Betty Woodman
color woodcut and monotype collage
42 3/4 x 39 1/2 inches
Collection of the Kemper Museum of Contemporary Art, Kansas City, Missouri
Flowers
Origin of the rose one is rose,
descent of the Prophet is rose
I walked into the garden of Shah,
all of it, all planted as rose, rose
I walked into the garden of Shah,
all of it, all planted as rose, rose
In the grapevine; rose branches,
in the beehives; rose honeys
In trees; rose poises,
cypress and planes are all rose, rose
In trees; rose poises,
cypress and planes are all rose, rose
Bloom, come my rosebud,
don’t make your madly-in-love nightingale cry
Bloom, come my rosebud,
don’t make your madly-in-love nightingale cry
All the lamentation and “ah”s
of this moaning poor tongue is rose, rose
All the lamentation and “ah”s
of this moaning poor tongue is rose, rose
They make scales of rose,
they balance the rose with the rose
They buy rose, sell rose,
all markets and bazaars are rose, rose
They buy rose, sell rose,
all markets and bazaars are rose, rose
Come oh come laugh hey Nesîmî,
it’s the rose season again
Come oh come laugh hey Nesîmî,
it’s the rose season again
Is this lamentation a nightingale’s voice?
Its voice, its lamentation is all rose, rose
Is this lamentation a nightingale’s voice?
Its voice, its lamentation is all rose, rose
~ Kul Nesîmî
Note: Here; the “rose” is a metaphor. It symbolizes “the beloved one” and “love” all over. In the people’s hearts, in the world, everywhere. Also, it’s a symbol of Prophet Mohammad (s.a.s.) in Islamic literature.1-In “divan poem”; “Nightingale” is the lover of rose. He cries in the night for rose to bloom it. So the loving one and beloved one come together, they become one in love, and love comes all over the world.
2-“Ah” means sigh, as the sound of cry. and it’s a curtailed saying of “Allah” also.
3-Tongue here as his words.
4-In Turkish “Gül” means “rose” and “laugh” also.
And Spring arose on the garden fair,
Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere;
And each flower and herb on Earth’s dark breast
rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.
The dust of my body is the veil of the face of the beloved of my soul
happy is the moment when from off this face, I cast the veil
Even so, this cage is no good for a sweet singer such as me
I will go to the rose garden of paradise, for I am a bird of that field
It is not clear why I came where I went
my regret and pain is that I have been heedless of my own affair
Oh how I circumambulate in the space of the holy world
but in this flat, compounded abode, I am bound to my body
If the scent of musk issues from my heart’s blood
do not wonder, my friend, for I am the musk gland of Khotan
Do not look at the golden embroidery of my cloak like a candle
for there is burning hidden within this cloak
Come and take Hafez’s existence from him
so that by your being, none will hear from me that I am
You look through my two eyes,
you are closer to me than myself
Your light shines brighter than the moon
Come into the garden so that the glory of the rose garden is humble
that it may be more beautiful and blooming
than a hundred gardens and rosebeds
so that the cedar will hide its height in shame
that the tongue of the lily will declare you more lily than itself
When you are kind, you are the candle of the soul, soft and pliable as wax
When you are aloof, you are more iron than iron
Do not be wild because you will meet her face to face
her charm will make you as cool and pliant as the earth
Throw away your armor and bare your chest at the moment of the battle
There is no better protection nor armor than her.
That’s why in every Sufi retreat, all the openings are sealed shut
so that from your light the house becomes more illuminated.
Rumi
The Lily
by Mary Oliver
Night after night
darkness
enters the face
of the lily
which, lightly,
closes its five walls
around itself,
and its purse
of honey,
and its fragrance,
and is content
to stand there
in the garden,
not quite sleeping,
and, maybe,
saying in lily language
some small words
we can’t hear
even when there is no wind
anywhere,
its lips
are so secret,
its tongue
is so hidden –
or, maybe,
it says nothing at all
but just stands there
with the patience
of vegetables
and saints
until the whole earth has turned around
and the silver moon
becomes the golden sun –
as the lily absolutely knew it would,
which is itself, isn’t it,
the perfect prayer?
A lover asked his beloved,
Do you love yourself more
than you love me?
The Beloved replied,
I have died to myself
and I live for you.
I’ve disappeared from myself
and my attributes.
I am present only for you.
I have forgotten all my learning,
but from knowing you
I have become a scholar.
I have lost all my strength,
but from your power
I am able.
If I love myself
I love you.
If I love you
I love myself.
Not asleep but like dreams
that night when golden light beams
spread glowing rays from her center part
and emanated from her Light filled heart
In a darkened archway cloaked she stood
head covered by her dark green hood
behind her a gloomy narrow hall
painted by dusty shadows on the wall.
Exotic cat like penetrating eyes
shown the beauty through her disguise
A stoic reverent pose
as the Light from within her rose
Known as the Light of heaven and earth
From within the heart comes Allah’s birth
as the Light is guided to whom He wills
and into the soul the knowing spills.
For those that wonder what becomes of this
for the righteous waves of eternal bliss
Paradise is not a solid place
but a Light filled spiritual space
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
~ Lord Byron
What was said to the rose that made it open was said
to me here in my chest.
What was told the cypress that made it strong
and straight, what was
whispered the jasmine so it is what it is, whatever made
sugarcane sweet, whatever
was said to the inhabitants of the town of Chigil in
Turkestan that makes them
so handsome, whatever lets the pomegranate flower blush
like a human face, that is
being said to me now. I blush. Whatever put eloquence in
language, that’s happening here.
The great warehouse doors open; I fill with gratitude,
chewing a piece of sugarcane,
in love with the one to whom every that belongs!
~ Mevlana Jalaluddin Rumi
‘Rumi the Book of Love – poems of ecstasy and longing’.
Translated by Coleman Barks