बुधवार, 22 सितंबर 2010

being separated






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Listen to the story told by the reed, 
of being separated. 
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"Since I was cut from the reedbed, 
I have made this crying sound. 
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Anyone apart from someone he loves 
understands what I say. 
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Anyone pulled from a source 
longs to go back. 
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At any gathering I am there, 
mingling in the laughing and grieving, 
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a friend to each, but few 
will hear the secrets hidden 
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within the notes. No ears for that. 
Body flowing out of spirit, 
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spirit up from body: no concealing 
that mixing. But it's not given us 
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to see the soul. The reed flute 
is fire, not wind. Be that empty." 
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Hear the love fire tangled 
in the reed notes, as bewilderment 
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melts into wine. The reed is a friend 
to all who want the fabric torn 
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and drawn away. The reed is hurt 
and salve combining. Intimacy 
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and longing for intimacy, one 
song. A disastrous surrender 
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and a fine love, together. The one 
who secretly hears this is senseless. 
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A tongue has one customer, the ear. 
A sugarcane flute has such effect 
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because it was able to make sugar 
in the reedbed. The sound it makes 
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is for everyone. Days full of wanting, 
let them go by without worrying 
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that they do. Stay where you are 
inside such a pure, hollow note. 
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Every thirst gets satisfied except 
that of these fish, the mystics, 
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who swim a vast ocean of grace 
still somehow longing for it! 
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No one lives in that without 
being nourished every day. 
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But if someone doesn't want to hear 
the song of the reed flute
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it's best to cut conversation 
short, say good-bye, and leave.
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~ Rumi
translation by Coleman Barks
from The essential Rumi

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