
Last night, I secretly asked an old wise mind,
“Open to me the secret of this world.”
He lowered his voice and whispered in my ear,
“Be silent. It cannot be said.
It can be understood only by the heart.”
Rubailer (2016), Page 270, Rubai #3
Troubles for me are cooking in my Beloved’s kitchen of grief.
Every moment hundreds of different meals of sorrow
are being served to my table.
The smell of a burning heart surrounds my table all the time.
I wonder. Where is this smell coming from?
Rubailer, Page 290, Rubai #1