Welcome back for our third poem in Poetry Corner!

This month we head not only into the tangles of translation but also into the missing gaps of history. We are heading back to the 13th century Persian Empire, to the immortal words of Jalal al-Din Rumi (1207-1273), exploring both classical Persian poetry and Sufism within his poetry and writings. Born in Balkh, which then was the far-edge of the Achaemenid Empire {think Cyrus the Great, Alexander the Great, etc.}, now, in present-day Afghanistan. Once it was a rival to Babylon and a center of Zoroastrianism, but also a religious melting pot. It was invaded by Genghis Khan in 1220, and visited by Marco Polo, who writes it was "a noble city and a great seat of learning" as well as Ibn Battuta.

Rumi's family fled the Mongols and settled variously in Samarkand, and Anatolia, where Rumi's father, a noted Islamic jurist, theologian and mystic-and coming from a long line of such men- was invited by the sultan of Seljuk Turks (or the Sultanate of Rum, from where we have "Rumi") to teach theology in Konya, Turkey.

Rumi studied in Damascus, where he met Shams of Tabrizi, his spiritual instructor in Sufism and best friend. It was said they were inseparable and his sons, out of jealousy, drove Shams away-or had him killed. Rumi was distraught by his friend's disappearance and consoled himself with poetry and spiritual rituals, like chanting and the dance known as the whirling dervish. It was for missing Shams that Rumi would write his Divan-i Shams-i Tabrizi, which contained 40,000 verses and 3,000 ghazals, most written in the wake of Shams's disappearance. Ghazals are lyric poems that often express love or friendship but can also be used in a more mystical way, to approach Sufi theology, which we explore in this month's poem.

As Rumi worked on the Divan: "Rumi evidently found the traditional metrical constraints of ghazals to be constraining, lamenting in one ghazal that fitting his poems into the traditional “dum-ta-ta-dum” ghazal metre was a process so dreadful that it nearly killed him".

Rumi would take over his father's post in due time and started the Masnavi, at age 54, 1258, which would become his life's work and one of the most influential texts of Sufism, gathered together by his sons and disciples on his death, in a quest to reach the Everlasting Beloved.

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"Where did the handsome beloved go?"

By Jalal Al-Din Rumi

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Where did the handsome beloved go?

I wonder, where did that tall, shapely cypress tree go?

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He spread his light among us like a candle.

Where did he go? So strange, where did he go without me?

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All day long my heart trembles like a leaf.

All alone at midnight, where did that beloved go?

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Go to the road, and ask any passing traveler---

That soul-stirring companion, where did he go?

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Go to the garden, and ask the gardener---

That tall, shapely rose stem, where did he go?

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Go to the rooftop, and ask the watchman---

That unique sultan, where did he go?

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Like a madman, I search in the meadows!

That deer in the meadows, where did he go?

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My tearful eyes overflow like a river---

That pearl in the vast sea, where did he go?

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All night long, I implore both moon and Venus---

That lovely face, like a moon, where did he go?

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If he is mine, why is he with others?

Since he's not here, to what "there" did he go?

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If his heart and soul are joined with God,

And he left this realm of earth and water, where did he go?

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Tell me clearly, Shams of Tabriz,

Of whom it is said, "The sun never dies"---where did he go?

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Translated from the Persian by Brad Gooch and Maryam Mortaz

Source: Poetry Magazine (November 2017)

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Some ideas to explore in the reading of this poem might be the challenge in approaching historical and ancient poetry, as well as other texts, and how much can we grasp about the work. How does the limitation of one form of poetry, like a ghazal, here, both limit and drive creativity? Also, consider the natural images that describe the search and longing for the missing Shams and, to go further, the longing to find God and reach oneness, or tawhid, with the deity. Can you see the duality in the lines? How does this poem explore loss and longing? Which lines are you favorite or stand out? Why do you think Rumi's poetry has survived and thrived over time, when other poets have not been remembered? What, in the images that are invoked and the ideas that are explored, stand the test of time? If you read the bonus poem, which images and ideas are repeated and shared between the two poems? Please enjoy some art and music to enhance this month's poem.

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Bonus Poem: What Was Told, That

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Bonus Link #1: More about the life of Rumi and one more

Bonus Link #2 (Music): Afghan singer Ahmad Zahir sings a Rumi ghazal "Ay Qom Ba Hajj"

Bonus Link #3 (Art): 1503 Illustration from the Diwan-i-Shams-i-Tabriz-i and the Morgan Library's Islamic manuscripts on the Life of Rumi

Bonus Link#4: How to compose a traditional ghazal?

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If you happened to miss last month's poem, you can find it here.