(Untitled)

[thee_emperor]

Rejoice my heart, before the springtime goes

Comments

[ex_leopardp]

Where is that from?

[thee_emperor]

it is by the sufi poet Hafiz

[ex_leopardp]

It's beautiful. Thanks for sharing it. I haven't seen you around much these days. It's good to see you on again.

The Spring

[templewhore]

A Christian goes to his priest and tells a year's worth of
sin: fornication, meanness,

hypocrisy. He wants to be forgiven, and he hears the
priest's absolving as grace.

The priest himself may have no experience of that mercy,
but the Christian's imagination

gives it to him. Love and imagination do many things. They
conjure up a sweetheart's form,

so that you can speak to it, Do you love me?" Yes, Yes. A
mother beside the new grave

of her son says things she never said when he was alive.
The ground there seems to have

intelligence. She lays her face on the fresh earth,
giving her love as never before.

Days and weeks go by. Grief for the dead diminishes. Soon
there is nothing but

oblivion at the grave site. Let your teacher be love itself,
not someone with a white

beard. In the state of fana, love without form says, I am