My teacher once told me a story of a great saint,
of a perfect one, who wanted to travel around
his part of the world before he died and talk about
some spiritual matters to those would come to listen.
And when his men and he reached a certain
country he said to some of his companions,
'Sensuality is in fine shape here, maybe even
too fine shape, but my basic concern is that
we fit in well and that we get a few to listen to my
words which will plant seeds here for generations.
So I want you to employ twelve of the most beautiful
erotic dancers who can travel with us for the next
month as we tour this land".
So the dancers were employed, and from town
to town and city to city the great Master traveled.
The dancers would begin the show as it were,and
once a nice crowd had gathered the saint would
speak for just few minutes, then let the performers
resume their art.
My own Master then stopped the story, looked at
me in a very sweet and somewhat amused way,
'Hafiz, don't forget the dancers in your poems'
'ARCHITECTS, don't forget the dancers in your BUILDINGS'