With all of these many faced I’s and we’s,
What sort of “I” am I?
Listen, take your hand off my mouth
and let me rave
I am already lost.
Don’t lay shattered glass in my path;
I’ll crush whatever is in my way.
With every breath my heart
is stupefied by the vision of You.
If You’re happy , I’ll be happy;
if You’re sad, I’ll be sad too.
If You’re bitter, I’ll be embittered;
if You’re tender, I’ll be tender as well.
My only joy is to be with You,
close to Your sweet lips and delicate chin, Beloved.
Everything depends on You. Who am I?
Just a mirror in Your hand.
Whatever You reveal, that’s what I am;
I’m just a polished mirror.
If You’re a graceful cypress,
I’m your shadow;
and when you’re a flower;
like your shadow, I’ll pitch my tent nearby.
If I pluck a flower without You,
it becomes a thorn in my hand,
and if I’m a thorn,
with you I become roses and jasmine.
Moment by moment my heart
sheds tears of blood, then with a sudden breath
I smash my glass
at the door of the wine server.
If ever I try to reach for some idol,
I get my face scratched, my shirt torn.
From somewhere beyond myself
grace radiates into my heart.
Somewhere a Candle illumines this whole world
Who am I? Just the candlestick holder.
Divani Shamsi Tabrizi 1397
From: Rumi: Love’s Ripening
Translated by K. Helminsky & A. Rezwami