As the wind stirs up, so does my pain get stirred up
I want to forget you, believe me
But there is always more wind
I want to forget you
but there is always more wind
Rumi
Translation:
Love is the One who masters all things;
I am mastered totally by Love.
By my passion of love for Love
I have ground sweet as sugar.
O furious Wind, I am only a straw before you;
How could I know where I will be blown next?
Whoever claims to have made a pact with Destiny
Reveals himself a liar and a fool;
What is any of us but a straw in a storm?
How could anyone make a pact with a hurricane?
God is working everywhere his massive Resurrection;
How can we pretend to act on our own?
In the hand of Love I am like a cat in a sack;
Sometimes Love hoists me into the air,
Sometimes Love flings me into the air,
Love swings me round and round His head;
I have no peace, in this world or any other.
The lovers of God have fallen in a furious river;
They have surrendered themselves to Love’s commands.
Like mill wheels they turn, day and night, day and night,
Constantly turning and turning, and crying out.
Lady of Nazareth, pray for me,
I am also a fisherman walking on the sea.
Off life’s dock in endless waves,
I’ve seen my little boat of dreams sinking perpetually.
My nets cast with confidence,
I hauled in only disappointments on a bad sea.
I lost the rudder of hope,
I can not row well.
Lady of Nazareth, pray for me.
Original:
Senhora da Nazaré, rogai por mim,
Também sou um pescador que anda no mar.
Ao largo da vida aproei nas vagas sem fim,
Vi o meu barquito de sonhos sempre a naufragar.
As minhas redes lancei com confiança,
Colhi só desilusões num mar ruim.
Perdi o leme da esperança,
Eu não sei remar assim.
Senhora da Nazaré, rogai por mim.
Translation:
This flock of seagulls
Plays on each tide
That sea of still water
that feeds my faith
The boats will come
The boats will go
This whole pier is a world
This whole pier is a world
Which I don’t wat to flee
On the edge of the pier, whoever sees me already knows me
I am like this so you won’t miss me
It is the ocean from which you will come
on the edge of the pier, I have my destiny now
Always awaiting the time when
you will return one day
Some think I am not right
But I don’t really care
I am not coming here
So that you will come back faster
But it has given me this habit
That I have not lost till today
by the sea, I believe
by the sea, I believe
That I am closer to you
Original:
Esse bando de gaivotas
Brincando em cada maré
Esse mar de água parada
Que alimenta a minha fé
Os barcos que vão chegar
Os barcos que vão partir
Todo este cais é um mundo
Todo este cais é um mundo
Donde não quero fugir
À beira do cais, quem me vê já me conhece
Sou a tal que não se esquece
Que é do mar que tu virás
À beira do cais, tenho o meu destino agora
Estou sempre à espera da hora
Em que um dia voltarás
Há quem não ache acertado
Mas a mim, pouco me interessa
Que não é por vir aqui
Que tu voltas mais depressa
Mas ficou-me este costume
Que ainda hoje não perdi
Junto ao mar, eu acredito
Junto ao mar, eu acredito
Que estou mais perto de ti
The Broken Mirror
Translation:
With his whip, the wind
Shatters the mirror of the lake.
In me more violent was
The damage
Because the wind in passing
Whispered your name
and after murmuring,
Left me.
So rapidly it passed
Not knowing it had destroyed me
The heartbreak in which I am
So fixed.
But its passing
In the glass of the lake
cutting my image
Enthralls me.
The crystal liquid
From my eyes without you,
In vain I asked the gale,
In order to break
The mirror, that mourned me
I remained with a tearless face
O my eyes without you, without you
More violent within me was
The wind.
Original:
Com o seu chicote, o vento
Quebra o espelho do lago.
Em mim foi mais violento
O estrago
Porque o vento ao passar
Murmurou o teu nome
Depois de o murmurar,
Deixou-me.
Tão rápido passou
Nem soube destruir-me
Nas magoas em que sou
Tão firme.
Mas a sua passagem
Em vidro recortava
No lago a minha imagem
De escrava.
Ò liquido cristal
Dos meus olhos sem ti,
Em vão um vendaval,
Pedi,
Para que se quebrasse
O espelho que me enluta
E me ficasse a face
Enxuta.
Ai meus olhos sem ti sem ti
Em mim foi mais violento, o vento
Perhaps one day you will tell me what you want,
Perhaps you would not want to say it anyway,
Perhaps you will pass a hand through my hair,
Perhaps you may not think of me waiting for it.
Perhaps, this being so, it would be better,
Missing our meeting by a hair,
Perhaps you will not pamper me as I want,
Perhaps we don’t know our own hearts
But I’m not certain, that you could give responses.
I live only for repeated whispers,
Of deceit of the soul and hunger of the senses.
Perhaps it’s cruel, perhaps, perhaps.
If you give nothing, then, I will give you nothing
In this to-ing and fro-ing that we keep up,
And if our real longings are contrived,
Perhaps I might not know who you are but I know who I am.
If you give nothing, then, I will give you nothing
In this to-ing and fro-ing that we keep up,
And if our real longings are contrived,
Perhaps I might not know who you are but I know who I am.
Original:
Talvez digas um dia o que me queres
Talvez não queiras afinal dizê-lo
Talvez passes a mão no meu cabelo
Talvez eu pense em ti talvez me esperes
Talvez, sendo isto assim, fosse melhor
Falhar-se o nosso encontro por um triz
Talvez não me afagasses como eu quis
Talvez não nos soubéssemos de cor
Mas não sei bem, respostas não mas dês
Vivo só de murmúrios repetidos
De enganos de alma e fome dos sentidos
Talvez seja cruel, talvez, talvez
Se nada dás, porém, nada te dou
Neste vaivém que sempre nos sustenta
E se a própria saudade nos inventa
Não sei talvez quem és mas sei quem sou
Se nada dás, porém, nada te dou
Neste vaivém que sempre nos sustenta
E se a própria saudade nos inventa
Não sei talvez quem és mas sei quem sou
Damn sheet, obey
The hands that you do not deserve
The poet’s lies
All the blackness of the strokes
Describing a thousand hugs,
Stories of an open door
Only you know, white sheet
The art of making airtight
This sap the truth
He told me stories of love
This poor pretender
He made me believe that I longed for him
And, oh sheet surrendered to
the hand which in farewell
Says goodbye without parting
Will tell everyone
That he who pretends what he really feels is
My lost poet
Original:
Folha maldita, obedeces
Às mãos que nem tu mereces
Às mentiras do poeta
Toda a negrura dos traços
Descreveram mil abraços
Histórias de uma porta aberta
Só tu sabes, folha branca
A arte de tornar estanque
Essa seiva da verdade
Contou-me histórias de amor
Esse pobre fingidor
Fez-me crer que tem saudade
E tu, oh folha rendida
À mão que na despedida
Diz adeus sem ter partido
Vai dizer a toda a gente
Que finge o que deveras sente
O meu poeta perdido
Translation:
Perhaps the same road
Is darker now,
Perhaps the sun in its lonesome wandering
Is chasing after the cold
In silence a heart
Awakens the empty house,
It doesn’t allow the illusion
To feign the pain it carried
Yet I insist upon showing
That love disappears
From a life that is waking up
From a life that is falling asleep
Perhaps the light doesn’t want
To say anything to the one who left
Perhaps in its own way
It’s saying goodbye to what it felt
Original:
Talvez o mesmo caminho
Seja agora mais sombrio,
Talvez por andar sozinho
Corre o sol atrás do frio.
Em silêncio um coração
Acorda a casa vazia,
Não permite a ilusão
Fingir a dor que trazia.
Porem insisto em mostrar
Que o amor desaparece
Numa vida a despertar
Noutra vida que adormece.
Both robb’d of air, we both lie in one ground ;
Both whom one fire had burnt, one water drown’d
A Burnt Ship
Out of a fired ship, which by no way
But drowning could be rescued from the flame,
Some men leap’d forth, and ever as they came
Near the foes’ ships, did by their shot decay;
So all were lost, which in the ship were found,
They in the sea being burnt, they in the burnt ship drown’d.
Rumi
A candle is made to become entirely flame.
In that annihilating moment
it has no shadow.
It is nothing but a tongue of light
describing a refuge.
Look at this
just-finishing candle stub
as someone who is finally safe
from virtue and vice,
the pride and the shame
we claim from those.
(Coleman Barks’ “translation”)
There is a candle in the heart of man, waiting to be kindled.
In separation from the Friend, there is a cut waiting to be stitched.
O, you who are ignorant of endurance and the burning fire of love–
Love comes of its own free will, it can’t be learned in any school.
THE SHIP SUNK IN LOVE
Should Love’s heart rejoice unless I burn?
For my heart is Love’s dwelling.
If You will burn Your house, burn it, Love!
Who will say, ‘It’s not allowed’?
Burn this house thoroughly!
The lover’s house improves with fire.
From now on I will make burning my aim,
From now on I will make burning my aim,
for I am like the candle: burning only makes me brighter.
Abandon sleep tonight; traverse for one night
the region of the sleepless.
Look upon these lovers who have become distraught
and like moths have died in union with the One Beloved.
Look upon this ship of God’s creatures
and see how it is sunk in Love.
O light, from seeing your beauty, my soul became candle-like
Turn my fortune so I can shed myself candle-like
The promise of the morning breeze, of joining Thee day and night
Burning, yellow, shaking, crying and humble, candle-like.
Thy flowing hair, like scissors sheer my soul at its height
In this fire of separation burn me no more, candle-like.
Pearls overflowing from the sea of my eye, fill my bosom in delight
My burning heart sent its flames blazing upward, candle-like.
Solar flares set in the celestial lantern, sooth the sight
Every morn dam my tears and shed no more, candle-like.
Thy face is spring-like, thy fire sorrows fight
How long burn in this solstice of separation, candle-like?
From the memory of thy light, every night flames take flight
If only my heart’s fire would burn my soul candle-like.
How long burn thyself Shams-e Tabrizi, thy love beaming bright?
We know of nothing other than this burning, candle-like.
(trans. by Shahriar Shahriari)
Original:
ای منور از جمالت دیده ی جانم چو شمع
از در بختم درآ تا جان بر افشانم چو شمع
از هوای خنده ی صبح وصالت روز و شب
زرد و لرزان و گدازان زار و گریانم چو شمع
زلف چون مقراض بر كش رشته جانم ببر
بیش از این در آتش هجران مسوزانم چو شمع
آستین و دامنم پر در شد از دریای عشق
تا علم زد آتش دل از گریبانم ، چو شمع
آتش خورشید را ، در مشعل سبز فلك
هر سحر از آبگیر دیده ، بنشانم چو شمع
ای رخت نوروز عالم زآتش ، جانسوز شمع
چند سوزی در شب یلدای هجرانم چو شمع
آفتاب از خاطرم ، شعله فروزد هر شبی
آتش دل گر بسوزد ، رشته ی جانم چو شمع
چند سوزی خویشتن را شمس تبریزی ز عشق
ماورای سوختن ، كاری نمیدانم چو شمع
Ana Moura
Translation:
My eyes are two candles
Casting a sad light on my face
Your eyes are two candles
Casting a sad light on my face
Marked by the pains
Of longing and grief
When I hear the ringing of the bells
And the afternoon is coming to an end
I pray, out of longing for you
An “Our Father” for me
But you do not know how to pray
Nor how to ache with longing
Why do you disturb me so
Why do I want you so much?
For my despair you are like
The clouds that fly high
Every day I wait for you
Every day you stand me up
Original:
Os meus olhos são dois círios
Dando luz triste ao meu rosto
Os teus olhos são dois círios
Dando luz triste ao meu rosto
Marcado pelos martírios
Da saudade e do desgosto.
Quando oiço bater trindades
E a tarde já vai no fim
Eu peço às tuas saudades
Um padre nosso por mim.Mas não sabes fazer preces
Não tens saudades nem pranto
Por que é que tu me aborreces
Por que é que eu te quero tanto?
És para meu desespero
Como as nuvens que andam altas
Condemned to live sad
Is he who loves much.
You, my heart, never withstood
The love that the pain inflames.
Again my tortured heart
Sought shelter in thy breast, uselessly;
No one will console the burning thirst
Nor is it is satisfied with the delights of passion.
And always, for any act,
There is a price of suffering,
Until the sweetness of the last touch
Eventually dies in regret.
And like the bodies snared
One day everything goes and there is only loneliness.
Perhaps will there be someone to kill
the fire of this damned passion?
I know love is a sin
So I also cursed the heavens
that I was tied for life
to one who deceived me
Love never failed me
With tenderness and embraces
But freed my longings,
Never such remembered.
And always, for any act,
There is a price of suffering,
Until the sweetness of the last touch
Eventually dies in regret.
And like the bodies snared
One day everything goes and there is only loneliness.
Perhaps will there be someone to kill
the fire of this damned passion?
Original:
Condenado a viver triste
É sina de quem muito ama.
Nunca tu, meu coração, resististe
Ao amor que a dor inflama.
Mais uma vez meu torturado coração
Buscou abrigo no teu peito, inutilmente;
Não há quem lhe console a sede ardente
Nem ele se farta das delícias da paixão.
E sempre, para qualquer acto,
Há que pagar com o sofrimento,
Até que a doçura do último tacto
Acabe por morrer num lamento.
Por mais que os corpos se enlacem
Um dia tudo passa e só fica a solidão.
Haverá porventura alguém
que mate o fogo de tão maldita paixão?
Eu sei que amar é pecado
Por isso também a mim o céu castigou
Fiquei pra vida amarrado
A quem sempre me enganou
Jamais o amor me faltou
Com ternuras e afagos
Mas libertar meus anseios,
Nunca de tal se lembrou.
E sempre, para qualquer acto,
Há que pagar com o sofrimento
Até que a doçura do último tacto
Acabe por morrer num lamento.
Por mais que os corpos se enlacem,
Um dia tudo passa e só fica a solidão.
Haverá alguém capaz de matar
O fogo de tão maldita paixão?
Hafez
Translation:
I am the friend of the sweet face, and of the heart-snatching hair
I’m infatuated with the intoxicated eye and pure, unmixed wine
You asked, “Say one word about the secret of the covenant of Alast.”
“Once I’ve drunk two cups of wine, then I’ll tell you,” I replied.
I am the Paradisal Adam, but in this worldly journey
Now I’m a captive of the beauty of youth
In love, there is no escape from pain and suffering
I am standing like the candle, don’t try to scare me with fire
Shiraz is the mine of ruby lips and the quarry of beauty
Because of that, a poor jeweler like me is so distraught
I’ve seen so many drunken eyes in this city, I think
I’m tipsy, although I’ve had nothing to drink
From all six directions, it is a city full of lovely glances
And I’ve nothing if I don’t buy all six of them
If Fortune should be so kind as to guide me to the Friend
Even the Houri’s hair will sweep the sweet dust from off my bed
Hafiz, my nature’s like a radiant, hopeful bride
But no mirror have I to see myself, and because of that I sigh
Dick Davis’ translation:
My love’s for pretty faces,
For heart-bewitching hair;
I’m crazy for good wine,
A languorous, drunk stare …
In love there’s no escaping
The burning of desire;
I stand here like a candle –
Don’t scare me with your fire.
I am a man from heaven,
But on this path I see
My love of youth and beauty
Have made a slave of me.
If Fate will help me, I
Will take myself elsewhere –
My bed will be swept clean
By some sweet houri’s hair.
Shiraz is like a mine
Of ruby lips, a store
Of loveliness … and I’m
A jeweler who’s dirt-poor.
I’ve seen so many drunk
Eyes in this town, I think
I’m drunk, although I swear
I’ve had no wine to drink.
You asked me to explain
Eternity for you –
Well certainly, when I
Have downed a drink or two.
Hafez, my nature’s like
A hopeful bride, but I
Lack mirrors to array
Myself – that’s why I sigh.
than the words of love that linger in this turning dome
از صدای سخن عشق نديدم خوشتر
يادگاری که در اين گنبد دوار بماند
Cristina Branco:
The certitude of my brightest love
The certitude of my brightest love
I am going to light up, should there be no moonlight tomorrow
And I will gather from a firefly a lonely glow
That the good bug may forgive me for this theft
Whistling the melodies ever more beautiful
And describing the cities I’ve seen
Of men and fossils and their gestures as written
Of good and evil, peace, calm and tumult
If I am alone it is in an alley that I meet myself
I go door to door asking who saw me
If I lived there, if I was the same and at what point
My desire packed its bags and fled.
Whistling the melody ever more beautiful
The certainty of my brightest love
Of the feeling among the others the favourite
That is to see the rose with time gain colour.
Whistling the melodies ever more brilliant
As brilliant from the certainty of a love
As the ruby most precious among others
That is of tenderness alternating with ardour.
I will not deny staying thus in this beauty
Whistling the melodies ever more fleeting
It is not possible nor is it simple, for sure
But it is will that gives me what I am doing.
As certezas do meu mais brilhante amor
Vou acender, que amanhã não há luar
E eu colherei do pirilampo um só fulgor
Que me perdoe o bom bichinho de o roubar
Assobiando as melodias mais bonitas
E das cidades descrevendo o que já vi
Homens e fósseis e seus gestos como escritas
Do bem e do mal, a paz a calma e frenesi
Se estou sozinho é num beco que me encontro
Vou porta a porta perguntando a quem me viu
Se ali morei, se eu era o mesmo e em que ponto
O meu desejo fez as malas e fugiu
Assobiando a melodia mais bonita
A da certeza do meu mais brilhante amor
Da sensação de entre as demais a favorita
Que é ver a rosa com o tempo a ganhar cor
Assobiando as melodias mais brilhantes
Como o brilhante da certeza de um amor
Como o rubi mais precioso entre os restantes
Que é o da meiguice alternando com ardor
Não negarei ficar assim nesta beleza
Assobiando as melodias mais fugazes
Não é possível nem é simples, com certeza
Mas é vontade que me dá do que me fazes
He is going to possess me
Not possess me
In some corner
It is like water flowing,
Flowing to the end,
It is so much that he wants me.
My sweetheart
My sweetheart
My home
Is where you want to live.
He is going to illuminate me
Not illuminate me
A shortcut at least.
I know that he is going to lead me
Leading softly
Along the way that I want to go.
My sweetheart
My sweetheart
My home is where you want to live.
I see my darling with his eyes And it is with my eyes That my darling sees me
My sweetheart
My sweetheart
My home
Is where you want to live.
Ele vai-me possuindo
Não me possuindo
Num canto qualquer
É como as águas fluindo
Fluindo até ao fim
É bem assim que ele me quer
Meu namorado
Meu namorado
Minha morada
É onde tu quiseres morar
Ele vai-me iluminando
Não iluminando
Um atalho sequer
Sei que ele vai-me guiando
Guiando de mansinho
Pelo caminho que eu quiser
Meu namorado
Meu namorado
É onde tu quiseres morar
Vejo meu bem com seus olhos
E é com meus olhos
Que o meu bem me vê
Meu namorado
Meu namorado
Minha morada
É onde tu quiseres morar
Ibn ‘Arabi:
Listen, O dearly beloved!
I am the reality of the world, the centre of the circumference,
I am the parts and the whole.
I am the will established between Heaven and Earth,
I have created perception in you only in order to be the
object of my perception.
If then you perceive me, you perceive yourself.
But you cannot perceive me through yourself,
It is through my eyes that you see me and see yourself,
Through your eyes you cannot see me.
Dearly beloved!
I have called you so often and you have not heard me
I have shown myself to you so often and you have not seen me.
I have made myself fragrance so often, and you have not smelled me.
Savorous food, and you have not tasted me.
Why can you not reach me through the object you touch
Or breathe me through sweet perfumes?
Why do you not see me?
Not birds, nor stars, nor sails
Are as beautiful in my breast
Daybreak falls silent in my eyes
The night enveloped me so
With this pain as if from a dagger
With this cry of a love without end
Love without end, love without time and measure
Water drawn from the distance, from its source
Light that dawns without dimming
Love that wants to be a breeze, but is a gale
Love that wants to be rain, but is a storm
It is all or nothing and there is everything to lose.
Original:
Fim
Nem pássaros, nem astros, nem veleiros
São tão belos dentro do meu peito
Calou-se a madrugada nos meus olhos
Por isso a noite me envolveu assim
Com esta dor que é asa de punhal
Com este grito de um amor sem fim
Amor sem fim, amor sem tempo e sem medida
Água que brota ao longe da nascente
Luz que amanhece sem anoitecer
Amor que quer ser brisa e é vendaval
Amor que quer ser chuva e é temporal
Que é tudo ou nada e tudo há de perder
Fado of Perdition:
This love is not a river
It has the vastness of the sea
The green dance of the waves
Sobbing in my eyes.
I tried to forget the words
Unspoken between us
But hanging over the silence
On the shores of our voice
I tried to forget your eyes
That do not know how to read mine
But in them is born the daybreak
That dawns on the earth and the heavens
I tried to forget your name
Pluck it from my thoughts
But it returns at every instant
Entwined in the wind.
I tried to see my image
But it was yours that I saw
In my mirror, for I bear
The flat eyes of you.
This love is not a river
It has abysses like the sea
And the black mantle of the waves
Shrouds me in blackness
This love is not a river
It has the vastness of the sea
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
Original:
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.