Poetry by RUMI -- Who Says Words with My Mouth

 

All day I think about it, then at night I say it.

Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?

I have no idea. My soul is from elsewhere,

I am sure of that, and I intend to end up there.

This drunkenness began in some other tavern.

When I get back around to that place, I'll be completely

sober. Meanwhile, I'm lke a bird from another continent, 

sitting in this aviary. The day is coming when I fly off,

but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?

Who says words with my mouth?

Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?

I cannot stop asking. If I could taste one sip

of an answer, I could break out of this prison for drunks.

I didn't come here of my own accord,

and I can't leave that way.

Whoever brought me here will have to take me home.

This poetry. I never know what I'm going to say.

I don't plan it. When I'm outside the saying of it,

I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.

Shams Tabriz, if you would show your face

to me again, I could flee the imposition of this life.