Cowan's versions of Nicholson's translations (total - 49, here - 18) ##:
1, 3, 7,
12a, 13f, 15f,
30, 31a, 32, 34f, 35f, 36f, 38,
42f, 45, 48, 49 (49-th is in Nicholson's Appendix-1)
1 / Cowan's version, p. ?:
If you"re Love’s lover and and seek Love
Cut modesty’s throat with a knife.
2 -- missed
Did the madman reveal his madness?
Did he, the Wild One, display his guile?
He tore his cloths. Climbed mountains,
Drank poison and chose death.
Like a spider seizing its victim. The Lord
Is capable of seizing us in his web!
Only Liala’s face embodies such love?
So why did the Wild One leave us?
Have you read the divans of Waisa and Ramin
The stories of Wamiq and Adra?
You raise your clothes for fear of wetting them,
Knowing that into the sea you must plunge.
Depravity and drunkenness are love’s way
As torrents descend rather than rise.
You will be a rock in a ring of lovers
The stone’s slave as we are yours.
Even as the sky enslaves us the earth
Even as the spirit enslaves the body.
What does the earth lose by being bound,
As limbs are by the sweetness of reason?
-- Cowan's source 1: http://moderndrunkardmagazine.com/bbs/viewtopic.php?f=11&t=41597
3 / Cowan's version, p. ?:
Last night I pleaded with a star to intercede:
I said, 'My being is at the moon's service.'
Bowing, I added, 'Take this plea to the sun
Who makes rocks gold with his fire.'
Bearing the wounds on my breast, I cried,
'The Beloved, Whose drink is blood, must know!'
Like a child, I rocked my heart asleep
As a child does when its cradle sways.
Give my heart milk, stay its tears - you
Who help a hundred like me at every moment.
The heart's home is your city of union:
How long will you condemn mine to exile?
My head aches; there's nothing more I can say.
O cup-bearer, my troubled eye grows drunk!
-- Cowan's source 3: http://www.trueloverumi.com/poets/last-night.html
7 / Cowan's version, p. ???:
That moon, undreamt even by sky, returns,
Bringing a fire, no water can quench.
The temples of my body and my soul
Are made drunken and desolate by his love.
When the tavern-keeper became my soul-mate
My blood turned to wine, my heart to kebab.
When the eye is consumed by thought of him,
A voice arrives: "Well done, O Flagon. Brave, wine!"
Loves fingers drag up, root and stem,
Every flowe,r where Love's rays fall.
When my heart noticed Love's sea, suddenly,
It escaped me and leapt in, crying: "Save me!"
Tabriz's glory, the face of the Wild One is
The Sun, whose track all cloudy hearts follow.
-- Cowan's source 7: http://sunlightgroup.blogspot.com/2011/07/sunlight-fire-which-no-water-can.html
12 / apocryphon, Cowan's version, p. 73:
Every form derives its nature from the void;
If a form dies, its eternal nature will survive.
Every beauty witnessed, every thought heard,
These will not be trampled upon or perish.
The spring's source is unfailing, its streams offer unlimited water;
Since neither can cease, why are you crying?
Regard the soul, as a fountain; all creation, as rivers:
While the fountain flows forth, rivers swell.
Dismiss grief from your mind and drink your fill;
This spring will not cease, its waters are eternal.
From the moment of your birth, a ladder
Was placed before you, to help you escape.
First, you were mineral, a plant, then animal:
There's no secret about your evolution.
Later you became a man, equipped with knowledge, reason and faith;
Look at your body, nature's dust-pit, how perfect it has grown!
Leaving manhood behind, there's no doubt, you'll become an angel;
The earth you'll leave then, and head for Heaven.
Transcending the angel, become an ocean,
Whose each drop will be larger than countless seas of Oman.
With all your soul, put behind you 'Son', adore instead 'One';
It doesn't matter, how your body ages, your soul's young.
-- Cowan's source 12: http://www.thoughtsandplaces.org/rumiruminations/wizzd.html
29 / Cowan's version, p. ???:
Why doesn't the soul fly, when from your glorious Presence,
A speech of such sweet favour comes, saying: “Arise!”?
Why shouldn't a fish leap from dry land into the water
When wave-sounds from the ocean curl in its ear?
Why shouldn't a falcon fly from its kill to be near the King
When it hears drumstick against drum chatter: “Return”.
Shouldn't every Sufi dance like a speck of dust on the sun
Of eternity, that he might be delivered from decay?
Such grace, beauty, loveliness and life richly bestowed!
Dispense with Him, O misery and error.
Fly, O bird, fly to your natural home,
Your wings are outspread, your cage open.
Voyage from this bitter stream towards life's waters,
Return from the vestibule to the high seat of the soul.
Make haste, O soul! For we too are coming
From this world of duality to that of union.
How long shall we fill our laps with dust, stones
And such stuff from this world, like children?
Let us give up this world and fly towards Heaven,
Let us flee childhood to the banquet of men.
Behold, how your body has entrapped you!
Tear the sack and raise clear your head.
Take this scroll from Love with your right hand;
You are not child, not knowing right from left.
God said to Reason's messenger: “Go”,
To the hand of Death he said: "World desire chastise”.
A voice came to the spirit: “Deliver me to the unseen”.
Take what gains, what treasure, and regret no more pain.
Cry out, announce that you are King;
In reply is your grace, in question your knowledge.
-- Cowan's source 29: http://sunlightgroup.blogspot.com/2010/07/sunlight-grace-of-answer-knowledge-of.html
30 / Cowan's version, pages ???:
Of all the world I choose you alone;
Will you allow me to sit in grief?
My heart is as a pen in your hand;
You cause me to be either glad or sad.
Save what you will, what will have I?
Save what you reveal, what do I see?
Out of me you grow a thorn or a rose;
I small roses now, and pull out thorns.
If you keep me as I am, I am;
If you change me, I'm changed.
In the glass, where you color my soul, I'm who?
Why is my Love or hate?
You were first, and last you shall be;
Make my last better than my first. Do.
When you're hidden, I'm faithless;
When you're visible, I'm faithful.
I'm nothing, except what you've bestowed;
What do you seek from my breast and sleeve?
-- Cowan's source 30: http://sunlightgroup.blogspot.com/2008/08/sunlight-out-of-all-world-i-choose-you.html
31 / apocryphon, Cowan's version, pages 113-114:
What can be done, O believers, as I don't recognize myself?
I'm neither a Christian nor Jew, Magian nor Moslem.
I'm not of the East or West; neither land nor sea;
I'm not of Nature's mine; nor the stars in Heaven.
I'm not of earth, water, air or fire;
I'm not of Heaven, nor the dust on this carpet.
I'm not of India, China, Bulgaria nor Saqsin;
I'm not of the kingdom of Iraq, nor Khorasan.
I'm not of this world, nor the next, Paradise nor Hell;
I'm not of Adam, nor Eve, Eden nor Rizwan.
My place is in the Placeless, my trace in the Traceless;
I'm neither body nor soul, as I belong to the soul of the Beloved.
I have dispensed with duality, and seen the two worlds as One.
One I seek; One I know, One I see, One I call
He is the first, last, the outward and the inward,
I know none other than He, and He Who Is.
Love's cup intoxicated me as two worlds slip from my hands.
My only business now is carousing and revelry.
If once in my life I spent a moment without you,
From that moment on I repent my own life.
If once in this world I win a moment with you,
Both worlds I'd trample under a dance of triumph.
O Shems of Tabriz, in this world I'm so drunk - now
Only stories of drunkenness and revelry pass my lips.
-- Cowan's source 31: http://www.thoughtsandplaces.org/rumiruminations/wizzd.html
32 / Cowan's version, p. 115:
Apart from you, my Beloved, I've found no joy in the two worlds.
Though I've seen many wonders, none compare with you.
They say that a fire blazing - is the unbeliever's lot:
I've seen none, except Abu Lahab*, excluded from your fire.
Many times, I've laid the ear of the spirit near the heart's window:
Long conversations I heard, yet those lips remained invisible.
Suddenly, you lavished grace upon your servant:
There was no reason for it, but your infinite kindness.
O chosen cupbearer, apple of my eye,
Your like have I never seen in Persia or Arabia.
-- (omitted by Nicholson & Cowan)
Pour out wine, until I become absent from myself;
In selfhood and existence, I've felt only fatigue.
O you, who are milk and sugar, sun and moon,
O you, who are mother and father, no other kin have I known.
O indestructible Love, O divine Minstrel,
You are both stay and refuge: no other name equals you.
We are but iron filings, your love - the magnet:
You are source of all aspiration, myself I have seen none.
Silence, O Brother! Put learning and culture aside:
Until culture was named, I knew no culture, but you.
-- (omitted by Nicholson & Cowan)
-- Cowan's source 32: http://sunlightgroup.blogspot.com/2009/07/sunlight-ive-seen-no-joy-without-you.html
38 / Cowan's version, p. 127:
How happy we are, when seated in a palace, you and I,
With dual forms and bodies but with one soul, you and I.
Bird's voices and the grove's moody colours offer
Immortality when we enter the garden, you and I.
Above, stars will emerge and gaze upon us;
We'll reveal to them the moon's splendour, you and I.
Individuals no more, you and I shall mingle in ecstacy
Full of joy, and beyond the reach of stupid talk.
All the hearts of Heaven's high-plumaged birds will be rotten with envy,
In the place where our laugh sounds similar, you and I.
The greatest wonder is this: that we sit here in the same spot,
In Iraq and Khorasan at this moment, you and I.
-- Cowan's source 38: http://www.thoughtsandplaces.org/rumiruminations/wizzf.html
45 / Cowan's version, p. 142:
Be mindful, you’ll not know a friend like me.
Where in the world is there such a Beloved?
Be mindful, don’t spend your life wandering about,
There’s no market elsewhere for you to splurge.
You are as an arid gully, I as rain,
You are a city in ruins, I the architect.
Know that my service is like joy at dawn,
Few men experience its illuminating warmth.
In dreams you see a myriad shifting images;
When the dream ends you’re left with nought.
Close tight the eye of falsity, open wide the eye of
An ass is your senses, evil thoughts its halter.
Choose sweet syrup from the garden of Love, for Nature
Sells vinegar, and crushes unripened grapes.
Enter the hospital of your Creator, for no man
Who’s ill can dispense with his remedies.
Without the King the world is decapitated:
Like a turban, fold yourself about its severed head.
Unless you’re dark, don’t let the mirror fall
From your hand: soul is your mirror, your body rust.
Where is the lucky merchant, whose destiny Jupiter
Controls, that I may trade with him and buy his wares?
Come, remember me who gave you the ability to think,
From my mine you may yet buy an ass-load of rubies.
Come, walk towards him who gave you feet,
Look with both eyes on him who gave you sight.
Clap hands for joy of him, by whose foamy hand
the sea is made. His joy dispels sorrow and pain.
Speak without tongue, without ears listen,
The tongue’s mutterings often give offence.
-- Cowan's source 45: http://onelovemine.wordpress.com/2009/08/17/rumi-poetry-%E2%80%93-17809/
48 / Cowan's version, pp. 147-148:
At last you've left and gone to the Invisible;
How marvellous the way you quit this world.
You ruffled your feathers and, breaking free of your cage,
You took to the air, bound for the soul's world.
A favoured falcon, you were caged by an old woman;
When the falcon-drum sounded, you flew into the Void.
A love-sick nightingale among owls, you caught
The scent of roses, and flew to the rose-garden.
From this bitter brew you suffered a hangover;
At last you set out for Eternity's tavern.
Like an arrow you sped for the mark;
From this bow bliss was your target.
Like a thorn, the world nettled you with false clues;
Dismissing them, you plucked that, which is clueless.
Since you're now the Sun, why wear a crown?
Why wear a belt when you're gone at the waist?
I hear you look at your soul with dim eyes:
Why gaze at it at all, you're already En-souled?
O heart, what a flighty bird you are. In the chase for divine reward
Your two wings flew to the point of a spear like a shield!
From autumn roses run - what a fearless rose you are!
Wandering about in the company of a cold wind.
Falling as rain does, on the roof of this world,
You flowed all ways, then escaped down a drain.
Be silent and free from the pain of speech; yet
Don't sleep now, that you've found solace with a Friend.
-- Cowan's source 48: http://www.thoughtsandplaces.org/rumiruminations/wizzd.html
_____________________________ Appendix 1 _______________________________
49 / Cowan's version "History of Light", p. 149 (fragment):
God gives me my food, like a child in the womb;
Man is born once, I many times.
Wearing the cloak of my body, I worked hard in this world,
I've often had to rip this cloak with my bare hands.
I've slept nights with monks in their monasteries,
I've slept with unbelievers before their idols.
I'm the booty of robbers, the pain of the sick*;
Both cloud and rain, I've inundated fields.
O dervish! Never has annihilation's dust settled on my clothes.
I've gathered armfuls of roses from eternity's garden.
I'm neither fire nor water, nor the following wind;
I'm not clay either; since I've left them all behind.
O Son, I'm not Shems of Tabriz, but pure Light;
If you see me, look out! Tell no man either.
-- Cowan's source 49: http://www.thoughtsandplaces.org/rumiruminations/wizzf.html
_________________ Sources ________________________________________
- Reynold Nicholson:
--- "Selected Poems from the Divani Shamsi Tabriz", London: Cambridge University Press, 1898, 1977 - reprint, - 367 p.
--- Also reprinted without alteration in "The Islamic World", William H. McNeil & Marilyn Robinson Waldman, eds., New York: Oxford University Press, 1973.
- James Cowan:
--- "Rumi's Divan of Shems of Tabriz: Selected Odes", Element Books Ltd, ISBN 1852309199, 1997, - 152 p.
--- "Rumi's Divan of Shems of Tabriz", Vega, ISBN 1843335921, 2003, - 160 p.
Another cover: http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/419XWSTFGCL._SS500_.jpg
Cowan's book Reviews:
- What a disappointment. Even Rumi's poetry can become dull in the hands of an unimaginative translator.
And the introduction, what silly blah blah was that. Happy to finish this book, not happy reading it.
- Cowan's rewritten Odes are definitely easier to read and comprehend than the Odes in the work by Nicholson, from which he did his rewrites.
Cowan is not the only one, nor the first, to have worked on making Nicholson's prose version more verse-like.
2. Full version online:
- Nicholson: http://www.poetrymania.com/2012/06/deewan-i-shams-tabrezi-english.html
- Cowan: not found
3. Short version (w/o Nicholson's Notes) online:
- Nicholson: http://www.khamush.com/divani_shams.htm
- Cowan: not found
4. Google Books preview:
- Nicholson: http://books.google.com/books?id=OL46AAAAIAAJ
- Cowan: NONE http://books.google.com/books?id=v4-BAAAAIAAJ&source=gbs_similarbooks
- Nicholson: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0700704620/greecethracemi0e/
- Nicholson: http://hojja-nusreddin.livejournal.com/2947040.html