from “A Year with Rumi,” by Coleman Barks
You ask, Why do you cry
with such sweetness all around?
I weep as I make the honey,
wearing the shirt of a bee,
and I refuse to share this suffering.
I play the sky’s harp.
I curl around my treasure like a snake.
You say, What is this I business?
Friend, I have been a long time away from that.
What you see here is your own reflection.
I am still raw, and at the same time
well-cooked, and burnt to a crisp.
No one can tell if I’m laughing
or weeping. I wonder myself.
How can I be separated and yet in union?