A New Rule
It is the rule with drunkards to fall upon each other,to quarrel, become violent, and make a scene.The lover is even worse than a drunkard.I will tell you what love is: to enter a mine of gold.And what is that gold?
The lover is a king above all kings,unafraid of death, not at all interested in a golden crown.The dervish has a pearl concealed under his patched cloak.Why should he go begging door to door?Last night that moon came along,drunk, dropping clothes in the street."Get up," I told my heart, "Give the soul a glass of wine.The moment has come to join the nightingale in the garden,to taste sugar with the soul-parrot."
I have fallen, with my heart shattered -where else but on your path? And Ibroke your bowl, drunk, my idol, so drunk,don't let me be harmed, take my hand.A new rule, a new law has been born:break all the glasses and fall toward the glassblower.
~Jelaluddin Rumi
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