The singer sings about love, until the Friend appears in the doorway.
Kitchen smoke drifts up into clouds and becomes a thousand-year-old wine.
I am here, not reckoning the credit accumulated or future speculation.
I am the vineyard and the barrel where the grapes are crushed,
the entire operation, whose transaction pours this glass of wine, this moment, this poem.
A man stumbles by with baggage, papers from the house, regret and wishing, not knowing which to tend to. Neither.
After you see the face, concerns change, as lakewater rises into mist.
~ Rumi Ghazal (Ode) 2394 Version by Coleman Barks, with Nevit Ergin "The Glance" Viking-Penguin, 1999
|
No comments:
Post a Comment