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I died from a mineral, a plant became;
Died from the plant and took a sentient frame;
Died from the beast, and donned a human dress;
When by my dying did I e'er grow less;
Another time from manhood I must die
To soar with angel-pinions through the sky.
Midst Angels also I must lose my place,
Since "Everything shall perish save His Face."
Let me be Naught! The harp-strings tell me plain
That unto Him we return again.
Jalal ed-Din Rumi (1207-73), Mathnawi |
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