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Le Grand Mystique Perse

et Poète Mevlana Djellal eddin Rumi

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 Mevlana est un des grands maîtres spirituels et génies poétiques de l'humanité, il est le fondateur de l'ordre des Derviches tourneurs, une principale confrérie mystique en Islam.

Il a été initié dans la voie mystique par un derviche errant, appelé Shamsuddin de Tabriz. Son amour et sa perte pour la mort des feintes ont trouvé leur expression dans une montée subite de la musique, de la danse et des poésies lyriques. Rumi est l'auteur d'une oeuvre poetique considérable, le Mathnawi est son principal livre, un discours poetique destiné à ses disciples pour leur enseigner la voie vers l'union avec dieu et  vers son amour absolu.

Voici quelques poèmes qui me font pleurer à chaque fois que je les relie

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Afin de parler, une nécessité, écoute d'abord,
apprend à parler par l'écoute.

Rumi, Mathnawi (Mesnevi), I, I627

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Si votre pensée est une rose,
vous êtes un jardin de  rose;
si c'est une épine,
vous êtes un carburant pour un fourneau.

Rumi, Mathnawi (Mesnevi), II, 278

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Voyez comment la main est invisible tandis que le crayon écrit;
le cheval gallope, pourtant le chevalier est  invisible;
la flèche vole, mais l'arc est hors de la vue;
différentes âmes existent,
tandis que l'âme des âmes est cachée

       Rumi, Mathnawi (Mesnevi), II, i303-304

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Aidez-moi avec ce moi du mien
cela recherche l'aide de vous;
Je  ne recherche la justice de personne
Je n'obtiendrai la justice de n'importe qui
excepté lui qui est plus proche de moi que moi-même

   Rumi, Mathnawi(Mesnevi), I, Ì95-98

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We are as the flute and the music in us is from thee;
we are as the mountain and the echo in us is from thee.

We are as pieces of chess engaged in victory and defeat:
our victory and defeat is from thee, O thou whose qualities are comely!

Who are we, O Thou soul of our souls,
that we should remain in being beside thee?

We and our existences are really non-existence;
thou art the absolute Being which manifests the perishable.

We all are lions, but lions on a banner:
because of the wind they are rushing onward from moment to moment.

Their onward rush is visible, and the wind is unseen:
may that which is unseen not fail from us!

Our wind whereby we are moved and our being are of thy gift;
our whole existence is from thy bringing into being.

Mesnavi Book I, 599-607

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Love is the water of life

Everything other than love for the most beautiful God is agony of the spirit, though it be sugar- eating.

What is agony of the spirit? To advance toward death without seizing hold of the Water of Life.

Mesnevi I 3686-87

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On the deathbed

Go, rest your head on a pillow, leave me alone;
leave me ruined, exhausted from the journey of this night,
writhing in a wave of passion till the dawn.
Either stay and be forgiving,
or, if you like, be cruel and leave.
Flee from me, away from trouble;
take the path of safety, far from this danger.
We have crept into this corner of grief,
turning the water wheel with a flow of tears.
While a tyrant with a heart of flint slays,
and no one says, "Prepare to pay the blood money."
Faith in the king comes easily in lovely times,
but be faithful now and endure, pale lover.
No cure exists for this pain but to die,
So why should I say, "Cure this pain"?
In a dream last night I saw
an ancient one in the garden of love,
beckoning with his hand, saying, "Come here."
On this path, Love is the emerald,
the beautiful green that wards off dragonsnough,

I am losing myself.
If you are a man of learning,
read something classic,
a history of the human struggle
and don't settle for mediocre verse.

Kulliyat-i-Shams 2039

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O lovers, lovers it is time
to set out from the world.
I hear a drum in my soul's ear
coming from the depths of the stars.

Our camel driver is at work;
the caravan is being readied.
He asks that we forgive him
for the disturbance he has caused us,
He asks why we travellers are asleep.

Everywhere the murmur of departure;
the stars, like candles
thrust at us from behind blue veils,
and as if to make the invisible plain,
a wondrous people have come forth.

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 This World Which Is Made of Our Love for Emptiness

Praise to the emptiness that blanks out existence. Existence:
This place made from our love for that emptiness!

Yet somehow comes emptiness,
this existence goes.

Praise to that happening, over and over!
For years I pulled my own existence out of emptiness.

Then one swoop, one swing of the arm,
that work is over.

Free of who I was, free of presence, free of dangerous fear, hope,
free of mountainous wanting.

The here-and-now mountain is a tiny piece of a piece of straw
blown off into emptiness.

These words I'm saying so much begin to lose meaning:
Existence, emptiness, mountain, straw:

Words and what they try to say swept
out the window, down the slant of the roof.