“Headless Camels” (Rumi)

There is a bird that flies inside a lover’s heart

carrying bones to the great Qaf Mountain bird. I see flocks going there and caravans of headless camels. Lovers will not ride on anything that has its head attached. And there is never a trace of jealousy near.

When lover-bones come to the kitchen, a hundred elegant soups begin bubbling

particle music for the death-night wedding.

As a lover’s body is lowered into the ground, a thousand skylights open. As a saffron stalk dries up, hedges of roses bloom.

Two or three more subtle points like these

may come before my dying mouth closes.

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