Guest poem sent in by Seema Pai
(Poem #1238) This Will Not Win Him
Reason says, I will win him with my eloquence. Love says, I will win him with my silence. Soul says, How can I ever win him When all I have is already his? He does not want, he does not worry, He does not seek a sublime state of euphoria - How then can I win him With sweet wine or gold? . . . He is not bound by the senses - How then can I win him With all the riches of China? He is an angel, Though he appears in the form of a man. Even angels cannot fly in his presence - How then can I win him By assuming a heavenly form? He flies on the wings of God, His food is pure light - How then can I win him With a loaf of baked bread? He is neither a merchant, nor a tradesman - How then can I win him With a plan of great profit? He is not blind, nor easily fooled - How then can I win him By lying in bed as if gravely ill? I will go mad, pull out my hair, Grind my face in the dirt - How will this win him? He sees everything - how can I ever fool him? He is not a seeker of fame, A prince addicted to the praise of poets - How then can I win him With flowing rhymes and poetic verses? The glory of his unseen form Fills the whole universe How then can I win him With a mere promise of paradise? I may cover the earth with roses, I may fill the ocean with tears, I may shake the heavens with praises - none of this will win him. There is only one way to win him, this Beloved of mine - Become his.
This poem actually arrived in my mailbox this morning from a 'Rumi poetry' egroup I subscribed to recently. I love the way the poem builds up in passion and desperation and ends in a quiet moment of realisation. Dont have much to say about the poem except that I thought it was *so* romantic and beautiful even in translation, that I wonder just how pretty it might have been if I could read and understand it in Farsi. Seema