Rumi





Hunted down, yet hunter.
Without a job, yet constantly working.
Do you want my head? Friend,
I make you a gift.



What is real is you and my love
for you. High in the air, unnoticed,
this reality rises into a dome
I am the Capella!



I came and sat in front of you
as I would at an altar.
Every promise I made before
I broke when I saw you.



Don’t come to us without bringing music.
We celebrate with drum and flute,
with wine not made from grapes,
in a place you cannot imagine.