A lion took a wolf and a fox with him on a hunting excursion, and succeeded in catching a wild ox, an ibex, and a hare. He then directed the wolf to divide the prey. The wolf proposed to award the ox to the lion, the ibex to himself, and the hare to the fox. The lion was enraged with the wolf because he had presumed to talk of "I" and "Thou" and "My share" and "Thy share," when it all belonged of right to the lion, and he slew the wolf with one blow of his paw. Then, turning to the fox, he ordered him to make the division. The fox, rendered wary by the fate of the wolf, replied that the whole should be the portion of the lion. The lion, pleased with his self-abnegation, gave it all up to him, saying, "Thou art no longer a fox, but myself."
"Till man destroys 'self' he is no true friend of God."
Once a man came and knocked at the door of his friend. His friend said, "Who art thou, O faithful one?" He said, "'Tis I." He answered, "There is no admittance. There is no room for the 'raw' at my well-cooked feast. Naught but fire of separation and absence Can cook the raw one and free him from hypocrisy! Since thy 'self' has not yet left thee, Thou must be burned in fiery flames." The poor man went away, and for one whole year Journeyed burning with grief for his friend's absence. His heart burned till it was cooked; then he went again And drew near to the house of his friend. He knocked at the door in fear and trepidation Lest some careless word might fall from his lips. His friend shouted, "Who is that at the door?" He answered, "'Tis Thou who art at the door, O Beloved!" The friend said, "Since 'tis I, let me come in, There is not room for two 'I's in one house."
From The Masnavi I Ma'navi of Rumi: Complete by Jalal al-Din Rumi, translated from Urdu by E.H. Whinfield (1898).
The sun immense and rosy
Must have sunk and become extinct
The night you closed your eyes for ever against me.
Grey days, and wan, dree dawnings
Since then, with fritter of flowers –
Day wearies me with its ostentation and fawnings.
Still, you left me the nights,
The great dark glittery window,
The bubble hemming this empty existence with lights.
Still in the vast hollow
Like a breath in a bubble spinning
Brushing the stars, goes my soul, that skims the bounds like a swallow?
I can look through
The film of the bubble night, to where you are.
Through the film I can almost touch you.
This poem is in the public domain.
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
This poem is in the public domain.