God picks up the reed-flute
world and blows.

Each note is a need coming
through one of us,
a passion,
a longing pain.

Remember the lips
where the wind-breath
originated,
and let your note be clear.
Don't try to end it.
Be your note.

I'll show you how it's enough.
Go up on the roof at night.
In this city of the soul.
Let everyone climb on their roofs
And sing their notes!

Sing loud!

Rumi