There is no edge to my vast desert;
There is no peace for my heart and my soul.
The world is taken, from end to end, by image and form;
Which of these images is mine?
If you see a severed head on the way
Rolling in the direction of the battlefied;
Ask him, ask him concerning my secrets
For, from him you hear my hidden mysteries.
What if one ear could be found;
Suited to understand the speech of my birds.
What if one bird could fly,
Who wore my ring of Solomon's secrets [around her neck].
What am I saying? when I know telling this tale
Is beyond my limits and my ability is.
How can I utter one word when each moment
My perplexity is more perplexing.

Rumi