Ân bût ke jamâl -ô- zinat-e majles-e mâst,
Dar majles-e mâ nist, nadânim kûjâ-st.
Sarvi-st bûland -ô- qâmati dârad râst,
Káz qâmat-e ôu qiyâmat áz mâ barkhâst.
The lovely boy
Who was our circle’s joy
Hath quit our mysteries;
I know not where he is.
A cypress tall
Is he, stately withal;
Whose stature gracious
Such riot woke in us.
How can you love. Then unlove and then love again. I have sincerely felt, it stops at step 2. It is never reversible. Rarely does this happen. Or it takes a lifetime to reach the third step.
This anguished feeling and anger in my heart. I quite don’t understand how i got here in the first place. Nevertheless, I dedicate these immortal lines from Rumi’s gift to mankind to him.
– To my circles ‘joy’. Where ever you are.