A New Rule – Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi 

It is the rule with drunkards to fall upon each other,

to quarrel, become violent, and make a scene.

The lover is even worse than a drunkard.

I will tell you what love is: to enter a mine of gold.

And what is that gold?

The lover is a king above all kings,

unafraid of death, not at all interested in a golden crown.

The dervish has a pearl concealed under his patched cloak.

Why should he go begging door to door?

Last night that moon came along,

drunk, dropping clothes in the street.

“Get up,” I told my heart, “Give the soul a glass of wine.

The moment has come to join the nightingale in the garden,

to taste sugar with the soul-parrot.”

I have fallen, with my heart shattered –

where else but on your path? And I

broke your bowl, drunk, my idol, so drunk,

don’t let me be harmed, take my hand.

A new rule a new law has been born:

break all the glasses and fall toward the glassblower. 

One Whisper Of The Beloved – Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

Lovers share a sacred decree – 

to seek the Beloved. 

They roll head over heels, 

rushing toward the Beautiful One 

like a torrent of water. 
In truth, everyone is a shadow of the Beloved – 

Our seeking is His seeking, 

Our words are His words. 
At times we flow toward the Beloved 

like a dancing stream. 

At times we are still water 

held in His pitcher. 

At times we boil in a pot 

turning to vapor – 

that is the job of the Beloved. 
He breathes into my ear 

until my soul 

takes on His fragrance. 

He is the soul of my soul – 

How can I escape? 

But why would any soul in this world 

want to escape from the Beloved? 
He will melt your pride 

making you thin as a strand of hair, 

Yet do not trade, even for both worlds, 

One strand of His hair. 
We search for Him here and there 

while looking right at Him. 

Sitting by His side we ask, 

‘O Beloved, where is the Beloved?’ 
Enough with such questions! – 

Let silence take you to the core of life. 
All your talk is worthless 

When compared to one whisper 

of the Beloved.

The Guest House – Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

This being human is a guest house. 

Every morning a new arrival. 
A joy, a depression, a meanness, 

some momentary awareness comes 

As an unexpected visitor. 
Welcome and entertain them all! 

Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, 

who violently sweep your house 

empty of its furniture, 

still treat each guest honorably. 

He may be clearing you out 

for some new delight. 
The dark thought, the shame, the malice, 

meet them at the door laughing, 

and invite them in. 
Be grateful for whoever comes, 

because each has been sent 

as a guide from beyond.

The Temple Of Love – Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

The temple of love is not love itself; 

True love is the treasure, 

Not the walls about it. 

Do not admire the decoration, 

But involve yourself in the essence, 

The perfume that invades and touches you- 

The beginning and the end. 

Discovered, this replace all else, 

The apparent and the unknowable. 

Time and space are slaves to this presence.

This Is Love – Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

This is love: to fly toward a secret sky, 

to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. 

First, to let go of live. 

In the end, to take a step without feet; 

to regard this world as invisible, 

and to disregard what appears to be the self. 
Heart, I said, what a gift it has been 

to enter this circle of lovers, 

to see beyond seeing itself, 

to reach and feel within the breast.

We Are As The Flute – Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

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.

When Grapes Turn To Wine – Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

When grapes turn 

to wine, they long for our ability to change. 
When stars wheel 

around the North Pole, 

they are longing for our growing consciousness. 
Wine got drunk with us, 

not the other way. 

The body developed out of us, not we from it. 
We are bees, 

and our body is a honeycomb. 

We made 

the body, cell by cell we made it

When The Rose Is Gone – Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

When the rose is gone and the garden faded 

you will no longer hear the nightingale’s song. 

The Beloved is all; the lover just a veil. 

The Beloved is living; the lover a dead thing. 

If love withholds its strengthening care, 

the lover is left like a bird without care, 

the lover is left like a bird without wings. 

How will I be awake and aware 

if the light of the Beloved is absent? 

Love wills that this Word be brought forth

Two Friends – Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

A certain person came to the Friend’s door 

and knocked. 

‘Who’s there?’ 

‘It’s me.’ 

The Friend answered, ‘Go away. There’s no place 

for raw meat at this table.’ 

The individual went wandering for a year. 

Nothing but the fire of separation 

can change hypocrisy and ego. The person returned 

completely cooked, 

walked up and down in front of the Friend’s house, 

gently knocked. 

‘Who is it?’ 


‘Please come in, my self, 

there’s no place in this house for two. 

The doubled end of the thread is not what goes through

the eye of the needle. 

It’s a single-pointed, fined-down, thread end, 

not a big ego-beast with baggage.’

Your Grief…. – Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

Your grief for what youve lost holds a mirror 

up to where you’re bravely working. 
Expecting the worst, you look and instead, 

here’s the joyful face youve been wanting to see. 
Your hand opens and closes and opens and closes. 

If it were always a fist or always stretched open, 

you would be paralyzed. 
Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expand 

the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated 

as birdwings.

Zero Circle – Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

Be helpless, dumbfounded, 

Unable to say yes or no. 

Then a stretcher will come from grace 

To gather us up. 
We are too dull-eyed to see that beauty 

If we say we can, we’re lying. 

If we say No, we don’t see it, 

That No will behead us 

And shut tight our window onto spirit. 
So let us rather not be sure of anything, 

Besides ourselves, and only that, so 

Miraculous beings come running to help. 

Crazed, lying in a zero circle, mute, 

We shall be saying finally, 

With tremendous eloquence, Lead us. 

When we have totally surrendered to that beauty, 

We shall be a mighty kindness.

 Do You Love Me ? – Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

A lover asked his beloved, 

Do you love yourself more 

than you love me? 

The beloved replied, 

I have died to myself 

and I live for you. 
I’ve disappeared from myself 

and my attributes. 

I am present only for you. 

I have forgotten all my learning, 

but from knowing you 

I have become a scholar. 
I have lost all my strength, 

but from your power 

I am able. 

If I love myself 

I love you. 

If I love you 

I love myself.

Bring Wine – Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi 

Bring wine, for I am suffering crop sickness from the vintage; 

God has seized me, and I am thus held fast. 

By love’s soul, bring me a cup of wine that is the envy of the 

sun, for I care aught but love. 

Bring that which if I were to call it “soul” would be a shame, 

for the reason that I am pained in the head because of the soul. 

Bring that whose name is not contained in this mouth, through 

which the fissures of my speech split asunder. 

Bring that which, when it is not present, I am stupid and ig- 

norant, but when I am with it, I am the king of the subtle and 

crafty ones. 

Bring that which, the moment it is void of my head, I become 

black and dark, you might say I am of the infidels. 

Bring that which delivers out of this “bring” and “do not 

bring”; bring quickly, and repel me not, saying, “Whence shall 

I bring it?” 

Bring, and deliver the roof of the heavens through the long 

night from my abundant smoke and lamentations. 

Bring that which after my death, even out of my dust, will 

restore me to speech and thanksgiving even as Najjar. 

Bring me wine, for I am guardian of wine like a goblet, for 

whatever has gone into my stomach I deliver back completely. 

Najjar said, “After my death would that my people might be 

open-eyed to the ecstasy within me. 

“They would not regard my bones and blood; in spirit I ama 

mighty king, even though in body I am vile. 

“What a ladder I, the Carpenter, have chiseled! My going has 

reached the roof of the seventh heaven. 

“I journeyed like the Messiah, my ass remained below; I do 

no grieve for my ass, nor am I asslike of ears. 

“Do not like Eblis see in Adam only water and clay; see that 

behind the clay are my hundred thousand rose bowers.” 

Shams-e Tabrizi rose up from this flesh saying, “ I am the 

sun. Bring up my head from this mire. 

“Err not, when I enter the mire once more, for I am at rest, 

and am ashamed of this veil. 

“Every morning I will rise up, despite the blind; for the sake 

of the blind I will not cease to rise and set.”