March 2007 | Last Words
Spring
Again the violet bows to the lily.
Again, the rose is tearing off her gown!
The green ones have come from the other world,
Tipsy like the breeze up to some new foolishness.
Again near the top of the mountain
The anemone’s sweet features appear.
The hyacinth speaks formally to the jasmine,
Peace be with you.” And peace to you lad!
Come walk with me in this meadow.”
Again there are sufis everywhere
The bud is shy, but the wind removes
Her veil suddenly, My friend!”
The Friend is here like water in the stream,
Like a lotus in the water
The narcissus winks at the wisteria,
whenever you say.”
And the clove to the willow, You are the one I hope for.”
The willow replies, Consider these chambers of mine yours. Welcome!”
The apple, Orange why the frown?”
So that those who mean harm do not see my beauty.”
The ringdove comes asking, Where, where is the Friend?”
With one note the nightingale indicates the rose.
Again the season of Spring has come and a spring-source
rises under everything, a moon sliding from the shadows.
Many things must be left unsaid, because it’s late, but whatever
conversation we haven’t had tonight, we’ll have tomorrow.
—A Poem by Rumi
Translation by Coleman Barks
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