|You are my soul, my universe: |
what do I have to do with the soul and the universe?
For me you are ever-flowing treasure:
what do I have to do with profit and loss?
One minute, I am the friend of the wine,
another the friend of him who burns me.
I have come to this age of ruins,
so what do I have to do with time's melodrama?
I am terrified by the whole world,
I am sprung free of the whole world,
I am neither "hidden" no "apparent."
What do I have to do with existence or space?
I am drunk on union with you,
I need and want and care about no one else.
Since I am your prey,
what do I care about fate's bow and its arrows?
I live at the bottom of the stream,
why would I go looking for water?
What could or would I say
about this stream that flows and flows?
I have given up existence,
why go on staggering under the burden of this mountain?
Since the wolf is my shepherd,
why put up with the pretensions of the shepherd?
What abandon! What drunkenness!
You hold the cup in you hand
Blessed is the place you are,
and glorious to the eye of the heart.
Each atom, by your grace,
is a universe, each drop of water a soul.
No one who has ever had a sign from you
need worry again about "name" or "sign."
To find the place of splendor,
at the bottom of the Sea of truths
You have to dive, dive head first:
what do I have to do with feet that scurry?
With the sword of the One Love
you have hacked a Path for us:
You have stolen all my clothes:
What will I give to the toll-man?
From your beauty ablaze like the sun,
from the curls of your hair,
My heart has become ecstatic:
O my soul, hand me this brimming cup,
Do not weigh pain and misery,
contemplate love, contemplate friendship:
Do not mull over tyranny and neglect:
think of all those who have their eyes fixed on you.
Surname all grief 'grace':
transmute pain and anguish into joy
And ask from joy all happiness, all security, all peace.
Demand that security, that peace, demand them,
Choose the company of those withdrawn in love
Listen to those who open a path to you:
listen, and don't say a word.
from The Way of Passion: A Celebration of Rumi,
by Andrew Harvey