The Masnavi, Book One: Bk. 1 (Oxford World's Classics)

by Jalal al-Din Rumi

  If I catch one, first I’ll pull its fangs out

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  So that it’s safe to bash its head about,

  Because those fangs are its own enemy

  I’ll pull them out with knowledge God gave me.

  I don’t chant spells for my own benefit,

  I’ve turned desire around and shackled it;

  Of this world, God knows, I don’t seek a part,

  Contentment’s brought a new world to my heart:

  Upon the pear tree you see things pear-shaped,

  Those who came down from such vile thoughts escaped:

  You feel so giddy when you spin and whirl—

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  You see the house spin but it’s you, my girl!’

  In explanation of how everyone’s movement proceeds from where he is, he sees everyone from the limited perspective of his own existence: blue glass shows the sun as blue, and red glass as red; when the glass is free of colour, it becomes transparent, and is more truthful than all other glass as a leader to emulate

  Abu Jahl saw Mohammad once and said:

  ‘An ugly thing the Hashemites* have bred!’

  Mohammad said to him, ‘Your words are true

  Although there’s none impertinent as you.’

  Abu Bakr then exclaimed, ‘My sun of light,

  Not from the east nor west, may you shine bright!’

  Mohammad said, ‘Correct, companion,

  You’ve fled this world worth less than carrion.’

  Those present asked, ‘Pure chief of the elect,

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  How can two opposites be both correct?’

  ‘I’m like a mirror God’s cleaned to perfection,

  Indians and Turks both see here their reflection.’

  The man said, ‘Don’t see me as covetous,

  Transcend this womanish suspiciousness:

  It looks like lust but is in fact God’s grace—

  When there is grace, for lust there is no space!

  Try being poor a day or two, you’ll see

  Twice as much richness in this poverty,

  Have patience with it, don’t grow so uptight,

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  In poverty lies God’s most glorious might!’

  Avoid being sour and many souls you’ll see,

  Through satisfaction, drowned in the Sweet Sea,

  Thousands of bitter souls too can be found

  Like roses which in syrup have been drowned.

  If only you had the capacity,

  Then my heart’s state could be shown candidly,

  Milk from the soul’s breast is what I now share,

  It won’t flow out if no one suckles there:

  When listeners feel a thirst and start to seek

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  Preachers, though they be dead, will start to speak!

  When listeners aren’t tired, but fresh as dew,

  The mute find tongues with which to lecture too!

  If strangers enter my house, women wear

  A headscarf that can cover all their hair,*

  If relatives should enter in their place,

  Then they would lift their veils back off their face.

  Whatever people try to beautify

  They just embellish for the seeing eye:

  How can the harp’s sweet music that you hear

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  Have been made just to please a tone deaf ear!

  God didn’t make musk fragrant just for fun—

  It’s for those who can smell, not everyone!

  God has set up the land and sky you view

  And put both fire and light between the two;

  The earth is made just for terrestrials,

  The sky’s the home of all celestials,

  The base man is the lofty’s bitter foe,

  The customer for each place we all know.

  ‘Veiled girl,’ he said, ‘Have you now lost your mind?

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  Would you put make-up on just for the blind?

  The world with precious pearls if I should strew,

  If they’re not your share, what good will it do?

  No longer fight or try to lead astray,

  Or give me up instead, dear wife, today!

  I do not wish to fight with enemies,

  From righteous actions even my heart flees—

  Stay silent or I’ll take this seriously

  And leave behind our home immediately!’

  The wife takes notice of her husband and seeks forgiveness for her words

  And when his wife saw him wild as a bear

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  She started crying—tears are woman’s snare:

  She sobbed, ‘I’d never guessed what you might do,

  I’d hoped for something different from you!’

  With self-negation she came to his side:

  ‘I’m more your dust than your beloved bride;

  I’m yours in soul and body, totally,

  You now possess the power to order me;

  If I lost patience with being poor, it was

  On your account, my pain is not the cause:

  You are my medicine for every ache,

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  I don’t want you in need, it’s for your sake,

  It’s not about my own wants that I care,

  I scream and moan for your sake, this I swear—

  By God, for your sake you will find that I

  Would sacrifice myself, for you I’d die!

  Would that your soul, which mine’s devoted to,

  Could know what my soul thinks, my honest view!

  Since you thought very badly then of me,

  Of soul and body I long to be free,

  And gold and silver I would throw away

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  For you to not react like this today!

  You occupy my heart and soul throughout—

  For this small slip of mine would you walk out?

  You have the power to just walk away

  Although my soul pleads that you’ll choose to stay.

  Remember me, your idol from before,

  The one you used to worship and adore?

  I’ve lit my heart now to agree with you,

  If you say “cooked” I’ll say “All the way through!”

  For I’m your spinach, one small dish you eat,

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  You’re worth it, whether with sour sauce or sweet!

  I blasphemed then, but now I understand,

  With all my heart I follow your command,

  I didn’t recognize your royal traits,

  I interrupted but a good wife waits.

  I’ve fashioned now a torch from your compassion,

  Repenting, I’ve abandoned opposition,

  I’ve placed before you both a sword and shroud

  To chop my head off which has been too proud!

  You speak of separation’s agonies—

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  Do what you wish to do, but not that please!

  Your spirit pleads within you now for me,

  It intercedes like this perpetually,

  Your loving nature pleads my case within,

  Relying on it, my heart sought out sin—

  Stop feeling angry now, be merciful,

  Sweeter than honey by the bucketful!’

  She spoke thus kindly and with some success

  And she would pause to shed tears in distress,

  Her tears and sobbing soon became excessive,

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  Though she already was for him impressive—

  That pain produced a lightning bolt, which lit

  A spark inside his heart and made it split:

  That pretty face which turns you to her slave,

  When she acts servile, how must you behave!

  That one whose arrogance astonished you

  Now cries in front of you—what can you do?

  That one whose proud rebuffs made your heart bleed

  Can do more
damage now she comes in need!

  We’ve all been trapped once in her tyranny—

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  Now she is begging, what are we to plea?

  It’s beautified for men,* God gave it shape;

  So how can men know where they can escape?

  So he’s consoled by her* she was created:

  Can Adam then from Eve be separated?

  A Hamza and Rostam in bravery—

  His wife still keeps him bound in slavery,

  Although his words could make the whole world sway,

  ‘Please redhead, speak to me!’* he still would say;

  Water puts out the flames which winds just fan

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  But boils away when heated in a pan,

  For if a pan should separate the two

  It will evaporate in front of you.

  Though outwardly above her you may tower,

  You want her, so within she has the power.

  This love’s the special human quality;

  Beasts lack it—that’s their inferiority.

  In explanation of the saying ‘Women prevail over intelligent men, while ignorant men prevail over them’

  The Prophet once said, ‘Women all control

  Intelligent men, those who have a soul,

  But stupid men rule women, for they’re crude

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  And hold a simple, bullish attitude.’

  They lack all tenderness and can’t be kind—

  Their animal soul still controls their mind:

  Tenderness is a human quality,

  While lust and rage show animality,

  A ray from God is that one whom you love,

  Creative, uncreated, from above.

  The man submits to his wife’s request that he should seek a livelihood, regarding her opposition as a sign from God:

  To those who have the knowledge to discern

  What spins you round’s the thing that makes you turn

  The things his wife said made the man feel shame

  Like dying officers who don’t want blame:

  ‘I have become my lover’s foe,’ he said,

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  ‘How did I kick my own soul in the head!’

  Our sight is veiled whenever fate decrees,

  Our mind can’t tell our elbows from our knees,

  But once it’s passed, our mind then starts to mourn:

  It rips our shirt now that the veil’s been torn!

  He said, ‘I feel ashamed, my darling wife,

  I’ve strayed, but now I seek a righteous life:

  I’ve sinned against you, please act mercifully,

  Please don’t uproot my heart immediately!

  If an old infidel feels as I do

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  Once he repents he’s then a Muslim too.’

  Through love of God, who’s kind and generous,

  All of existence feels delirious—

  He’s loved by faith and infidelity:

  Copper and gold both serve in alchemy.

  In explanation of why Moses and Pharaoh were both compelled by God’s decree like poison and antidote, darkness and light, and of Pharaoh’s prayers in solitude to God that He would not shatter his reputation

  Moses and Pharaoh both served God this way,

  Moses seemed guided, Pharaoh led astray;

  Moses would weep for God when it was light,

  Pharaoh would do that in the dark at night:

  ‘What is this halter on my neck?’ he’d pray,

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  ‘Without it, “I am I” how could I say!

  While you’ve illumined Moses like a spark

  By that same power you’ve made this servant dark:

  You’ve lit just like the moon his radiant face,

  My moon-like soul you’ve turned black with disgrace;

  My star’s dependent on this moon for light—

  Now it’s eclipsed how can I still shine bright?

  Saying I am “the lord”, slaves start drum rolls

  But it’s for the eclipse men beat their bowls:*

  They all raise such a clamour for one aim—

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  So that this moon may thus be put to shame.

  Although I’m Pharaoh, I’m a desperate soul,

  Each calls me “highest lord”, then beats his bowl!

  We’re fellow servants, but your axe still chops

  The branches that it chooses in this copse,

  Then joins a branch back to its trunk once more

  While other branches it will just ignore:

  But over your axe power each branch lacks,

  No branch has yet escaped this ruthless axe—

  Since your axe has the power to dictate,

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  Would you please make all crooked things now straight!’

  Pharaoh said to himself once more, ‘How odd!

  Do I not pray throughout the night to God?

  I’m meek in secret, and in harmony—

  When I reach Moses what becomes of me?’