Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi (1207 - 1273 / Persia)
When I am asleep and crumbling in the tomb
When I am asleep and crumbling in the tomb, should you come
to visit me, I will come forth with speed.
You are for me the blast of the trumpet and the resurrection,
so what shall I do? Dead or living, wherever you are, there am I.
Without your lip I am a frozen and silent reed; what melodies
I play the moment you breathe on my reed!
Your wretched reed has become accustomed to your sugar lip;
remember wretched me, for I am seeking you.
When I do not find the moon of your countenance, I bind up
my head [veil myself in your mourning]; when I do not find your
sweet lip, gnaw my own hand.
Poet Other Poems
- A Moment Of Happiness
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- A Stone I died
- All through eternity
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- Any Soul That Drank the Nectar
- At the Twilight
- Bad Dreams
- Be Lost In The Call
- Be With Those Who Help Your Being
- Because I cannot sleep
- Behind the Scenes
- Book1 Prologue
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