Translated by Coleman Barks
Inside this new love, die.
Your way begins on the other side.
Become the sky.
Take an axe to the prison wall.
Walk out like someone suddenly born into color.
Do it now.
You’re covered with thick clouds.
Slide out the side. Die,
and be quiet. Quietness is the surest sign
that you’ve died.
Your old life was a frantic running
The speechless full moon
comes out now.
In this dialogue with Rumi I am showing him the frantic life of Londoners. This image also shows the vast amount of bars and walls that surround us, either keeping something in or out. There is no quiet in London, and no one is trying to find it. We are scared of it, as Rumi says in this poem “Quietness is the surest sign that you’ve died.” No one wants to sit still for too long, not hear anything from the world around us, its a scary thought, complete silence. Are we living if there is nothing around, no noises being made? Or should we escape from these walls and find the silence?