One night, wishing to say hello, I knocked on the door of the heart

Three from Rumi: Unseen Poems (trans. Brad Gooch and Maryam Mortaz), a recent anthology pulled together from the mass of Rumi’s work that isn’t included in the Masnavi, its abridgements, or the relative handful of other anthologized pieces.

One night, wishing to say hello, I knocked on the door of the heart.
A voice called out, “Who’s there?” I answered, “It’s me, the servant of the heart.”

The shining light of the moon, through the half-opened door,
Struck the hearts and eyes of passersby as I uttered the beautiful name of the heart.

A wave of light from the heart’s face filled the alley.
A jar of sunlight and moonlight waited to fill the cup of the heart.

Knowledge wishes to lead but is always at the heart’s service.
The neck fo knowledge is trapped within the noose of the heart.

Cries have reached the heavens. The world is full of turmoil.
The crowd has broken their chains, listening to the message of the heart.

The heart’s light has suffused the throne of the Almighty.
The soul is seated at the door gazing toward the roof of the heart.

“A dervish is no mere mortal,” he only said this much to me,
The rest was just a glimpse into the silent words of the heart.

The whole world drunk with heart, helpless in the palm of the heart.
Surely the nine heavens are within the two stops of the traveling heart.

Who says the eternal one is dead?
Who says the sun of hope is dead?
An enemy of the sun climbed on the roof,
Closed his eyes, and said, “The sun is dead!”

Being lost in being lost is my faith.
Not existing in existence is my way of life.

When walking in the alley of my friend,
I am riding the white horse of paradise,

Instantly passing through a hundred worlds,
Feeling as if I am taking a single step.

Why keep circling the world? My friend
Is in the midst of my sweet soul.

Shams of Tabriz, the pride of saints,
The “S” of his name is my “Salvation.”

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