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yunus emre

Burning, burning, I drift and tread.

Love spattered my body with blood.

I'm not in my senses nor mad,

Come, see what love has done to me.

Now and then like the winds I blow,

Now and then like the roads I go,

Now and then like the floods I flow,

Come, see what love has done to me.

Hold my hand, lift me from this place

Or take me into your embrace.

You made me weep, make me rejoice,

Come, see what love has done to me.

Searching, I roam from land to land,

In all tongues I ask for the Friend.

Who knows my plight where love is banned?

Come, see what love has done to me.

Lovelorn, I tread; madly I scream.

My loved one is my only dream;

I wake and plunge into deep gloom.

Come, see what love has done to me.

I'm Yunus, mystic of sorrow,

Suffering wounds from top to toe;

In the Friend's hands I writhe in woe.

Come, see what love has done to me.

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Blog: Sunday, Apr 19

I am before, I am after

The soul for all souls all the way.

I'm the one with a helping hand

Ready for those gone wild, astray.

I made the ground flat where it lies,

On it I had those mountains rise,

I designed the vault of the shies,

For I hold all things in my sway.

To countless lovers I have been

A guide for faith and religion.

I am sacrilege in men's hearts

Also the true faith and Islam's way.

I make men love peace and unite;

Putting down the black words on white,

I wrote the four holy books right

I'm the Koran for those who pray.

It's not Yunus who says all this:

It speaks its own realities:

To doubt this would be blasphemous:

"I'm before-I'm after," I say.

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Blog: Thursday, Apr 16

In case my Friend does not return to me,

The let me return to the Friend's embrace;

I'm willing to suffer pain and torture

If that is how I can see the Friend's face.


Laila and the Khalifa. by Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

The Khalifa said to Laila, "Art thou really she

For whom Majnun lost his head and went distracted?

Thou art not fairer than many other fair ones."

She replied, "Be silent; thou art not Majnun!"

If thou hadst Majnun's eyes,

The two worlds would be within thy view.

Thou art in thy senses, but Majnun is beside himself.

In love to be wide awake is treason.

The more a man is awake, the more he sleeps (to love);

His (critical) wakefulness is worse than slumbering.

Our wakefulness fetters our spirits,

Then our souls are a prey to divers whims,

Thoughts of loss and gain and fears of misery.

They retain not purity, nor dignity, nor lustre,

Nor aspiration to soar heavenwards.

That one is really sleeping who hankers after each whim

And holds parley with each fancy.

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Member Since April 15, 2009
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