For a dervish every day feels like
Friday, the beginning of a holiday,

a fresh setting out that will not have an
end. Dressed in the soul’s handsomeness,

you’re a whole month of Fridays, sweet
outside, sweet in. Your mind and your deep

being walk together as friends walk along
inside their friendship. Debris does not stay

in one place on a fast-running creek. Let
grudges wash out into the sea. Your soul’s

eye watches a spring-green branch moving,
while these other eyes love the old stories.

— Version by Coleman Barks, with Nevit Ergin
“The Glance”
Viking-Penguin, 1999

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