Heart,
Sit at the foot of one who understands hearts
Rest beneath the tree whose branches bud fresh
Don’t wander all around the market of perfumes
Sit in the stall of him who has a stash of sugar
You’ll be swindled by every seller –
Without a scale to take their measure
You’ll mistake the gilded slug for golden render
They’ll make you sit inside the shop
Sweetly promising “Just one moment, please”
Don’t sit there waiting,
There’s another door goes out the back
Don’t wait with bowl in hand for every pot to boil
What stews in every pot is not the same.
Not every cane-cut pen drips with sugar
Not every under has an above
Not every eye’s possessed of vision
Not every sea conceals a pearl
Sing your little heart out, nightingale
For your famed intoxicated lamentation
Echoes and transmutes the stony hills and granite boulders
If your head cannot contain you – lose it
You can’t pass through the needle’s eye a knotty thread
The awakened heart’s a lamp
Cloak it from contrary airs beneath your mantle
For the windy air will do it harm.
Pass beyond the winds and reach the spring
Become a secret confidant, welling with emotions
And then like a green tree you will swell with sap
And come to fruition as it courses through your heart.
- Maulana Jalal al-Din Rumi
