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