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جلال
الدين الرومي شاعر الشهر في كوبريك
ندوة
- 31 مارس 2008
أقامت مكتبة
كوبريك في هونج كونج ندوة أدبية لمناقشة شعر جلال الدين الرومي أمس 30
مارس 2008. دعت المكتبة سيد جودة ليتحدث عن جلال الدين الرومي مقدماً
إياه للحاضرين قبل قراءة بعض قصائده مترجمة للغة الإنجليزية. تحدث جودة
لنصف ساعة عن حياة رومي منذ ولادته في البلق في 30 سبتمبر 1207 وحتى
وفاته في كونيا في 18 أغسطس 1273. كما تحدث عن الخلفية التاريخية
للفترة التي عاش فيها رومي وأهم الأحداث التي تركت أثراً بالغاً عليه
وجعلته شاعراً صوفياً وهو في التاسعة والثلاثين من عمره ، كما تحدث
جودة عن الكتب الثلاثة التي تركها لنا رومي وأسباب كتابته لها.
بعد المقدمة وبعد قراءة بعض القصائد لرومي أثار
الحاضرون أسئلة عن معاني الرموز في قصائد رومي ، واختلفت الآراء حول
أسلوب رومي في استخدامه للكلمات والصور والتي تقبل التأويل على أكثر من
وجه ، ويبدو بعضها غير منطقي وغير متفق مع
المعنى العام للقصيدة. أوضح جودة بأن قصائد رومي يجب ألا تقرأ بتحليل
منطقي حيث أنه هو نفسه حذر من هذا النوع من القراءة في أكثر من موضع في
شعره لأنه بالقلب فقط نستطيع أن نتذوق ونفهم كتاباته. وقد أعرب مشاركان
من الحاضرين أحدهما فرنسي والآخر ألماني ، وكانا على دراية واسعة
بالفلسفة ، عن انبهارهما بصور رومي العميقة وأفكاره الفلسفية
علماً بأن كتاباته كانت في القرن الثالث عشر، ووصفا رومي بالـ "متشكك"
في وجوده وفي وجود الله. رفض جودة هذا الوصف قائلاً بأن كلمات رومي
كانت تصف حالته من السُكـْر الروحاني ، هذه الحالة من السُكـْر خارج
حدود الكلمات وكما أشار رومي نفسه بأن
الحقيقة التي توضع في كلمات ليست هي الحقيقة. هذا وقد
أشار جودة إلى التشابه بين الصوفية والبوذية وأوضح كيف أن الأولى تأثرت
بالأخيرة بدءاً من القرن التاسع. بعض الحضور الصينيين اقتبسوا من
البوذية والطاوية ما يؤكد هذا الرأي.
وعلى الرغم
من أن الندوة كان مقرراً لها ساعة واحدة إلا إنها استمرت لمدة ساعتين
من الحوار العقلاني الساخن والمتصل والقراءة المتعمقة لقصائد جلال
الدين الرومي. في النهاية اتفقوا جميعاً على أن الرموز في قصائد رومي
لا يمكن تأويلها على وجه واحد فقط لأن فيها من التركيز والعمق أكثر مما
يبدو للوهلة الأولى.
Rumi,
Poet of the Month at Kubrick
Nadwah – Hong
Kong 31 March 2008
Kubrick Bookshop of
Hong Kong hosted a literary session to discuss Rumi’s poetry
yesterday 30 March 2008. Invited by Kubrick to give a brief
introduction to Rumi before reading some of his poems translated in
English, Sayed Gouda talked for half an hour within which he
sketched Rumi's life from his birth in the Balk on 30 September 1207
to his death in Konya on 18 August 1273. Gouda highlighted the
historical background of his era and outlined the events that had a
great impact on Rumi and turned him to a Sufi poet at the age of 39
and the reasons behind his writing the three books he left us.
After the introduction
and reading a few poems of Rumi questions were raised about the
meaning of the symbols in Rumi's poems. Opinions differed on Rumi's
ambiguous way of using words and images, some of which do not seem
logical or attuned to the context. Gouda explained that Rumi's poems
were not supposed to be approached with a logical analysis as he
himself warned against such kind of reading in more than a place in
his poetry for it is only with heart we can appreciate his writing.
A French and German participants, who were well-versed in
philosophy, expressed their amazement at Rumi's subtle images and
profound ideas bearing in mind that the work on hand was written in
the thirteenth century. They labeled Rumi a ‘skeptic’ of his own
existence as well as the existence of God, a suggestion countered by
Gouda saying that Rumi’s words were describing his state of being
spiritually ‘drunk’. That state of
drunkenness was beyond the limits of words as Rumi himself
indicated that the truth that can be captured in words is not
the truth. Gouda drew a line of similarity between Sufism and
Buddhism to show how the first was influenced by the latter
beginning from the ninth century. Some Chinese audience quoted from
Buddhism and Taoism excerpts that supported that view.
Though
the session was supposed to last for only one hour , it went on for
two hours in a non-stop heated and intellectual discussion and
in-depth reading of Rumi's poems. At the end, they all agreed that
the symbols in Rumi’s poetry cannot be interpreted in only one
dimension but they have intensity and depth more than what meet the
eyes.
Translated by Coleman Barks
Who Says Words With My Mouth?
All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from,
and what am I supposed to be doing? I have no idea. My soul is from elsewhere, I’m sure of that, And I intend to end up there. This drunkenness began in some other tavern. When I get back around to that place, I’ll be completely sober. Meanwhile, I’m like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary. The day is coming when I fly off, But who is it now in my ear who hears my voice? Who says words with my mouth? Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul? I cannot stop asking. If I could taste one sip of an answer, I could break out this prison for drunks. I didn’t come here of my own accord, and I can’t leave that way. Whoever brought me here will have to take me home. This poetry. I never know what I’m going to say. I don’t plan it. When I’m outside the saying of it, I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.
Enough Words?
How does a part of the world leave the world? How can wetness leave water? Don’t try to put out a fire By throwing on more fire!
Don’t wash a wound with
blood! No matter how fast you run, your shadow more than keeps up. Sometimes, it’s in front! Only full, overhead sun diminishes your shadow. But that shadow has been serving you! What hurts you, blesses you. Darkness is your candle. Your boundaries are your quest. I can explain this, but it would break the glass cover on your heart, And there’s no fixing that. You must have shadow and light source both. Listen, and lay your head under the tree of awe. When from that tree, feathers and wings sprout on you, be quieter than a dove. Don’t open your mouth for even a coooooooo. When a frog slips into the water, the snake cannot get it. Then the frog climbs back out and croaks, and the snake moves toward him again. Even if the frog learned to hiss, still the snake would hear through the hiss the information he needed, the frog voice underneath. But if the frog could be completely silent, Then the snake would go back to sleeping, and the frog would reach the barley. The soul lives there in the silent breath. And that grain of barley is such that, When you put it in the ground, it grows. Are these enough words, or shall I squeeze more juice from this? Who am I, my friend? * * * When you are with everyone but me, you’re with no one. When you are with no one but me, you’re with everyone. Instead of being so bound up with everyone, be everyone. When you become that many, you’re nothing. Empty. * * * I am so small I can barely be seen. How can this great love be inside me? Look at your eyes. They are small, but they see enormous things.
Poems distributed but not read at the session
A Thirsty Fish
I don’t get tired of you. Don’t grow weary of being compassionate toward me! All this thirst equipment must surely be tired of me, the waterjar, the water carrier. I have a thirsty fish in me that can never find enough of what it’s thirsty for! Show me the way to the ocean! Break these half-measures, these small containers. All this fantasy And grief. Let my house be drowned in the wave that rose last night out of the courtyard hidden in the center of my chest. Joseph fell like the moon into my well. The harvest I expected was washed away. But no matter. A fire has risen above my tombstone hat. I don’t want learning, or dignity, or respectability. I want this music and this dawn And the warmth of your cheek against mine. The grief-armies assemble, But I’m not going with them. This is how it always is When I finish a poem. A great silence overcomes me, And I wonder why I ever thought to use language.
Those Who Don't Feel This Love
Those who don't feel
this love
Those who don't drink
dawn
Those who don't want to
change
This Love
If you want to improve
your mind that way
I've given up on my
brain
If you're not
completely naked and sleep.
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