Sufi

ना ख़ुदा मसीते लभदा ना ख़ुदा विच का'बे ना ख़ुदा क़ुरआन किताबाँ ना ख़ुदा नमाज़े

— Bulleh Shah (Sufinama) · Bulleh Shah Kafi

When the lover feels no longer LOVE's quickening, He becomes like a bird who has lost its wings. Alas! How can I retain my senses about me, When the BELOVED shows not the light of His countenance?

— Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī (Masnavi I Ma'navi, Book I: Prologue, 1887) · Rumi's Light

पढ़ पढ़ आलिम फ़ाज़िल होइओं, कदे अपने आप नूं पढ़आई नहीं। जा जा वड़दा एं मन्दिर मसीतीं, कदे मन अपने विच वड़्याई नहीं ।

— Bulleh Shah (Sufinama) · Bulleh Shah Kafi

When the rose has faded and the garden is withered, The song of the nightingale is no longer to be heard. The BELOVED is all in all, the lover only veils Him; The BELOVED is all that lives, the lover a dead thing.

— Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī (Masnavi I Ma'navi, Book I: Prologue, 1887) · Rumi's Light

पिया पिया करते हमीं पिया हुए अब पिया किस नूँ कहिए हजर वसल हम दोनों छोड़े अब किस के हो रहिए पिया पिया करते हमीं पिया हुए मज्नूँ लाल दीवाने वांङू अब लैला हो रहिए पिया पिया करते हमीं पिया हुए 'बुल्ल्हा' शहु घर मेरे आए अब क्यूँ ता'ने सहिए पिया पिया करते हमीं पिया हुए

— Bulleh Shah (Sufinama) · Bulleh Shah Kafi

The flute is the confidant of all unhappy lovers; Yea, its strains lay bare my inmost secrets. Who hath seen a poison and an antidote like the flute? Who hath seen a sympathetic consoler like the flute?

— Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī (Masnavi I Ma'navi, Book I: Prologue, 1887) · Rumi's Light

This plaint of the flute is fire, not mere air. Let him who lacks this fire be accounted dead! 'Tis the fire of love that inspires the flute, 'Tis the ferment of love that possesses the wine.

— Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī (Masnavi I Ma'navi, Book I: Prologue, 1887) · Rumi's Light

रब्ब रब्ब करदे बुड्ढे हो गए मुल्लाँ पंडित सारे रब्ब दा खोज खुरा ना लभ्भा अते सज्दे कर कर हारे रब्ब ते तेरे अंदर वस्सदा इहदे विच क़ुरआन इशारे 'बुल्ल्हे' शाह रब्ब उहनूं मिलदा जेहड़ा यार तों तन मन वारे

— Bulleh Shah (Sufinama) · Bulleh Shah Kafi

The reed does not resist the knife that hollows it; it only learns what an empty stem can sing. Let the carving be love, and let the song be what remains of you.

Hollowed things are the ones that carry a tune. · Rumi's Light

The lamp does not argue with the dark; it simply burns, and the room learns a new shape around its small surrender.

Burn quietly; the light will do the talking. · Rumi's Light

The reed does not ask where the knife will cut; it only learns to sing through the wound, and the song is the way back to the reed-bed.

Surrender is not silence — it is learning the tune that only the hollow can carry. · Rumi's Light

The reed does not mourn the reed-bed it was cut from—it lets the knife's hollow become the song, offering its emptiness to the breath that fills it.

Surrender is not loss; it is making room for the song. · Rumi's Light

The moth does not ask the candle why it burns — it simply opens its wings and becomes the flame's own light. This is how the heart learns: not by knowing where it goes, but by letting the burning be the road.

Surrender is not loss — it is becoming the light you circled all along. · Rumi's Light

A candle does not ask where its flame is going; it only leans into the dark and lets itself be spent. Burn like that — not knowing the hour of your ending, only that the light was never yours to keep.

You are not the flame. You are the leaning. · Rumi's Light

Last night I set my whole self down like a lamp on the sill, and waited. When the flame finally leaned toward you, I understood: nothing was ever asked of me but to stop holding the wick so tightly.

Surrender is not losing the light — it is letting it lean. · Rumi's Light

The reed does not mourn the marsh it was cut from — it simply lets the breath pass through its hollow, and what was once a wound becomes a song.

Surrender is not loss; it is becoming the flute. · Rumi's Light

A cup does not ask the water to be less than it is — it simply holds its shape and waits, empty and open, until the pouring comes. This is surrender: not to disappear, but to become the vessel love was always looking for.

Emptiness is not absence — it is invitation. · Rumi's Light

A candle does not argue with the flame — it simply shortens, and the room grows bright. This is how I want to love: not to keep myself, but to be spent into light.

To be spent is not to be lost. · Rumi's Light

A cup does not ask the water to be less than it is—it simply holds what it cannot keep, and in that pouring out, it learns the shape of the river.

What you surrender becomes the vessel you were always meant to be. · Rumi's Light

The candle does not ask how much wax it has left; it simply leans into the flame and lets the burning be the prayer. Tonight I am learning the same surrender — not to vanish, but to be spent into light.

You were never asked to last. Only to burn. · Rumi's Light