I want burning: voice of longing

Coleman Barks does intuitive interprative translations of Rumi into American English. His work is truly lovely.

Experience thirteenth-century mystical poet Rumi as you never have before—through the resonant, whiskey-and-syrup voice of Coleman Barks, a preeminent poet, scholar, and celebrated interpreter of Rumi’s work. He is bard in the truest sense of the word. Coleman’s extraordinary recitation is gracefully accompanied by the music of David Darling, a Grammy-winning artist who connects the earthy incense of Rumi’s words with the celestial strings of the cello. In this exquisite performance, Heaven and Earth unite in one of the most stunningly beautiful expressions of music and poetry that you will ever experience.

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Tami Simon interviewed him on Insights from the Edge too which is where I listened to him for the first time. The poems he reads for this interview was particularly moving to me:

Listen here:

Tami Simon speaks with Coleman Barks, a leading scholar and translator of the 13th century Persian mystic, Jelaluddin Rumi. Coleman’s work was the subject of an hour-long segment in Bill Moyers’ Language of Life series with PBS. He has published numerous Rumi translations, including with Sounds True the audio programs I want burning: Rumi-Voice Of Longing, and his new three-CD collaboration with cellist David Darling called Just Being Here: Rumi and Human Friendship. In this episode, Tami speaks with Coleman about the extraordinary friendship between Rumi and his teacher Shams Tabriz, and how translating Rumi requires entering a trance state. Coleman offers insights on grace as he and Tami listen to selections from Just Being Here. (63 minutes)

And here is a translation by Coleman Barks:

Two Kinds of Intelligence

There are two kinds of intelligence: One acquired,
as a child in school memorizes facts and concepts
from books and from what the teacher says,
collecting information from the traditional sciences
as well as from the new sciences.

With such intelligence you rise in the world.
You get ranked ahead or behind others
in regard to your competence in retaining
information. You stroll with this intelligence
in and out of fields of knowledge, getting always more
marks on your preserving tablets.

There is another kind of tablet, one
already completed and preserved inside you.
A spring overflowing its springbox. A freshness
in the center of the chest. This other intelligence
does not turn yellow or stagnate. It’s fluid,
and it doesn’t move from outside to inside
through the conduits of plumbing-learning.

This second knowing is a fountainhead
from within you, moving out.