Jalaluddin Rumi

Go back,go back to sleep.Yes, you are allowed.You who have no Love in your heart,you can go back to sleep.The power of Loveis exclusive to us,you can go back to sleep.I have been burntby the fire of Love.You who have no such yearning in your heart,go back to sleep.The path of Love,has seventy-two folds and countless facets.Your love and religionis all about deceit, control and hypocrisy,go back to sleep.I have torn to pieces my robe of speech,and have let go of the desire to converse.You who are not naked yet,you can go back to sleep.

Knock, And He'll open the doorVanish, And He'll make you shine like the sunFall, And He'll raise you to the heavensBecome nothing, And He'll turn you into everything.

This place is a dream. Only a sleeper considers it real. Then death comes like dawn, and you wake up laughing at what you thought was your grief.

I break out laughing. I frown.I yell and scream. Sometimes,if one jokes and giggles,one causes war.So I hide how tickled I am.Tears well up in my eyes.My body is a large city.Much grieving in one sector.I live in another part.Lakewater.Something on fire over here.I am sour when you are sour,sweet when you are sweet.You are my face and my back.Only through you can I knowthis back-scratching pleasure.Now people the likes of you and Icome clapping, inventing dances,climbing into this high meadow.I am a spoiled parrot who eats only candy.I have no interest in bitter food.Some have been given harsh knowledge. Not I.Some are lame and jerking along.I am smooth and glidingly quick.Their road is full of washed-out placesand long inclines. Mine isroyally level, effortless.The huge Jerusalem mosque stands inside me,and women full of light.Laughter leaps out.It is the nature of the rose to laugh.It cannot help but laugh.

Ignore those that make you fearful and sad, that degrade you back towards disease and death.

There is a voice that doesn__ use words. Listen.

The wit taught by God to the beeIs withheld from the lion and the wild ass.

Your faces are very beautiful,but they are wooden cages.You had better run from me.My words are fire.

Christian, Jew, Muslim, shaman, Zoroastrian, stone, ground, mountain, river, each has a secret way of being with the mystery, unique and not to be judged

My lips got lost on the way to the kiss - that's how drunk Iwas.

Die! Die! Die in this love!If you die in this love,Your soul will be renewed. Die! Die! Don__ fear the death of that which is knownIf you die to the temporal, You will become timeless.

It is certain that an atom of goodness on the path of faith is never lost.

The lover's ailment is separate from all other ailments: love is the astrolabe of the mysteries of God.

Fortunate is he who does not carry envy as a companion.

A wealth you cannot imagineflows through you.Do not consider what strangers say.Be secluded in your secret heart-house,that bowl of silence.

There came one and knocked at the door of the Beloved.And a voice answered and said, 'Who is there?'The lover replied, 'It is I.''Go hence,' returned the voice;'there is no room within for thee and me.'Then came the lover a second time and knocked and again the voice demanded,'Who is there?'He answered, 'It is thou.''Enter,' said the voice, 'for I am within.

And you? When will you begin that long journey into yourself?

And watch two men washing clothes,one makes dry clothes wet. The other makes wet clothes dry. they seem to be thwarting each other, but their work is a perfect harmony.Every holy person seems to have a different doctrine and practice, but there's really only one work.