Rumi	Write for The Iranian Editorial policy

Now that I can't touch the dust at your door,

The friends that I keep are cries and groans.

I'm a candle melting, my face drips tears.

I'm a harp: I make music from moans.

#1128: From Rumi's Kolliyaat-e Shams-e Tabrizi
Edited by Badiozzaman Forouzanfar (Tehran, Amir Kabir, 1988).

Translated by Zara Houshmand
Zara Houshmand's features index

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