Rumi Poems

Classic Poetry Series

Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

- poems -

Publication Date:

2004

Publisher:

PoemHunter.Com - The World's Poetry Archive

Bring Wine

216

Bring wine, for I am suffering crop sickness from the vintage;

God has seized me, and I am thus held fast.

By love’s soul, bring me a cup of wine that is the envy of the

sun, for I care aught but love.

Bring that which if I were to call it “soul” would be a shame,

for the reason that I am pained in the head because of the soul.

Bring that whose name is not contained in this mouth, through

which the fissures of my speech split asunder.

Bring that which, when it is not present, I am stupid and ignorant, but when I am with it, I am the king of the subtle and

crafty ones.

Bring that which, the moment it is void of my head, I become

black and dark, you might say I am of the infidels.

Bring that which delivers out of this “bring” and “do not

bring”; bring quickly, and repel me not, saying, “Whence shall

I bring it?”

Bring, and deliver the roof of the heavens through the long

night from my abundant smoke and lamentations.

Bring that which after my death, even out of my dust, will

restore me to speech and thanksgiving even as Najjar.

Bring me wine, for I am guardian of wine like a goblet, for

whatever has gone into my stomach I deliver back completely.

Najjar said, “After my death would that my people might be

open-eyed to the ecstasy within me.

“They would not regard my bones and blood; in spirit I ama

mighty king, even though in body I am vile.

“What a ladder I, the Carpenter, have chiseled! My going has

reached the roof of the seventh heaven.

“I journeyed like the Messiah, my ass remained below; I do

no grieve for my ass, nor am I asslike of ears.

“Do not like Eblis see in Adam only water and clay; see that

behind the clay are my hundred thousand rose bowers.”

Shams-e Tabrizi rose up from this flesh saying, “ I am the

sun. Bring up my head from this mire.

“Err not, when...