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
Edited by Badiozzaman Forouzanfar (Tehran, Amir Kabir, 1988).
Translated by Zara Houshmand
Zara Houshmand's features
The Life Teachings and Poetry of Jalal al-Din Rumi
By Frankin D. Lewis
By Coleman Barks (Translator)