The Conference of the Birds (Penguin)

by Farid al-Din Attar

  What is His equal? Say that nothing is,

  Then happiness is yours, and you are His.

  A dervish in ecstasy

  A frenzied dervish, mad with love for God,

  Sought out bare hills where none had ever trod.

  Wild leopards kept this madman company –

  His heart was plunged in restless ecstasy;

  He lived within this state for twenty days,

  Dancing and singing in exultant praise:

  “There’s no division; we two are alone

  The world is happiness and grief has flown.”

  Die to yourself – no longer stay apart,

  But give to Him who asks for it your heart;

  The man whose happiness derives from Him

  Escapes existence, and the world grows dim;

  Rejoice for ever in the Friend, rejoice

  Till you are nothing, but a praising voice.

  “For seventy years my happy heart has led

  A life of constant bliss,” a sufi said.

  “My God has been so good to me that I

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  Am bound to Him until the day I die.”

  You seek for faults to censure and suppress

  And have no time for inward happiness –

  How can you know God’s secret majesty

  If you look out for sin incessantly?

  To share His hidden glory you must learn

  That others’ errors are not your concern –

  When someone else’s failings are denned

  What hairs you split – but to your own you’re blind!

  Grace comes to those, no matter how they’ve strayed,

  Who know their own sin’s strength, and are afraid.

  A drunkard accuses a drunkard

  A sot became extremely drunk – his legs

  And head sank listless, weighed by wine’s thick dregs.

  A sober neighbour put him in a sack

  And took him homewards hoisted on his back.

  Another drunk went stumbling by the first,

  Who woke and stuck his head outside and cursed.

  “Hey, you, you lousy dipsomaniac,”

  He yelled as he was borne off in the sack,

  “If you’d had fewer drinks, just two or three,

  You would be walking now as well as me.”

  He saw the other’s state but not his own,

  And in this blindness he is not alone;

  You cannot love, and this is why you seek

  To find men vicious, or depraved, or weak –

  If you could search for love and persevere

  The sins of other men would disappear.

  The lover who saw a blemish in his beloved’s eye

  A lion-hearted hero met defeat –

  Five years he loved, and slavery was sweet.

  The girl for whom he was content to sigh

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  Had one small blemish lurking in her eye,

  And though, as often as she would permit,

  He gazed at her he never noticed it.

  (How could a man possessed by frenzy see

  This unimportant, faint deformity?)

  Then imperceptibly love ceased to reign;

  A balm was found to ease his aching pain –

  The girl and all her blandishments

  Became a matter of indifference;

  And now the blemish in her eye was clear –

  He asked her: “When did that white speck appear?”

  She answered: “As your love began to die,

  This speck was brought to being in my eye. “

  How long will others’ faults distract your mind?

  Your own accuse you, but your heart is blind.

  Your sins are heavy, and while they are there,

  Another’s guilt is none of your affair.

  The drunk and the constable

  Aman whose job it was to keep the peace

  Beat up a drunk, who fought for his release

  And cried: “It’s you who’s tippled too much wine;

  Your rowdiness is ten times worse than mine –

  Who’s causing this disturbance, you or me?

  But yours is drunkenness that men can’t see;

  Leave me alone! Let justice do its worst –

  Enforce the law and beat yourself up first!”

  A bird wonders what gift he should ask for from the Simorgh

  Another bird said: ‘Leader of my soul,

  What shall I ask for if I reach our goal?

  His light will fill the world, but I’m not sure

  What special gift I should be looking for –

  I’ll ask Him for whatever you suggest.’

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  The hoopoe answers him

  The hoopoe said: ‘Poor fool, make one request;

  Seek only Him – of all things He is best;

  If you’re aware of Him, in all the earth

  What could you wish for of a greater worth?

  Whoever joins Him in that secret place

  Is step by step admitted to His grace –

  No bribe can turn aside the penitent

  Who knows the fragrance of His threshold’s scent.

  The death of Bou Ali Roudbar

  When Bou Ali Roudbar drew near to death,

  He said: “Impatience hastens my last breath.

  I see the gates of heaven part and rise;

  A throne of glory shines before my eyes –

  Angelic voices fill the glistening dome;

  Like nightingales they call my ardour home.

  ‘Rejoice!’ they sing, ‘no man has ever known

  This radiant splendour which is yours alone.’

  Though I believe in this refulgent state,

  It’s not for this my soul and spirit wait;

  They murmur to me: ‘What is this to you?

  Was it for this you bid the world adieu?’

  I cannot share the cravings of that tribe

  Who sneak and bow and snatch each petty bribe –

  Infuse my soul with Your sustaining love,

  And I know neither hell nor heaven above;

  I know but You; no faith or blasphemy

  Could make me swerve from my fidelity;

  I love but You; to You I must resign

  My thirsting soul and take Your soul for mine –

  Both worlds for me are You; You are my creed;

  I recognize no other hope or need –

  A hair’s breadth lies between us now – remove

  This last impediment to perfect love,

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  And if my wayward soul attempts to stir

  Our mingled whispers will admonish her.”

  God said to David: “Tell my servants prayer

  Should be creation’s all-consuming care;

  Though hell were not his fear nor heaven his goal,

  The Lord should wholly occupy man’s soul.

  But if the sun did not light up the day,

  They would not think of Me, nor ever pray –

  Their prayers know nothing of love’s selfless pain;

  Not love inspires them but mere lust for gain.

  True prayer seeks God alone; its motives start

  Deep in the centre of a contrite heart.

  Tell them to turn from all that is not Me;

  To worship none but God continuously;

  To heap together all the world can show;

  To break it piece by piece and blow by blow;

  To bum these fragments in one vivid flash,

  And scatter on the winds the swirling ash –

  When they have done this they will understand

  The ash they grasped for with each greedy hand.”

  If it is paradise for which you pray

  You can be sure that you have lost your way.

  A story of Mahmoud and Ayaz

  Shah Mahmoud called Ayaz to him and gave

  His cro
wn and throne to this bewitching slave,

  Then said: “You are the sovereign of these lands;

  I place my mighty army in your hands –

  I wish for you unrivalled majesty,

  That you enslave the very sky and sea.”

  But when the soldiers heard of this, their eyes

  Grew black with envy they could not disguise.

  “What emperor in all the World,” they said,

  “Has heaped such honours on a servile head?”

  Though even as they murmured Ayaz wept

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  That what the king decreed he must accept;

  The courtiers said to him: “You are insane

  To change from slave to king and then complain!”

  But Ayaz answered them: “O, rather say

  My king desires me to be far away,

  To lead the army and be occupied

  In almost any place but by his side.

  What he commands I’ll do, but in my heart

  We shall not for one instant – live apart;

  And what have I to do with majesty?

  To see my king is realm enough for me.”

  If you would be a pilgrim of the Truth,

  Learn how to worship from this lovely youth.

  Day follows night – you argue and protest

  And cannot pass the first stage of our quest;

  Each night you chatter as the hours pass by

  And send Orion down the dawning sky,

  And still you linger – though another day

  Has broken, you’re no further on your way.

  From highest heaven they came to welcome you,

  And you made lame excuses and withdrew!

  Alas! You’re not the man for this; your thoughts

  See hell’s despair and heaven’s wondrous courts –

  Forget these two, and glory’s radiant light

  Will stage by stage emerge from darkest night;

  The pilgrim does not long for paradise –

  Keep back your heart; He only will suffice.

  Rabe’eh’s prayer

  This was the common hymn of Rabe’eh:

  “O God, who knows all secrets,” she would pray,

  “May fortune favour all my enemies,

  And may my friends taste heaven’s ecstasies;

  It is not this world or the next I crave

  But, for one moment, to be called Your slave –

  With passion I embrace this poverty;

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  Such endless blessings flow from You to me

  If I desire this world or shrink from hell,

  I am no better than an infidel.”

  A man has everything who knows his Lord –

  The world and all its seven seas afford.

  All that the universe has ever shown

  Can find its match but God, who is alone;

  And only He, wherever you may seek,

  Is absolute, abiding, and unique.

  God counselled David: “There is nothing here

  Of good or bad, unseen or far or near,

  Which does not have some cunning complement;

  For only I have no equivalent.

  I am alone; make me your single goal –

  My presence is sufficient for your soul;

  I am your God, your one necessity –

  With every breath you breathe remember Me;

  Make God your one desire, for only I

  Shall live eternally and never die.”

  And you – obsessed with what the world contains,

  Subjected day and night to envy’s pains –

  Turn now and put our journey to the test;

  In this world and the next make Him your quest;

  To choose what is not God is to prefer

  To be some worthless idol’s worshipper,

  And if this idol is your soul, your creed

  Is nothing more than irreligious greed.

  Shah Mahmoud at Somnat

  When Mahmoud’s army had attacked Somnat

  They found an idol there that men called “Lat”.*

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  Its worshippers flung treasure on the ground

  And as a ransom gave the glittering mound;

  But Mahmoud would not cede to their desire

  And burnt the idol in a raging fire.

  A courtier said: “Now if it had been sold

  We’d have what’s better than an idol – gold!”

  Shah Mahmoud said: “I feared God’s Judgement Day;

  I was afraid that I should hear Him say

  ‘Here two – Azar and Mahmoud – stand, behold!

  One carved his idols, one had idols sold!’”

  And as the idol burned, bright jewels fell out –

  So Mahmoud was enriched but stayed devout;

  He said: “This idol Lat has her reward,

  And here is mine, provided by the Lord.”

  Destroy the idols in your heart, or you

  Will one day be a broken idol too –

  First burn the Self, and as its fate is sealed

  The gems this idol hides will be revealed.

  Your soul has heard the Lord’s commanding call;

  Accept, and at His threshold humbly fall.

  Your soul and God have formed a covenant;

  Do not turn back from that first firm assent –

  Will you object to what you once averred,

  Swear true allegiance and then break your word?

  Your soul needs only Him – through good and ill

  Keep faith, and what you promised Him fulfil.

  Another story of Shah Mahmoud in India

  Mahmoud began his Indian campaign

  And saw before him, drawn up on the plain,

  The massive army of his enemy –

  In fear he prayed to God for victory

  And said: “If I should win this doubtful day,

  The dervishes will bear the spoils away.”

  They fought, and Mahmoud’s conquest was complete –

  His captives piled their treasures at his feet.

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  The king declared: “1 will fulfil my vow;

  The dervishes shall have this booty now,”

  But all his courtiers cried: “Can gold and jewels

  Be given to that crowd of cringing fools?

  Reward the soldiers who have won this war,

  Or have it piled up in the royal store.”

  What should he do? Shah Mahmoud was unsure.

  Just then his eye caught sight of BoulHossein,

  A pious fool whom many thought insane;

  He said: “Whatever that man says, I’ll do –

  No kings or armies influence his view.”

  They called the madman over to the king,

  Who welcomed him and told him everything.

  The madman said: “O king, these anxious pains

  Are not worth more than two small barley grains –

  If all your dealings with the Lord cease here,

  forget the vow you made and never fear;

  But if you think you might need Him again

  Then keep your promise to the final grain.

  God gave the victory to you; now where

  In this agreement is your lordship’s share?”

  So Mabmoud gave the gold where it was owed,

  And took his way along the royal road.’

  A bird asks what gifts he should take the Simorgh

  Another bird said: ‘You have seen our king –

  What gifts would it be right for me to bring?

  I’ll gladly get whatever you advise;

  What would be welcome to our sovereign’s eyes?

  A king deserves a quite distinctive gift;

  Only a miser would be ruled by thrift!’

  The hoopoe answers him

  ‘Be ruled by me,’ the hoopoe said. ‘Take care

  To offer something which is lack
ing there –

  Where is the point in dragging all that way

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  A costly present common there as day?

  There mystery resides and confidence,

  Pure knowledge and the soul’s obedience –

  But take the torment of a heart alone,

  The soul’s distress, for these are there unknown,

  And let the anguish you endure arise

  Borne upward to the king in bitter sighs;

  If one sigh rises from the inmost soul,

  That man is saved, and has attained our goal.

  Zuleikha has Joseph whipped

  Zuleikha used her great authority

  To have poor Joseph kept in custody –

  She gave her callous orders to the guard:

  “Give that man fifty lashes, good and hard!

  Deal with this Joseph’s body so that I

  From far away can hear him groan and sigh.”

  But when the guard saw Joseph’s face he felt

  The cold indifference of his calling melt.

  There was a leather coat left on the ground,

  And with his whip he made this skin resound –

  As every blow descended on the coat,

  A scream of pain went up from Joseph’s throat.

  But when Zuleikha heard his voice she cried:

  “You are too soft; whip harder, break his pride!”

  The guard said: “What, dear Joseph, can I do?

  Zuleikha only has to look at you

  And see no weals or bruises on your back,

  And I’ll be torn to pieces on the rack –

  So bare your shoulders to the lash; some sign

  Must mar your skin if I’m to rescue mine.”

  When Joseph stripped in readiness, a sound

  Of mourning spread from heaven to the ground;

  The guard’s right arm was raised, and its descent

  Produced a cry that split the firmament –

  Zuleikha said: “Now Joseph cannot bluff;

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  This sigh is from his inmost soul – enough!

  This sigh was real and from his essence came –

  His former groans were nothing but a game.”

  The mourners at a funeral

  A hundred mourners at a funeral grieved;

  One truly sighed – the man who was bereaved.

  They were a ring, but only one of them

  Was set within that circle as a gem –

  Till you have truly mourned beside the grave,