If anyone asks you
how the perfect satisfaction
of all our sexual wanting
will look, lift your face
and say,
how the perfect satisfaction
of all our sexual wanting
will look, lift your face
and say,
Like this.
When someone mentions the gracefulness
of the nightsky, climb up on the roof
and dance and say,
of the nightsky, climb up on the roof
and dance and say,
Like this.
If anyone wants to know what "spirit"
is,
or what "God’s fragrance" means,
lean your head toward him or her.
Keep your face there close.
or what "God’s fragrance" means,
lean your head toward him or her.
Keep your face there close.
Like this.
When someone quotes the old poetic image
about clouds gradually uncovering the moon,
slowly loosen knot by knot the strings
of your robe.
about clouds gradually uncovering the moon,
slowly loosen knot by knot the strings
of your robe.
Like this.
If anyone wonders how Jesus raised the dead,
don’t try to explain the miracle.
Kiss me on the lips.
don’t try to explain the miracle.
Kiss me on the lips.
Like this. Like this.
When someone asks what it means
to "die for love," point
here.
to "die for love," point
here.
If someone asks how tall I am, frown
and measure with your fingers the space
between the creases on your forehead.
and measure with your fingers the space
between the creases on your forehead.
This tall.
The soul sometimes leaves the body, then returns.
When someone doesn’t believe that,
walk back into my house.
When someone doesn’t believe that,
walk back into my house.
Like this.
When lovers moan,
they’re telling our story.
they’re telling our story.
Like this.
I am a sky where spirits live.
Stare into this deepening blue,
while the breeze says a secret.
Stare into this deepening blue,
while the breeze says a secret.
Like this.
When someone asks what there is to do,
light the candle in his hand.
Like this.
light the candle in his hand.
Like this.
(Rumi)
Cok Sevdim
ReplyDeleteL'amour et la poesie sont des âmes jumelles
ReplyDeleteElles sont nées le même jour
et ont été nourries au même sein,
Si les mots meurent,
l'Amour ne pourra survivre
Privé des ailes qui l'emmènent vers le ciel.
Love and poetry are twin souls
They were born the same day
and have been nourished the same breast,
If the words are dying,
Love will not survive
Deprived of the wings which took him to heaven.
"When someone asks what there is to do,
light the candle in his hand.
Like this."
Thanks, dear Yimaz for this poem and your deep soul, who is very closely my feelings. Marie-Christine
@ ooo: Bende cok sevindim. :)
ReplyDelete@ Marie-Christine: Thank you for sharing your beautiful poem as well. It makes me contemplate, whether love and poetry depend on each other or whether love is the breast that nourishes poetry; but love alone is sufficient of itself...