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