Rumi's poetry has been published in various English editions since the 19th century. And there has been no shortage of translators. Today, through the translations of Coleman Barks, he is the best-selling poet in the English language. The market for his poems is insatiable. He has a loyal following of English readers and serious devotees. Still, in English, Rumi’s poems have often been rendered into a literal and academic prose that is awkward and wooden — or into a New-Age idiom that bears little relationship to the author’s original text or his context. Professors Amin Banani and Anthony A. Lee come to the rescue with a masterful translation that bridges the academic demand for fidelity to the original Persian text with a sensitive poetic translation that speaks to 21st-century readers.
The book has three sections: 1) a general introduction to Rumi's poetry, 2) translations of 53 short poems, and 3) a groundbreaking essay by Banani on the position of Rumi in Islamic poetry and in world literature.
The poems are presented as lessons on love. The reader is encouraged to treat them as koans to inspire spiritual contemplation.
Sufism inspired writings of Persian poet and mystic Jalal ad-Din Muhammad ar-Rumi; these writings express the longing of the soul for union with the divine.
Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī - also known as Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Balkhī, Mevlânâ/Mawlānā (مولانا, "our master"), Mevlevî/Mawlawī (مولوی, "my master") and more popularly simply as Rumi - was a 13th-century Persian poet, jurist, Islamic scholar, theologian and Sufi mystic who lived in Konya, a city of Ottoman Empire (Today's Turkey). His poems have been widely translated into many of the world's languages, and he has been described as the most popular poet and the best-selling poet in the United States.
His poetry has influenced Persian literature, but also Turkish, Ottoman Turkish, Azerbaijani, Punjabi, Hindi, and Urdu, as well as the literature of some other Turkic, Iranian, and Indo-Aryan languages including Chagatai, Pashto, and Bengali.
Due to quarrels between different dynasties in Khorāṣān, opposition to the Khwarizmid Shahs who were considered devious by his father, Bahā ud-Dīn Wālad or fear of the impending Mongol cataclysm, his father decided to migrate westwards, eventually settling in the Anatolian city Konya, where he lived most of his life, composed one of the crowning glories of Persian literature, and profoundly affected the culture of the area.
When his father died, Rumi, aged 25, inherited his position as the head of an Islamic school. One of Baha' ud-Din's students, Sayyed Burhan ud-Din Muhaqqiq Termazi, continued to train Rumi in the Shariah as well as the Tariqa, especially that of Rumi's father. For nine years, Rumi practised Sufism as a disciple of Burhan ud-Din until the latter died in 1240 or 1241. Rumi's public life then began: he became an Islamic Jurist, issuing fatwas and giving sermons in the mosques of Konya. He also served as a Molvi (Islamic teacher) and taught his adherents in the madrassa. During this period, Rumi also travelled to Damascus and is said to have spent four years there.
It was his meeting with the dervish Shams-e Tabrizi on 15 November 1244 that completely changed his life. From an accomplished teacher and jurist, Rumi was transformed into an ascetic.
On the night of 5 December 1248, as Rumi and Shams were talking, Shams was called to the back door. He went out, never to be seen again. Rumi's love for, and his bereavement at the death of, Shams found their expression in an outpouring of lyric poems, Divan-e Shams-e Tabrizi. He himself went out searching for Shams and journeyed again to Damascus.
Rumi found another companion in Salaḥ ud-Din-e Zarkub, a goldsmith. After Salah ud-Din's death, Rumi's scribe and favourite student, Hussam-e Chalabi, assumed the role of Rumi's companion. Hussam implored Rumi to write more. Rumi spent the next 12 years of his life in Anatolia dictating the six volumes of this masterwork, the Masnavi, to Hussam.
In December 1273, Rumi fell ill and died on the 17th of December in Konya.
Maulana Jalal ad‑Din Muhammad Rumi is often described as America’s best‑selling poet, and for good reason. His poems of love and longing have reached the hearts of readers across time and place in ways that some of the most erudite Western poets have failed to, and attain a simplicity that is to be found on the other side of complexity, not before it. But having a good translation is key. As Anthony A. Lee points out, “the impossible challenge for any translation of poetry is to bring poetic expression from one language and culture into another language and culture while remaining true to both the spirit and the meaning of the original.”
Really, effective translations not only stand on their own as poems in their own right, they also stay as close as possible to the form and meaning of the originals. They serve the dual purpose of presenting an established masterpiece and embodying the mastery of the translator in the process.
But I digress. Suffice it to say that this collection of 53 quatrains — rubāʿiyāt (a Persian quatrain form of four lines) — is insightful, but it lacks the depth that some of his other Rumi’s poetry, or his Masnavi, can really bring.
Rumi’s appeal lies in the fact that he offers a refuge from the tiring yoke of pure reason by presenting mystical irrationality as an antidote to the burden of rationalism, and the atomized modern life that flows from it. Love, in Rumi’s vision, becomes an antidote to reason as a form of self-affirming unreason.
The idea that one can unite a mundane, everyday life with higher concepts and forces beyond our imagination simply through love and devotion is, I think, what makes his poetry so enduringly powerful. This is amplified by the sheer force of his artistry: his mastery of language, of poetic form, and of expression. He achieves an extraordinary balance of simplicity and profundity, conveying immense metaphysical weight with apparent ease.
That achievement stands, in my view, as one of the high points not only of Persian literature, but of world literature itself.
With all this in mind, I guess I expected more from a collaboration between one of the masters of Persian poetry and a distinguished American poet‑translator. While there are a few great translations in here, it is really the accompanying essays about the life and career of Rumi, the challenges of translation and authentication, and the rich pre-Islamic history of the Persian literary tradition that deliver more lasting insights.
As such, I think four out of five would suffice as a rating.
This is a beautiful translation of Rumi's works done by an Iranian scholar of poetry and religion and a scholar of the Baha'i religion. This is far better than the "versions" done by poets who have no academic background to understand Persian. Even includes the Persian text, but it was hard to read on the online version.