Feb 02 2024
Yunus Emre – A single word
A single word can brighten the face
by Yunus Emre
English version by Kabir Helminski & Refik Algan
A single word can brighten the face
of one who knows the value of words.
Ripened in silence, a single word
acquires a great energy for work.
War is cut short by a word,
and a word heals the wounds,
and there’s a word that changes
poison into butter and honey.
Let a word mature inside yourself.
Withhold the unripened thought.
Come and understand the kind of word
that reduces money and riches to dust.
Know when to speak a word
and when not to speak at all.
A single word turns the universe of hell
into eight paradises.
Follow the Way. Don’t be fooled
by what you already know. Be watchful.
Reflect before you speak.
A foolish mouth can brand your soul.
Yunus, say one last thing
about the power of words —
Only the word “I”
divides me from God.
— from The Drop That Became the Sea: Lyric Poems of Yunus Emre, Translated by Kabir Helminski / Translated by Refik Algan
/ Image by Ahmad Bader /
A single word can brighten the face
of one who knows the value of words.
This is one of my favorite poems by Yunus Emre, but I have never really written up a good commentary to accompany it. Perhaps it is because it is a poem about words, the singular power of words, or the power of a singular word — and I don’t want my meditative ramblings to take away from the poem itself. It says it all so beautifully.
Ripened in silence, a single word
acquires a great energy for work.
I love that line. I have been busy with my day job of late, and I haven’t been resting in deep meditation as much as I would like. The outer world has required a lot of energy from me lately. Yet I have still managed to catch moments of silence gently flowing beneath the activity. That’s where the ripening happens.
War is cut short by a word,
and a word heals the wounds,
and there’s a word that changes
poison into butter and honey.
I think this verse is the heart of the poem for me. I read it over and over again.
In my Hawaii days, at the same time I was doing all that fasting and meditating in a cave, I was also running an email chain called the Peace Pages. No website, just by word of mouth, but it grew quickly to a significant circulation in the couple of years that it existed. It usually consisted of summaries of overlooked international news stories, often with a few comments for context, as a more holistic counterbalance to the fixed perspectives we were receiving in US news reports at the time. A major focus of the Peace Pages was the terrible situation in Israel/Palestine and my instinct that the suffering of the Palestinian people could become a flashpoint for a widening conflict on the world stage. This was about 25 years ago.
In the morning I would awaken, often lightheaded from fasting the day before, then go for a walk barefoot into the nearby forest where I had found a small cave. I would sit in meditation in the cave for several hours. When I returned, I might eat something light – at that time I was eating mainly island fruit and sprouted foods – then I would turn on my computer, scour the early Internet for news stories, and put together the Peace Pages email to send out.
In some ways, that work was an early template for what would become the Poetry Chaikhana.
Those emails helped me to gain a clearer, more expanded perspective on what was really happening in the world as I began to formulate my own response as a person aspiring to genuine compassion. It always meant empathy with those who are struggling and suffering, never seeing anyone as less than human or a less valuable human than myself. It also, challengingly, meant I had to recognize the suffering of even those who impose suffering on others. The black-and-white world of newsprint became, instead, a complex tapestry of shades and tones.
It also taught me that every conflict comes down to a breakdown in communication. Slow, simmering suffering, accented by explosive, often cruel action, is always about thwarted communication. Groups of people refusing to listen to the needs and concerns of other groups of people.
We tell ourselves that war and fighting are either about control of limited resources or sometimes we just want to say that the other side is “crazy” or, at least, unreasonable. But, when we really look, the clash usually has to do with the stories we tell and how we have tried to fix those stories in concrete. Conflict is often the result of having an overly rigid story about who we are and what our future should be, while trying to eliminate with a vengeance anyone with a different story.
The word that heals, the word that stops war is lost amidst our shouts of accusation.
We can never let allegiance to our personal or national stories be greater than our commitment to compassion and humanity. Let history become messy. Let our stories adapt and evolve to make room for other stories. We don’t need the triumphant fulfillment of our personal stories, what we need, and secretly crave, is the fulfillment of our humanity… even when our stories become something new and our future becomes unknown.
When we drop the terrible purpose of our stories and restore our hearts, that is when we recall the word that heals.
I think will say no more today, and let Yunus have the final word–
Yunus, say one last thing
about the power of words —
Only the word “I”
divides me from God.
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Yunus Emre
Turkey (1238 – 1320) Timeline |
Yunus Emre is considered by many to be one of the most important Turkish poets. Little can be said for certain of his life other than that he was a Sufi dervish of Anatolia. The love people have for his liberating poetry is reflected in the fact that many villages claim to be his birthplace, and many others claim to hold his tomb. He probably lived in the Karaman area.
His poetry expresses a deep personal mysticism and humanism and love for God.
He was a contemporary of Rumi, who settled in the same region after having moved from what is today Afghanistan. Rumi composed his collection of stories and songs for a well-educated urban circle of Sufis, writing primarily in the literary language of Persian. Yunus Emre, on the other hand, traveled and taught among the rural poor, singing his songs in the Turkish language of the common people.
A story is told of a meeting between the two great souls: Rumi asked Yunus Emre what he thought of his great work the Mathnawi. Yunus Emre said, “Excellent, excellent! But I would have done it differently.” Surprised, Rumi asked how. Yunus replied, “I would have written, ‘I came from the eternal, clothed myself in flesh, and took the name Yunus.'” That story perfectly illustrates Yunus Emre’s simple, direct approach that has made him so beloved.
I recently watched a documentary on the making of the song, “We Are the World.” A large group of ego-centric stars getting together for one night to try and make a difference. It worked because their “I” was dropped, if only for a night. Would that we all could come together again to make such a statement – in Gaza, in the Ukraine, in Haiti and even here in the U.S.
Thank you Ivan for shining a light.
Dear Ivan,
Today you have brought up the suffering of Palestinians. Previously you spoke about being in Hawaii and thinking one day that the suffering of Palestinians would be more seen. Please know that I too see and abhor their suffering. But I am heavily disheartened that you have not spoken of the Israeli or Jewish suffering happening not only since the horrific pogroms and massacres of October 7 but throughout the region from decades of heinous terrorism and rocket attacks perpetrated agains Israelis.Did that suffering ever concern you when you contemplated the region while in the caves of Hawaii?
If you are going to talk about suffering in the Middle East, please be careful and talk about ALL the suffering in the region. Perhaps I missed a blog entry when you did that. I tried to search but found nothing. Not a word about the horrors of what happened October 7???
Words are important, as you have said, and so are words that are missing.
-Miriam
Dear Miriam,
I can see that I’ve upset you. I’m truly sorry. I agree with you that it’s important to acknowledge all suffering in the region throughout this terrible situation. The suffering of Jewish Israelis after the October 7 attacks is very real and unacceptable. I didn’t mention that explicitly because that is fairly universally acknowledged in Western public discourse as it is. What is largely ignored, however, is the suffering of the Palestinian people. I was trying to balance this out. Of course, one short blog post can never do justice to the rage and pain of any side of a serious conflict. Any thing I say or don’t say will unavoidably fall short.
This will probably upset you and a few other readers further, but I have to add that I think there is a danger of creating a false equivalency when we discuss the Israel/Palestine situation. Terrorist attacks by Palestinians against Israel are very real, often deadly, and all too traumatizing for the region. As someone with stronger personal ties to Israel than Palestine, I am aware of this. But I don’t know how to compare that to an entire people held under a crushing , often dehumanizing — and, it has to be said, illegal — occupation for multiple generations, now to be met with what can only be called ethnic cleansing — the attempt to kill or push the entire population out of the area, while destroying all chance of returning or rebuilding.
The suffering and fear in Israel is real and profound. But we cannot use that as a justification for trying to eliminate an entire people by killing tens of thousands and displacing the rest. Only terrible things can result.
My understanding of compassion — which anyone is welcome to disagree with — requires me to say that Jewish Israeli lives are precious and holy and must be protected and celebrated. But every single Palestinian is equally precious and holy and must be protected and celebrated too. That second statement makes a lot of people uncomfortable. It is very difficult to raise concerns about Palestinian lives without being labeled as anti-Semitic or, if one is Jewish, as a self-hating Jew. I am trying, in my imperfect way, to try to open our dialog, along with our hearts, to widen our compassion to include everyone. Hopefully, we will be able to have a more complete and, eventually, healing dialog in the world.
Again, I sincerely apologize because I suspect this note, while not trying to antagonize, probably does not feel satisfactory to you. I hope it feels like there is at least a pathway forward for all of us in these words. Maybe we can even find a healing word in there somewhere.
Sending you love and blessings. Sending the people of Israel love and blessings. Sending the people of Palestine love and blessings. Our world needs that love right now.
~ Ivan
Beautiful, inspiring thoughts, Ivan. Thank you.
Thank You, Ivan for this beautiful poem and your commentary. The
wealth of knowledge you share with us is much appreciated.
I too remember some 25 years ago the conflict between Israel and
Palestine, and as a member of a peace church, heard about Peace
Keeping Teams from the US going to the border between Israel
and Palestine to cajole Israel soldiers in military uniforms with guns
to allow Palestinian children to go to school. I could not see that
first hand, but 25 years is a long time for this conflict to try to be settled
by war and terrorism. It just does not work. I hope if we can all
become aware of the wisdom of Yunus is his saying that ‘Only the
word “I” divides me from God’. We are already one in God’s eyes.
“…sometimes we just want to say that the other side is “crazy” or, at least, unreasonable. But, when we really look, the clash usually has to do with the stories we tell and how we have tried to fix those stories in concrete. Conflict is often the result of having an overly rigid story about who we are and what our future should be, while trying to eliminate with a vengeance anyone with a different story.”
I am in conflict with my parents right now, and these beautiful thoughts, as well as the poem, apply to family conflict as well. The universe brought me here because this was just what I needed to hear. It doesn’t bring a “solution”, but I still feel lighter. Thank you.