the essence of a red wine

By: alexanderlewin

Jan 29 2016

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Category: Drawing, Photography, Poetry, Rumi, Sufism, Wine

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Aperture:f/2.4
ISO:125
Shutter:1/100 sec
Camera:Lumia 520

 

Around and around all night
in the house of the friend.
This is how it must be,
because the beloved needs
the cup empty, again empty.

Do not come to us without bringing music.
We celebrate with drum and flute,
with wine not made from grapes,
in a place you cannot imagine.

Sometimes I call you wine, or cup,
or sunlight ricocheting off those,
or faintly immersed in silver.
I call you trap and bait,
and the game I am after,
all so as not to say your name.

Shams is wine, but not the kind
that muddles and brings regret.
Shams is music and light and fire.
He brings the majesty that lives
in the deep center of everyone.

Wine to intensify love,
fire to consume.
We bring these,
not like images from a dream reality,
but as an actual night to live through until dawn.

The sun coming up brings clear wine air.
Being sober is not living.
Listen to the longing of a stringless harp.
Stand watch over this burning.

Today I am out wandering,
turning my skull into a cup
for others to drink wine from.
In this town somewhere there sits
a calm,intelligent man,
who does not know what he is about to do.

Out of nowhere a horse brought us here,
where we taste love until we do not exist again.
This taste is the wine we always mention.

The wine we really drink is our own blood.
Our bodies ferment in these barrels.
We give everything for a glass of this.
We give our minds for a sip.

Every day your wind is blowing in my head.
I am restless and wildly alive with it.
This is nothing like being drunk,
with its joy of wine-rush,
then the sad hangover.
This is continuous,
blowing steadily throughout waking and sleeping,
your love, this wind,
moving the air so strongly and the same,
day after day, after night,
after day.

Whoever drinks your love
takes in new life and new again.
Death used to follow me everywhere, threatening.
Then it caught your fragrance and left.

 

winos (6)

Jelaluddin Rumi (1207-1273)
tr.Coleman Barks
from Rumi: The Big Red Book
HarperCollins 2010

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