Listen to the flute; how it is complaining,
It has a tale to tell of separations
“I was torn from the reedbed, and ever since,
You have heard people sigh when they hear my cry”
Give me one who is hurt with separation
And I will recount the pain of my longing
[Know this principle: ]
Whosoever has strayed far from their source,
Will seek to regain their day of union
With every community, I empathized much
I befriended with the happy and with the sad
Each befriended me, thinking I shared their view
Yet I did not reveal those secrets deep
My secret is not too far from my cry
Yet they haven’t that light, the ear and eye
The body from the soul is not hidden
Yet noone commands that inner vision
The sound of this flute; is not wind but pure fire
Those who haven’t this fire, should go expire!
It is the fire of love that fell in the flute
The boiling of love that fell into wine
A friend to you when cut from a friend, the flute
Its veils do rend these veils of ours asunder
Both poison and remedy: behold the flute!
Haven’t seen a more eager friend than the flute!
The tale of a bloody path, the flute recounts
Telling us stories of those madly in love
The confidant of this awareness is no-
-awareness; the tongue’s customer is the ear
Wallowing in our sorrow; the days go by
With burning and smoldering longing they go
If the days go by, tell them “Go, no fear!”
“The One Pure, to whom none compares, you stay here!”
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