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Sufi Poems : 20 famous sufi poems

When I Die
~Hazrat Mawlana Jalaluddin Rumi

When I die
when my coffin
is being taken out
you must never think
i am missing this world

don’t shed any tears
don’t lament or
feel sorry
i’m not falling
into a monster’s abyss

when you see
my corpse is being carried
don’t cry for my leaving
i’m not leaving
i’m arriving at eternal love

when you leave me
in the grave
don’t say goodbye
remember a grave is
only a curtain
for the paradise behind

you’ll only see me
descending into a grave
now watch me rise
how can there be an end
when the sun sets or
the moon goes down

it looks like the end
it seems like a sunset
but in reality it is a dawn
when the grave locks you up
that is when your soul is freed

have you ever seen
a seed fallen to earth
not rise with a new life
why should you doubt the rise
of a seed named human

have you ever seen
a bucket lowered into a well
coming back empty
why lament for a soul
when it can come back
like Joseph from the well

when for the last time
you close your mouth
your words and soul
will belong to the world of
no place no time

~ “ The Paradox ”•••
-by Rumi

I will hunt for the Beloved
with all my power and all my strength
and passion until I know
It is futile to look for Him.

Yet how could I know
His Presence near me
Without traveling across the world?

How could I grasp Its sublime Mystery
Without risking a long journey?

God has told us He is with us.
But has sealed the heart
So it cannot understand this
Except slowly and indirectly.

When you have accomplished
many journeys
And fulfilled the Path’s duties,
The seal will then be withdrawn
from your heart.

Then you’ll say to yourself, “If I’d known
I was always so extremely near to God
How would I have been able to look for

Yet this knowledge depended on a journey:
Sharpness of mind alone could never win it.

Who is at my door?

~ Hazrat Mawlana Jalaluddin Rumi

He said, “Who is at my door?”
I said, “Your humble servant.”
He said, “What business do you have?”
I said, “To greet you, 0 Lord.”

He said, “How long will you journey on?”
I said, “Until you stop me.”
He said, “How long will you boil in the fire?”
I said, “Until I am pure.

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“This is my oath of love.
For the sake of love
I gave up wealth and position.”

He said, “You have pleaded your case
but you have no witness.”
I said, “My tears are my witness;
the pallor of my face is my proof.’
He said, “Your witness has no credibility;
your eyes are too wet to see.”
I said, “By the splendor of your justice
my eyes are clear and faultless.”

He said, “What do you seek?”
I said, “To have you as my constant friend.”
He said, “What do you want from me?”
I said, “Your abundant grace.”

He said, “Who was your companion on the journey?
I said, “The thought of you, 0 King.”
He said, “What called you here?”
I said, “The fragrance of your wine.”

He said, “What brings you the most fulfillment?”
I said, “The company of the Emperor.”
He said, “What do you find there?”
I said, “A hundred miracles.”
He said, “Why is the palace deserted?”
I said, “They all fear the thief.”
He said, “Who is the thief?”
I said, “The one who keeps me from -you.

He said, “Where is there safety?”
I said, “In service and renunciation.”
He said, “What is there to renounce?”
I said, “The hope of salvation.”

He said, “Where is there calamity?”
I said, “In the presence of your love.”
He said, “How do you benefit from this life?”
I said, “By keeping true to myself

Now it is time for silence.
If I told you about His true essence
You would fly from your self and be gone,
and neither door nor roof could hold you back!

Only Breath

Hazrat Mawlana Jalaluddin Rumi

Not Christian or Jew or Muslim, not Hindu
Buddhist, sufi, or zen. Not any religion

or cultural system. I am not from the East
or the West, not out of the ocean or up

from the ground, not natural or ethereal, not
composed of elements at all. I do not exist,

am not an entity in this world or in the next,
did not descend from Adam and Eve or any

origin story. My place is placeless, a trace
of the traceless. Neither body or soul.

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I belong to the beloved, have seen the two
worlds as one and that one call to and know,

first, last, outer, inner, only that
breath breathing human being.


My Monarch, You walk so well, head at Your Feet: I die;
My Turk, You sway sweetly, before You, complete: I die.

You said: “When will you die before Me?” Why hurry?
You entreat O so sweetly, but before You repeat: I die.

I’m lover, drunk, exiled; where is Winebringer’s form?
Sway You fine fair form this way; when I see it: I die.

Should You, causing lifetime’s illness through separation,
Enhance me one glance from eye’s dark grey seat: I die.

You said: “My ruby lip dispenses pain and sweet remedy.
Before pain came, and before Your remedy sweet: I die.

You sweetly sway: may the evil eyes never see Your face.
I find one thought in my mind: that at Your feet, I die.

Although Hafiz’s place isn’t Your Secret Place of Union,
All Your places please; before Your places replete: I die.


I’am drunk with grief of love for Winehouse Friend of mine:
On my wounded heart You glance arrows of grief’s design.

If that cross at that tip of the end of Your hair You show,
O may is the Muslim corrupted by this infidelity so fine.

To You I join; from anything but You, I’ll sever the heart:
Your lover does neither to stranger nor to relative incline.

Kindly grant a gracious glance to me whose heart is lost;
Without lover does neither to stranger nor to relative incline.

Kindly grant a gracious glance to me whose heart is lost;
Without help of Your grace my work is at end of its line.

If you ruby lip pours out salt on my poor wounded heart,
O Rule of Beauty’s realm, where finally does hurt incline?

Before and behind me Your intoxicated eye lay in ambush;
To the wind, the harvest of all my patience it did consign.

From mouth’s box of honey lay a lotion on Hafiz’s heart,
For it’s bleeding from that knifelike glance, a stinging sign.



To us intoxicated lovers glance our way, more than this;
To Winehouse door show the pathway, more than this.

Thank You for the grace that flows to use form Your lip,
It’s wonderful, but give a little more I say: more than this.

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To that One Who simplifies this crazy mixed-up world,
Say: ‘Make explanation in a subtle way, more than this’.

How can I not lay my heart at such beautiful young feet?
Time never birthed beauty on any day, more than this.

The critic said to me: ‘Besides grief, what is from love?’
‘Wise sir,’ I said, ‘it has meaning today, more than this.’

‘Take up the cup’ I say, ‘drink away and kiss the lip;’
For my soul, answer none could say, more than this.

The reed of Hafiz’s pen is a sweet branch of sugarcane;
Take it, in garden no fruit is a higher pay, more than this.

The Special Love
~Mohiuddin ibn El-Arabi

As the full moon appears from the night, so appears
her face amid the tresses.

From sorrow comes the perception of her: the eyes
crying on the cheek; life the black narcissus
Shedding tears upon a rose.

More beauties are silenced: her fair quality is

Even to think of her harms her subtlety (thought is
Too coarse a thing to perceive her). If this be
So, how can she correctly be seen by such a clumsy
organ as the eye?

Her fleeting wonder eludes thought.
She is beyond the spectrum of sight.

When description tried to explain her, she overcame it.
Whenever such an attempt is made, description is
put to flight.

Because it is trying to circumscribe.

If someone seeking her lowers his aspirations (to
Feel in terms of ordinary love),
-there are always others who will not do so.

The Man who Knows
~Mohiuddin ibn El-Arabi

The Sufi who knows the Ultimate Truth acts and speaks in a manner which takes into consideration the understanding, limitations and dominant concealed prejudices of his audience.

To the Sufi, worship means knowledge. Through knowledge he attains sight.

The Sufi abandons the tree ‘I’s. He does not say ‘for me’, ‘with me’, or ‘my property’. He must not attribute anything to himself.

Something is hidden in an unworthy shell. We seek lesser objects, needless of the prize of unlimited value.

The capacity of interpretation means that one can easily read something said by a wise man in two totally opposite manners.

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