Carminho and Rumi-Pain

A Voz




Sometimes there is a voice that rises
Higher than the world and higher than us
And makes my eyes weep, when it sings
In the tears that silence my voice

It plunges my senses and time
To the farthest point of who I am
And embraces that place, so gray
That lurks beneath the mist there

And calls out in my breast when I feel
The nearness of a sad face, of a love
Higher than the world and higher than people
The voice is not a voice, it is called pain


Às vezes há una voz que se levanta
Mais alta do que o Mundo e do que nós
E faz chover-me os olhos, quando canta
Num pranto que emudece a minha voz

Afunda-me os sentidos e o tempo
Ao ponto mais distante do que sou
E abraça aquele lugar que, tão cinzento,
Se esconde sob a névoa que ficou

E grita-mo no peito quando sente
Chegar a face triste de um amor
Mais alta do que o mundo e do que a gente
A voz já não é voz chama-se dor.

Lyrics and Translation from



Hunger gives pleasure, not fresh sweetmeats
        hunger makes barley bread better than sugar. . . .
Pain renews old medicines and lops off
        the branch of every indifference.
Pains are an alchemy that renews—
     who can be bored when pain appears?
Beware, do not sigh coldly in boredom—
     seek pain, seek pain, pain, pain!


(Mathnawi 6:4403-4304)


 Love is the cure, for your pain
will keep giving birth to more pain
until your eyes constantly exhale love
as effortlessly as your body yields its scent.



White Doves

Pombas Brancas


White doves
Flying high
Scratching the shadows
Of the large clouds
There they go
Doves that do not return

They bring within
Their wings
In rosy beaks
Scattered clouds
On the sea
Doves of my singing

Merely singing
Various recollections
Coming on the paths
Nobody knows
Where they go
The Doves that do not return



Pombas brancas
Que voam altas
Riscando as sombras
Das nuvens largas
Lá vão
Pombas que não voltam

Trazem dentro
Das asas prendas
Nas bicos rosas
Nuvens desfeitas
No mar
Pombas do meu cantar

Canto apenas
Lembranças várias
Vindas das sendas
Que ninguém sabe
Onde vão
Pombas que não voltam

Lyrics and Translation from


Eye Adaba

The day has dawned, the day has dawned upon me
In this land, the day has dawned, I see hope


White Dove, White Dove
That flies high, high above the sky
Come land on me
The Day has dawned, I see hope


Speak so we can hear you


White Dove, White Dove
That flies high, high above the sky
Come land on me
The Day has dawned, I see hope




Oju mo ti mo
Oju mo ti mo mi
Ni le yi o o
Oju mo ti mo – mo ri re o 

Eye abada
Eye adaba
Eye adaba ti n fo l’oke l’oke ori orun
Wa ba le mi o o
Oju mo ti mo mo ri re o


E wi ki’n gbo se


Eye abada
Eye adaba
Eye adaba ti n fo lo ke lo ke
Wa ba le mi o o
Oju mo ti mo, mo ri re o

Gentle Now, Doves of the Thicket



Gentle now,
doves of the thornberry and moringa thicket,
don’t add to my heart-ache
your sighs.

Gentle now,
or your sad cooing
will reveal the love I hide
the sorrow I hide away.

I echo back, in the evening,
in the morning, echo,
the longing of a love-sick lover,
the moaning of the lost.

In a grove of tamarisks
spirits wrestled,
bending the limbs down over me,
passing me away.

They brought yearning,
breaking of the heart,
and other new twists of pain,
putting me through it.

Who is there for me in Jám’,
and the Stoning-Place at Miná,
who for me at Tamarisk Grove,
or at the way-station of Na’mān?
Hour by hour
they circle my heart
in rapture, in love-ache,
and touch my pillars with a kiss.

As the best of creation
circled the Ka’ba,
which reason with its proofs
called unworthy,

And kissed the stones there –
and he was the Natiq!
And what is the house of stone
compared to a man or a woman?

They swore, and how often!
they’d never change – piling up vows.
She who dyes herself red with henna
is faithless.

A white-blazed gazelle
is an amazing sight,
red-dye signalling,
eyelids hinting,

Pasture between breastbones
and innards.
a garden among the flames!

My heart can take on
any form:
a meadow for gazelles,
a cloister for monks,

For the idols, sacred ground,
Ka’ba for the circling pilgrim,
the tables of the Torah,
the scrolls of the Qur’án.

I profess the religion of love;
wherever its caravan turns along the way,
that is the belief,
the faith I keep.

Like Bishr,
Hind and her sister,
love-mad Qays and his lost Láyla,
Máyya and her lover Ghaylán.

-Ibn ‘Arabi

(trans. Michael Sells)




ألا يا حَماماتِ الأراكَة ِ والبَانِ                   ترَفّقْنَ لا تُضْعِفْنَ بالشجوِ أشجاني
ترَفّقْنَ لا تُظهرنَ بالنّوح والبُكا                     خفيَّ صباباتي ومكنونَ أحزاني
أُطارحُها عند الأصيلِ وبالضحى                        بحنَّة ِ مشتاقٍ وأنَّة ِ هيمانِ
تَنَاوَحَتِ الأرواحُ في غَيضَة ِ الغَضا                       فمالتْ بأفنانٍ عليَّ فأفناني
وجاءتْ منَ الشَّوقِ المبرَّحِ والجوى                   ومن طُرَفِ البَلْوَى إليّ بأفْنانِ
فمَن لي بجمعٍ والمحصَّب مِن مِنًى             ومَنْ لي بِذاتِ الأثْلِ مَنْ لِي بنَعْمان
تطوفُ بقلبي ساعة ً بعدَ ساعة ٍ                         لوَجدٍ وتبريحٍ وتَلثُمُ أركاني
كما طاف خيرُ الرُّسلِ بالكعبة ِ التي                  يقولُ دليلُ العقْلِ فيها بنُقصَانِ
وقبّلَ أحجاراً بها، وهو ناطقٌ                        وأينَ مَقامُ البيتِ من قدرِ إنسانِ
فكَم عَهِدَتْ أن لا تحولَ وأقسمتْ                      وليس لمخضوبٍ وفاءٌ بأيمانِ
ومنْ أعجبِ الأشياءِ ظبى ُ مبرقعُ                      يشيرُ بعنَّابٍ ويومي بأجفانِ
ومَرعاهُ ما بينَ التّرائِبِ والحَشَا                ويا عَجَباً من روضة ٍ وَسَطَ نيرانِ
لقدْ صارَ قلبي قابلاً كلَّ صورة ٍ                      فمَرْعًى لغِزْلاَنٍ وديرٌ لرُهْبانِ
وبَيْتٌ لأوثانٍ وكعبة ُ طائفٍ                       ، وألواحُ توراة ٍ ومصحفُ قرآنِ
أدينُ بدينِ الحبِّ أنَّى توجَّهتْ                          رَكائِبُهُ فالحُبُّ ديني وإيماني
لنا أُسْوَة ٌ في بِشْرِ هندٍ وأُخْتِهَا                       وقيسٍ وليلى ، ثمَّ مي وغيلانِ


Carminho-Silence is never empty

Nunca é silêncio vão


Silence is never empty
When it is between you and me.
Thinking about whatever may be
All I know is I feel love
When you’re silent with me

Here we are the two of us
Holding hands inside my car
You alway console me that way
Silent, next to me
Watching as I sweep sad things away

And though you might be able to explain
What happens in the heart
Truly everything comes from nothing,
In your silent glance
There is never an empty silence



Nunca é silencio vão
Esse que tenho contigo.
Pensando nós no que for
Só sei que sinto o amor
Quando te calas comigo.

E lá ficamos os dois
De mãos dadas no meu carro.
Consolas-me sempre assim
Calado junto de mim
Vendo as tristezas que varro.

E por mais que explique bem
O que vai no coração,
É do nada que vem tudo,
Nesse teu olhar tão mudo
Nunca há silencio vão.


translation and lyrics from:



Beg for Love.
Consider this burning, and those who
burn, as gifts from the Friend.
Nothing to learn.
Too much has already been said.
When you read a single page from
the silent book of your heart,
you will laugh at all this chattering,
all this pretentious learning.

-Abu Sai’d Abu’l Khayr


It speaks to me in the silence of this one
then through the words of that one speaking;


it whispers to me through an eyebrow raised
and the message of an eye winking.


And do you know what words it breathes into my ear? It says,


     “I am Love: in heaven and earth I have no place;
     I am the Wondrous Phoenix whose spoor cannot be traced.


     With eyebrow-bow and arrow-winks I hunt
     both worlds — and yet my weapons cannot be found.


     Like the sun I brighten each atom’s cheek;
     I cannot be pinpointed: I am too manifest.


     I speak with every tongue, listen with all ears,
     but marvel at this: My ears and tongue are erased.


     Since in all the world only I exist
     above and below, no likeness of me can be found.”


-Fakhr ad-Din Iraqi


Secretly we spoke,
     that wise one and me.
I said, Tell me the secrets of the world.
He said, Shh… Let silence
Tell you the secrets of the world.


Carminho-I said goodbye…

Disse-te adeus



I said goodbye to you, I don’t remember
What day in September it was
Only that it was dawn
The street was empty
And even the moon, not wanting to intrude,
Pretended that it saw nothing

We smiled at farewell
Like people who know that life
Is just another name that death goes by
We never met again
Nor did we ask anyone
About each other

What memory or yearning
Will tell the whole truth
That we couldn’t handle then?
Whether by nostalgia or by memory
I can only tell the story
Of how much I miss you



Disse-te adeus não me lembro
Em que dia de Setembro
Só sei que era madrugada;
A rua estava deserta
E até a lua discreta
Fingiu que não deu por nada

Sorrimos à despedida
Como quem sabe que a vida
É nome que a morte tem
Nunca mais nos encontrámos
E nunca mais perguntámos
Um p’lo outro a ninguém

Que memória ou que saudade
Contará toda a verdade
Do que não fomos capazes
Por saudade ou por memória
Eu só sei contar a história
Da falta que tu me fazes

lyrics and translation from:


And then you walked away
With my heart between your lips
Bound to your caprice like
A balloon tied to your wrist



I‘d be lying if I said
that the dark sparks of your eyes
didn’t leap up in my heart
to burn my soul from time to time


I’d be lying if I said
that lightning didn’t dance
throughout my tired veins
when I recall your glance


I’d be lying if I said
that the coral of your lips
didn’t stir up my soul’s waves
and drown my shores in your bliss


I’d be lying if I ever tried
to talk about the truth
the best I have is this sad sigh:
I’m dying and I love you

Camaron, Me, and ‘Attar

El Padre Santo de Roma



Lailolailolailo, Leilo …

Holy Father in Rome,
I have to ask
if the sins that I have
if the sins I have,
if the sins I have,
can they be forgiven?

I’m like a sad bird
that goes from branch to branch,
singing its suffering,
singing its suffering,
because it doesn’t know how to cry.

Oh how beautiful are the flowers,
the cheerful spring
with its divine colors.
You are the sea,
I am the sand,
I’ll go with you,
wherever you want.

Europe’s Chapel,
Europe’s Chapel,
overlooking the bay
so pretty and beautiful,
so pretty and beautiful,
the fields of Andalusia.

You are the sea,
I am the sand,
I’ll go with you,
wherever you want.


Lailolailolailo, leilo…

Al Padre Santo de Roma,
le tengo que preguntar
si los pecados que tengo
si los pecados que tengo,
si los pecados que tengo,
me los puede perdonar.

Soy cómo el pájaro triste,
ay que de rama en rama va,
cantando su sufrimiento,
cantando su sufrimiento,
porque no sabe llorar.

{Olé, Paco}

Ay qué bonitas están las flores,
de la alegre primavera
con sus divinos colores.
Tú eres la mar,
yo soy la arena,
yo voy contigo,
dónde tú quieras.

De la Capilla de Europa,
de la Capilla de Europa,
se divisa la bahía
más bonita y más hermosa,
ay más bonita y más hermosa,
de la vega Andalucía.

Tú eres la mar,
yo soy la arena,
yo voy contigo,
dónde tú quieras.



You forged these chains and set me free
I’m your dream, you’re my memory
Don’t forget me, I beg you please
My darkness, light, health and disease

My love is yours, so yours is mine
So lift my ore out of this mine
Don’t leave me shrouded in my mind
Love flows behind the clouds of time

Only my death will end our war
My perfections stain your faults
My waves will crash upon your shore
Until your rocks become my salt


دلم دردى كه دارد با كه گويد


To whom can my heart speak of its pain
     To whom can I repent, for I’ve sinned again?
Alas!  Isn’t there a sympathetic freind
   who would welcome my bad luck?
When you spoke to me of abandonment
   you were a dying person describing death
Why should one wash their hands of you when
   they’re not full at the table of your union?
My heart sees your face through a hundred walls;
   it breathes your scent from a hundred leagues
I won’t forget the rose of your union
   otherwise the thorns will grow upon my grave
Today the grief of ‘Attar’s heart
   speaks or is silent by your decree



دلم دردی که دارد با که گوید            گنه خود کرد تاوان از که جوید
دریغا نیست همدردی موافق        که بر بخت بدم خوش خوش بموید
مرا گفتی که ترک ما بگفتی               به ترک زندگانی کس بگوید
کسی کز خوان وصلت سیر نبود            چرا باید که دست از تو بشوید
ز صد بارو دلم روی تو بیند             ز صد فرسنگ بوی تو ببوید
گل وصلت فراموشم نگردد             وگر خار از سر گورم بروید
غم درد دل عطار امروز               چه فرمایی بگوید یا نگوید


Tangos of the Willows

Yo pienso como el cipres




I will be like the willow,
I will be like the willow,
though I last one hundred years,
I will be like the willow,
that sways in the air,
but remains firm,
but remains firm.

I think like the cypress,
I think like the cypress,
the truest of truths,
the truest of truths,
that on which I stand.

For God’s sake, Lord Mayor,
Don’t hit the thieves,
because you have a child,
and part of their hearts,
ay ay ay Mother,
ay ay ay Mother.

If you comb your hair with the comb,
canastero and comb,
I can assure you
that you will curl your hair,
that you can curl,
your black hair, your hair,
if you comb your hair with the comb,
the comb of the castanero.

From the root of an olive tree
my Gypsy mother was born
and I, as her son,
I am a stem of the same branch.
Oh mai, mai oh,
Oh Mother, oh Mother.

And this scarf,
and this handkerchief,
I carry with me,
for when I cry,
I release you,
for when I cry,
I release you.

The Virgin of Remedios
has her dark face,
and the child in her arms,
handsomer than the lily.
Oh Mother, oh Mother.

I live in love, and for me your kisses,
are like the source of my thoughts.
I live in love ..



Ay yo seré como la mimbre,
que yo seré como la mimbre,
aunque cien años yo dure,
y yo seré como la mimbre,
y que la bambolea el aire,
pero se mantiene firme,
pero se mantiene firme.

Yo pienso como el ciprés,
yo pienso como el ciprés,
la verdad más verdadera,
la verdad más verdadera,
la de mantenerse en pié.

Por Dios, alcalde mayor,
no pegue usted a los ladrones,
porque usted tiene una niña,
y que parte los corazones,
ay ay ay mare,
ay ay ay mare.

Si te peinas con el peine,
y el peine del canastero,
y yo te puedo asegurar
y que se te riza a ti el pelo,
que se te puede rizar,
tu pelo negro, tu pelo,
si te peinas con el peine,
el peine del canastero.

De la raíz de un olivo
ay nació mi mare gitana,
y yo, como soy su hijo,
tronco de la misma rama.
Oh mai, oh mai,
oh mare, oh mare.

Y este pañuelo,
y este pañuelo,
lo llevo conmigo,
pa cuando yo lloro,
lo estreno contigo,
pa cuando yo lloro,
lo estreno contigo.

La Virgen de los Remedios
tiene su cara morena,
y el niño que está en sus brazos,
más guapo que la azucena.
Oh mare, oh mare.

Yo vivo enamorao y para mí tus besos,
son como la fuente de mis pensamientos.
Yo vivo enamorao..


El Embrujo de tus ojos




I will be like the willow,
I will be like the willow,
though I last one hundred years,
I will be like the willow,
that sways in the air,
but remains firm,
but remains firm.

It appeared, it appeared,
In a dream vanishing my happiness.
God, how I remember.
I remember that day.
If great was my torment
still greater was my joy
when I woke from sleep
and I saw that it was a lie.

And I gaze at the firmament,
and I tell the stars,
of my worship and thought,
and that I adore the name Gema Gema.
When I remember you,
what a beautiful name you carry,
Gema, Gema, Gema.

When I remember you,
the spell of your eyes
that will not let me live
Like children, I cry
remembering you.
You do not go,
you do not go,
Do not leave me alone.
You do not leave me.

Look at me, and I cry,
and you say softly
“Why did you leave me?”

You and I on the blanket,
You and I in the moonlight,
and your black eyes sparkled,
reflecting tenderness.



Yo seré como la mimbre,
que yo seré como la mimbre,
aunque cien años yo dure,
y, yo seré como la mimbre,
y que la bambolea el aire,
pero se mantiene firme,
pero se mantiene firme.

Se apareció, se apareció,
en un ensueño despidiendo mi alegría.
Dios mío, cómo me acuerdo.
Yo me acuerdo de aquel día.
Si grande fue mi tormento
más grande fue mi alegría
cuando desperté del sueño
y yo vi que era mentira.

Y yo repaso el firmamento,
y me dicen las estrellas,
y que adorara el pensamiento,
y que adorara yo el nombre de Gema, Gema.
Cuando me acuerdo de ti,
qué bonito nombre llevas,
Gema, Gema, Gema.


Cuando me acuerdo de ti,
del embrujo de tus ojos
que no me dejan vivir.
Como los niños yo lloro
y acordándome de ti.
Tú no te vayas,
tu no te vayas,
tú no me dejes solo.
Tú no te vayas de mí.

Y me miras, y me lloras,
y tú me dices bajito
¿por qué me abandonas?

Tú y yo sobre la manta,
tú y yo bajo la luna,
y brillaban tus ojos negros,
reflejando la ternura.


The Whole World is Drunk





O caravan leader, look the camels of the caravan, they are all drunk
The prince is drunk, the shaykh is drunk, the friend is drunk, and the strangers are drunk


O gardener, the thunder has become a musician, and the cloud’s become the saki
The garden is drunk, the thicket is drunk, the bud is drunk, and the thorn is drunk


O heavens, how long will you turn? Look at the movement of the elements:
The water is drunk, the air is drunk, the earth is drunk, and the fire is drunk


That’s what the outward form is like, don’t even ask me about the inner meaning
The spirit is drunk, the intellect is drunk, the body is drunk, the secrets are drunk


Go and leave dominance behind, become earth so that you see
Each speck of earth drunk from the dominant Creator


Don’t say there’s no drunkeness in winter
It has only hidden itself for a while from the eyes of the cunning


The roots of those trees drink wine secretly
Wait a couple of days, when they wake up, they’ll be drunk


If you run into trouble from their drunken staggering, don’t worry
With such a saki and musician, the drunks will never walk straight


Pour more wine, untie this knot
the drunk won’t submit until the wine reaches his head


O saki, pour drinks all around, how long can they brawl
The friends drunk from agreeing and the enemies drunk from denying?


Either the saki is stingy or the wine’s gone bad,
But something’s gone wrong if the drunk is walking straight


See our yellow faces and give us the rosy wine
Without it there’s no rosiness on the faces of the drunks


You have a divine wine so light and so subtle
You could drink a hundred barrels down each day


Shams-i-tabrizi, no one is sober around you
Disbeliever and beleiver, prodigal and ascetic and drinker are all drunk




                  ساربانا اشتران بین سر به سر قطار مست
میر مست و خواجه مست و یار مست اغیار مست
                     باغبانا رعد مطرب ابر ساقی گشت و شد
باغ مست و راغ مست و غنچه مست و خار مست
                          آسمانا چند گردی گردش عنصر ببین
آب مست و باد مست و خاک مست و نار مست
                  حال صورت این چنین و حال معنی خود مپرس
روح مست و عقل مست و خاک مست اسرار مست
                         رو تو جباری رها کن خاک شو تا بنگری
ذره ذره خاک را از خالق جبار مست
                          تا نگویی در زمستان باغ را مستی نماند
مدتی پنهان شدست از دیده مکار مست
                          بیخ‌های آن درختان می نهانی می‌خورند
روزکی دو صبر می‌کن تا شود بیدار مست
                       گر تو را کوبی رسد از رفتن مستان مرنج
با چنان ساقی و مطرب کی رود هموار مست
                               ساقیا باده یکی کن چند باشد عربده
دوستان ز اقرار مست و دشمنان ز انکار مست
                              باد را افزون بده تا برگشاید این گره
باده تا در سر نیفتد کی دهد دستار مست
                               بخل ساقی باشد آن جا یا فساد باده‌ها
هر دو ناهموار باشد چون رود رهوار مست
                              روی‌های زرد بین و باده گلگون بده
زانک از این گلگون ندارد بر رخ و رخسار مست
                    باده‌ای داری خدایی بس سبک خوار و لطیف
زان اگر خواهد بنوشد روز صد خروار مست
                  شمس تبریزی به دورت هیچ کس هشیار نیست
کافر و مؤمن خراب و زاهد و خمار مست




I am wind, you are fire






I saw myself as a thorn, so I went towards a rose

I saw myself as vinegar, so I mixed myself in sugar

I was a bowl full of poison, so I went to the cure

I was a cup of dregs, so I dived into the water of life

My eye was full of pain, so I sought Jesus’ hand

I saw myself as raw, so I mixed with the ripe

I found the dust of love’s alley to be the soul’s eye-liner

And I became poetry in the subtlety of that dust I mixed

Love said, “Yes, that’s right,”  you said, “But don’t see it [as coming] from your self.”

I am wind and you are fire, I enliven you and inspire




خویش را چون خار دیدم سوی گل بگریختم
خویش را چون سرکه دیدم در شکر آمیختم
کاسه پرزهر بودم سوی تریاق آمدم
ساغری دردی بدم در آب حیوان ریختم
دیده پردرد بودم دست در عیسی زدم
خام دیدم خویش را در پخته‌ای آویختم
خاک کوی عشق را من سرمه جان یافتم
شعر گشتم در لطافت سرمه را می بیختم
عشق گوید راست می گویی ولی از خود مبین
من چو بادم تو چو آتش من تو را انگیختم








I am the wind 
you are the fire 
and I want to burn in your embers 
or you can turn off the light with a little water
Leilere, lere lereilere 


2nd verse:
Why don’t you look for me
I need you to find me
my world is a cold forest
in which I lose myself
my world is an empty thing
since only you can relieve me
I’m lost
and my love is so sincere
that sometimes without losing you
I am scared of losing you
if I lose you
I’ll take a kiss from your mouth
and I want to dream of you, awake
with you, with you
Leilere lerelerelereilere




Tu mare y la mía
se habían disgustao
pelillos del roete
se han arrancao
Por que no te vienes
y me ayudas a levantarme
no ves que yo estoy caio
tengo el corazón partío tengo el corazón herio
y como no seas tú quien lo alivie
no encuentra alivio


yo soy el viento
tu eres la hoguera
y yo en tus brasas quemarme quisiera
ni el agüita claralo podrá apagar
Leilere, lere lereilere


Por qué no me buscas
necesito que me encuentres
mi mundo es un bosque frio
en el que yo me extravio mi mundo es algo vacioy como no seas tú quien lo alivies
yo estoy perdio
Por eso mi cariño es tan sincero
que a veces sin perderte siento miedo
de perderte
si te pierdo
te hago beso de tu boca
y te quiero soñar dispierto
contigo, contigo
Leilere lerelerelereilere