On The Shoulders Of Giants

This is Frank Rich of the NY Times at his sharpest. Enjoy.

My favorite poet of all times, Rumi, says:

If wheat grows out of my (grave’s) soil
And if you bake a bread out of that
It will make you more drunk
My dough and my bread will go insane
The oven will recite drunken verses
Don’t visit my tomb without a daf
For in god’s party, it is not fitting to be sad
…
A kharabat will emerge out of your soul
God made me out of love’s wine
…
I am intoxication and my origin is the wine of love
You tell me what you would get out of wine but intoxication

PS.
This is my personal translation. Sorry if it sucks.