Rumi’s Masnavi "Lament of the Reed Flute " (ماسناوی رومی " ناله فلوت نی ") (3.0)
the leading part and the loss with a pronounced reed flute sound, The Arabic pop track opens at 85 bpm with ambient guitar and lush pads blending Maghreb and Egyptian folk textures, Expressive, melismatic male vocals soar over 808 rhythms, The chorus brings soulful male harmonies, polyphonic folk layers, ornaments, and polished, angelic vocals
Rumi’s Masnavi "Lament of the Reed Flute " (ماسناوی رومی " ناله فلوت نی ") (3.0)
the leading part and the loss with a pronounced reed flute sound, The Arabic pop track opens at 85 bpm with ambient guitar and lush pads blending Maghreb and Egyptian folk textures, Expressive, melismatic male vocals soar over 808 rhythms, The chorus brings soulful male harmonies, polyphonic folk layers, ornaments, and polished, angelic vocals
Lyrics
The opening section of the مثنوی Masnavi, known as the نی‌نامه Ney-nāme 'Lament of the Reed Flute'
_________________________
بشنو این نی چون حکایت می‌کند
از جدایی‌ها شکایت می‌کند
کز نیستان تا مرا ببریده‌اند
از نفیرم مرد و زن نالیده‌اند
سینه خواهم شرحه شرحه از فراق
تا بگویم شرح درد اشتیاق
هر کسی کو دور ماند از اصل خویش
باز جوید روزگار وصل خویش
من به هر جمعیّتی نالان شدم
جفت بدحالان و خوش‌حالان شدم
هر کسی از ظنّ خود شد یار من
از درون من نجست اسرار من
سرّ من از نالهٔ من دور نیست
لیک چشم و گوش را آن نور نیست
تن ز جان و جان ز تن مستور نیست
لیک کس را دید جان دستور نیست
آتش است این بانگ نای و نیست باد
هر که این آتش ندارد نیست باد
آتش عشق است کاندر نی فتاد
جوشش عشق است کاندر می فتاد
نی حریف هر که از یاری برید
پرده‌هایش پرده‌های ما درید
همچو نی زهری و تریاقی که دید
همچو نی دمساز و مشتاقی که دید
_________________________
‘Listen to this reed as it is grieving;
it tells the story of our separations.
‘Since I was severed from the bed of reeds,
in my cry men and women have lamented.
I need the breast that’s torn to shreds by parting
to give expression to the pain of heartache.
Whoever finds himself left far from home
looks forward to the day of his reunion.
I was in grief in all society,
I joined with those of sad and happy state.
Each one assumed he was my bosom friend,
but none sought out my secrets from within me.
My secret is not far from my lament,
but eye and ear have no illumination.
There’s no concealment of the soul and body,
yet no one has the power to see the soul.
The reed-flute’s sound is fire, not human breath.
Whoever does not have this fire, be gone!
It is the fire of love that’s in the reed,
the turbulence of love that’s in the wine.
The reed is friend to all who are lovelorn;
its melodies have torn our veils apart.
Whoever saw a poison and a cure,
a mate and longing lover like the reed?