All day I think about it, then at night I say it. <br />Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing? <br />I have no idea. <br />My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that, <br />and I intend to end up there. <br /> <br />This drunkenness began in some other tavern. <br />When I get back around to that place, <br />I'll be completely sober. Meanwhile, <br />I'm like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary. <br />The day is coming when I fly off, <br />but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice? <br />Who says words with my mouth? <br /> <br />Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul? <br />I cannot stop asking. <br />If I could taste one sip of an answer, <br />I could break out of this prison for drunks. <br />I didn't come here of my own accord, and I can't leave that way. <br />Whoever brought me here, will have to take me home. <br /> <br />This poetry. I never know what I'm going to say. <br />I don't plan it. <br />When I'm outside the saying of it, <br />I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.<br /><br />Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/whoever-brought-me-here-2/
