By Zaheda Ghani
April-Sept. 1999
Lemar-Aftaab
Mawlana Balkhi or Jelaluddin Rumi, as he is also known, was a mystic
poet born in Balkh, Afghanistan. He lived most of his life in Konya in
Anatolia (known as Rum, hence 'Rumi'). Annemarie Schimmel (1991:7) has described
him as a "young professor of theology" before being transformed into a
Sufi poet. He always had spiritual inclinations, though ultimate
transformation came after his meeting with Shamsuddin (The Sun of Religion) of Tabriz. In
Shams, Rumi saw what he was searching for. A friend who could withstand
and understand hours of "sohbat" (conversation) about the mysteries of
other worlds. Kabir Helminski (1993:7) writes: "The meeting of Shams and
Mewlana was like the conjunction of two great planets."
"They retired into a solitude which became legendary; but as in the
conjunction of the sun and moon, the apparent darkness of eclipse was
objectionable to some of Mewlana's former students." (7)
This inevitably led to jealousy with the Mawlana's students and thus
Shams disappeared. Shams disappears twice and the second time, he does not
return. Helminski writes, "Perhaps it was necessary that (Rumi) experience the
pain of separation in order to reach his own perfection."
His meeting, sohbat and parting with Shams made Shams "the immortal
source of Rumi's inspiration", although later Mawlana turned to other
companions to "find himself again" (Schimmel, 1991:9).
Schimmel describes Rumi's ecstatic flow of poetry and twirling an
"enraptured" dance. What I found interesting in translations of Rumi's
work in Dari by Coleman Barks, Helminski and Schimmel was that the
beauty of the poetry is kept intact, despite varied styles. With Barks' (1990),
translations, "Like This: 43 Odes", "The Essential Rumi", "The
Illuminated Rumi", the flowing syntax appeared as if the poetry was never
translated, but made for the English tongue. Perhaps, he has
"Americanized" the language. This is in contrast to Schimmel's semi awkward though still lovely translations in "Look! This is Love". Helminski lies somewhere in
between with his "Love is a Stranger".
By the same token, nothing compares to the Dari readings of his
work. The task of translation means not only knowing what the Dari words
signify but coping with concepts to which they refer.
As Helminski puts it: "The problem of translating Rumi has two aspects that I would like to mention. First, the translator must not only acquaint himself with the
cultural background of the work but should have some affinity or
experience with the esoteric traditions out of which the poetry grew. Secondly he
must find or create equivalent terms for experiences that might
themselves be almost anachronistic to the modern mentality. I agree with the poet
and critic Kathleen Raine who has said that the work of any serious artist
or poet in our time is "to recreate a common language for the communication
of knowledge of spiritual realities, and of the invisible order of the
psyche." (11)
Below are excerpts of what Helminski had to say about Mawlana and some
of his translations of Mawlana's poetry from his book "Love is a Stranger".
Note the Western/Eastern parallels which Helminski pinpoints: "Western
culture has no convenient category for Melvin Jelaluddin Rumi. In the
Islamic world, he is held in the highest esteem not only as a literary
figure, but as a saint whose personal example inspired the founding of a
major religious order and as a philosopher whose elaboration of the
cosmic sense of Love has had a significant cultural impact."
"To many already familiar with his life and writings, Mewlana Jelaluddin
Rumi is something more than a poet. He might be considered an example of
insani kamil, the perfected or completed human being in whom the divine
attributes are embodied. A figure of almost prophetic dimensions, he
became for some Muslims almost a second Muhammad, for Christians a
second Christ, and for Jews a second Moses. Among those present at his funeral
procession were people of different religious traditions, each of who
claimed that Jelaluddin had brought him to a deeper understanding of has
own faith.
"Of interest is Helminski's experience of reading/translating Rumi's
work: "More than fourteen years have passed since I began to translate some of
Rumi's poetry. I could not have imagined where this path was taking me.
What at first seemed a distant and exotic city in the distance, whose
outline and features I was just beginning to differentiate, this city of
Sufi verse, is now a more familiar place whose streets and alleys, whose
grand architecture and precious details, I no longer view from afar but
sense and feel as someone beginning to feel at home in a place. This world
is as real and present to me as the outer world I live in, but even more
so, for it is a world of meanings and not just things."
Rumi's poetry from "Love is a Stranger" translated by Helminski:
"Love is a Stranger"
Heart came on solid footing with breath refined
to warn the best of communities.
Heart placed your head
like a pen on the page of love.
We are joyous pennants in your just wind.
Master, to where do you dance?
Toward the land of liberation,
toward the plain of non-existence.
Master, tell us which non-existence you mean.
The ear of eternity knows the letter of eternity.
Love is a stranger with a strange language,
like an Arab in Persia. I have brought a story;
it is strange, like the one that tells it.
Listen to your servant.
Joseph's face enlightened the well in which he was suspended.
His imprisonment became a palace
with orchards and meadows, a paradise,
a royal hall, and a chamber of sanctity.
Just as you toss a stone into the water,
the water at that very moment parts to receive it.
Just as a cloudy night is dispelled by a clear dawn,
from his humiliation and loss he views high heaven.
Reason do not envy my mouth.
God witnesses the blessings.
Through the tree drinks from hidden roots,
we see the display of its branches.
Whatever the earth took from heavens,
it yields up honestly in spring.
Whether you have stolen a bead or a jewel,
whether you have raised a flag or a pen,
the night is gone and day has arrived,
and the sleeper shall see what he has dreamed.
- - - - -
"The Intellectual"
The Intellectual is always showing off;
the lover is always getting lost.
The intellectual runs away, afraid of drowning;
the whole business of love is to drown in the sea.
Intellectuals plan their repose;
lovers are ashamed to rest.
The lover is always alone, even surrounded with people;
like water and oil, he remains apart.
The man who goes to a lover
gets nothing. He's mocked by passion.
Love is like musk. It attracts attention.
Love is a tree, and lovers are its shade.
- - - - -
"A House for the Naked"
It's late and it's raining, my friends;
let's go home. Let's leave these ruins
we've haunted like owls.
Even though these blonde beauties beckon,
let's go home. All the reasons offered
by the sensible, dull, and sorrowful
can't darken our hearts now;
nor can all this phantom love play,
this imaginary paradise hold us back.
Some see the grain but not the harvest.
Don't ask too many "how's" or "why's."
Let beasts graze.
Come home to the real celebration and music.
Shams has built a house for the naked and the pure.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Other work by Zaheda Ghani:
Young Writers (poetry article) Jan-March 1999
Lost Moons (poem) Jan-March 1999
The Art of Ustad Mashal (article) July-Sept. 1998
An Angle on Sydney (article) Oct-Dec.98
The Music and the Spirit (prose) Oct-Dec.98
My Journey and My Prayer (poem) July-Sept 98
Fragmentations (poem) July-Sept 98
in a tiny black box (poem) April-June 98
Afghanistan... (short story) April-June 98
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