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Words of Paradise: Selected Poems
Illustrated with miniatures and borders from ancient Islamic scripts, this volume features 55 poems from the works of Jalaluddin Rumi. Rumi was a 13th-century Persian mystic who believed that all human beings can, if they surrender themselves to the power of love, live in a condition of infinite bliss. Raficq Abdulla uses rhythm and powerful imagery to recreate the ecstatic state which Rumi considered so crucual to reach enlightenment.
- GenresPoetryNonfictionReligion
109 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2000
About the author
Rumi
1,007 books14.3k followersSufism inspired writings of Persian poet and mystic Jalal ad-Din Muhammad ar-Rumi; these writings express the longing of the soul for union with the divine.
Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī - also known as Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Balkhī, Mevlânâ/Mawlānā (مولانا, "our master"), Mevlevî/Mawlawī (مولوی, "my master") and more popularly simply as Rumi - was a 13th-century Persian poet, jurist, Islamic scholar, theologian and Sufi mystic who lived in Konya, a city of Ottoman Empire (Today's Turkey). His poems have been widely translated into many of the world's languages, and he has been described as the most popular poet and the best-selling poet in the United States.
His poetry has influenced Persian literature, but also Turkish, Ottoman Turkish, Azerbaijani, Punjabi, Hindi, and Urdu, as well as the literature of some other Turkic, Iranian, and Indo-Aryan languages including Chagatai, Pashto, and Bengali.
Due to quarrels between different dynasties in Khorāṣān, opposition to the Khwarizmid Shahs who were considered devious by his father, Bahā ud-Dīn Wālad or fear of the impending Mongol cataclysm, his father decided to migrate westwards, eventually settling in the Anatolian city Konya, where he lived most of his life, composed one of the crowning glories of Persian literature, and profoundly affected the culture of the area.
When his father died, Rumi, aged 25, inherited his position as the head of an Islamic school. One of Baha' ud-Din's students, Sayyed Burhan ud-Din Muhaqqiq Termazi, continued to train Rumi in the Shariah as well as the Tariqa, especially that of Rumi's father. For nine years, Rumi practised Sufism as a disciple of Burhan ud-Din until the latter died in 1240 or 1241. Rumi's public life then began: he became an Islamic Jurist, issuing fatwas and giving sermons in the mosques of Konya. He also served as a Molvi (Islamic teacher) and taught his adherents in the madrassa. During this period, Rumi also travelled to Damascus and is said to have spent four years there.
It was his meeting with the dervish Shams-e Tabrizi on 15 November 1244 that completely changed his life. From an accomplished teacher and jurist, Rumi was transformed into an ascetic.
On the night of 5 December 1248, as Rumi and Shams were talking, Shams was called to the back door. He went out, never to be seen again. Rumi's love for, and his bereavement at the death of, Shams found their expression in an outpouring of lyric poems, Divan-e Shams-e Tabrizi. He himself went out searching for Shams and journeyed again to Damascus.
Rumi found another companion in Salaḥ ud-Din-e Zarkub, a goldsmith. After Salah ud-Din's death, Rumi's scribe and favourite student, Hussam-e Chalabi, assumed the role of Rumi's companion. Hussam implored Rumi to write more. Rumi spent the next 12 years of his life in Anatolia dictating the six volumes of this masterwork, the Masnavi, to Hussam.
In December 1273, Rumi fell ill and died on the 17th of December in Konya.
Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī - also known as Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Balkhī, Mevlânâ/Mawlānā (مولانا, "our master"), Mevlevî/Mawlawī (مولوی, "my master") and more popularly simply as Rumi - was a 13th-century Persian poet, jurist, Islamic scholar, theologian and Sufi mystic who lived in Konya, a city of Ottoman Empire (Today's Turkey). His poems have been widely translated into many of the world's languages, and he has been described as the most popular poet and the best-selling poet in the United States.
His poetry has influenced Persian literature, but also Turkish, Ottoman Turkish, Azerbaijani, Punjabi, Hindi, and Urdu, as well as the literature of some other Turkic, Iranian, and Indo-Aryan languages including Chagatai, Pashto, and Bengali.
Due to quarrels between different dynasties in Khorāṣān, opposition to the Khwarizmid Shahs who were considered devious by his father, Bahā ud-Dīn Wālad or fear of the impending Mongol cataclysm, his father decided to migrate westwards, eventually settling in the Anatolian city Konya, where he lived most of his life, composed one of the crowning glories of Persian literature, and profoundly affected the culture of the area.
When his father died, Rumi, aged 25, inherited his position as the head of an Islamic school. One of Baha' ud-Din's students, Sayyed Burhan ud-Din Muhaqqiq Termazi, continued to train Rumi in the Shariah as well as the Tariqa, especially that of Rumi's father. For nine years, Rumi practised Sufism as a disciple of Burhan ud-Din until the latter died in 1240 or 1241. Rumi's public life then began: he became an Islamic Jurist, issuing fatwas and giving sermons in the mosques of Konya. He also served as a Molvi (Islamic teacher) and taught his adherents in the madrassa. During this period, Rumi also travelled to Damascus and is said to have spent four years there.
It was his meeting with the dervish Shams-e Tabrizi on 15 November 1244 that completely changed his life. From an accomplished teacher and jurist, Rumi was transformed into an ascetic.
On the night of 5 December 1248, as Rumi and Shams were talking, Shams was called to the back door. He went out, never to be seen again. Rumi's love for, and his bereavement at the death of, Shams found their expression in an outpouring of lyric poems, Divan-e Shams-e Tabrizi. He himself went out searching for Shams and journeyed again to Damascus.
Rumi found another companion in Salaḥ ud-Din-e Zarkub, a goldsmith. After Salah ud-Din's death, Rumi's scribe and favourite student, Hussam-e Chalabi, assumed the role of Rumi's companion. Hussam implored Rumi to write more. Rumi spent the next 12 years of his life in Anatolia dictating the six volumes of this masterwork, the Masnavi, to Hussam.
In December 1273, Rumi fell ill and died on the 17th of December in Konya.
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Displaying 1 - 16 of 16 reviews
March 3, 2016
This is a nice thing to have, to take out of the shelf and open and look at. The pictures and page borders are so surpassingly lovely.
I am not very happy with the translation. I know Iranian poetry is 'untranslatable' but I did not find this version very pleasant to read aloud. But probably I just am not the best reader of Rumi, however translated
I think Rumi's narrating spirit moves, it dances and knows no stillness. Its home, food and breath is the divine apprehended directly in the body. Shelter, clothing and adornment are bestowed upon the lacking lover by the heights of his ecstasy in worship. The movement from desire to bliss or agony or both depends on the barest material support: wine (or intoxicating passion) and the presence or absence (real or imagined or divine) of the beloved. It needs no wealth.
A beggar smiled at me and offered me alms
In a dream last night, my heart leapt with delight.
The beauty and grace shining from his tattered
Presence took me by storm until I woke at dawn.
His poverty was riches, it covered my body in silk.
In that dream I heard the beckoning sighs of lovers
I heard soft cries of agonised joy saying "Take this,
Drink and be complete!" I saw before me a ring
Jewelled in poverty that nested on my ear
From the root of my surging soul a hundred tremors
Rose as I was lifted and pinned down by the surging sea
And heaven cried out in bliss and made a beggar of me
Divan 2015
I feel this restlessness allows a joyous apprehension of nature's dynamism. But rather than lingering on the poignancy of the ephemeral (as is common in Japanese traditional poetry) or celebrating cycles of renewal, Rumi's focus is on purpose and climax. Destruction does not lead to rebirth, rather it is a sacrifice for final bliss:
Passing, passing
The blossom gives way to the fruit;
Both are necessary,
One passes into another.
Bread exists to be broken
To sustain its purpose,
The grape on the vine
Is wine in the making,
Crush it and it comes alive
Mathnavi I, 2930
I am not very happy with the translation. I know Iranian poetry is 'untranslatable' but I did not find this version very pleasant to read aloud. But probably I just am not the best reader of Rumi, however translated
I think Rumi's narrating spirit moves, it dances and knows no stillness. Its home, food and breath is the divine apprehended directly in the body. Shelter, clothing and adornment are bestowed upon the lacking lover by the heights of his ecstasy in worship. The movement from desire to bliss or agony or both depends on the barest material support: wine (or intoxicating passion) and the presence or absence (real or imagined or divine) of the beloved. It needs no wealth.
A beggar smiled at me and offered me alms
In a dream last night, my heart leapt with delight.
The beauty and grace shining from his tattered
Presence took me by storm until I woke at dawn.
His poverty was riches, it covered my body in silk.
In that dream I heard the beckoning sighs of lovers
I heard soft cries of agonised joy saying "Take this,
Drink and be complete!" I saw before me a ring
Jewelled in poverty that nested on my ear
From the root of my surging soul a hundred tremors
Rose as I was lifted and pinned down by the surging sea
And heaven cried out in bliss and made a beggar of me
Divan 2015
I feel this restlessness allows a joyous apprehension of nature's dynamism. But rather than lingering on the poignancy of the ephemeral (as is common in Japanese traditional poetry) or celebrating cycles of renewal, Rumi's focus is on purpose and climax. Destruction does not lead to rebirth, rather it is a sacrifice for final bliss:
Passing, passing
The blossom gives way to the fruit;
Both are necessary,
One passes into another.
Bread exists to be broken
To sustain its purpose,
The grape on the vine
Is wine in the making,
Crush it and it comes alive
Mathnavi I, 2930
March 14, 2020
Seated here attached to the present of this royal place
We are a singing joy, you and I.
Two in form two in figure, two to the outward eye
We're one in one, yon and I.
The grove's verdant green picked in birdsong
Treats us kindly with a trace of eternity
As we enter the garden, you and I.
The unnumbered eyes of the stars gaze on us.
We turn on them the moon's face, you and I.
You and I, refined with joy, more than you and I.
Set apart from the dross of empty words, you and I,
We are, you in I and I In you, the envy of gorgeous
Birds of paradise when we melt in secret laughter.
You and I, the mystery is you and I as we sit
Together in this royal place, yet in this cusp
Of being in the shade of common bliss we are one
You and l.
We are a singing joy, you and I.
Two in form two in figure, two to the outward eye
We're one in one, yon and I.
The grove's verdant green picked in birdsong
Treats us kindly with a trace of eternity
As we enter the garden, you and I.
The unnumbered eyes of the stars gaze on us.
We turn on them the moon's face, you and I.
You and I, refined with joy, more than you and I.
Set apart from the dross of empty words, you and I,
We are, you in I and I In you, the envy of gorgeous
Birds of paradise when we melt in secret laughter.
You and I, the mystery is you and I as we sit
Together in this royal place, yet in this cusp
Of being in the shade of common bliss we are one
You and l.
April 12, 2016
كتاب ممتع وجميع ورائع وملئ بكلمات الحب والعشق والحياة ..
الكتاب عبارة عن مجموعة مختارة من أشعار جلال الدين الرومى فى الحب والحياة والعشق وأمور كتيرة
الجميل بالكتاب هو فن الكتاب نفسو ! الكتاب يعتبر فن بحد ذاته
الصور الجميلة مع كل قصيدة وجزئية
والتنسيق الجميل .. انا وقعت فى عشق هذا الكتاب ! ()
مجموعة مختارة من القصائد الى عجبتنى :
(1) :
Once again to open to the melody
Of the reed of good fortune, listen;
Sing my soul, dance my heart,
Clap your hands and stamp your feet.
The dark shafts of a mine are now glowing
Ruby-red, and the world is festive with welcome,
The table is set for the coming celebrations.
We are drunk on Love, blatant with hope
And adoration of the Beloved's cheek
Fresh as a meadow in spring.
He is the sea, we are the seas mist;
He is the treasure, we are dilapidated beggars;
We are mere hapless particles in the radiant
Light of the sea. I am so amazed, so bemused,
Do not scold me for being boastful,
If you only knew how I am enjoyed
By the Beloved! With the light of Mustapha
I am ready to split the moon.
(2) :
Your beauty is glory in nakedness, the melt
Of smooth skin unsullied with petulant jewels
And the spoiling touch of silk. Your delicate face
Is as pure as the milk of the full moon.
هاى الجزئية جميلة جدا ()
(3) :
Music opens our hearts and surely ensnares
With echoes that spill from celestial spheres;
And faith far beyond the impaled cast of thought
Turns ugly dissonance to honey by angels brought.
Adam's children tuned and so coarsely tied
Hear with him the angels' songs and smiling sigh.
We remember them, even faintly, as yearning
Heartbeats of the sweet soul's original learning
Oh, music feeds the calling souls of lovers,
Music raises the spirit from its earthly covers.
The ashes grow bolder and shed their fur
Listen with stillness that only souls can share.
الحديث عن الموسيقى وجمال الموسيقى ()
...
الكتاب عبارة عن مجموعة مختارة من أشعار جلال الدين الرومى فى الحب والحياة والعشق وأمور كتيرة
الجميل بالكتاب هو فن الكتاب نفسو ! الكتاب يعتبر فن بحد ذاته
الصور الجميلة مع كل قصيدة وجزئية
والتنسيق الجميل .. انا وقعت فى عشق هذا الكتاب ! ()
مجموعة مختارة من القصائد الى عجبتنى :
(1) :
Once again to open to the melody
Of the reed of good fortune, listen;
Sing my soul, dance my heart,
Clap your hands and stamp your feet.
The dark shafts of a mine are now glowing
Ruby-red, and the world is festive with welcome,
The table is set for the coming celebrations.
We are drunk on Love, blatant with hope
And adoration of the Beloved's cheek
Fresh as a meadow in spring.
He is the sea, we are the seas mist;
He is the treasure, we are dilapidated beggars;
We are mere hapless particles in the radiant
Light of the sea. I am so amazed, so bemused,
Do not scold me for being boastful,
If you only knew how I am enjoyed
By the Beloved! With the light of Mustapha
I am ready to split the moon.
(2) :
Your beauty is glory in nakedness, the melt
Of smooth skin unsullied with petulant jewels
And the spoiling touch of silk. Your delicate face
Is as pure as the milk of the full moon.
هاى الجزئية جميلة جدا ()
(3) :
Music opens our hearts and surely ensnares
With echoes that spill from celestial spheres;
And faith far beyond the impaled cast of thought
Turns ugly dissonance to honey by angels brought.
Adam's children tuned and so coarsely tied
Hear with him the angels' songs and smiling sigh.
We remember them, even faintly, as yearning
Heartbeats of the sweet soul's original learning
Oh, music feeds the calling souls of lovers,
Music raises the spirit from its earthly covers.
The ashes grow bolder and shed their fur
Listen with stillness that only souls can share.
الحديث عن الموسيقى وجمال الموسيقى ()
...
November 22, 2016
This is the reprint of Words of Paradise: Selected Poems (2000). It seems Raficq Abdulla translated directly from the original Persian. And although the book is pocket size, it comes with many color pictures of Persian art. I love them. (Yes, yes, I said the same here about Omar Khayyam's Rubaiyat translation.)
I love Rumi's poems for many reasons, and his bold and unexpected use of words is one of them.
The first line catches your attention and confuses you, right?
Some people insist Rumi is talking about divine love, and it has nothing to do with our sexuality. I'd say that's a puritan-like narrow view that condemns our natural passion--our God-given feelings.
I love Rumi's poems for many reasons, and his bold and unexpected use of words is one of them.
A beggar smiled at me and offered me alms
In a dream last night, my heart sprang with delight . . .
The first line catches your attention and confuses you, right?
And this is Love--the vertigo of heaven
Beyond the cage of words . . .
Some people insist Rumi is talking about divine love, and it has nothing to do with our sexuality. I'd say that's a puritan-like narrow view that condemns our natural passion--our God-given feelings.
April 18, 2008
I very much admire Rumi's poetry, but of all the collections I have read so far, this was the least impressive. I don't know if it was the translator or the selection, but most of these simply did not touch me in the way Rumi's poetry usually does, and some seemed even stilted in places. The book itself is beautifully illustrated and presented and would make a nice coffee table book. If you are just now introducing yourself to Rumi, I would suggest reading another collection instead, perhaps the Essential Rumi (Coleman Barks).
September 25, 2012
"Music opens our hearts and surely ensnares
With echoes that spill from celestial spheres;
And faith far beyond the impaled cast of thought
Turns ugly dissonance to honey by angels brought.
Adam's children tuned and so coarsely tied
Hear with him the angels' songs and smiling sigh.
We remember them, even faintly, as yearning
Heartbeats of the sweet soul's original learning
Oh, music feeds the calling souls of lovers,
Music raises the spirit from its earthly covers.
The ashes grow bolder and shed their fur
Listen with stillness that only souls can share."
Mathnavi IV, 733
With echoes that spill from celestial spheres;
And faith far beyond the impaled cast of thought
Turns ugly dissonance to honey by angels brought.
Adam's children tuned and so coarsely tied
Hear with him the angels' songs and smiling sigh.
We remember them, even faintly, as yearning
Heartbeats of the sweet soul's original learning
Oh, music feeds the calling souls of lovers,
Music raises the spirit from its earthly covers.
The ashes grow bolder and shed their fur
Listen with stillness that only souls can share."
Mathnavi IV, 733
January 17, 2019
I am ready to split the moon.
Really lovely stuff. I of course can't comment on the translation quality (from some of his notes I do think I wouldn't have minded a bit more literal translation and a little less lyricism... though as I said, the poetic language was really beautiful) but I enjoyed it a lot.
Really lovely stuff. I of course can't comment on the translation quality (from some of his notes I do think I wouldn't have minded a bit more literal translation and a little less lyricism... though as I said, the poetic language was really beautiful) but I enjoyed it a lot.
September 18, 2011
Magnificent...
February 7, 2013
Just a wonderful book of poems...Jalaluddin Rumi was remarkable....<3
September 22, 2014
I loved the book very much,for it gave me an orgasmic feeling as long as I read the marvellous lyrics of those ghazals.
August 23, 2018
''Our daily sun is but a working star in a galaxy of stars,
Our inner sun is One, the dancing nuance of eternal light.
You must be set alight by the inner sun.
You have to live your Love or else
You''ll only end in words.''
Our inner sun is One, the dancing nuance of eternal light.
You must be set alight by the inner sun.
You have to live your Love or else
You''ll only end in words.''
September 20, 2020
Rumi luule on kõige ilusam kingitus inimkonnale.
Read
January 13, 2022When listening to the words of Rumi, I always end up saying to myself……that was so obvious…..but I could never have thought of it myself.
February 2, 2022
Beautiful poems. I am better for having read them. I wish I could read them in the original language, but I trust the translator did a great job.
August 13, 2017
Sometimes I feel bad for Rumi, because some translations of his poems are awful and it's not his fault. This book, in english, is just that.
February 6, 2017
Raficq Abdulla's translation brings Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī's poetry to life with brilliant imagery. A 13th century Sufi mystic, Rumi uses poetry to take you to another time and dimension - a time devoid of the notion of time, and a dimension devoid of the notion of space. I would definitely like to read this once again, this time while reading the author's notes about each poem to guide me.
Divan 2313:
My mind is but a pillow
Indented by the flow of your passing thoughts.
Mathnavi II, 1750
The religion of the heart is not a stark monument of stone;
Lovers of God have no religion save yearning for Me alone.
Mathnavi I, 2930
Passing, passing
The blossom gives way to the fruit;
Both are necessary,
One passes into another.
Bread exists to be broken
To sustain its purpose,
The grape on the vine
Is wine in the making.
Crush it and it comes alive.
Divan 981
These words of mine are not stones
To pick and throw at passing fancies.
They're yeast-sounds, bread waiting
To be broken whilst they're still fresh.
Leave them overnight and they become
Hard as rusting bolts, not fit for eating.
My verse is harboured in lovers' hearts,
Expose it to the indifferent world
Busy with its traffic and it chokes to death.
Like a fish it swims in the lover's blood,
Land it on the rocks and it gasps for life
Then slowly dies, cold and stiff as an icicle.
You must be rich with metaphors,
Like an ore of gold waiting to be mined
If you are to digest my words
When they're fresh. Know this,
My friend, it's nothing new,
These words are turned to bliss when you
Read them with your own imagining heart.
Mathnavi I, 109
Language is too precocious, too impudent, too sane
To stop the molten lava of Love which churns the blood...
Mathnavi II, 578
I will only to an open heart a story tell...
Divan 2760
I said to my heart, this stranger who embellishes me:
"Why do you behave in such an unruly manner?"
My heart replied with silent music:
"Why don't you join me in Love,
Extract the worn-out teeth of words
Become one with delight?"
Divan 2865
Spend not your time with cold faces in dead places
Or else your breath will freeze your breast and heart.
Divan 2865
If you're obtuse and heavy as burdened clay enclosed
By gravity, you'll never lift off and circle the sky:
Come as fine as a thousand dancing particles of dust,
So float and find your feet in the silken path of light.
Mathnavi II, 2923
Be careful
With your counterfeit truths,
Like false coin to the real,
Is their value to be measured.
Mathnavi VI, 634
You are tied up in nots,
But beyond your cautious nots
You must see and say what
Really is without not knowing.
Ruba'iyat (reference unknown)
Don't flounder in the preambles of the past
Wounded with regrets; don't let autumnal
Nostalgia blind you to the sounds and scents
Of the present's Spring; you're a native of
The pellucid moment, make it infinite beyond
The curving snake of passing time and space,
Learn to die in the infinitely elusive moment.
Divan 2313:
My mind is but a pillow
Indented by the flow of your passing thoughts.
Mathnavi II, 1750
The religion of the heart is not a stark monument of stone;
Lovers of God have no religion save yearning for Me alone.
Mathnavi I, 2930
Passing, passing
The blossom gives way to the fruit;
Both are necessary,
One passes into another.
Bread exists to be broken
To sustain its purpose,
The grape on the vine
Is wine in the making.
Crush it and it comes alive.
Divan 981
These words of mine are not stones
To pick and throw at passing fancies.
They're yeast-sounds, bread waiting
To be broken whilst they're still fresh.
Leave them overnight and they become
Hard as rusting bolts, not fit for eating.
My verse is harboured in lovers' hearts,
Expose it to the indifferent world
Busy with its traffic and it chokes to death.
Like a fish it swims in the lover's blood,
Land it on the rocks and it gasps for life
Then slowly dies, cold and stiff as an icicle.
You must be rich with metaphors,
Like an ore of gold waiting to be mined
If you are to digest my words
When they're fresh. Know this,
My friend, it's nothing new,
These words are turned to bliss when you
Read them with your own imagining heart.
Mathnavi I, 109
Language is too precocious, too impudent, too sane
To stop the molten lava of Love which churns the blood...
Mathnavi II, 578
I will only to an open heart a story tell...
Divan 2760
I said to my heart, this stranger who embellishes me:
"Why do you behave in such an unruly manner?"
My heart replied with silent music:
"Why don't you join me in Love,
Extract the worn-out teeth of words
Become one with delight?"
Divan 2865
Spend not your time with cold faces in dead places
Or else your breath will freeze your breast and heart.
Divan 2865
If you're obtuse and heavy as burdened clay enclosed
By gravity, you'll never lift off and circle the sky:
Come as fine as a thousand dancing particles of dust,
So float and find your feet in the silken path of light.
Mathnavi II, 2923
Be careful
With your counterfeit truths,
Like false coin to the real,
Is their value to be measured.
Mathnavi VI, 634
You are tied up in nots,
But beyond your cautious nots
You must see and say what
Really is without not knowing.
Ruba'iyat (reference unknown)
Don't flounder in the preambles of the past
Wounded with regrets; don't let autumnal
Nostalgia blind you to the sounds and scents
Of the present's Spring; you're a native of
The pellucid moment, make it infinite beyond
The curving snake of passing time and space,
Learn to die in the infinitely elusive moment.
Displaying 1 - 16 of 16 reviews