables cannot help: did not Somnun the Lover say in early tenth century Baghdad:
One can explain something only by a means subtler than itself.
Now, there is nothing subtler than love; how, then, can it be explained? Hujwiri/Nicholson p. 137.
The qal, 'word' conveys only a weak shade of this experience; what is required, is hal, 'mystical state'. Love may be understood by the lover's behavior when his pulse, beating irregularly, tells the secret of his illness, and Rumi replies to his inquiring friends:
Some asked: "What is the state of a lover?"
I said: "Don't ask these meanings!
The moment you become like me, you will see it,
The moment He calls you, you will call! Divan 2733/29050
Libri : " Gabriels Wing. A study into the religious ideas of Sir Muhammad Iqbal"(1963 rpt. 1989)
nga Prof.Dr.Annemarie Schimmel(Prof. Emeritus)
- ėshtė njė studim me rėndėsi tė madhe pėr Dr.Muhammed Ikballin (1877-1938) , qė konsiderohet njė prej veprave mė tė mira pėr Ikballin dhe mendimin Islam nė pėrgjithėsi.
Dr.Annemarie Schimmel shkruan :
my long lasting love of Iqbal (which began when I was a student in Berlin during the war) has led me to publish a number of works which are more or less relevant for a study of his contribution to Muslim thought . In many articles I have tried to show Iqbal in the context of Islamic modernism, or deal with his imagery .
Pėr kontributin e saj tė madh ,Qeveria e Pakistanit , e ka nderuar Dr.Annemarie Schimmel-in me shpėrblimin mė tė lartė civil Hilal-e-Imtiaz dhe njė bulevard nė qytetin Lahore ėshtė emėrtuar sipas saj.
Nė librin " My Soul Is A Woman. The Feminine in Islam " (1997);
Prof.Dr.Annemarie Schimmel(Prof. Emeritus) shkruan:
" The topic of the 'women in Islam' is now in vogue.
Feminists particularly are eagerly trying their hands
at it, albeit frequently without sufficient knowledge
of the historical facts and, even more, to a great
extent ignorant of Islamic languages and literature."
Disa poezi nga Jalal al-Din RUMI,tė pėrkthyera nga Prof.Dr.Annemarie Schimmel :
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!
Nga libri : 'Look! This Is Love'
" O You Who've gone on Pilgrimage "
O you who've gone on pilgrimage -
where are you, where, oh where?
Here, here is the Beloved!
Oh come now, come, oh come!
Your friend, he is your neighbor,
he is next to your wall -
You, erring in the desert -
what air of love is this?
If you'd see the Beloved's
form without any form -
You are the house, the master,
You are the Kaaba, you! . . .
Where is a bunch of roses,
if you would be this garden?
Where, one soul's pearly essence
when you're the Sea of God?
That's true - and yet your troubles
may turn to treasures rich -
How sad that you yourself veil
the treasure that is yours!
Nga libri : 'I Am Wind, You are Fire'
"If A Tree Could Wander"
Oh, if a tree could wander
and move with foot and wings!
It would not suffer the axe blows
and not the pain of saws!
For would the sun not wander
away in every night ?
How could at ev'ry morning
the world be lighted up?
And if the ocean's water
would not rise to the sky,
How would the plants be quickened
by streams and gentle rain?
The drop that left its homeland,
the sea, and then returned ?
It found an oyster waiting
and grew into a pearl.
Did Yusaf not leave his father,
in grief and tears and despair?
Did he not, by such a journey,
gain kingdom and fortune wide?
Did not the Prophet travel
to far Medina, friend?
And there he found a new kingdom
and ruled a hundred lands.
You lack a foot to travel?
Then journey into yourself!
And like a mine of rubies
receive the sunbeams? print!
Out of yourself ? such a journey
will lead you to your self,
It leads to transformation
of dust into pure gold!
Nga libri : 'Look! This is Love'
Did I not say to you, friend:
"Don't go, for I am your Friend?
I am the Water of Life
in the mirage of decay!
And if in anger you go
thousands of miles, far from me:
Finally you will return -
I am your goal and your end!"
Did I not say to you, friend:
"I am the sea, you're a fish.
Do not go to the dry land -
I am the Attributes' sea!"
Did I not say to you, friend:
"Don't fly like birds to the snare!
Come, I am strength for your flight,
and I am strength for your wings!"
Did I not say to you, friend:
"They'll block your road, make you cold!
But I am fire and heat,
warmth of your heart and your love!"
Did I not say to you, friend:
"Bad qualities, that's your share!
But you can lose them! I am
the fountain of qualities pure."
Did I not say to you, friend:
"Don't grieve: 'From which side my work
Will be arranged?' For I am
He who creates, without sides!"
Carried away by the falcon Love,
The heart finds itself
on the glaciers of joy.
Superbly happy,
It gazes into the sun;
Suberbly lonely
It craves for a cloud's flighty shade
Before it dissolves in the light;
Before it is shattered again
In the dark of despair
Where Your hand will gather its shards.
I walk
and the blood of my feet
transforms the stones into roses.
I walk
and the tears of my eyes
water the desert shrubs,
Every day the same sun,
scorching, merciless, white,
And at nightfall the wind, cutting my heart and my hope.
I walk out of myself
and the desert is you.
the paths are throbbing like veins,
and tenderly touches my hand
your skin, soft as sand.
I wander through you,
drinking the saltly water that flows from your eyes,
sleeping at night in your arms
when you cover my weary limbs with your garment of stars.
And I am
one with the beats of your heart,
one with your breath, with the wind.
Through dawns, through clouds, beyond stars
I have to go and to go
to find the flower of alchemy
in the garden of souls.
If I could find it,
opening its petals like crimson wounds...
If I should find it
my heart would open like crimson wounds
and I would begin
once more the way through the gamut of elements,
and I would be
dust at your feet
wind in your hair
water in your eyes
sunlight, to add to your smile.
Then, all consumed,
I would be just a kiss
to talk with you with no words.
Prof.Dr. Annemarie Schimmel
* 'Nightingales Under the Snow'
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