O my Beloved,
I searched both worlds
but never found joy without you.
I have seen many wonders
but never a wonder like you.
I pressed my soul’s ear
against countless doors
but never heard words as sweet as yours
O what grace you pour upon your servants!
From our view the ocean looks so small!
O Saaqi, sweet sight of my eyes,
I have never seen one like you
in all of Persia or Arabia.
Pour the wine that takes me beyond myself,
for this petty existance
brings nothing but fatigue.
You are the endless Love,
you are the heavenly song,
you are the mother and father,
you are the one I will always know.
We are scraps of iron.
Your love is the magnet that draws us near.
Why should I seek?—
All I need do is love…
Rest now my soul,
leave behind your religion
and your empty show of faith.
Remember when you had no religion?
Remember when all you had was Him?
Rumi: In the Arms of the Belovedtranslations by Jonathan Star, Penguin Putnam, 1997. ISBN- 1-58542-064-6
I chose this one for its resemblance to the Ottoman Lyrical poetry I like so well. In that poetry, the one who pours the wine at gatherings, the saki or saaqi was often the subject of love poetry (and usually a young boy but that is neither here nor there) and I am a fool for anything that addresses the Beloved in such a way.
