Your love infused my frozen heart with fire
My conceits turned to ashes on that pyre
I left all sterile learning on the shelf
And danced to the melodies of desire.

O Rabab, singing minstrel of the dunes,
Before your melodies my poor heart swoons
You are desire’s spy, whispering sands
The secrets of the heart are in your tunes.

The Beloved is my eternal sun
And I, the lover, like a planet run
In orbit round him and when springtime comes
And branches sprout, I am the dancing one.

The infidel declared that “God is dead”
And yet the sun is nucleating red
Glaring down on denouncers on the roof
Who close their eyes to wonders He has bred.

Your silence was replaced by moral tales
So song, replacing piety, prevails
When you without a name shuffle the pack
And toss the coin to predict heads or tails.

Why you left me I will never know
I was less than nothing to you and so
More loyal to me than you ever were
Is this longing for you – O let it grow!

A donkey’s burden

A donkey, a poor water-carrier’s slave
Was whipped and tortured to make him behave

Without complaint all through the
stretching day.
The skins of water on his back would weigh

Him down as he was forced to circulate
Around the villages whose thirsts ordained
his fate.

The poor creature forced to work so hard
Was starved and whipped and so bodily scarred.

One day as he was forced down the main street
His master met a friend and paused to greet

Him. This old friend looked at the poor beast
And said “For God’s sake, friend, you could
at least

Feed this poor animal some proper food!”
He added then, “I don’t mean to be rude

But let me volunteer to help of course
I’m now the Master of the Sultan’s Horse

I’ll take this poor creature into care
I’m sure in due course he will prosper there.”

The donkey’s master readily agreed
Business was slack, he wouldn’t have to feed

This beast of burden – at least for a while
He accepted this offer with a smile.

The friend then took this drudge into his care
And to the Sultan’s stables where he’d share

With studs and mares their meals of
luscious hay
At first he thought “How has this come
my way?”

But then this creature began to compare
His state with theirs, which led him to despair.

Disheartened he turned to God to complain
“These pampered creatures never feel the pain

I’ve suffered all my life. Creator why
Have they been granted luxury and I

Have been condemned to hardship? Is this fair?
They’re fed and flattered while I’ve had to bear

Skins of water and carry those loads
Down alleys and down never-ending roads?”

His constant complaint covered the same ground
And as he rambled Lo! There came a sound

Of trumpets summoning the troops to war
And as they blared, soldiers began to pour

Into the stables with saddles and swords
And rode the horses out to face the hordes

Of enemy troops invading the land
This cavalry went out to take a stand.

The donkey wondered what was going on
His stablemates were saddled and were gone.

A few of them by morning stumbled back
Retreating from the enemy’s attack

With arrows wedged in their flesh through the war
Our donkey was aghast at what he saw:

Horses with battered limbs and blinded eyes,
Horses, their neighs of pain were louder than the
cries

Of tortured souls in hell. The donkey cried
“O God forgive my not being satisfied

With the place you allotted me in life
I won’t henceforth look upon it as strife.”

In time he left the stables and went back
To carrying the water-skins and pack

Knowing that God and Justice have their schemes
And destiny is never what it seems.

Excerpted with permission from Rumi: A New Selection, selected and translated by Farrukh Dhondy, HarperCollins India.