Foliage
It is the rainy season, I dig a canal;
In the hope of union I clap my hands.
The clouds are pregnant with drops from the sea of love;
I am pregnant with those clouds.
Don’t say you are not a musician, clap your hands!
Come! I will teach you to become one.
So bright! will you tell me whose house is that?
I love bright houses so!
Alas I hide my own water of life
As oil drops cover the surface of water.
(Divan 1672)
Translated by Fatemeh Keshavarz,
‘Reading Mystical Lyric: The Case of Jalal al-Din Rumi’,
University of South Carolina Press, 1998.
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About Michaela
I am a wanderer and a wonderer, like you are. I love our journey and to walk in the company of friends – to learn, experience, share, laugh, cry and above all I simply love this marvelous, magical, mysterious life. I have no plan (cannot believe I am saying this) and my only intention is to be truthful to myself and others.
The Living Room 