Legend has it that Attar met Rumi when that future great mystic poet was a child. Rumi’s family was traveling west to stay ahead of the Mongols. It is said that Attar held Rumi in his arms, bounced him on his lap, and predicted his greatness. Rumi went on to become a beloved Sufi poet with devoted fans and followers. He repeatedly acknowledged Attar as his master, and the influence of Attar’s wisdom and style of writing is evident in Rumi’s work. About Attar, he wrote: 

Attar traveled through all the seven cities of love
                        While I am only at the bend of the first alley. 

Sufism is a spiritual philosophy, and all human beings, regardless of their faith and religion can come to feel its ecstatic influence on their soul. The central idea in the Sufi movement is that the soul, in the prison of the body, awaits release. Once freed, it returns to the source, which is the Creator. This reunion can be experienced while we are still bound by the body through looking inward and through purification.

Attar’s poetry has not been widely translated until Sholeh Wolpe’s translations published by Norton and Harper Collins. The older translations in existence by scholars either rhymed or for picture books.

In an interview, Sholeh Wolpe says: “I followed what moved me. I wasn’t putting together a scholarly edition—I was building something that could live in someone’s hands, in their kitchen, in their dreams. Every poem I chose had to speak directly to the inner seeker in me. I read Attar as a fellow traveler, not just a translator. What moved me most, what made me pause, breathe differently, or weep in recognition—that’s what I kept.

In other words, The Invisible Sun isn’t an academic selection—it is devotional. I curated a book that you can carry like a lantern. Attar says:

Have you lost your way,
seeker of secrets?
Go search for your soul’s mysteries
before your life expires.

That’s what I wanted these poems to do: be a lantern for someone in the dark.

Sholeh Wolpe reply: “To understand Rumi, you must kneel at Attar’s feet. Rumi called Attar his master. He famously wrote,

Attar traveled all seven cities of love
While I’m still at the bend of its first alley.

And yet, most Western readers know Rumi but have never heard of Attar. That felt wrong. I wanted to restore Attar to his rightful place—not as a footnote to Rumi, but as the blazing sun from which Rumi drew light.

You can’t fully understand Rumi’s ecstasy unless you understand Attar. This relationship clearly shows that mysticism isn’t static—it evolves through lineage.

By immersing myself in Attar’s depth, I could hear the echo of future voices—including Rumi’s. I translated with the awareness that I was touching the root of an immense and ever-growing tree.”

Sholeh Wolpe says: “Attar belongs to everyone. His poems are not about Islam or Iran—they are about the soul’s hunger, which transcends borders and belief systems. Whether you call the Divine Allah, Dios, Jah, or simply “the Universe,” he is speaking to you.

Attar doesn’t care what religion you are. He says when you walk into a mosque, a church, a synagogue or a temple of idolators, you should only see the Beloved. That is exactly what we don’t do. We see borders, not the unhindered land, we see skin-deep beauty, not the eternal glow, we see human-created customs, not the Divine.  Attar is always urging us to become Wayfarers and begin our journey immediately. There is no wrong or right in this journey. Each person has its own path towards what he metaphorically calls the Great Ocean. It’s a stand in for our destination. He says when we stop in our journey to judge others, or preach to others, or simply groom ourselves, which means paying too much attention to the ephemeral world, we stop in our journey. A puddle gathers about us and we imagine we have arrived at the Great Ocean. What folly! He warns us against that. He says keep moving and keep cleansing yourself from your ego-self, that cyclone of calamities. Then arrive at the ocean as a pure drop of water. That’s when you can join the ocean, become the ocean and know the ocean. For eternity. But if you arrive wrapped in your ego self, the Ocean does not deny you entry. You enter but sink to the bottom, forever wrapped around yourself, and never knowing the Ocean. How sad. Some call that Hell.

So Attar keeps urging us to begin the journey, and slowly rid ourself of our ego-selves.. To do so you must be  willing to let go of yourself to find what’s beyond yourself.

He writes,
To seek love, forget belief, forget unbelief.
There is no place in love for faith or doubt.

That speaks to everyone. Atheist, believer, Muslim, Jew, artist, accountant—we all ache for the same thing: to be more than what we are. And that’s what Attar offers—not a system, but a path.”

Sholeh Wolpe is a bi-cultural, bi-lingual poet. She believes literature is a powerful tool to bridge cultures and people. She says: “I have translated Attar for you. I hope it becomes a mirror. Not one that flatters—but one that reflects the soul’s truth. Attar says:

So long as you exist,
so does good and evil.
Lose yourself
and they too will vanish.

I hope these poems help readers inch closer to that vanishing—to that state of love where even opposites collapse. Where only the Beloved remains.

 On a hard day you could open the book and read:

Squash your fears,
even of savage dragons,
to fathom the Almighty.

And feel just brave enough to take that next step. Or read,

If you come sad and frozen to this book,
its invisible fire will flare and melt your ice,

and believe that healing is possible.

More than anything, I hope it helps people remember they are not alone. That the path is hard, yes—but it’s full of light. And that the Beloved is always waiting.