Love has taken away my practices
and filled me with poetry.
I tried to keep quietly repeating,
No strength but yours, but I could'nt.
I had to clap and sing.
I used to be respectable and chaste and stable,
but who can stand in this strong wind and remember those things?
A mountain keeps an echo deep inside itself,
That's how I hold your voice.
I am scrap wood thrown in your fire,
and quickly reduced to smoke.
I saw you and became empty.
This emptiness, more beautiful than existence,
it obliterates existence, and yet when it comes,
existence thrives and creates more existence!
rumi
No comments:
Post a Comment