307

I am sprung from you and likewise you have devoured me, I
melt in you since through you I froze.
Now you press me in your hand, now under your foot with
grief; for the grape does not become wine unless pressed.
Like the light of the sun, you have cast us on the earth, then
little by little carried us back in that direction.
We return from the body's window like light into the orb of a
sun, pure of sin and blemish.
Whoever sees that orb says, "He has become alive," and who-
ever comes to the window says, "So-and-so is dead."
He has veiled our origin in that cup of pain and joy; in the core
of origin we are pure, all the rest left behind like dregs.
Source of the source of souls, Shams-e Haqq-e Tabriz, a hun-
dred livers are on fire for you-- so how many kidneys?

from Mystical Poems of Rumi 2