The arrangement of material in Book One, as in the Masnavi as a whole, does not suggest the use of a plan or a single principle of order. Rather, juxtaposed material is associated by virtue of a common theme, a key word, or an association between the characters of narratives. Moreover, these associations tend to be between the very final part of one section and the very beginning of the next one, reinforcing the traditional view that Rumi produced the Masnavi extemporaneously. This could also account for Rumi’s propensity to explain and illustrate specific details of a passage, even at the cost of breaking off in the course of a narrative, to resume it only after the explanations (and any other material that they may have generated) have been completed. This tendency has made parts of the Masnavi multi-layered (as indicated by means of indentation in the Contents of this translation).
The frequency of breaks in the flow of narratives in the Masnavi reveals that, although Rumi has earned a reputation as an excellent storyteller, none the less his primary concern was to convey his teachings as effectively as possible to his Sufi disciples. The Masnavi leaves the impression that he was brimming with ideas and symbolic images which would overflow when prompted by the subtlest of associations. In this way, free from the constraints of a frame narrative or a strict principle of order, Rumi has been able to produce a work that is far richer in content than any other example of the mystical masnavi genre. That this has been achieved often at the expense of preserving continuity in the narratives seems to corroborate Rumi’s opinion on the relative importance of the content of his poetry over its form, as reported in his discourses.17 If it were not for the fact that his digressive ‘overflowings’ are expressed in simple language and with imagery that was immediately accessible to his contemporary readers, they would have constituted an undesirable impediment to understanding the poem. Where this leads Rumi to interweave narratives and to alternate between different speakers and his own commentaries, the text can still be difficult to follow, and, for most contemporary readers, the relevance of citations and allusions to the Koran and the traditions of the Prophet will not be immediately obvious without reference to the explanatory notes that have been provided in this edition. None the less, it should be evident, not least from the lengthy sequences of analogies that Rumi often provides to reinforce a single point, that he has striven to communicate his message as effectively as possible rather than to write obscurely and force the reader to struggle to understand him.
By far the best-known passage in the entire Masnavi is the prologue of Book One, where one finds what is often called ‘The Song of the Reed’. Dick Davis has pointed out that the form this prologue takes is highly innovative; in preference to following the established convention of beginning mystical masnavi poems with an invocation of the Transcendent and Omnipotent Creator and His Prophet, Rumi chooses to focus on the humble reed-flute, and addresses the reader in the second person, with ‘Listen!’ (v. 1).18 These initial eighteen verses have been thought by many to contain the essential message of the entire work.19 There is some validity to this point, since the Masnavi is a poem that repeats in a kaleidoscope of different ways and with ever-increasing nuances the same message about the human condition and the means of recognizing this reality and achieving fulfilment through Sufi mysticism.
The reed that mourns having been cut from the reed-bed may be understood as a symbol representing the mystic who feels inwardly a strong sense of separation from his origin with God, and yearns to return to that state. Love is the force that intensifies this yearning in the mystic (v. 10), increasing his perception of reality, from which he has become veiled through his attachment to the world of phenomenal existence. Rumi further illustrates the power of this divine love as an all-consuming force, with reference to the crushing of Mount Sinai before Moses’s eyes, making him fall in a swoon (v. 26). Through divine love, the lover is effaced and only God, the beloved, lives on (v. 30). Rumi often describes Man’s relationship with God by using the scholastic language of Islamic theology and philosophy. God is described as Absolute Being, while humans are non-beings who merely imagine that they have their own independent existence. They are urged to recognize their non-existence and to strive to become effaced in God, in order to truly exist through Him.
Another well-known story in the Masnavi is the brief and simple tale in Book One about the lover who knocks on the door of his beloved’s house (vv. 3069–76). When she asks ‘Who’s there?’ he answers, ‘It is I!’ and is consequently turned away. Only after being ‘cooked by separation’s flame’ (v. 3071) does he learn from his mistake and perceive the reality of the situation. He returns to knock on her door, and this time, on being asked, ‘Who’s there?’ he answers, ‘It is you’, and is admitted to where two I’s cannot be accommodated. This story is found among a cluster of passages which illustrate effacement in God. In the preceding story, a fox learns not to think about himself but only for his king, the lion, when dividing up what they had caught while hunting, while in the subsequent story Joseph’s visitor can think of nothing better to present to him as a gift than a mirror in which he can admire his own beauty. The mirror is in fact one of Rumi’s favourite images for the soul; it is tarnished by the rust of attachment to phenomenal existence, which must be scraped away by the breaking of those attachments, through discipline under the guidance of a Sufi master. Only once it has become completely clear can it become receptive to the light of God and contain nothing but His reflection.
The very first story of the Masnavi appropriately expands on the message of the prologue that immediately precedes it, by its differentiation of contrasting kinds of love. In order to cure his sick slave-girl, the prayers of a devout king are answered with the arrival of a divine healer. On discovering that she is lovesick, the healer reunites her with her sweetheart, but after they are married he poisons her husband so that she can slowly observe him rotting away in front of her and losing his former good looks. In this way, all the love she once had for him leaves her heart. The powerful force of divine love thus takes effect through the holy healer who cures the slave-girl by murdering her lover with poison. Rumi makes it clear through this harsh lesson that the love discussed in the prologue as an annihilating force is divine love, by contrasting it with the fickle love of a pair of superficial lovers.
Just as Rumi recognized that his frequent high praise of love could be misinterpreted, he saw the same risk in his expression of the experience of witnessing God in all of creation. While this is possible for an experienced mystic like himself, the novice is more in danger of loving creation for its own sake and thereby becoming increasingly veiled from reality through such attachments (see e.g. vv. 2813–16). God is made manifest most clearly to them through mediating figures such as prophets and Sufi masters, or saints, who fulfil the same specific role of leading human beings back to Him.
The overriding importance of the Sufi master for Rumi’s understanding of Sufism is evident in the fact that he is represented by a character in at least nine of the dozen or so major narratives in Book One, while his role and characteristics are frequently discussed in homilies and commentaries on citations. This figure is perhaps represented most clearly by the divine healer in the first story. In other stories, he is represented by religious and political leaders, such as prophets, saints, and caliphs, as well as by animals. Among the many homilies about this figure there is a lengthy one urging the reader to choose a Sufi master as guide and follow him wholeheartedly and unconditionally (vv. 2947–93), as well as many further passages explaining specific characteristics of such a master. The fact that Rumi also includes a section on impostors who claim to be Sufi masters (vv. 2275–98) only underlines further the importance for him of the genuine mediator figure, a fact which comes as no surprise in view of his own transformation to a Sufi mystic through his devotion to Shams-e Tabriz.
Rumi made painstaking efforts to convey his teachings as clearly and effectively as possible, using simple language, the masnavi verse form, entertaining
stories, and the most vivid and accessible imagery possible. The aim of the present translation is to render Rumi’s Masnavi into a relatively simple and attractive form which, with the benefit of metre and rhyme, may enable as many readers as possible to read the whole book with pleasure and to find it rewarding.
1 Translations of representative samples of the key texts of early Sufism are available in M. Sells, Early Islamic Mysticism (Mahwah, 1996).
2 Concerning the contrast between the Mevlevi sama and other forms of Sufi sama, see J. During, ‘What is Sufi Music?’ in L. Lewisohn, ed., The Legacy of Medieval Persian Sufism (London and New York, 1992), 277–87.
3 See further C. W. Ernst, The Shambhala Guide to Sufism (Boston, 1997), 191–4.
4 See further C. W. Ernst, tr., Teachings of Sufism (Boston, 1999), 82–94 and A. Ghazali, Sawanih: Inspirations from the World of Pure Spirits, tr. N. Pourjavady (London, 1986).
5 The chapter of Mohammad Ghazali’s autobiography which describes his experience on the Sufi path is available in translation in N. Calder, J. Mojaddedi, and A. Rippin, eds. and trs., Classical Islam: A Sourcebook of Religious Literature (London, 2003), 228–32.
6 On the relationship between the theosophy of Ebn ‘Arabi and the poetry of Rumi, see W. C. Chittick, ‘Rumi and wahdat al-wujud’, in A. Banani, R. Hovannisian, and G. Sabagh, eds., Poetry and mysticism in Islam: The Heritage of Rumi (Cambridge, 1994), 70–111.
7 See further T. Emil Homerin, From Arab Poet to Muslim Saint: Ibn al-Farid, his Verse, and his Shrine (Columbia, SC, 1994).
8 Concerning the precise location of Rumi’s birth, see F. D. Lewis, Rumi, Past and Present, East and West: The Life, Teachings and Poetry of Jalal al-Din Rumi (Oxford, 2000), 47–8.
9 For translations of all the main descriptions of this meeting, see Lewis, Rumi, 154–61.
10 See ibid. 185–93.
11 See further ibid. 329–30.
12 One of Rumi’s sermons is provided in translation in Lewis, Rumi, 130–3.
13 Rumi, Signs of the Unseen: The Discourses of Jalaluddin Rumi, tr. W. Thackston, Jr. (Boston, 1999), 205.
14 Ibid. 99–101.
15 See e.g. F. Attar, The Conference of the Birds, ed. and tr. A. Darbandi and D. Davis (Harmondsworth, 1983).
16 Since most of the literary sources drawn upon for Book One are unavailable in English, references have been provided only to the Koran and to those hadith that have been translated in Nicholson’s commentary. A useful list of the sources for the main stories of Book One is provided in Lewis, Rumi, 288–91.
17 In a famous passage among Rumi’s discourses, he is reported to have compared writing poetry with serving to a guest something which one finds unpleasant like tripe, because that is what the guest wants (Rumi, Signs of the Unseen, 77–8). The main theme of the sixteenth discourse (pp. 74–80), in which this passage is found, is the relationship between form and content, and it includes Rumi’s response to the charge that he is ‘all talk and no action’ (p. 78). The statement should therefore be understood in its proper context, rather than as evidence that Rumi disliked the art of writing poetry.
18 See D. Davis, ‘Narrative and Doctrine in the First Story of Rumi’s Mathnawi’, in G. R. Hawting, J. A. Mojaddedi, and A. Samely, Studies in Islamic and Middle Eastern Texts and Traditions in Memory of Norman Calder (Oxford, 2000), 93–6.
19 See e.g. E. Turkmen, The Essence of the Masnevi (Konya, 1992).
NOTE ON THE TRANSLATION
Rumi put his teachings into the masnavi verse form in order that, with the benefit of metre and rhyme, his disciples might enjoy reading them. I have therefore decided to translate Rumi’s Masnavi into verse, in accordance with the aim of the original work. I have chosen to use rhyming iambic pentameters, since this is the closest corresponding form of English verse to the Persian masnavi form of rhyming couplets. These are numbered and referred to as verses in the Explanatory Notes and Introduction.
Book One of the Masnavi consists of some 4,000 couplets, the continuity of which is broken up only by section headings. For the sake of clarity, in this translation further breaks have been added to those created by the section headings. In order for the Contents to fulfil its function effectively, alternative headings have been employed there, albeit at corresponding points to the major section headings in the text, which were designed principally as markers for reciters and therefore refer in many instances to merely the first few subsequent verses rather than representing the section as a whole.
Although the Masnavi is a Persian poem, it contains a substantial amount of Arabic text. This invariably takes the form of citations from Arabic sources and common religious formulas. It also includes the entire prose introduction. Italics have been used to indicate Arabic text, except in the section headings, which are fully italicized. Many Arabic terms and religious formulas have become part of the Persian language, and have therefore not been highlighted in this way. Capitalization has been used when reference is made to God. This includes, in addition to the pronouns and titles commonly used in English, the ninety-nine names of God of the Islamic tradition, as well as certain philosophical terms.
Most of the sources of the Masnavi are not widely available in English, if at all, and so references have been provided in the notes only for citations of the Koran. Verse numbering varies in the most widely available translations of the Koran, some of which do not in fact number individual verses, but since this variation is very slight (maximum of a few verses) the reader should still be able to find the relevant passages without difficulty. The notes also identify those passages in the translation which represent the sayings and deeds of the Prophet Mohammad (hadith) without this being made self-evident in the text (e.g. by ‘the Prophet said’). It should be pointed out that citations in the original Masnavi are very often variants of the original sources, including the Koran, rather than exact renderings, due to the constraints of the metre that is used. The same applies in this verse translation.
This translation corresponds exactly to the text of the first volume of the edition prepared by Mohammad Estelami (6 volumes and index, Tehran, 2nd edn., 1990). This is by far the best critical edition that has been prepared, since it offers a complete apparatus criticus, indicating the variant readings in all the early manuscripts more comprehensively and transparently than any other edition. Although R. A. Nicholson’s edition of the text is more widely available, because it is published in Europe, its shortcomings for today are widely recognized and outweigh the advantage of having his exactly corresponding prose translation and commentary to refer to.
As far as possible, the English equivalents of technical terms have been provided, in preference to giving the original in transliteration and relying on explanatory notes. Where it is provided, the transliteration of names and terms has been simplified to such a degree that no diacritics are used. It is designed simply to help the reader use Persian pronunciation, especially where this would affect the metre and rhyme.
SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY
General Background
J. T. P. De Bruijn, Persian Sufi Poetry: An Introduction to the Mystical Use of Classical Poems (Richmond, 1997).
C. W. Ernst, The Shambhala Guide to Sufism (Boston, 1997).
C. W. Ernst, tr., Teachings of Sufism (Boston, 1999).
L. Lewisohn, ed., Classical Persian Sufism: From its Origins to Rumi (London and New York, 1993).
J. Nurbakhsh, The Path: Sufi Practices (London and New York, 2002).
A. Rippin, Muslims: Their Religious Beliefs and Practices, 2nd edn. (London and New York, 2001).
M. Sells, ed. and tr., Early Islamic Mysticism (Mahwah, 1996).
Reference
Encyclopaedia Iranica, ed. E. Yarshater (New York, 1985–; in progress; also available online at www.iranica.com).
Encyclopaedia of Islam, ed. H. A. R. Gibb et al. (Leiden, 1960–2003).
J. Nurbakhsh, Sufi Symbolism, 16 vols. (London and New York, 1980–2003).
On Rumi
W. C.
Chittick, ed., The Sufi Path of Love: The Spiritual Teachings of Rumi (Albany, NY, 1983).
F. Keshavarz, Reading Mystical Lyric: The Case of Jalal al-Din Rumi (Columbia, SC, 1998).
F. D. Lewis, Rumi, Past and Present, East and West: The Life, Teachings and Poetry of Jalal al-Din Rumi (Oxford, 2000).
Rumi, Mystical Poems of Rumi, 1 and 2, tr. A. J. Arberry (New York, 1979).
Rumi, Signs of the Unseen, tr. W. M. Thackston (Boston, 1994).
A. Schimmel, The Triumphal Sun (London, 1978).
Editions of the Masnavi
Masnavi, ed. M. Estelami, 7 vols., 2nd edn. (Tehran, 1990). The seventh volume is a volume of indices. Each of the six volumes of text contains the editor’s commentary in the form of endnotes.
The Mathnawi of Jalalu’ddin Rumi, ed. and tr. R. A. Nicholson, E. J. W. Gibb Memorial, NS, 8 vols. (London, 1925–40). This set consists of the Persian text (vols. 1–3), a full translation in prose (vols. 4–6) and commentary (vols. 7–8).
Masnavi, ed. T. Sobhani (Tehran, 1994).
Masnavi-ye ma‘navi, ed. A.-K. Sorush, 2 vols. (Tehran, 1996).
Interpretation of the Masnavi
W. C. Chittick, ‘Rumi and wahdat al-wujud’, in A. Banani, R. Hovannisian, and G. Sabagh, eds., Poetry and Mysticism in Islam: The Heritage of Rumi (Cambridge, 1994), 70–111.
H. Dabashi, ‘Rumi and the Problems of Theodicy: Moral Imagination and Narrative Discourse in a Story of the Masnavi’’, in A. Banani, R. Hovannisian, and G. Sabagh, eds., Poetry and Mysticism in Islam: The Heritage of Rumi (Cambridge, 1994), 112–35.
The Masnavi, Book One: Bk. 1 (Oxford World's Classics) Page 3