Lo! a besotted fool like thee to scorn,
The votaries of love! God’s wine has drowned
Thy wits and bidden thee wrestle with thy Lord,
As when a bird his airy flight resumes
Exultingly, nor dreads the distant lure,
Fate to his bosom speeds the shaft of woe.

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Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Rumi (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.