Story of the Reed

Listen to the story of the reed
As it laments the pain of separation:
Since they have cut me from my reed bed
My wails bring tears to both woman and man
Those ripped away from their beloved know my song
Having been cut from the source, they long to return
In celebrations, I laugh with those laughing
And in sadness, I cry with those grieving
The divine secrets are not separate from my cries
But only those who are cooked in

the fire of love will hear them
These secrets are for the heart, not for the eyes or ears
It is fire, not wind that makes me sing!
If you don't have this fire, you might as well be dead
Oh, how can the uncooked know

the majesty of the fire of love?
If you meet the uncooked, don't sing, don't preach
Instead listen to my advice:
Say goodbye and leave.

Rumi