The Source of Joy
No one knows what makes the soul wake up
so happy! Maybe a dawn breeze
has blown the veil from the face of God.
A thousand new moons appear.
Roses open laughing.
Hearts become perfect rubies
like those from Badakshan.
The body turns entirely spirit.
Leaves become branches in this wind.
Why is it now so easy to surrender,
even for those already surrendered?
There’s no answer to any of this.
No one knows the source of joy.
A poet breathes into a reed flute,
and the tip of every hair makes music.
Shams sails down clods of dirt from the roof,
and we take jobs as doorkeepers for him.
From The Book of Love
Translated by Coleman Barks
