The Masnavi, Book One: Bk. 1 (Oxford World's Classics)
Page 4
R. Davis, ‘Narrative and Doctrine in the First Story of Rumi’s Mathnawi’, in G. R. Hawting, J. A. Mojaddedi, and A. Samely, eds., Studies in Islamic and Middle Eastern Texts and Traditions in Memory of Norman Calder (Oxford, 2000), 93–104.
M. Mills, ‘Folk Tradition in the Masnavi and the Masnavi in Folk Tradition’, in A. Banani, R. Hovannisian, and G. Sabagh, eds., Poetry and Mysticism in Islam: The Heritage of Rumi (Cambridge, 1994), 136–77.
P. Morewedge, ‘A Philosophical Interpretation of Rumi’s Mystical Poetry: Light, the Mediator and the Way’, in P. J. Chelkowski, ed., The Scholar and the Saint (New York, 1975), 187–216.
J. Renard, All the King’s Falcons: Rumi on Prophets and Revelation (Albany, NY, 1994).
E. Turkmen, The Essence of the Masnevi (Konya, 1992).
Further Reading in Oxford World’s Classics
The Arabian Nights’ Entertainments, ed. Robert Mack.
The Koran, translated and edited by Arthur J. Arberry.
The Qur’an, translated and edited by M. A. S. Abdel Haleem.
A CHRONOLOGY OF RUMI
1207
Rumi is born in Balkh, north-eastern Persia
c.1216
Rumi’s family emigrate from Persia
1219
Alaoddin Kay Qobad ascends Seljuk throne in Anatolia
1220
Death of Faridoddin Attar
1221
The Mongol army conquers Balkh
c.1222
Rumi’s family settle temporarily in Karaman, Anatolia
1224
Rumi marries Gowhar Khatun
1226
Birth of Soltan Valad
c.1229
Rumi’s family relocate to Konya
1231
Death of Baha Valad
1232
Borhanoddin Termezi arrives in Konya
c.1233
Rumi begins his studies in Syria
1235
Death of Ebn al-Farez in Egypt
1237
Rumi returns to Konya as leader of Baha Valad’s school Ghiyasoddin Kay Khosrow II ascends Seljuk throne in Anatolia
1240
Death of Ebn Arabi in Damascus
1243
The Mongols extend their empire to Anatolia
1244
Rumi meets Shams-e Tabriz in Konya for the first time
1246
Shams leaves Konya
1247
Shams returns to Konya
c.1247–8
Shams disappears Salahoddin the Goldsmith begins tenure as Rumi’s deputy
1258
Death of Salahoddin
Hosamoddin Chalabi begins tenure as
The Mongols conquer Baghdad, the Abbasid capital
1260
The Mongols are defeated in Syria by the Mamluks
c.1262
The Masnavi is started
c.1264
The Masnavi is resumed after a pause on account of the death of Hosamoddin’s wife
1273
(17 December) Death of Rumi in Konya
THE MASNAVI
BOOK ONE
Prose Introduction
This is the Masnavi, the roots of the main tenets of theology regarding the unveiling of the secrets of certain knowledge and union. It is the greatest creed and the most luminous of holy laws, as well as the most manifest of proofs of God—His light is like a niche in which there is a lamp* that shines more brightly than the dawn. This book’s the paradise of hearts with boughs and springs, one known as Salsabil* by travellers on this path; to those with mystic stations who know miracles it is the very best of stations and of resting places.* The godly here both eat and drink; the free feel joy and mirth through it. It is, like Egypt’s Nile, a wine for patient worshippers, but an affliction for all Pharaoh’s people and those who don’t believe—as He has said: Many He leads astray by it, while many others God will guide with it.* It is the cure for breasts, the purge of sorrows, the Koran’s unveiler, and a vast profusion of Man’s sustenance and purest qualities. And it was written by the hands of noble, pious scribes,* who in this way ordain that none shall touch it but the purified, a revelation from the Lord of both the worlds!* Falsehood does not approach it from the front or from behind;* God watches it and oversees it too: He is the best of guards and the most merciful of all.* And it has other titles given to it by the Lord. We’ve just provided this brief summary—a token which points to much more: a mouthful tells of a whole pool, a handful indicates a threshing-floor of wheat.
This slave in need of mercy from the Lord, Mohammad Ebn Mohammad Ebn Hosayn from Balkh, may God accept him, says: I’ve striven in composing this long work of rhyming couplets which comprises wonders, rarities, enlightened sayings, pearls of guidance, the path of the ascetics, and the garden of the pietists—concise in form but rich in terms of meaning—to answer the request of my chief and support, the location of the spirit in my body and my provision for today and for tomorrow, chief and exemplar for the mystics, leader to certainty and guidance, helper of mankind, trustee of hearts and intellects, who was established by the Lord among His creatures, His choice among created beings, the aim of the injunctions given to the Prophet and the secrets shared with just His chosen one, the key to all the treasures of the empyrean, trustee of treasures in this world too: that’s Abu’l-Faza’el Hosamo’l-Haqq-wa’ddin, named Hasan Ebn Mohammad Ebn Hasan Akhi Tork, the Abu Yazid of his time, Jonayd of this age, veracious like his father and his grandfather, may God be pleased with him and them.* Originating from Orumiya, from the lineage of that noble shaikh who said, ‘Last night I was a Kurd, but now I’ve woken up an Arab!’* God bless his soul and those of his successors too. How blest the ancestor as well as the successor!
His is a lineage on which the sun has cast its mantle and before which stars have shone down their bright beams. Their courtyard has not ceased to be the qebla* of good fortune, towards which sons of saints all face—hope’s Kaaba which is circumambulated by those whose aim is the obliterated ones. May it not cease to serve this way, so long as one star rises and the sun appears on the horizon, as a refuge for those with insight, the divine, the holy and the spiritual, enlightened and celestial ones—the silent observers, absent and present ones;* the kings in rags, the notables of all the races, those with many virtues, the guiding lights.
Amen, Lord of the worlds! This is a prayer that will not be turned down, for it’s a prayer for every kind of creature. Praise be to God, who is One, and blessings on our chief Mohammad and his family. God suffices for us; He is a generous protector.
Exordium: the song of the reed
Now listen to this reed-flute’s deep lament
About the heartache being apart has meant:
‘Since from the reed-bed they uprooted me
My song’s expressed each human’s agony,
A breast which separation’s split in two
Is what I seek, to share this pain with you:
When kept from their true origin, all yearn
For union on the day they can return.
Amongst the crowd, alone I mourn my fate,
5
With good and bad I’ve learnt to integrate,
That we were friends each one was satisfied
But none sought out my secrets from inside;
My deepest secret’s in this song I wail
But eyes and ears can’t penetrate the veil:
Body and soul are joined to form one whole
But no one is allowed to see the soul.’
It’s fire not just hot air the reed-flute’s cry,
If you don’t have this fire then you should die!*
Love’s fire is what makes every reed-flute pine,
10
Love’s fervour thus lends potency to wine;
The reed consoles those forced to be apart,
Its notes will lift the veil upon your heart,
Where’s antidote or poison like its song,
Or confidant, or one who’s pined so long?
This reed relates a tortuous path ahead,
Recalls the love with which Majnun’s heart bled:
The few who hear the truths the reed has sung
Have lost their wits so they can speak this tongue.
The day is wasted if it’s spent in grief,
15
Consumed by burning aches without relief—
Good times have long passed, but we couldn’t care
When you’re with us, our friend beyond compare!
While ordinary men on drops can thrive
A fish needs oceans daily to survive:
The way the ripe must feel the raw can’t tell,
My speech must be concise, and so farewell!
Unchain yourself, my son, escape its hold!
How long will you remain a slave of gold?
You’ve tried to fit inside a jug the sea—
20
It only has a day’s capacity:
A greedy eye is never satisfied,
Shells only when content grow pearls inside,
While men whose clothes are ripped to shreds by love
Are cleansed of greed like this to rise above.
Be joyful, love, our sweetest bliss is you,
Physician for all kinds of ailments too,
The cure for our conceit and stubborn pride
Like Plato here with Galen,* side by side;
Through love the earthly form soars heavenward,
25
The mountain dances nimbly like a bird:
Love made Mount Sinai drunken visibly,
So Moses fell and swooned* immediately!
With my own confidant if I’d been paired,
Just like the reed, such stories I’d have shared:
Without a kindred spirit there to hear
The storyteller’s voice must disappear,
And if the rose should vanish from its sight
The nightingale* will keep its beak shut tight—
The loved one’s all, the lover’s just a screen,
30
A dead thing, while the loved one lives, unseen.
When shunned by love you’re left with emptiness,
A bird without its wings knows such distress:
‘How can my mind stay calm this lonely night
When I can’t find here my beloved’s light?’
Love wants its tale revealed to everyone,
But your heart’s mirror won’t reflect this sun,
Don’t you know why we can’t perceive it here?
Your mirror’s face is rusty—scrape it clear!
How a king fell in love with a sick slave-girl and tried to cure her
Now here’s a tale for you to contemplate,
35
It tells the truth about our present state:
There was a king, most glorious and refined,
With spiritual and temporal power combined;
Once he was riding on his favourite steed
Out hunting with his friends, whom he would lead,
When he beheld a slave-girl near the fray—
His soul became her servant straight away!
His old heart fluttered like a caged young bird,
He met the asking-price without a word,
But just when he had signed and sealed this trade
40
By fate an illness overcame the maid:
Like buying saddles for your mule one day
To find that wolves have chased it far away!
Or fetching water with your finest pot
For it to smash, as if there’s been a plot!
The king brought healers from all distant lands:
‘Our lives are both now in your expert hands,
My life is over till she’s well again,
For she’s my medicine, distinguished men;
Light of my life, whoever makes her well
45
More treasure wins than he could ever sell.’
As one they said, ‘Our lives we’ll sacrifice,
We will confer and seek from all advice,
We’re the messiahs for the world’s distress,
A salve for every wound we each possess.’
They skipped ‘If God wills’ through their arrogance
So God revealed through them Man’s impotence:
I mean omission from inside one’s heart
Not just the utterance—that’s the lesser part—
Many have failed to say, ‘If God should will,’
50
Although their souls were in accordance still.
The more these men produced a salve or cure
The more distress the girl seemed to endure:
That girl became much thinner than a hair,
The king wept tears of blood in his despair,
The drugs they gave her made her feel more ill
And almond oil just made her drier still,
Fruit made her constipation even worse,
Water increased the flames, as if a curse.
The inability of the healers to cure the slave-girl becomes apparent, and so the king turns to God at the mosque, where he subsequently dreams about a saint
After he watched them fail each single day
55
The king ran barefoot to the mosque to pray,
Confessing at the prayer-niche all his fears
He drenched the rug beneath him with his tears;
When from annihilation’s trance he woke
With prayers the Lord he started to invoke:
‘O you whose smallest gift is the whole world,
Words can’t describe this mystery you’ve unfurled!
Our refuge when we find ourselves in need,
Once more we’ve strayed by failing to take heed;
You did say, “Though I know your secrets well
60
It doesn’t mean I don’t want you to tell!”’
When from his inmost depths he raised a scream,
The sea of bounty surged and sent a dream:
In tears, the king was overcome with sleep,
An old man then appeared whose voice was deep:
‘Greetings, your wish is granted, humble king,
Tomorrow to your aid our man we’ll bring,
Trust him, as one who’s mastered how to cure,
Accept his word for he’s sincere and pure,