Love, the new moon, grows slowly, stage by stage;
We should progress like that, deliberately, with patience.
I hear the new moon whispering, “Impatient fool!”
It is only step by step you climb to the roof.
Be a seasoned cook, let the pot boil little by little;
A stew cooked in mad haste tastes terrible.
Poem: “The New Moon,” by Rumi
