Oh, won't you be my Rumimate
C'mon, let's check in to the HarperCollins Hotel
I know it, you know it; Jelaluddin is our fate;
Coleman Barks did prove it, interpreted so well

Be generous, be open, be calm, be kind,
open the books, so surprised at what you find;
odes, quatrins, sermons, discourses; mind within mind;
rubiyat, ghazals, the Mathnawi all leave your doubts behind

Yes, come on and be my Rumimate;
it's not too early and never too late
When Coleman barks, you listen up!
Sip sweet insights like wine, fill your cup!

Let's pay our respects at the poet's last home,
in Konya, where his spirit doth soar and roam
Hours and years, they all disappear
in Rumi's poems, as does your fear

Jelauddin's wind, sun and life-giving rain
have you catalyze pleasure and pain
His words shine like dew on your receptive mind
they rise with the moon, he's one of a kind

Yes, come on now, be my Rumimate,
it's in the stars, it's in our fate,
come now, or be a little late,
no matter what, your bliss will be great

You'll realize, by sight as well as by sound,
Jelaluddin Rumi is the brightest poet around,
and be sure, Carl Barks is no howling hound,
but firmly stands Jelaluddin's ground