The Masnavi, Book One: Bk. 1 (Oxford World's Classics)
Page 31
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Up through the court’s gates, reaching thus his aim,
Some chamberlains approached him then to spray
Rose water of pure grace on him this way;
They knew without words what he’d come to ask:
To give before they’re asked was their main task.
‘Chief of the bedouins,’ they then enquired,
‘Where are you from, are you not feeling tired?’
He said, ‘I’m just a chief if you decree
But helpless if you turn your backs to me;
Your faces have the mark of eminence,
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Than Ja’far’s gold* you’ve more magnificence;
One glimpse of you, to me, is worth much more,
Your pure faith flings such coins across the floor,
You who can see by God’s light* everything,
Who’ve come now to grant favours from the king,
To glance and thus perform his alchemy
On copper heads of humans just like me.
A stranger, from the desert I’ve arrived
In hope of royal grace, to be revived:
His grace’s scent fills deserts like small holes,
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Thus even grains of sand gain their own souls!
I came here for some gold originally
But I’ve become drunk with what I now see.’
A man rushed to the bakery for bread,
But saw the baker’s beauty and dropped dead!
He went just to admire the roses, but
He found the gardener more immaculate;
And at the village well in water’s place
One drew the Draught of Life from Joseph’s face;*
To watch a fire when Moses went one day—
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He managed to escape from hell this way;*
Jesus jumped up to flee the enemy—
That jump took him to heaven instantly!*
Forbidden fruit trapped Adam, as decreed,
His being turned then to Mankind’s first seed;
For food the falcon stepped into a snare
And found the king’s wrist and good fortune there;
A boy agreed to go to school to learn,
His father’s promised gift this way to earn—
There he became so clever very soon
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By working hard, just like a bright full moon;
A war of vengeance Abbas came to wage
Against the true religion of the age,
But he and his descendants then became
The prop of faith for centuries all the same.*
‘I came here for some profit and relief,
Inside the gates I then became a chief,
Water I brought in order to gain bread,
To paradise this search for food has led.’
Bread led to Adam’s fall—what a huge price!
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But food has settled me in paradise!
From food and drink, release I now have found,
Like heavens, at this court I whirl around;
In this world nothing moves but through desire
Except such lovers whose hearts are on fire.
The lover of this world is like someone who loves a wall on which sunlight shines and makes no effort to understand that this radiance and splendour do not come from the wall but from the sun in the fourth heaven. Consequently, he sets his heart on the wall completely, and, when the rays of sunshine move with the sun he is left deprived forever: ‘A gulf is fixed between them and what they desire’ *
Some love the Whole and some love just a part,
The latter from the Whole are kept apart;
The one who loves a part soon also learns
That his beloved to the Whole returns:
Another’s slave has made him look a clown—
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He’s clung to someone weak for fear he’d drown!
He has no power with which he can help you,
His lord and master’s business he must do.
The Arabic proverb: ‘If you fornicate, do it with a free woman; if you steal, steal a pearl!’ *
They say: ‘With a free woman fornicate!’
And ‘Steal a pearl!’ the Arabs too relate:
A slave went home and he was left to mourn,
Scent blew back to the rose, he kept the thorn—
He was left far off from the one he’d sought,
His feet were sore, his efforts were for naught;
If hunters catch the shadow of a bird
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Is this worth anything? Don’t be absurd!
One grabs the shadow, waves, victorious,
A bird perched on the tree grows curious:
‘Why does he laugh when he’s a stupid fool?
He’s so deluded, duller than a mule!’
‘The part’s joined with the Whole,’ I hear you say.
Eat thorns then! They’re joined to the rose, aren’t they!
There’s only one way to join with the Whole
Or else His messengers would have no role:
Since messengers are sent to join as one
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What can join them when they’re in union?
This discourse could go on for long, my friend,
It’s getting late, it’s time this tale should end:
The bedouin presents the gift, that is the jug, to the caliph’s servants
He held that jug of water in the air,
Thus sowed the seed of service over there:
‘Now take this present to the sultan, please,
Then free from need this beggar on his knees;
Here’s a new jug containing water which
Had gathered when it rained into a ditch.’
Although this made the servants smile a bit
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As a most precious gift they handled it,
Because the king’s informed munificence
On all the court exerted influence:
In subjects their king’s nature can be seen,
The sky’s what makes the earth turn bright and green,
His slaves are pipes, the king’s the reservoir,
Water flows through the pipes to fill each jar.
When all the water’s from a source that’s pure
Each one has water which tastes sweet, for sure,
But if it’s bitter and polluted too
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Each pipe delivers filth this way to you,
For every pipe’s connected to its source—
Ponder the meaning of this fine resource!
The grace of each man’s exiled royal soul
Affects so much his body as a whole:
Intelligence that’s of pure origin
Has brought the body under discipline,
Love which brings victims instability
Drives the whole body to insanity;
The ocean like Kawsar* holds so much grace
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That pearls and jewels take its pebbles’ place;
The art for which a teacher is renowned,
Among his students too that art is found:
With learned theologians students read
Theology if they’re wise and take heed,
The law professor’s students learn his science—
That’s not theology but jurisprudence,
And through the grammar teacher at all schools
The students learn by heart our grammar’s rules,
Through one effaced on this path students learn
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Effacement in the king who makes hearts burn—
Of all these types of knowledge you will see
The best is knowledge of our poverty.
The story of the encounter between a grammarian and a boatman
Once a grammarian stepped into a boat
And turned towards the oarsman just to gloat:
‘Have
you learned any grammar?’ He said, ‘No.’
‘Then half your life’s been wasted just to row!’
Although this made the oarsman burn with pain
From answering back he opted to refrain.
Wind steered the boat towards a whirlpool there—
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The oarsman shouted to him, once aware,
‘Have you learned how to swim and keep afloat?’
‘I’ve never learned, skilled captain of my boat.’
‘Grammarian, your whole life has been in vain:
We’re sinking fast—what good now is your brain!’
Not grammar but effacement’s needed here—
If self-effaced dive in and have no fear!
While corpses can float on a stormy sea,
How can the living find security?
When you have died to human qualities
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You’ll be borne by the sea of mysteries.
He who called others ‘donkey’ pays the price—
He’s now left skidding like an ass on ice!
Even if you’re the scholar of the age,
Observe the passing of this world, deep sage!
We’ve silenced the grammarian in narration
To teach the grammar of annihilation,
The law of law and grammar that’s most pure
You’ll find through being less, of this be sure.
The jug of water is our knowledge, while
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The caliph’s is the Tigris and the Nile.
We’re taking our own jugs of water there—
We’re donkeys, even if we’re unaware!
The bedouin had an excuse and cause,
Not knowing back home what the Tigris was:
If he had known the Tigris like those near
He wouldn’t then have carried his jug here—
If of the River Tigris he had known,
He would have slammed the jug upon a stone!
The caliph accepts the present and orders gifts to be bestowed even though he is completely without need of that present
The caliph saw this man and heard of him,
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Then filled his jug with gold up to the brim,
He saved that bedouin from poverty,
Gave gifts and robes of honour generously,
Then to his servants he gave this command,
That world-bestower with this generous hand:
‘Hand him this jug that I’ve filled up with gold;
Show him the Tigris too!’ his men were told.
‘By land he slowly journeyed here in need
But on the Tigris he’ll return with speed.’
He reached the Tigris on a boat, and bowed,
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Prostrated, blushed with shame and cried aloud:
‘That generous king was unbelievable—
His taking my gift was incredible!
How did that sea of generosity
Accept my worthless present readily!’
The whole world is a jug which you can stop,
Knowledge and beauty fills it to the top,
But near the Tigris that’s a drop of rain—
The boundless Tigris no jug can contain.
A hidden treasure* opened when too full
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And made the world so bright and bountiful:
Its fullness made it boil and spill like milk,
Making the earth a sultan dressed in silk.
Of God’s great Tigris if he’d seen a bit
He would have smashed the jug, effacing it—
On viewing it, men always lose control,
Through jealousy they throw stones at their bowl:
You’ve thrown stones at your jug through jealousy,
It smashed, becoming perfect totally!
The jug has shattered, but now water’s poured,
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Perfection’s what this shattering has restored,
The jug’s parts now all dance delirious—
To intellects that sounds ridiculous!
Now neither jug nor water’s manifest,
Look at it and enjoy—God knows what’s best.
Knock on reality’s inviting door,
Let thought take wing, like falcons you will soar!
Your thought’s wing’s mud-stained and weighs more than lead
Because you now eat mud instead of bread—
Eat less of meat with bread since they form clay,
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Then you won’t stick like mud to earth this way:
When hungry you’re a dog in temperament,
So fierce, aggressive, and malevolent;
When full you’re like a carcass in the dirt,
Just like a wall you’re ignorant, inert:
A rotting carcass then, a wild dog now,
You claim the path of lions anyhow!