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Today we are pleased to present Rumi’s opening poem also known as the “Proem” from The Mesnevī, which introduces the themes of separation, longing, and the journey of the soul. IN THE NAME OF GOD, THE ALL-MERCIFUL, THE VERY-COMPASSIONATE. PROEM: THE REED-FLUTE “[…] The absent lover’s flute’s no toy; Its trills proclaim his grief, his joy. Or bane, or cure, the flute is still; Content, complaining, as you will. It tells its tale of burning grief; Recounts how love is mad, in brief. The lover lover’s pangs best knows; As ear receives tongue’s plaint of woes. Through grief, his day is but a dawn; Each day of sorrow, torment’s pawn. My days are waste; take thou no heed, Thou still are left; my joy, indeed. Whole seas a fish will never drown; A poor man’s day seems all one frown. What boot from counsel to a fool? Waste not thy words; thy wrath let cool. Cast off lust’s bonds; stand free from all. Slave not for pelf (money); be not greed’s thrall. Pour rivers into one small gill, It can but hold its little fill. The eye’s a vase that’s never content; The oyster’s filled ere (before) pearl is sent. The heart that’s bleeding from love’s dart, From vice of greed is kept apart. Then hie (to hurry) thee, love, a welcome guest; ‒ Physician thou to soothe my breast. Thou cure of pride and shame in me; Old Galen’s skill was nought to thee! Through love, this earthly frame ascends To Heaven; a hill, to skip pretends. In trance of love, Mount Sinai shakes, At God’s descent; ‘and Moses quakes.’ […]”Let’s continue with the tale: “The Oilman and the Parrot,” a story that highlights how we often become trapped in false assumptions, missing the deeper truths around us. “[…] The passers-by smiled all at Polly’s mistake, ’Tween bald-head and bare-head no difference to make. So thou, my dear friend, think thyself not a saint; A quean (lewd woman) to a queen bears resemblance, but faint. Mankind on this point in great error still stands; Th’ elect of the Lord are ignored on all hands. The equals of prophets acknowledged they be; Of saints they’re the brethren, as all men agree. Fools say: ‘The elect are but human, you see; To eat and to sleep they’re constrained, just as we.’”
