“I am only the house of your beloved,
not the beloved herself:
true love is for the treasure,
not for the coffer that contains it.”
The real beloved is that one who is unique,
who is your beginning and your end.
When you find that one,
you’ll no longer expect anything else:
that one is both the manifest and the mystery.
That one is the lord of the states of feeling,
dependent on none:
month and year are slaves to that moon.
When He bids the “state,”
it does His bidding;
when that one wills, bodies become spirit.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
KhÃ¢neh-ye ma`shuqeh-‘am ma`shuq ni
`eshq bar naqdast bar sanduq ni
Hast ma`shuq Ã¢nke u yek taw bovad
mobtadÃ¢ o montahÃ¢’et u bovad
Chon biyÃ¢bi’esh ma`Ã¢ni montazer
ham hovaydÃ¢ u bud ham niz serr
Masir-e ahvÃ¢last nah mawquf-e hÃ¢l
bandeh-ye Ã¢n MÃ¢h bÃ¢shad mÃ¢h o sÃ¢l
Chon be-guyad hÃ¢l-rÃ¢ farmÃ¢n konad
chon be-khvÃ¢had jesm-hÃ¢-rÃ¢ jÃ¢n konad
— Mathnawi III: 1417-1421
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
“Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance”
Threshold Books, 1996
(Persian transliteration courtesy of YahyÃ¡ Monastra)