Thursday, 7 October 2010

A lover asked his beloved


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.

(Rumi: Do you love me?)



  1. ah, wonderful mirror-pondering, why is it we never tire of coming back to the mirror symbol, again and again? and do we ever come to really love the other, and not ourselves in him or her?

    i love this Rilke-poem for one wonderful image:

    At the mirror's surface she'll begin
    gently melting, like a spice-assortment
    in a sleeping draught, her tired deportment;
    and she'll let her smiling drop right in.

    And she'll wait until the liquidness
    rises from it; then she'll pour her hair
    in as well, and, lifting out one bare,
    marvellous shoulder from her evening-dress,

    quietly drink out her image. Drink,
    what a lover would in wild caresses,
    tryingly, all mistrust; and never think

    of beckoning her maid until she sees
    at the mirror's bottom candles, presses,
    and a late hour's undissolving lees.

    guess which one it is :-)

    (and imagining this woman so entirely absorbed in her own beauty, lost to herself - let alone the others - i somehow cannot help but imagine that the maid also must be in love with her mistress, who could resist)

  2. Cris,
    Mirrors are magic and they cast spells, undeniably.
    A beautiful and complex post :-) on a variety of topics: love and self-love, quest for identity (in mirrors as in love) and witchcraft. You have done marvels with a mirror and a pair of beautiful hands that are reaching out ignorant of the perfidy of mirrors. And the poem - a narcissistic dialogue of the self in the mirror. Or a genuine love-dialogue that heralds good old Shakespeare. The last image, a reversed reflection,with closed eyes, perhaps the end of the dream, or the secret of the mirror who, jealous of the self, retained its image long after the self moved away from its surface.
    A sorceress ... like yourself.

  3. este o deplina implinire a femeii si a iubirii ei,acoperita sub genele e matase,care ma copleseste;aceasta bucurie a celuilalt pe care ea o gaseste si o abandoneaza,in racoarea singuratatii si a victoriei ei marcheaza unul dintre acele momente ale anularii caii si ale gasirii tintei,cand nu este,daca trebuie sa fie,decat abandonul si implinirea

  4. Hi, Cris.
    Did I send you a comment yesterday that you didn't agree with or did it vanish into thin air? Sorry, I simply wanted to know. Either way, I would like you to know the post is great.

  5. Dear Roxana,
    Is this the image?
    ‘then she'll pour her hair
    in as well, and, lifting out one bare,
    marvellous shoulder from her evening-dress,

    quietly drink out her image.’

    There are more than one in the above lines but all of them are so beautiful, so absorbing and so complete. The poem is beautiful, thank you for it; I confess I didn’t know it at all.

  6. of course :-)

    and then: Drink,
    what a lover would in wild caresses -

    it leaves me breathless! :-)

  7. Dear Anonymous,

    I apologize for the delay in approving your comments. I was away for couple of days but as soon as I returned home I posted them. I hope you have seen it prior to today. Had your comments vanished into thin air, I would have had so many regrets.

    You read my blog with a mind of talking about it and this pleases me much. ;-)
    Thank you again for your beautiful words. I do hope I deserve them. This post, with the mirror, is my favourite so far as Rumi is my first-love poet. ;-)

    I was thinking that love is the mirror. When we are in love the world outside loses its frame, its logic, its essence, its rhythm and colour. But how well can we see the world inside us, the newly discovered one! In sickness and in love we see ourselves with such a clarity that no mirror could reflect. But I am sure there are so many others who said this better; I wish I would remember their names or their words.

  8. draga ceraselami,

    si eu sunt la fel de coplesita de aceasta implinire a femeii din oglinda. Abandonul ei, pe care nu l-am simtit cand am fotografiat-o, pentru ca nu am candoarea si perceptia necesare ca sa inteleg ceva asa de diafan ca abandonul ei in fata aparatului meu, abandonul ei, spuneam, m-a izbit cu putere cand am prelucrat imaginile. Mi-a fost rusine atunci ca nu am inteles. Poate ea va citi aceste randuri si va sti cat ii multumesc.

  9. so true!

    for me it was like a vertigo.
    breathtaking, mind-blowing, psychedelic vertigo.

  10. Roxana,

    you changed your profile photo. breathtaking! :-)

  11. Cris,
    I hope I'm not vain. (!!!) I simply wanted to know if I had sent the message, I wasn't sure about it. And I wanted you to know I loved the post.
    Thank you for your words. yes, the mirror could be love, and love could be a mirror. But the two propositions don't describe similar realities.It's probably one of those things that violate logic.A may be equal to B but B is not equal to A. Hahaha. I'm being very down-to- earth today. Mathematical, too. ;-)
    Roxana sent you a wonderful poem. The funny thing is that I would have chosen the same lines. Probably because I am a woman, too.

  12. Hey, I am checking this blog using the phone and this appears to be kind of odd. Thought you'd wish to know. This is a great write-up nevertheless, did not mess that up.

    - David

  13. Hi David,

    I am glad you visited this blog.
    But I do not understand what looks 'odd'. Maybe you could explain.


  14. Citesc blogul tau ascultand Penguin Cafe Orchestra.
    Foarte frumoase articolele. Si unele atat de pline de candoare....

  15. Draga Cseszlo,

    vizitele tale ma bucura intotdeauna. Ar trebui sa ascult si eu ce asculti tu. :)


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