BP
Thanks for this. Reminds me a bit of Dryden, you know "Drink deep of the Stygian
wells" etc.
I had a very Anglocentric education. B.A. in English 1985. Learned very little
about literature then. Matured late I think. But sometimes these things do come
back to me from time to time.
Think the only stuff I read in school which was good was Gerard Manley Hopkins
(the amazing monk) and John Donne. And yet all of it's "good" in one way or
another if it later becomes useful.
RA
[EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote:
> I find this an amusing Rumi poem about vocations . . . especially his idea of
> what not to commit . . . not so plausible in our age, I guess . . .
> especially after the AA virus . .
>
> Proper Vocation
>
> Nothing occupies us, Sir,
> save service to that cupbearer;
> Saki! another round, please --
> & deliver us from Good & Evil.
> God, Sir, has created no one
> without a proper vocation;
> as for us, He has appointed the job
> of permanent unemployment: --
> by day dancing in the light
> like motes of dust;
> by night, like stars, curcumambulating
> the moon-visaged beloved.
> If He wanted us to work, after all,
> He would not have created this wine;
> with a skin-full of this, Sir,
> would you rush out to commit economics?
> What job could a drunkard do
> other than the work of the wine itself?
> that sacred vintage, transported across
> earth & heaven to the Everlasting Refuge.
> Drink mere worldly wine, sleep
> one night & it passes;
> drink from the falgon of the One & your head
> will follow you to the grave.
> The source of all mercy, Sir,
> pours it out for free;
> & these sakis treat us as sweetly
> as nursemaids their children.
> Drink, my heart, & go drunk,
> wherever you go, go drunk,
> introduce others to this pleasure.
> & God will keep you well supplied.
> Where you witness some beauty
> sit & be a mirror;
> Where you see ugliness
> slip the lookinglass back in its bag.
> Wander happily about the streets
> mingling with the young &
> beautiful
> reciting, Nay I swear
> by this city . . .
> bravo!
> . . . ah, but my head,
> my head is spinning from this wine;
> I will dry up & be silent,
> I will not sit here & count blessings
> which mathematics cannot
> comprehend.
>
> -- Mawlana Jalaloddin Rumi
