The Situation (12/15/19)

The Situation (12/15/19)

I tried to describe the situation of my heart as I knew it.

The tears and blood of my heart had become rough,

but I couldn’t explain it.

 

It was the other day,

I was talking about my heart, saying a few words

which were really just odds and ends.

The glass of thought narrowed.

Then, I broke it as if it were a small bottle.

 

Even big ships are being wrecked piece by piece in this flood.

What is the value of my small boat?

In fact, I am handless and footless.

 

This boat was wrecked and scattered by waves.

I grabbed onto a piece of wood.

I passed out of myself.

Now, neither beauty nor ugliness remains.

 

I am in neither the heights nor the depths.

But, these words are not quite right,

because sometimes I ascend high with this wave,

while at other times, I end up on the bottom.

 

Do I exist or not? I don’t know.

All I know is that if I exist, I am absent,

and If I am absent, I exist.

 

I have no doubt about rebirth.

Like perception, I have died, weeping and crying,

a hundred times on the day of judgement.

And again like perception, I have come back to life.

 

My lungs have been turned into blood by the hunter of the valley.

Since He began hunting me, I have become so happy.

I have been saved since I became His game.

 

Reflection is like the forest where there are hundreds of wolves.

But, why should I let this worry me?

I am drunk thanks to the One who gives reflection to man.

 

At first, when I was cut off, I fell down.

Wherever I set a trap, I was caught in that trap.

 

They all laugh at one’s imagination.

Who wants to buy a piece of straw,

especially if the seller

proudly curls his mustache in the bargain?

 

What did you do in the end, O Idiot?

You planted a rose bush in the stoke-hole.

You planted it, but nothing grew in your rose garden,

not even a leaf.

But, I have been wounded by the thorns.

 

I have reached the age of sixty,

and I am still on the hook of the letters of the alphabet.

I have to get out of this body, like that rose.

Divan-i Kebir, Volume 15, Ghazal 70, verses  805-817, pages 159-161.

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