Weekly Pearls of Wisdom Bibi Hayati
The sun of my being shines
Forth again from Nur ‘Ali,
The aurora of the soul
Cast upon Hayati’s heart
(Ghazal #87)
Dear Readers,
Please find below our weekly pearls of wisdom by a Sufi Poetess Bibi Hayati. We hope you’ll find it enlightening to your mind, soul and body. Her poetry and poems have the power to touch a chord deep in your heart. Please enjoy.
Bibi Hayati was born into a Sufi family in the early 1800’s in Persia (Iran). She was raised by her brother, who guided her in the early stages of her spiritual life. She was later formally initiated into the Sufi path, studying the great Sufi saints and philosophers of the past, including Rumi and al-Arabi.
Hayati married the Sufi master Nur ‘ali Shah and, at his request, she composed her divan (collection) of poetry. It is also upon his recommendation that Bibi Jan chose the nickname Hayati, derived from the Persian word “hayat” or life.
Her Persian Diwan is among the most remarkable of Muslim collections of mystical poems of the last century.
How Can I see the Splendor of the Moon
How can I see the splendor of the moon
If his face shines over my heart,
Flaming like the sun?The Turks in his eyes charge through my soul,
While untrue curling hair
Defeats faith.Yet if he lifted the veil from his face,
The world would be undone,
The universe astounded.He walks through the garden
With grace, erect,
His exquisite posture mocking even the straight cypresses.He charges, riding his gnostic horse
Into the holy space of divinity,
The sacred sphere.Tonight the Saki with its red-stained ruby lips
Pours wine for the luxury of every drunk,
And sates every reveler’s taste.As Hayati has drunk his ecstasy,
Her soul now satisfied by the wine of his pure heart,
How can she drink any other nectar?
Bibi Hayati
Your face is the manifestation of the divine
The sun and the moon are particles from the ray of your beauty,
To your look I gave up my life (hayat), and gained spiritual life (Hayat)
There is no supremacy and power except His!
(Quatrain #22)
Poem by Bibi Hayati
Before there was a trace of this world of men,
I carried the memory of a lock of your hair,
A stray end gathered within me, though unknown.
Inside that invisible realm,
Your face like the sun longed to be seen,
Until each separate object was finally flung into light.
From the moment of Time’s first-drawn breath,
Love resides in us,
A treasure locked into the heart’s hidden vault;
Before the first seed broke open the rose bed of Being,
An inner lark soared through your meadows,
Heading toward Home.
What can I do but thank you, one hundred times?
Your face illumines the shrine of Hayati’s eyes,
Constantly present and lovely
From: Women in Praise of the Sacred by Jane Hirshfield
