I have five things to say,
five fingers to give into your grace.

First, when I was apart from you
this world did not exist
nor any other.

Second, whatever I was looking for
was always you.

Third, why did I ever learn to count to three?

Fourth, my cornfield is burning!

Fifth, this finger stands for Rabia
and this is for someone else.

Is there a difference?
Are these words or tears?
Is weeping speech?
What shall I do, my love?

-- Rumi

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