This world of two gardens, and both so beautiful.
This world, a street where a funeral is passing.
Let us rise together and leave “this world,”
as water goes bowing down itself to the ocean.
From gardens to the gardener, from grieving
to wedding feast. We tremble like leaves
about to let go. There’s no avoiding pain,
or feeling exiled, or the taste of dust.
But also we have a green-winged longing
for the sweetness of the Friend.
These forms are evidence of what
cannot be shown. Here’s how it is
to go into that: rain that’s been leaking
into the house decides to use the downspout.
Finish reading Ghazal 1713 and examine a number of variant translations here
–Mawl?n? Jal?l-ad-D?n Muhammad R?m? (Rumi) (?????? ???? ????? ???? ????), D?w?n-e Shams-e Tabr?z? (???? ??? ??????), vol. 4, Ghazal 1713 (ca. 1250 CE) (this text is based on a translation by John Moyne further developed by Coleman Barks)(????? ????? ???? ?????? ???).
