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If I die in this war, this combat with you, I won't so much as sigh, for fear of troubling you. I'll die with a smile, like a flower in your hand, From the cruel charm with which you cut this wound. #1501, from Rumi's Kolliyaat-e Shams-e Tabrizi Translated by Zara Houshmand RECOMMENDED Rumi:
The Life Teachings and Poetry of Jalal al-Din Rumi The
Essential Rumi
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