My mother was fortune, my father generosity and bounty; I <br />am joy, son of joy, son of joy, son of joy. <br />Behold, the Marquis of Glee has attainted felicity; this city and <br />plain are filled with soldiers and drums and flags. <br />If I encounter a wolf, he becomes moonfaced Joseph; if I go <br />down into a well, it converts into a Garden of Eram. <br />He whose heart is as iron and stone out of miserliness is now <br />changed before me into a Hatem of the age in generosity and <br />bounty. <br />Dust becomes gold and pure silver in my hand; how then <br />should the temptation of gold and silver waylay me? <br />I have an idol such that, were his sweet scent scattered <br />abroad, even an idol of stone would receive life through joy. <br />Sorrow has died for joy in him of “may God bind your consolation”; <br />how should not such a sword strike the neck of sorrow? <br />By tyranny he seizes the soul of whom he desires; justices are <br />all slaves of such injustice and tyranny. <br />What is that mole on that face? Should it manifest itself, out <br />of desire for it forthwith maternal aunt would be estranged from <br />paternal [uncle]. <br />I said, “If I am done and send my story, will you finish it and <br />expound it?” He answered, “Yes.”<br /><br />Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-mother-was-fortune-my-father-generosity-and-b/
