The Conference of the Birds (Penguin)
Page 14
And have no business with your praise or blame.”
The bird of aspiration spreads its wings
And quickly soars beyond terrestrial things –
Beyond the lower world’s complacent guess
Of what is temperance, what drunkenness.
The feathers of the soul
One night a fool of God wept bitterly
And said: “The world, as far as I can see,
Is like a box, and we are locked inside,
Lost in the darkness of our sin and pride;
When death removes the lid we fly away –
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If we have feathers – to eternal day,
But those who have no feathers must stay here,
Tormented in this box by pain and fear.”
Give wings to aspiration; love the mind;
And if at death you’d leave this box behind,
Grow wings and feathers for the soul; if not,
Burn all your hopes, for you will die and rot.’
A bird questions the hoopoe about justice and loyalty
Another bird said: ‘What are loyalty
And justice, put beside such majesty?
God gave me boundless loyalty and I’ve
Not been unjust to any man alive –
What is the ghostly rank of those who own
Such qualities, before our sovereign’s throne?’
The hoopoe answers him
The hoopoe said: ‘Salvation’s Lord is just,
And justice raises man above the dust;
To live with justice in your heart exceeds
A lifetime’s earnest prayer and pious deeds;
And tales of lavish generosity
Are less than one just act done secretly
(Though justice given in a public place
Suggests deceit beneath the smiling face).
The just man does not argue for his rights;
It is for others that he stands and fights.
Ahmad Hanbal and the beggar
Ahmad Hanbal, a man renowned and wise,
Whose knowledge no one dared to criticize,
Would when he felt his mind inadequate
Consult a barefoot beggar at his gate.
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If anyone discovered him they’d say:
“But you’re our wisest man in every way;
When one of us is called upon to speak
You scarcely hear our words – yet here you seek
A barefoot beggar out; what can it mean?”
Ahmad Hanbal replied: “As you have seen,
My commentaries have carried off the prize;
In matters of hadith* and law I’m wise –
I know more worldly things than him, it’s true,
But he knows God – much more than I can do.”
Look at this action well before you claim
A justice that does not deserve the name.
An Indian king
As Mahmoud’s army moved through India,
They chanced to take an old king prisoner
Who learnt the Moslem faith at Mahmoud’s court
And counted this world and the next as nought.
Alone, a hermit in a ragged tent,
He lived for prayer, an earnest penitent,
His face bathed day and night in scalding tears –
At last the news of this reached Mahmoud’s ears.
He summoned him and said: “I’ll give to you
A hundred kingdoms and their revenue;
It’s not for you to weep, you are a king;
I promise to return you everything!”
To this the Indian king replied: “My lord,
It’s not my kingdom conquered by your sword
That makes me weep, but thoughts of Judgement Day;
For at the resurrection God will say
‘O faithless wretch, you had no thoughts of Me
Till you were crushed by Mahmoud’s cavalry –
It took an army’s might to change your mind,
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And till you stood defenceless you were blind –
Does this make you My friend or enemy?
How long did I treat you with loyalty
And in return endure your than Me hate?
Is this the friendship that you advocate?’
If Cod says this, what answer can I give
To contradict the damning narrative?
Young man, if you could understand my fears
You’d know the reason for an old man’s tears.”
Learn from these faithful words, and if your heart
Holds faith like this, prepare now to depart;
But if your heart is faithless, give up now,
Forget our struggle and renounce your vow;
The faithless have no place on any page
Within the volume of our pilgrimage.
The faithless Moslem and the faithful infidel
A Moslem fought an infidel one day
And as they fought requested time to pray.
He prayed and fought again – the infidel
Then asked for time to say his prayers as well;
He went aside to find a cleaner place
And there before his idol bowed his face.
The Moslem, when he saw him kneel and bow,
Said: “Victory is mine if I strike now.”
But as he raised his sword for that last stroke,
A warning voice from highest heaven spoke:
“O vicious wretch – from head to foot deceit –
What promises are these, you faithless cheat?
His blade was sheathed when you asked him for time;
For you to strike him now would be a crime –
Have you not read in Our Koran the verse
‘Fulfil your promises’? And will you curse
The word you gave? The infidel was true;
He kept his promises, and so should you.
You offer evil in return for good –
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With others act as to yourself you would!
The infidel kept faith with you, and where
Is your fidelity, for all your prayer?
You are a Moslem, but false piety
Is less than this poor pagan’s loyalty.”
The Moslem heard this speech and went apart;
Sweat poured from him, remorse accused his heart.
The pagan saw him as if spell-bound stand,
Tears in his eyes, his sword still in his hand,
And asked: “Why do you weep?” The man replied:
“My shame is not a matter I can hide” –
He told him of the voice that he had heard
Reproaching him when he would break his word,
And ending said: “My tears anticipate
The fury of your vengeance and your hate.”
But when the infidel had heard this tale,
His eyes were filled with tears, his face turned pale –
“God censures you for your disloyalty
And guards the life of His sworn enemy –
Can I continue to be faithless now?
I’ll burn my gods, to Allah I will bow,
Expound His law! Too long my heart has lain
In darkness bound by superstition’s chain.”
What infidelity you give for love!
But I shall wait until the heavens above
Confront you with the actions you have done
And number them before you, one by one.
Joseph and his brothers
Ten starving brothers left their home to stand
In Joseph’s presence, in a foreign land,
And begged for some benevolent relief
To ease the torments of their wretched grief.
Now Joseph’s face was veiled; he took a bowl
And struck it hard – a sound as if a soul
Cried out in misery was heard. He said:
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“Do you know what this means?” Each shook his head.
“Lord, no one in the world, search far and wide,
Could give this noise a meaning,” they replied.
Then Joseph said: “It speaks to you; it says
You had a brother once, in former days,
More precious than this bowl – he bore the name
Of Joseph; and it says that, to your shame,
His goodness overshadowed all of you.”
Once more he struck the bowl. “It says you threw
This Joseph in a well, then stained his cloak
With wolf’s blood; and it says the smeared rags broke
Poor Jacob’s heart.” He touched the bowl again:
“It says you brought your father needless pain
And sold the lovely Joseph. Is this true?
May God bestow remorse to chasten you!”
These brothers who had come to beg for bread
Stood speechless, faint with apprehensive dread:
When they gave Joseph for the merchant’s gold,
It was themselves, and all the world, they sold –
And when they threw their brother in that well,
They threw themselves in the abyss of hell.
Whoever hears these words and cannot find
How they apply to him is truly blind.
There is no need to scrutinize my tale,
It is your own; when thoughtlessly you fail
To render loyalty its proper due,
How can the light of friendship shine for you?
But, till you’re woken, sleep – too soon you’ll see
Your shameful crimes, your infidelity,
And when you stand a prisoner in that place
They’ll count them one by one before your face;
There, when the bowl is struck, you too will find
That fear dissolves your reason and your mind.
You’re like a lame ant struggling for its soul,
Aimlessly sliding, caught inside this bowl –
Blood fills it, but a voice beyond its rim
Still calls to you – rise now, and fly to Him.’
lines 2743–58
A bird questions the hoopoe about audacity
Another bird said: ‘Is audacity
Allowable before such majesty?
One needs audacity to conquer fear –
But is it right in His exalted sphere?’
The hoopoe answers him
The hoopoe said: ‘Those who are worthy reach
A subtle understanding none can teach;
They guard the secrets of our glorious king
And therefore are not kept from anything –
But how could one who knows such secrets be
Convicted of the least audacity?
Since he is filled with reverence to the brim,
A breath of boldness is permitted him.
(The ignorant, it’s true, can never share
The secrets of our king. If one should dare
To ape the ways of the initiate,
What does he do but blindly imitate?
He’s like some soldier who kicks up a din
And spoils the ranks with his indiscipline.)
But think of some new pilgrim, some young boy,
Whose boldness comes from mere excess of joy;
He has no certain knowledge of the Way
And what seems rudeness is but loving play –
He’s like a madman – love’s audacity
Will have him walking on the restless sea.
Such ways are laudable; we should admire
This love that turns him to a blazing fire;
One can’t expect discretion from a flame,
And madmen are beyond reproach or blame
When madness chooses you to be its prey
We’ll hear what crazy things you have to say.
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The dervish who envied a king’s slaves
Once Khorasan enjoyed great affluence
Beneath a prince of proved benevolence –
His slaves were lovely as the moon at dusk,
Straight-limbed and silver, scented with soft musk,
And in their ears shone pearls whose milky light
Reflected daytime in the darkest night.
Gold ornaments half hid and half revealed
Their silver limbs; each held a golden shield.
Bright gems adorned their belts; a white horse bore
Each slave as if he were a conqueror.
Whoever saw this shining army gave
His heart to them, the slaves’ contented slave.
A barefoot, hungry dervish once, by chance,
Caught sight of this unique magnificence,
And wondering asked: “What houris might these be?”
The crowd exclaimed: “The splendid troop you see
Are slaves belonging to our noble lord.”
The dervish writhed as if in pain, then roared:
“Great God, look down from your exalted sphere –
Learn how to treat your slaves from this man here!”
If you are mad like him, if you possess
Such leaves of Truth, forget all bashfulness,
Be bold! But if these leaves are not your style,
Control yourself, and wipe away your smile.
Boldness like this does not deserve our blame;
Such men are moths, ambitious for the flame –
They only see their goal and cannot say
What’s good or bad along the pilgrims’ Way.
A madman seeks shelter
A naked madman, gnawed by hunger, went
Along the road – his shivering frame was bent
Beneath the icy sleet; no house stood there
To offer shelter from the wintry air.
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He saw a ruined hut and with a dash
Stood underneath its roof; a sudden crash
Rang out – a tile had fallen on his head,
And how the gaping gash it cut there bled!
He looked up at the sky and yelled: “Enough!
Why can’t you clobber me with better stuff?”
The poor man, the rich man and the ass
A poor man living in a drainage-ditch
Once borrowed from his neighbour (who was rich)
A valued ass, and rode it to the mill.
He slept there, and the ass made off at will –
A wolf devoured the beast; with indignation
The owner made a claim for compensation.
The poor man and his neighbour went to court,
Submitting an exhaustive, full report –
“Now who should pay?” they asked. The judge replied:
“Whoever* lets this wolf hunt far and wide,
Whoever put him here to roam about,
Should compensate you both without a doubt –
O God, who is the debtor, who can say?
It’s certain that no mortal ought to pay.”
As Egypt’s noble maidens swooned to see
Dear Joseph’s radiant face, so ecstasy
Is mirrored in the sufi’s maddened heart –
Then he has lost himself and moves apart
From all that we perceive – the world grows dim
As all the world resolves to follow him.
A famine in Egypt
In Egypt once a baleful famine spread –
The people perished as they begged for bread.
Death filled the roads; the living gnawed the dead.
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A crazy dervish saw their wretched plight
And cried: “O God, look down from Your great height –
If there’s no food for them, make fewer men!”
A man who speaks like this asks pardon when
He comes back to himself – if he’s to blame
He knows the ways to
cancel all his shame.
A dervish deceived by a hailstorm
A dervish suffered bruises and sore bones
From children who continually threw stones.
He found a ruined hut and in he stole,
Not noticing its roof contained a hole.
A hailstorm started – through the leaky shed
The hail came bouncing on the old man’s head.
The hail was stones for all that he could tell –
He lost his temper and began to yell.
Convinced that they were throwing stones once more,
He screamed out filthy names, fumed, stamped and swore –
Then thought: “This dark’s so thick it’s possible
It’s not the children this time after all.”
A door blew open and revealed the hail;
He saw his error and began to wail:
“The darkness tricked me, God – and on my head
Be all the foolish, filthy names I said.”
If crazy dervishes behave like this
It’s not for you to take their words amiss;
If they seem drunk to you, control your scorn –
Their lives are painful, savage and forlorn;
They must endure a lifetime’s hopelessness
And every moment brings some new distress –
Don’t meddle with their conduct; don’t reprove
Those given up to madness and to love.
You would excuse them – nothing is more sure –
If you could share the darkness they endure.
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AlVasati passes the Jewish cemetery
AlVasati, cast down by grief one day,
Proceeded on his troubled, weary way
Until he saw the Jewish cemetery
And said: “These souls are pardoned and go free;
But this is not a truth that can be taught. “
His words were heard and he was haled to court,
Where angry judges asked him what he meant –
AlVasati replied: “Your government
Accuses them; their pardon’s heaven-sent”.’
A bird claims that he lives only for the Simorgh
Another bird spoke up: ‘I live for love,
For Him and for the glorious world above –
For Him I’ve cut myself from everything;
My life’s one song of love to our great king.
I’ve seen the world’s inhabitants, and know
I could not worship any here below;
My ardent love’s for Him alone; how few
Can manage to adore Him as I do!