Rumi 50

Come along, come along, the fields are a-flower
Come along, come along, it’s the lover’s hour.
Come along, all at once, every soul and all the world
Bathe yourselves in the sun’s golden arrows’ shower.
Mock the crone who is left without a companion
Weep for the lonesome he, who has left his lover.
Everyone must rise up, and spread the news,
Mad man has cut his chain and escaped the tower.
Beat the drums without care, and remain speechless,
Mind and heart fled long before the soul fled the bower.
What a day, what a day, it feels like Judgement Day,
Impotent is our life’s book, has lost its very power.
Be silent, be silent, keep the veil, keep the veil,
Go for the sweet grapes, let go of the sour.