The Conference of the Birds (Penguin)

by Farid al-Din Attar

  Whoever knows this knows humility.

  When love has pitched his tent in someone’s breast,

  That man despairs of life and knows no rest.

  Love’s pain will murder him, then blandly ask

  A surgeon’s fee for managing the task –

  The water that he drinks brings pain, his bread

  Is turned to blood immediately shed;

  Though he is weak, faint, feebler than an ant,

  Love forces him to be her combatant;

  He cannot take one mouthful unaware

  That he is floundering in a sea of care.

  lines 1770–90

  Sheikh Noughani at Neishapour

  Sheikh Noughani set out for Neishapour.

  The way was more than he could well endure

  And he fell sick- he spent a hungry week

  Huddled in tattered clothes, alone and weak.

  But after seven days had passed he cried:

  “Dear God, send bread.” An unseen voice replied:

  “Go, sweep the dirt of Neishapour’s main square,

  And with the grain of gold that you find there

  Buy bread and eat.” The sheikh abruptly said:

  “If I’d a broom I wouldn’t beg for bread,

  But I have nothing, as you plainly see;

  Give me some bread and stop tormenting me!”

  The voice said: “Calm yourself, you need not weep –

  If you want bread take up your broom and sweep.”

  The sheikh crawled out and publicized his grief

  Till he was lent a broom and sweeper’s sieve.

  He swept the filthy square as he’d been told,

  And in his last sieve’s dust-heap found the gold.

  He hurried to the baker’s, bought his bread –

  Thoughts of the broom and sieve then filled his head.

  He stopped short in his tracks; the shining grain

  Was spent and he was destitute again.

  He wandered aimlessly until he found

  A ruined hut, and on the stony ground

  He flung himself headlong; to his surprise

  The broom and sieve appeared before his eyes.

  Joy seized the old man – then he cried: “O Lord,

  Why must I toil so hard for my reward?

  You tell me to exhaust myself for bread!”

  “Bread needs the sauce of work,” the Lord’s voice said;

  “Since bread is not enough, I will increase

  The sauce that makes it tasty; work in peace!”

  A simpleton walked naked through the crowd,

  And seeing such fine clothes he cried aloud:

  lines 1791–1810

  “God give me joy like theirs.” A voice replied:

  “I give the sun’s kind warmth; be satisfied.”

  He said: “My Lord, the sun clothes you, not me!”

  The voice said: “Wait ten days, then you will see

  The garment I provide.” Ten days had gone;

  A poor man offered to this simpleton

  A ragged cloak made up of scraps and shreds.*

  “You’ve spent ten days with patches and old threads

  Stitching this cloak,” the madman said; “I’ll bet

  You spoiled a treasury of clothes to get

  So many bits together – won’t you tell

  Your servant where you learned to sew so well?”

  The answer came: “In His great court one must

  Be humble as His royal highway’s dust;

  So many, kindled by His glory, come –

  But few will ever reach the longed-for home.”

  A story about Rabe’eh

  Saint Rabe’eh for seven years had trod

  The pilgrimage to Mecca and her God.

  Now drawing near the goal she cried: “At last

  I’ve reached the Ka’abah’s stone; my trials are past” –

  Just at that moment the aspiring saint

  Succumbed to woman’s intimate complaint –

  She was impure; she turned aside and said:

  “For seven years a pilgrim’s life I’ve led,

  And as I reach the throng of pilgrims He

  Plants this unlooked-for thorn to hinder me;

  Dear God, give access to your glorious home,

  Or send me back the weary way I’ve come.”

  No lover lived as true as Rabe’eh,

  Yet look, she too was hindered on the Way.

  When first you enter Wisdom’s sea, beware –

  A wave of indecision floods you there.

  lines 1811–25

  You worship at the Ka’abah’s shrine and then

  You’re weeping in some worthless pagan’s den;

  If from this whirlpool you can raise your head,

  Tranquillity will take the place of dread.

  But if you sink into its swirl alone

  Your head will seem some mill’s enormous stone;

  The least distraction will divert your mind

  From that tranquillity you hoped to find.

  A troubled fool

  A saintly fool lived in a squalid place.

  One day he saw the Prophet face to face,

  Who said to him: “In your life’s work I see

  The signs of heaven-sent tranquillity.”

  “Tranquillity! When I can’t get away

  From hungry fleas by night or flies by day!

  A tiny gnat got into Nimrod’s brain

  And by its buzzing sent the man insane;

  I seem the Nimrod of this time – flies, fleas,

  Mosquitoes, gnats do with me as they please!”’

  A bird complains of his sinfulness

  Another bird complained: ‘Sin stains my soul;

  How can the wicked ever reach our goal?

  How can a soul unclean as noisome flies

  Toward the Simorgh’s mountains hope to rise?

  When sinners leave the path, what power can bring

  Such stragglers to the presence of our king?’

  And the hoopoe answers him

  The answer came: ‘You speak from ignorance;

  Do not despair of His benevolence.

  Seek mercy from Him; throw away your shield,

  And by submission gain the longed-for field.

  lines 1826–47

  The gate stands open to contrition’s way –

  If you have sinned, squeeze through it while you may,

  And if you travel with an honest heart,

  You too will play the victor’s glorious part.

  Shame forced a vicious sinner to repent.

  Once more his strength returned, once more he went

  Down his old paths of wickedness and lust;

  Leaving the Way, he wallowed in his dust.

  But pain welled in his heart, his life became –

  A second time – the source of bitter shame.

  Since sin had brought him nothing but despair,

  He wanted to repent, but did not dare;

  His looks betrayed more agitation than

  Ripe corn grains jumping in a heated pan –

  His heart was racked by grief and warring fears;

  The highway’s dust was laid by his sad tears.

  But in the dawn he heard a voice: “The Lord

  Was merciful when first you pledged your word.

  You broke it and again I gave you time,

  Asking no payment for this newer crime;

  Poor fool – would you repent once more? My gate

  Stands open always; patiently I wait.”

  Gabriel and the unbeliever

  One night in paradise good Gabriel heard

  The Lord say: “I am here”, and at His word

  There came another voice which wept and prayed –

  “Who knows whose voice this is?” the angel said.

  “It comes from one, of this at least I’m sure,

  Who has subdued the Self, whose heart is pure.
”

  But no one in the heavens knew the man,

  And Gabriel swooped toward the earth to scan

  The deserts, seas and mountains – far and wide

  He searched, without success, until he cried

  For God to lead his steps. “Seek him in Rome,”

  lines 1848–67

  God said. “A pagan temple is his home.”

  There Gabriel went and saw the man in tears –

  A worthless idol ruled his hopes and fears.

  Astonished, Gabriel turned and said: “Tell me,

  Dear Lord, the meaning of this mystery;

  You answer with your kindness one who prays

  Before a senseless idol all his days!”

  And God replied: “He does not know our Way;

  Mere ignorance has led this man astray –

  I understand the cause of his disgrace

  And will not coldly turn aside My face;

  I shall admit him to My sanctuary

  Where kindness will convert his blasphemy”.’

  The hoopoe paused and raised his voice in prayer,

  Then said: ‘This man for whom God showed such care

  Was one like you – and if you cannot bring

  Great virtues to the presence of our king,

  Do not alarm yourself; the Lord will bless

  The saint’s devotions and your nothingness.

  A sufi who wanted to buy something for nothing

  A voice rang out one morning in Baghdad:

  “My honey’s sweet, the best that can be had –

  The price is cheap; now who will come and buy?”

  A sufi passing in a street nearby

  Asked: “Will you sell for nothing?” But he laughed:

  “Who gives his goods for nothing? Don’t be daft!”

  A voice came then: “My sufi, turn aside –

  A few steps higher – and be satisfied.

  For nothing We shall give you everything;

  If you want more, that ‘more’ We’ll also bring.

  Know that Our mercy is a glittering sun;

  No particle escapes its brilliance, none –

  Did We not send to sin and blasphemy

  Our Prophet as a sign of clemency?”

  lines 1868–84

  God remonstrates with Moses

  God said: “Gharoun has ten times seven times,

  Dear Moses, begged forgiveness for his crimes –

  Still you ignore him, though his soul is free

  From all the twisting growths of blasphemy;

  I have uprooted them and now prepare

  A robe of grace in answer to his prayer.

  You have destroyed him; wound has followed wound;

  You force his head to bow down to the ground –

  If you were his Creator you would give

  Some respite to this suffering fugitive.”

  One who shows mercy to the merciless

  Brings mercy close to Godlike blessèdness;

  The ocean of God’s grace is infinite –

  Our sins are like a tear dissolved in it.

  How could His mercy change? – it can contain

  No trace of temporal corruption’s stain.

  One who accuses sinners takes the part

  Of tyranny, and bears a tyrant’s heart.

  A sinner enters heaven

  A sinner died, and, as his coffin passed,

  A man who practised every prayer and fast

  Turned ostentatiously aside – how could

  He pray for one of whom he knew no good?

  He saw the sinner in his dreams that night,

  His face transfigured with celestial light.

  “How did you enter heaven’s gates,” he said,

  “A sinner stained with filth from foot to head?”

  “God saw your merciless, disdainful pride,

  And pitied my poor soul,” the man replied.

  What generous love His wisdom here displays!

  His part is mercy, ours is endless praise;

  His Wisdom’s like a crow’s wing in the night –

  He sends a child out with a taper’s light,

  line 1885–1903

  And then a wind that quenches this thin flame;

  The child will suffer words of scathing blame,

  But in that narrow darkness he will find

  The thousand ways in which his Lord is kind.

  If all were pure of all iniquity,

  God could not show His generosity;

  The end of Wisdom is for God to show –

  Perpetually – His love to those below.

  One drop of God’s great Wisdom will be yours,

  A sea of mercy with uncharted shores;

  My child, the seven heavens, day and night,

  For your sake wage their old unwearied fight;

  For your sake angels pray – your love and hate

  Reflected back are hell’s or heaven’s gate.

  The angels have bowed down to you and drowned

  Your soul in Being, past all plummet’s sound –

  Do not despise yourself, for there is none

  Who could with you sustain comparison;

  Do not torment yourself – your soul is All,

  Your body but a fleeting particle.

  This All will clarify, and in its light

  Each particle will shine, distinctly bright –

  As flesh remains an agent of the soul,

  Your soul’s an agent of the sacred Whole.

  But “part” and “whole” must disappear at last;

  The Way is one, and number is surpassed.

  A hundred thousand clouds above you press;

  Their rain is pure, unending happiness;

  And when the desert blooms with flowers, their scent

  And beauty minister to your content;

  The prayers of all the angels, all they do,

  All their obedience, God bestows on you.

  The angels’ jealousy of man

  Abbasseh said: “At God’s last Judgement Day,

  When panic urges men to run away

  lines 1904–18

  And at the same time paralyses them,

  When sinners stumble, overwhelmed by shame,

  When terror seizes on the human race,

  And each man seeks to hide his anguished face,

  Then God, whom all the earth and heavens adore,

  Will His unstinted benedictions pour

  On man, the handful of unworthy dust.

  The angels will cry out: ‘Lord, is this just,

  That man, before us all, take precedence?’

  And God will say: ‘There is no consequence

  Of loss or gain in this for you, but man

  Has reached the limit of his earthly span –

  Hunger must always be supplied with bread;

  A mortal nation clamours to be fed’.”’

  An indecisive bird complains

  Another bird declared: ‘As you can see,

  I lack the organs of virility;

  Each moment I prefer a different tree –

  I’m drunk, devout, the world’s, then (briefly) His;

  Caught between “No, it isn’t”, “Yes, it is”.

  The flesh will send me drinking, then I’ll find

  The praise of God awakening in my mind;

  What should I do between these two extremes,

  Imprisoned by conflicting needs and dreams?’

  And the hoopoe answers him

  The hoopoe said: ‘This troubles everyone;

  What man is truly single-minded? None!

  If all of us could boast a spotless mind,

  Why should the prophets mingle with mankind?

  If it is love which prompts your fervent prayers,

  A hundred kindnesses will calm your cares.

  Life is an obstinate young colt –

  until He’s broken in by your restraining will

  lines 1919–35


  He knows no peace; but you are indolent,

  Stretched out beside the oven, warm, content.

  Tears temper hearts; but living well’s a rust

  That inch by inch reduces them to dust –

  You’re just a eunuch pampering his needs;

  Your Self’s grown gross, a dog that sleeps and feeds.

  A story about Shebli

  Shebli would disappear at times; no one

  In all Baghdad could guess where he had gone –

  At last they found him where the town enjoys

  The sexual services of men and boys,

  Sitting among the catamites; his eye

  Was moist and humid, and his lips bone-dry.

  One asked: “What brings you here, to such a place?

  Is this where pilgrims come to look for grace?”

  He answered: “In the world’s way these you see

  Aren’t men or women; so it is with me –

  For in the way of Faith I’m neither man

  Nor woman, but ambiguous courtesan –

  Unmanliness reproaches me, then blame

  For my virility fills me with shame.”

  The man of understanding puts aside,

  To travel on this path, all outward pride

  (The courage of his choice will honour those

  Who taught this pilgrim everything he knows).

  If you seem more substantial than a hair,

  You’ve made an idol of yourself – take care,

  Whatever praise or blame may say of you,

  You’re an idolater in all you do.

  As Truth’s sworn slave, beware of Azar’s ways

  Who carved the stone to which he offered praise –

  Devotion is the crown of all mankind;

  Leave Uzza* and such idols far behind.

  lines 1936–53

  You seem a sufi to the common folk

  But hide a hundred idols with your cloak –

  If you’re a eunuch underneath, don’t dress

  In clothes of high heroic manliness!

  Two sufis go to court

  One day two dressed as wandering sufis came

  Before the courts to lodge a legal claim.

  The judge took them aside. “This can’t be right,

  For sufis to provoke a lawyers’ fight,”

  He said. “You wear the robes of resignation,

  So what have you to do with litigation?

  If you’re the men to pay a lawyer’s fee,

  Off with your sufi clothes immediately!

  And if you’re sufis as at first I thought,

  It’s ignorance that brings you to this court.

  I’m just a judge, unversed in your affair,

  But I’m ashamed to see the clothes you wear;