Rumi
Rumi
Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī, also known as Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Balkhī, Mawlānā/Mevlânâ, Mevlevî/Mawlawī, and more popularly simply as Rumi, was a 13th-century Persian poet, jurist, Islamic scholar, theologian, and Sufi mystic. Rumi's influence transcends national borders and ethnic divisions: Iranians, Tajiks, Turks, Greeks, Pashtuns, other Central Asian Muslims, and the Muslims of South Asia have greatly appreciated his spiritual legacy for the past seven centuries. His poems have been widely translated into many of the world's languages and transposed into...
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth30 September 1207
It may be that the satisfaction I need depends on my going away, so that when I've gone and come back, I'll find it at home.
I didn't come here of my own accord, and I can't leave that way. Whoever brought me here will have to take me home.
Whoever brought me here will have to take me home.
Mount the stallion of love and do not fear the path, love’s stallion knows the way exactly. With one leap, Love’s horse will carry you home.
Cease looking for flowers! There blooms a garden in your own home. While you look for trinkets The treasure house awaits you in your own being.
Come into my eyes, and look at me through them, for I have chosen a home far beyond what eyes can see.
All day I think about it, then at night I say it. Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing? I have no idea. My soul is from elsewhere, I’m sure of that,and I intend to end up there. Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul? I cannot stop asking. If I could taste one sip of an answer, I could break out of this prison for drunks. I didn’t come here of my own accord, and I can’t leave that way. Whoever brought me here, will have to take me home.
When setting out on a journey do not seek advice from someone who never left home
If Light Is In Your Heart You Will Find Your Way Home.
You are the fountain of the sun. I'm the shadow of a willow. You fall upon my forehead. I melt. You slip into my heart. It spills open. You surround me with such sweetness. I make it my home.
make your last journey from this strange world soar for the heights where there is no more separation of you and your home God has created your wings not to be dormant as long as you are alive you must try more and more to use your wings to show you're alive
No longer a stranger, you listen all day to these crazy love-words. Like a bee you fill hundreds of homes with honey, though yours is a long flight from here.
The Soul is a stranger trying to find a Home somewhere that is not a where.
All language is a longing for home.