The Beloved's heart is burning for me. Its flame has turned the Earth's harvest into ashes. A candle put a fire in the heart of this slave, such a candle that it has made a soul of iron and stone melt like a candle. (more…)
I have been dissolved in the sea of purity like salt. There is no belief, no heresy left in me. Neither certainty nor doubt remains. A shining star has appeared in my heart. Even the seven levels of sky have disappeared into that star. Rubailer (2016), Rubai #1, page 285.
It comes to me that I am out of this world today. It comes to me that today, I am hidden from my self. I grabbed the knife and cut off my existence. Now, I don't belong to me or anyone else. (more…)
While the Beloved looks on from behind the curtain, the world’s face changes from one color to another. All hearts tremble. Nine levels of the sky are as confused and amazed as we are all because of His Love. Rubailer (2016), Rubai #3, page 285.
What kind of work bench do You have in that heart? What idols are You carving in that heart? Spring has come. It is seed time. Who knows what You are sowing in that heart? Outside, You are covered with curtains of secrecy. But, You are wide open in...
O heart, you go nowhere on this road with talk and gossip. You cannot reach the Beloved unless you pass through the door of Absence. You have to flutter your own wings where His birds fly, O heart. They don't give out wings, O heart. Rubailer (2016), Rubai #2, page...
My heart appreciates Beauty. Why should I run away from the Beloved? The dagger in my hand is a good one. Why should I turn my face away from battle? (more…)
Just now, ruby-colored tears have started seeping from my eyes. A sign has appeared from Love, yet a trace of Love's dust never appears. (more…)
Something is striking like lightning. I wonder if that is my heart captivating the Beloved. What is shining from that corner? Is that the ruby mine? What is around that pearl? Is it the Moon or a star? It is suspended like a lamp made of divine light. ...
O confused heart, the way to the Beloved is through your soul. O one who has lost his way, there is a road to the Beloved which is both known and unknown. Don’t worry if your way is blocked from all six directions. There is a way right from the...
Look at these fragments of soul which have been chipped off, sparkling in this valley. Watch this sea. Watch these ships as they collide with each other. (more…)
I tried to describe the situation of my heart as I knew it. The tears and blood of my heart had become rough, but I couldn't explain it. (more…)
If you want the Beloved to show His face to you, turn inside. Give up your flesh and walk to the Essence. He is such an Essence that He is surrounded by layers of curtains. He is submerged in His own Being, and both worlds are submerged in Him. Rubailer...
"I don't have anything to do with this." That's what you said, looking quite sour. Words like "vinegar is a nice condiment" were written all over your face. (more…)
"O heart," I said, "why are you like this? How long will you be hanging around Love? My heart answered, "Why don't you come, too? Wouldn't it be nice if you came and tasted the pleasure of Love? (more…)
Since we see others, we are not one anymore. We are in the business of the many. We identify good and bad, and that is where the trouble starts. A heart which has not reached ecstasy will keep getting kicked by the other. Rubailer (2016), Rubai #3, page 64.
Love passes with the hope of tomorrow, finishes needlessly with fights and struggles. Assume your life is the day which you are living right now. See how you spend it with all of your schemes and empty projects. (more…)
He is inside and outside of my heart. He is the soul of my body. He is my blood and my veins. How could faith or heresy fit here? I am absent. He is all of my existence. Rubailer (2016), page 68, Rubai #4
I was heart and soul without a body before... pure, clean, pleasant. You built my body as a guest house and put my soul in it. O my Master, please, do me a favor! Pardon me. Recreate me as You did before. Bring me back to life. Rubailer (2016), Rubai #2, Page...
Love for You has killed Turks as well as Arabs. We are slaves and servants to those martyrs, those generals. Love for You is saying, “No one escapes Me. I own all souls.” He is right, O heart. Quit playing. Rubailer (2016), Page 40, Rubai #4.
Love is flying to the sky and tearing hundreds of curtains. Love is to be free from the self in the first breath, to be lifted above the feet from the first step. (more…)
We are brave, insolent revolutionaries who play with our own lives. It is a pity that this muddy flesh is the peer of our pure, clean soul. (more…)
I have gone, so one less headache in this world. I am free from suspense. I have saved my soul. I said goodbye to the ones I hang out with. Then, I carried my soul to the land where a trace never appears. I moved out of this...
Your Love has made me drunk. I am so drunk and out of myself that I keep clapping my hands. How could I possibly know what I am doing? (more…)
I yelled, "Where is that drunk heart going?" The Sultan of sultans said, "Be silent. He is coming to our side." (more…)
Last night, I secretly asked an old wise mind, "Open to me the secret of this world." He lowered his voice and whispered in my ear, "Be silent. It cannot be said. It can be understood only by the heart." Rubailer (2016), Page 270, Rubai #3
Is there anyone who is not involved in my daily work? Who is the one who hasn't given his soul to the Beloved's way? Is there any head like mine which doesn't become drunk? Is there any heart like mine which doesn't cry, moan and groan? (more…)
The falcon said to the goose, "The valley is beautiful." "Have a good night," answered the goose, then continued, "This place is much better for me. (more…)
Now the tree branches are blooming fresh flowers. When they lost all their leaves, they could still see the pearls in their hearts, so they stayed standing up. They didn't lose hope. They didn't break. They didn't even bend. Rubailer (2016), Page 211, Rubai #3
Troubles for me are cooking in my Beloved’s kitchen of grief. Every moment hundreds of different meals of sorrow are being served to my table. The smell of a burning heart surrounds my table all the time. I wonder. Where is this smell coming from? Rubailer, Page 290, Rubai #1