Fine Feathers - Jalaluddin Rumi
"Needs must I tear them out," the peacock
cried,
"These gorgeous plumes which only tempt my
pride."
Of all his talents let the fool beware:
Mad for the bait, he never sees the snare.
Harness to fear of God thy strength and skill,
Else there's no bane so deadly as free-will.
In the grand scheme of things this is what finding a dusty, coverless book in a backroom in Pakistan leads to. Badly printed as it was, my uncle - when he heard me reading the poems to his children kindly pointed out that they were from Rumi, and although, clearly it was in english, there was no indication of the author. He also proceeded to recite them in urdu, and put the english to shame. (Things like this happen a lot in Pakistan.) Anyways, no idea who the pakistani translator was, enjoy the poem!
CST Approved