The Body Is Too Slow For Me
Toward the gardens,
Toward the orchards,
I am going.
If you want to stay here,
Stay here -
I am going!
My day is dark without His Face,
Toward that bright flame
I am going.
My soul is racing ahead of me.
It says, The body is too slow for me -
I am going.
The smell of apples arises
from the orchard of my soul.
One whiff and I am gone -
Toward a feast of apples
I am going.
A sudden wind won't blow me over.
Toward Him, like a mountain of iron,
I am going.
My shirt is ripped open
with the pain of loss.
Searching for a new life,
with my head held high,
I am going.
I am fire, though I seem like oil -
Seeking to be the fuel of His fire,
I am going.
I appear as a steady mountain
Yet bit by bit,
Toward that tiny opening
I am going.
Toward the orchards,
I am going.
If you want to stay here,
Stay here -
I am going!
My day is dark without His Face,
Toward that bright flame
I am going.
My soul is racing ahead of me.
It says, The body is too slow for me -
I am going.
The smell of apples arises
from the orchard of my soul.
One whiff and I am gone -
Toward a feast of apples
I am going.
A sudden wind won't blow me over.
Toward Him, like a mountain of iron,
I am going.
My shirt is ripped open
with the pain of loss.
Searching for a new life,
with my head held high,
I am going.
I am fire, though I seem like oil -
Seeking to be the fuel of His fire,
I am going.
I appear as a steady mountain
Yet bit by bit,
Toward that tiny opening
I am going.
From The Mystical Poetry of Rumi
Translated by Shahram Shiva / Jonathan Star
