Dīdār-i dū daryā: Chihil rivāyat-i dāstānī darbārah-i Shams va Mawlānā

I am Shams. I have not come to bring Mawlānā peace. I have come to unsettle him, to stir a beautiful turmoil. I bring with me the gift of madness and love anew—a hidden robe, the drum of reproach, the tambourine of ecstasy, the kiss of love's fire upon the cold forehead of his ignorance, a spark upon the wood of his commotion, upon all of him. I bring a constructive burning as a gift. I have come to make him more alive—a rain for the desert of his soul, an eternal spring breeze in winter. I have come as a sweet thirst for a voice, to take Mawlānā from being a sheikh to joy, from fear and asceticism to safety and delight. I have come to turn this fearful reader of *Ghazālī* into a passionate singer of *ghazals*.

I speak to Mawlānā in the language of fire, in the language of dance, in the language of the tambourine, in the language of the reed, in the language of the wind, in the language of "whatever happens, happens!"