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"The City of Saba"
There is a glut of wealth in the city of Saba. Everyone
has more than enough. Even
the bath stokers wear gold belts. Huge grape clusters hang
down on every street and
brush the faces of the citizens. No one has to do
anything. You can balance
a basket on your head and walk through an orchard, and it
will fill by itself with
overripe fruit dropping into it. Stray dogs stray in
lanes full of thrown-out
scraps with barely a notice. The lean desert wolf gets
indigestion from the rich
food. Everyone is fat and satiated with all the
extra. There are no
robbers. There is no energy for crime, or for gratitude,
and no one wonders about
the unseen world. The people of Saba feel bored with
just the mention of prophecy.
They have no desire of any kind. Maybe some idle curiosity
about miracles, but that’s
it. This over richness is a subtle disease Those
who have it are blind
to what’s wrong and deaf to anyone who points it out.
The city of Saba cannot be
understood from within itself: But there is a cure, an
individual medicine, not
a social remedy: sit quietly, and listen for a voice
within that will say, Be
more silent. As that happens, your soul starts to revive.
Give up talking and
your positions of power. Give up the excessive money.
Turn toward teachers and
prophets who don’t live in Saba. They can help you
grow sweet again and fragrant
and wild and fresh and thankful for any small event.
-- Rumi (translated by Coleman Barks)
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