Love is a boundless ocean, on it the palate is like a mere fragment of foam; who is restless, like Zulaikha yearning for a Yusuf.
Know, the spinning wheel of the palate is moved by the waves of Love: if it wasn't for Love, the universe would freeze.
How did the originally dead things turn into plants?
How does a plant sacrifice itself in order to overflow with spirit?
How does a spirit sacrifice itself for a Breath; whose gentle breeze once impregnated a Maryam?
Everything will freeze like ice, will not fly around like a grasshopper.
Each particle is falling in love with that Perfection, and rushes to grow like a bud sprouting.
Their haste is an inner takbir. They purified themselves to welcome the Spirit.
Source:
Jalaluddin Rumi, Matsnavi V: 3853-3859
Translated into Indonesian by Nicholson.
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