Ask Wednesday: Ralph Earle on poetry in Sufism

Ralph Earle is a poet with a particular interest in Sufism. Sufism is a contemplative branch of Islam, with a rich tradition of poetry in several eastern languages (Persian, Arabic, Urdu...), much of which has been translated into English.

    We, too, are interested in poetry, and mysticism, and are even familiar with two major Sufi poets, Rumi and Omar Khayyam, so we are pleased that Ralph agreed to be interviewed on the subject of Sufi poetry. [Our questions are in italics.]

What is Sufi poetry?
    Sufis are lovers of God, and Sufism is a blanket term for many different types of Sufis and Sufi practices. Sufis are mystics: they believe in a direct relationship with God. Sufism is really more a path than a religion; it is known as the Path of Love. Sufis refer to God as “The Beloved” and think of themselves as in a love affair with God.
    So, if Sufism is the path of love, then Sufi poetry is love poetry. It presents human love in all its aspects, and uses it as an emblem of the great love affair with God. Sufi poetry emphasizes living in the moment, and discovering a world where even the smallest, most commonplace thing is holy.

Can you give us some examples?
    Sure. The Sufi poet who best embodies these themes is Jalal ad-Din Rumi, a 13th century Persian living in Turkey. Here’s a brief example of his approach to poetry and life:

Come to the orchard in spring.
There is wine and light and sweethearts in the pomegranate flowers.
If you do not come, these do not matter.
If you do come, these do not matter.

Rumi wrote tens of thousands of lines on all subjects—love, drunkenness, human folly, cooking, commerce, agriculture…always coming back to the many ways that life in this world helps us find our way to God.
    In one famous poem, a chickpea complains about being cooked and tries to jump out of the stewpot, only to be knocked back by the cook, who explains how he is being softened and blended with spices, to make a delicious meal he can’t even imagine. In another poem, a man who wants to have an affair with the serving girl persuades his wife that if she climbs a certain tree, everything she sees will be the opposite of how things really are. Needless to say, it’s a poem about perspective and about fooling ourselves.

Who are some other well-known Sufi poets?
    Rumi is the best known. Another who is currently enjoying great popularity is Hafiz. Like Rumi he wrote in Persian, the language of modern-day Iran, rich in rhyme and carrying a long poetic tradition. Rumi and Hafiz remain remarkably popular in Iran and throughout the Muslim world, as well as in the West. They are both best known for their short lyric poems.
    The 11th century philosopher Omar Khayyam, was a Sufi. We know him from the famous translation of his Rubaiyat by Edward FitzGerald, who unfortunately took liberties with the text to suit his own poetic ends, and overlooked the poem’s spiritual dimension. Although he missed much of the poet’s subtle intentions, he still conveyed the sensual impact of Khayyam’s verses:

A book of verses underneath the bough,
A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou.

Other Persian Sufi poets wove great traditional stories into long narrative poems, such as Yusuf and Zuleika, Jami’s retelling of the Biblical (and Koranic) story of Joseph, from the point of view of Potiphar’s wife, who fell in love with him. Another classic love tale is Layla and Majnun by the 12th century poet Nizami (also later rewritten by Jami). When the young lovers are separated by their families, Majnun goes mad with the quest to find his lost love. In both these tales, the lovers’ trials suggest the search for God in this confusing and human world.

So far you’ve been telling us about Persian poets. Were Sufi poets active in other languages?
    Sufi poets wrote in Arabic from Iraq to Andalusian Spain. And as Sufism spread into Turkey and Pakistan, so did the poetry. Several medieval Arab Sufi philosophers expressed their ideas in poetic form. Chief among these are Ibn al Arabi’s Bezels of Wisdom and al Gazali’s Alchemy of Happiness. One of the earliest and most influential Sufi saints was an Iraqi Arab woman, Rabia of Basra, who wrote beautiful short poems:

O God! If I worship You for fear of Hell, burn me in Hell,
and if I worship You in hope of Paradise, exclude me from Paradise.
But if I worship You for Your Own sake,
grudge me not Your everlasting Beauty.

So much of this poetry you mention is medieval. Why does it matter to us as 21st century Americans?
    One measure of its influence is that it is so durable. Rumi is said to be the most popular poet in the United States right now. Rumi’s themes and messages are as universal today as they were 700 years ago. He introduces the playful, gentle and inspirational qualities of poetry to people who might not otherwise read or enjoy it. Another example of Sufi poetry’s lasting influence is Nizami’s Layla and Majnun. Back in the 60’s, this epic poem served as Eric Clapton’s inspiration for his album Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs. In fact, one song on the album is actually a direct translation of a passage in the poem, and anyone familiar with the title track can sense its close connection with the intoxication of divine love.
    Other influences are more historical. The Conference of the Birds, by the 12th century Persian poet Attar, is a long narrative poem about a spiritual pilgrimage undertaken by a group of birds seeking their true ruler. Although there is no direct evidence of its influence on the great English poet Geoffrey Chaucer, he used its central metaphor in an early narrative poem, The Parliament of Fowles. His masterpiece, The Canterbury Tales, resembles Attar’s poem in the many varied stories the travelers tell within the framework of the pilgrimage, and even the total number of pilgrims—thirty—in each poem.
    Later, as the short, highly structured lyrics of Hafiz and others made their way into Europe through Sicily, their theme of Ishk, or longing for the divine Beloved, had a strong influence on the development of the troubadours, as well as the development of love sonnets, first by Petrarch in Italy, and later in England by Shakespeare, Donne, and others.

What makes Rumi so special?
First and foremost, he’s a lot of fun. Most of his poetry is about finding your way to the real meaning of love. It’s a theme that could easily become heavy-handed, but Rumi handles it in a way that is light, playful, clever and inventive. He can turn almost any subject to his purposes. He gives voice to sober drunkards and wise fools, to fruits and flowers and animals. His far-reaching metaphors compare the world to an orchard and the human spirit to a reed flute. He tells the story of a priest, a rabbi and an imam traveling together, with only one piece of halvah to split among them for dessert. He says “love is like a lawsuit” and “you are a diver; your body is just clothing left at the shore.”
    Here is a poem of his comparing human beings to a guest house:

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.

Rumi led a colorful life, with many twists and turns, including a close relationship with a mysterious enlightened being, a wandering dervish named Shams of Tabriz. Although Rumi composed the massive Mathnawi, considered the greatest narrative poem of Islam, it is not strictly accurate to say he wrote it. In the latter part of his life, after the strange disappearance of Shams, Rumi walked the streets of his adopted city of Konya, reciting thousands of extemporaneous verses that were dutifully recorded by his scribe and became the Mathnawi.
    Much of Rumi’s popularity arises from the work of Coleman Barks, who has made a career of translating Rumi. Barks is a Sufi poet himself, and he conveys much of the generous spirit of the original, while downplaying the time-bound material and references to medieval Islamic traditions. It has been said that Bark’s translations sometimes stray from the original, but there is no doubt that he has opened this great treasure house of World literature to a audience who might not otherwise read poetry at all.

Can you give some examples of Barks’s translations?
    Sure. The two Rumi poems I’ve already quoted are translated by Barks. Here are two more short poems from the Mathnawi. They don’t have titles, as they are excerpts from the longer narrative:

Today, like every other day, we wake up empty
and frightened. Don’t open the door to the study
and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument.

Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.
…

I have lived on the lip of insanity,
wanting to know reasons,
knocking on a door.
It opens.
I’ve been knocking from the inside!

Anything you expected we would ask, but didn’t?
    Yes, I thought you would ask what "God" means to Sufis....
    Because Sufism is a personal path, it is hard to generalize about how Sufis conceive of God. I mentioned that Sufis see God as the Beloved, and the relationship with God as a love affair that is both highly personal and entirely impersonal. God is more majestic than the greatest majesty and more intimate than the pulse in your arteries. God is in our hearts, and the heart of every atom of creation.
    Another way Sufis view the Beloved is through the lens of the traditional “99 Names,” or attributes of God. There is far more to God than our minds can conceive, but we can conceive of qualities that we can attribute to God, and thus the 99 names: the Merciful, the Compassionate, the Just, the Benevolent, the Wise, and so on. When we see these attributes playing out in our daily world and the people around us, we are seeing the hem of the hem of the garment of God.