Rumi: A Stringed Instrument

We welcomed the New Year on the shores of the Bosphorus. The fireworks’ explosion of color and sound startled the flocks of seagulls that flew overhead. The late night fog swept in from the water into the land, enveloping the people’s happiness, and ours, as if in a veil of mystic rapture.

That was one month ago. Tonight I stood on the shore of Prospect Lake, contemplating the still waters under the calm sky and recalling that night at the Bosphorus. I felt again my body vibrate in anticipation of love, as if it were a bağlama played by you, mystic lover.

Last night this body was a stringed instrument

playing love songs

Rumi, “What Would I Be?”

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