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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=458841" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Book1 Prologue</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hearken to the reed-flute, how it complains,<br>Lamenting its banishment from its home:</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Ever since they tore me from my osier bed,<br>My plaintive notes have moved men and women to tears.<br>I burst my breast, striving to give vent to sighs,<br>And to express the pangs of my yearning for my home.<br>He who abides far away from his home<br>Is ever longing for the day he shall return.<br>My wailing is heard in every throng,<br>In concert with them that rejoice and them that weep.<br>Each interprets my notes in harmony with his own feelings,<br>But not one fathoms the secrets of my heart.<br>My secrets are not alien from my plaintive notes,<br>Yet they are not manifest to the sensual eye and ear.<br>Body is not veiled from soul, neither soul from body,<br>Yet no man hath ever seen a soul.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>This plaint of the flute is fire, not mere air.<br>Let him who lacks this fire be accounted dead!<br>'Tis the fire of love that inspires the flute, l<br>'Tis the ferment of love that possesses the wine.<br>The flute is the confidant of all unhappy lovers;<br>Yea, its strains lay bare my inmost secrets.<br>Who hath seen a poison and an antidote like the flute?<br>Who hath seen a sympathetic consoler like the flute?<br>The flute tells the tale of love's bloodstained path,<br>It recounts the story of Majnun's love toils.<br>None is privy to these feelings save one distracted,<br>As ear inclines to the whispers of the tongue.<br>Through grief my days are as labor and sorrow,<br>My days move on, hand in hand with anguish.<br>Yet, though my days vanish thus, 'tis no matter,<br>Do thou abide, O Incomparable Pure One! 2</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>But all who are not fishes are soon tired of water;<br>And they who lack daily bread find the day very long;<br>So the 'Raw' comprehend not the state of the 'Ripe;' 3<br>Therefore it behoves me to shorten my discourse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Arise, O son! burst thy bonds and be free!<br>How long wilt thou be captive to silver and gold?<br>Though thou pour the ocean into thy pitcher,<br>It can hold no more than one day's store.<br>The pitcher of the desire of the covetous never fills,<br>The oyster-shell fills not with pearls till it is content;<br>Only he whose garment is rent by the violence of love<br>Is wholly pure from covetousness and sin.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Hail to thee, then, O LOVE, sweet madness!<br>Thou who healest all our infirmities!<br>Who art the physician of our pride and self-conceit!<br>Who art our Plato and our Galen!<br>Love exalts our earthly bodies to heaven,<br>And makes the very hills to dance with joy!<br>O Iover, 'twas love that gave life to Mount Sinai, 4<br>When 'it quaked, and Moses fell down in a swoon.'<br>Did my Beloved only touch me with his lips,<br>I too, like the flute, would burst out in melody.<br>But he who is parted from them that speak his tongue,<br>Though he possess a hundred voices, is perforce dumb.<br>When the rose has faded and the garden is withered,<br>The song of the nightingale is no longer to be heard.<br>The BELOVED is all in all, the lover only veils Him; 5<br>The BELOVED is all that lives, the lover a dead thing.<br>When the lover feels no longer LOVE's quickening,<br>He becomes like a bird who has lost its wings. Alas!<br>How can I retain my senses about me,<br>When the BELOVED shows not the light of His countenance?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>LOVE desires that this secret should be revealed,<br>For if a mirror reflects not, of what use is it?<br>Knowest thou why thy mirror reflects not?<br>Because the rust has not been scoured from its face.<br>If it were purified from all rust and defilement,<br>It would reflect the shining of the SUN Of GOD.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O friends, ye have now heard this tale,<br>Which sets forth the very essence of my case.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Rumi">Rumi</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=458841" data-title="Book1 Prologue de Rumi" data-description="Hearken to the reed-flute, how it complains,
Lamenting its banishment from its home:


'Ever since they tore me from my osier bed,
My plaintive notes have moved men and women to tears.
I burst my breast, striving to give vent to sighs,
And to expr..."></div>
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