A Love Poem of
Rumi

                                                                      The springtime of Lovers has come,
                                                                      that this dust bowl may become a garden;
                                                                      the proclamation of heaven has come,
                                                                      that the bird of the soul may rise in flight.
                                                                      The sea becomes full of pearls,
                                                                      the salt marsh becomes sweet as kauthar,
                                                                      the stone becomes a ruby from the mine,
                                                                      the body becomes wholly soul.