آن بتکده که عرب نهادش کعبه،
سنگیست به روی سنگ همچون جعبه،
آن خدا که در عالم هستی شده نیست،
در خانه سنگی چه کند چون کس نیست،
دل ها که همی محرم اسرار بوند،
بهترین مکان برای آن یار بوند،
یا رب تو دلم گزینه ای یا یک سنگ؟
تا من بشوم به دور آن با دل تنگ،
از درون من چشم مرا باز کنی،
یا از درون سنگ رب سخن آغاز کنی؟
من یار توام تو یار من در یک دل،
آن سنگ نهادیست، همی حجمی بل،
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I recall Rumi told a man who was too sick or poor to go on the Haj, that he could make an interior Haj and that Allah would bless him because his faith and submission were both strong and vital. Religious rituals like the Muslim Haj or the Sunday Mass for a Catholic are specific acts to be properly performed, they unite body and soul, individual and society, what we say we believe is affirmed by what we do. But ultimately what you say is true: GOD LIVES IN MY HEART. That intimacy in which the Creator enters His creature's heart is a profound act of divine love. It is something extra and does not replace the daily rituals and acts. But still what a profound experience, which requires an equally profound gratitude from the human so blessed. I am not saying these things out of personal experience: I have learned them because Muslim friends have generously instructed me, and perhaps in some mysterious way Khadr has blessed me with his goodness.