Since it depends on just your point of view,
For if the thirsty search for water, then
That means the water’s seeking thirsty men.
Since he’s in love keep quiet, there’s no harm,
And if he grabs your ear, let him, stay calm—
No, dam the rising flood, don’t let it loose
To shame us all with damaging abuse!
If there’s destruction now why should I care?
The ruins hide a royal treasure there.
Those drowned in God want more, they want it all,
1755
Just like the tide, their souls rise up, then fall,
The ocean’s depths or surface—which is best?
An arrow or a shield—which worthiest?
You must have been ripped up by whisperings, heart,
If you can still tell joy and pain apart—
You lust for sugar, don’t you know it’s true
Beloved God wants lack of lust from you?
For moons he puts out all the stars at night,
To kill the whole world he has every right!
We’ve also earned from God a high blood-price,
1760
By offering up our lives as sacrifice:
The lover’s life is found in death: it’s known
You’ll earn a heart by giving up your own.
I sought his heart, but had so many cares,
He made excuses, weary of my airs:
I claimed, ‘My soul is drowned in you, you know!’
He said, ‘Stop chanting spells at me—just go!’
I know well what you tried then to insist
When you saw the Beloved, dualist!
You’ve held Him in such low regard, you fool,
1765
Because you bought Him cheaply—heed the rule:
If you’ve bought cheaply, cheaply you’ll resell:
A child will swap a pearl for bread—heed well!
Inside the same pure love I now have drowned
As that which lovers of the past have found,
I don’t explain it all, but summarize,
My tongue would burn itself up otherwise:
When I say ‘lip’, read: ‘borders by the sea’,
When I say ‘none’, read: ‘but’ the Deity!*
Because of sweetness I look bitter now,
1770
I’ve talked too much, now silence is my vow,
So no one sees our sweetness, not one trace
Behind the mask of my most bitter face,
Since they’re not suitable for everyone
Of countless secrets I’ll divulge just one:
Explanation of the saying of the Hakim: ‘If something holds you back on the path, what does it matter whether it is infidelity or faith? If something leads you far from the beloved, what does it matter whether it is ugly or beautiful?’ On the meaning of the Prophet’s words: ‘Sa‘d is truly jealous,* and I am more jealous than Sad, while God, who is even more jealous than me, has forbidden inward as well as outward foul deeds because of His jealousy.’
The whole world’s jealous, for God’s jealousy
Surpasses that of all humanity:
He’s like the soul, the world’s His body-frame
Which must accept from Him all things the same.
If someone’s prayer-niche faces certainty
1775
To turn around to faith is treachery:
If you’re now waiting on the king, you’ll lose
If travelling off to trade instead you choose,
If those now with the sultan later must
Wait at the gate, they’ll scream that it’s unjust!
He’s brought his hands, so with your lips they’ll meet—
It’s sinful now to choose to kiss his feet:
Lowering your head down humbly in this case
Is a mistake for which you’ll earn disgrace!
The king grows jealous if an onlooker
1780
His perfume to his proud face should prefer,
God’s jealousy’s like wheat in metaphor,
Man’s jealousy is thus a stack of straw,
God is the root of every jealousy,
Including envy plaguing you and me.
I’ll stop explaining, so I can complain
Of that much-worshipped beauty’s gift of pain,
Because it pleases Him I wail and moan,
The two worlds must wail too, I’m not alone;
How can I not complain when things are hard,
1785
When from His drunkards’ circle I’ve been barred—
Without His day I can’t stop being night,
Of His bright face I still have not caught sight!
Unpleasantness from Him my soul thinks nice,
My spirit longs to be His sacrifice,
I am in love with all my pain and grief
To please my peerless king who brings relief!
My grief’s dust I’ve dabbed round my ocean eyes
So they’ll produce a pearl of massive size:
They’re pearls not tears which we cry for His sake,
1790
If people think they’re tears that’s their mistake!
I moaned about the essence of our soul,
But I don’t moan—transmitting is my role:
My heart says, ‘The Beloved tortured me!’
I laugh at its lack of sincerity!
‘Do good, O pride of good men,’ I implore,
You’re on your throne, I’m waiting at the door.
What’s throne and threshold in reality,
What meaning have such terms as ‘I’ and ‘we’?
O You whose soul has fled these and lives free,
1795
Each man and woman’s spirit’s subtlety—
When man and woman join, You are that ‘one’,
And when one is effaced You are that ‘none’!
You made these I’s and we’s so You could play
The backgammon of worship every day,
So all these I’s and we’s can finally merge,
In their Beloved totally submerge.
Bring here the order ‘Be!’* for only You
Transcend all speech and all our wishes too.
The body thinks that You are one as well,
1800
Your grief and laughter it thinks it can tell—
A heart that’s bound by joy and misery
Does not deserve to see You properly;
Those trapped in misery and laughter’s snare
All live dependent on such borrowed ware.
Love’s blooming garden which lives evermore
Apart from joy and grief has fruits galore—
Being a lover is beyond this pair,
Fresh always, in both spring and autumn air.
Pay tax on Your fair face,* light of my heart,
1805
And speak about the soul that’s torn apart,
For teasing glances from this expert flirt
Has branded this big heart inside my shirt;
I let Him shed my blood, and then I say
‘It’s lawful for You’, but He runs away,
Since from all men’s laments You thus depart
Why fill with grief each tired and aching heart?
While each dawn sends out from the East its light,
You are its source, full, shimmering and bright.
Your frenzied lover how can You dismiss,
1810
You whose sweet lips for no sum grant a kiss!
To an old world a soul You can provide,
I therefore wail I have no soul inside—
Stop talking of the rose, describe for me
The nightingale which must live separately:
Our fervour does not come from joy or grief,
Our consciousness is not a false belief,
It’s different, very rare and valuable—
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Don’t say it can’t be, God is capable!
On someone’s humble state please don’t decide,
1815
With doing good do not be satisfied:
Good, evil, joy, and grief are transient states
Which die and leave to God all their estates!
It’s dawn, Our Refuge, who fills dawn with light,
Please make Hosam forgive it took all night*—
To grant forgiveness to us is Your role,
The coral’s splendour, You’re the whole world’s soul!
Dawn’s spread its light, now through the rays You shine
We sit and drink Mansur’s most potent wine*—
Since Your kind gift makes me experience this
1820
What need have I for earth’s wine to feel bliss!
Compared with ours, wine has no strength at all,
Compared with our expansions heaven’s small,
All wine gets drunk through us, not us through it,
Our form lives for us, not the opposite:
We’re bees, our body’s like the honeycomb,
Since through our soul we’ve built home after home.
Resumption of the story of the merchant
It is too long to detail in this text
In that last narrative what happened next:
The parrot’s owner pined and burnt with pain,
1825
Muttering nonsense which now filled his brain—
Opposite states: in need, then haughtily,
True ecstasy, then metaphorically.
A drowning man believes he’s going to die,
And grasps at straws that happen to drift by,
To see if one might save him from this strife
He flaps his arms to hold on to dear life!
The Loved One loves to see us scream and weep,
To struggle thus is better than to sleep;
The king is not without work, but he still
1830
Will never moan because he isn’t ill,
And so the Merciful chose to declare,
‘Each day He’s busy with a new affair.’*
Persist in struggle till you meet your end,
Don’t even take the slightest pause, my friend,
So that your final breath may be the one
Which wins the gift of mystic union;
Whatever men and women seek to try
Is noticed by the soul’s king’s watchful eye.
The merchant flings the parrot out of the cage and the dead bird flies away
He emptied out the cage just like a cup;
1835
The parrot fell out, but then flew straight up,
The dead bird soared just like the solar ray
That rises in the East to start each day;
This left him dumbstruck, he could not see how:
Amazed, he sensed the parrot’s secrets now;
He looked up, asked her, ‘Parrot, won’t you wait!
Like nightingales explain our present state!
Is it that Indian parrot’s ways you’ve learned,
To trick and roast me till my heart is burnt?’
Yes, through her actions, she showed me how to
1840
Give up my voice and loyalty to you:
Since it’s my voice for which I’ve been confined—
She acted dead to bring this to my mind,
To say, ‘Sweet-singing bird, pretend like me,
Just make yourself look dead and you’ll be free.’
If you’re a seed, you’re feed for every chick,
If you’re a bud, you’re just what children pick;
So hide the seed and be a snare instead,
Change buds to roof straw there above your head;
Whoever auctions off his own best trait
1845
Will soon be sent the worst of luck by fate,
Evil eyes, rages, jealousies begin
To pour on him like water from a skin,
And envious enemies tear him in two—
Friends steal his life from him, I swear it’s true!
Those unaware that spring is for rebirth
Cannot perceive what time is really worth,
Take refuge in God’s grace and you will know
That He pours kindness down on us below,
Why seek another refuge from your plight?
1850
For you both fire and water now will fight:
Moses and Noah’s refuge was the sea
Which showed its anger to the enemy,
And fire protected Abraham as well—
Smoke rose from Nimrod’s heart as if from hell;
The mountain beckoned John the Baptist near,*
Its rocks made his pursuers run in fear:
It said, ‘Come and escape now with your life,
‘You’re safe in me from every sharpened knife.’
The Masnavi, Book One: Bk. 1 (Oxford World's Classics) Page 21