Translations
This page shows only poems with translations by A. J. Arberry.
Divan-e Shams by Rumi, in translations by A. J. Arberry
What excuses have you to offer, my heart, for so many shortcomings? Such constancy on the part of the Beloved, such unfaithfulness on your own!
O lovers, lovers, this day you and we are fallen into a whirlpool: who knows how to swim?
Today I beheld the beloved, that ornament of every affair; he went off departing to heaven like the spirit of Mus.t.af¯a.
Every instant a revelation from heaven comes to men’s innermost souls: “How long like dregs do you remain upon earth? Come up!”
O lovers, lovers, the time of union and encounter has come. The proclamation from heaven has come: “Moon-faced beauties, welcome hither!”
How sweet it is to give speech and head, to converse with his lip, especially when he opens the door and says, “Good sir, come in!”
The king has come, the king has come; adorn the palace-hall; cut your forearms in honour of the fair one of Canaan.
Have you ever seen any lover who was satiated with this passion? Have you ever seen any fish that had become satiated with this sea?
How would it be, if my fair love should take my hand tomorrow, hang his head through the window like the lovely-featured moon?
Today give in full measure that pure wine; strike in utter confusion this hasty wheel of heaven.
Like the rose I am laughing with all my body, not only with my mouth, because I am without myself, alone with the king of the world.
Come, you who have given new life to the world, put out of action cunning reason.
Do you break our harp, exalted one; thousands of other harps are here.
O soul and stay of every soul, who bestow wings and set the spirits in motion,
I beheld the lovely rosebower face, that eye and lamp of all brightness,
Love has rosebowers amid the veil of blood; lovers have affairs to transact with the beauty of incomparable Love.
Yesterday I gave a star a message for you; I said to it, “Deliver my compliments to that one fair as the moon.”
Go forth, my comrades, draw along our beloved, at last bring to me the fugitive idol;
A garden—may its roses bloom till resurrection-day; an idol—may the two worlds be scattered over its beauty!
When you display that rosy cheek, you set the stones aspinning for joy.
The heart is like a grain of corn, we are like a mill; how does the mill know why this turning?
Here someone is hidden; suppose not that you are alone. She has very sharp ears; do not open your tongue to evil.
Bring into motion your amber-scattering tress; bring into dancing the souls of the Sufis.
You who are my soul’s repose in the time of pain, you who are my spirit’s treasure in the bitterness of poverty,
Again the violet bent double has arrived beside the lily, again the ruby-clad rose is tearing her gown to shreds;
If you are Love’s lover and in quest of Love, take a sharp dagger and cut the throat of bashfulness.
You have seized me by the ear—whither are you drawing me? Declare what is in your heart, and what your purpose is.
If you do not know Love, question the nights, ask of the pale cheek and the dryness of the lips.
Our desert has no bounds, our hearts and souls know no rest.
A hundred drums are being beaten within our hearts, the roar of which we shall hear tomorrow.
Hark, for I am at the door! Open the door; to bar the door is not the sign of good pleasure.
The wheel of heaven, with all its pomp and splendour, circles around God like a mill.
The water has been cut off from this world’s river; O springtide, return and bring back the water!—
Do you not know what the rebeck says concerning tears of the eyes and burning hearts?
That moon has returned, whose like the sky never saw even in dreams; he has brought a fire which no water can extinguish.
You who possess not Love, it is lawful to you—sleep on; be gone, for Love and Love’s sorrow is our portion—sleep on.
Since midnight sickness has manifested itself in that Master; till daybreak he has been beating his head uncontrollably against our wall.
I have come so that, tugging your ear, I may draw you to me, unheart and unself you, plant you in my heart and soul.
Come, come, for the rosebower has blossomed; come, come, for the beloved has arrived.
This house wherein continually rings the sound of the bellstaff—ask of the master what house this house is.
Come, for today is for us a day of festival; henceforward joy and pleasure are on the increase.
In this river the heart is like a ruined waterwheel; in whichever direction it turns, there is water before it;
So long as the form of the Beloved’s image is with us, for us the whole of life is a joyful parade.
Today a new madness has arrived, it has dragged the chains of a thousand hearts;
Which is the road by which I came? I would return, for it likes me not here;
Be gathered together, comrades, for this is not the time to sleep; by Allah, every comrade who sleeps is not of the true companions.
Love resides not in science and learning, scrolls and pages; whatever men chatter about, that way is not the lovers’ way.
Mind you do not slip, for the road behind and ahead is wet with blood; man-robbers are nowadays more numerous than gold-robbers.
Has perchance this instant the tip of that tress become scattered? For such a Tartar musk has become amber-diffusing.
He said, “Who is at the door?” I said, “Your humble slave.” He said, “What is your business?” I said, “Lord, to greet you.”
