Water

Gafori’s excellent second collection of Rumi translations (after Gold) thrums with the beatific energy of divine and romantic love, as well as a deep yearning for community and peace. In the introduction, Gafori reflects on the mystic poet’s early years fleeing the Mongolian Army, which was “wreaking havoc on village after village.” Rumi imparts ecstatic words of wisdom (“go to the kitchen in Love’s house/ and lick the plates lovers left behind”) while also lamenting the violence in the world around him. In “My heart breaks when I look out,” he declares, “Man, man, man/ what kind of lightning are you, setting farms on fire?/ What kind of cloud are you, raining down stones.” Gafori’s translation is exceptional: contemporary, razor-sharp, and lyrically expansive but still unmistakably Rumi. The poet’s voice is filled with wonder, infectious joy, and humor, asking, “Why did I make brooding my vocation/ when awe was an option?” He is wise, generous, devout, and effortlessly pithy, offering a way forward in dark times: “Don’t mute your drum./ Don’t muffle the beat./ Walk bravely into the field and raise Love’s flag.” The result is an accessible, enjoyable, and essential entry point to Rumi’s work. (Apr.)