The mountain of a seeker existence
is like straw before the wind of adam
It saved him from fear and hope
This teacher is a sea
we are the fishes
existence the net
the taste of the sea knows
he who has left the net
O you who turns
my thorns into roses
my desert into garden
my journey into arrival!
My sword and brush in hand
Ready to serve at your command
Swift sharp a whiff of rumi for you!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem