‘Come, Belqis, or it will turn out so badly.
You’ll face a huge revolt from your own army.
Your chamberlain will break your gate apart.
Your soul will then become your foe at heart.
All atoms are God’s army—you will see
When you investigate this carefully.’
You’ve seen how wind spilled all the Aad folk’s blood, 785
And what mere water managed with the Flood,
And how waves struck at Pharaoh with such hate,
And what the earth displayed through Korah’s fate,
And what mere birds did to that elephant,*
And how the gnat ate Nimrod’s skull, how stunned
Men were when Prophet David hurled one stone
That toppled a huge foe all on its own,
While on the foes of Lot stones once rained down,
Driving them in black water’s depths to drown.
And then there’s rational help I could relatē 790
Prophets received from what’s inanimate.
But then The Masnavi would stretch too long
For forty camels: their backs aren’t that strong.
Against the infidels hands testify
As God’s troops, for on that day they can’t lie.
Your learning leads you to oppose God—here
You are among His army, so feel fear:
Each limb of yours is from His troops—though they
Obey you now, they’re being false today.
If He tells your eyes, ‘Give him pain!’ then yoū 795
Will feel severe eye pain without ado.
If He tells your teeth, ‘Make him ill!’ you’ll feel
Your teeth soon make you suffer pain so real.
Open your textbook’s chapter on disease;
Read what the bodily troops can do with ease.
He is the soul of everything in sight—
How can His enmity be something light?
‘Leave demons and the jinn alone instead—
They rout foes’ troops for me!’ Solomon said.
Relinquish, Belqis, first your monarchy, 800
Then find me—you’ll then gain all sovereignty.
And when you reach me you will then find out
Without me you were just a form sketched out.’
Even a sultan’s sketch upon a wall
Is just a form without a soul at all.
And its adornment is for others’ gain;
Its eyes and mouth are open, but in vain.
You’ve wasted your life on what doesn’t matter
And you can’t tell yourself now from another.
You stop at every form you see, to say: 805
‘I am this.’ No, by God, you’re not. No way!
If you withdraw from people for one moment,
You fill with grief, anxiety, and torment.
When you are That One, you can’t be just body.
You’re drunk then through yourself and truly lovely.
You’re your own hunting bird, prey, and the snare;
You’re your own rooftop, rug, and special chair.
An essence is completely independent;
From them all accidents emerge, dependent.
If born of Adam, sit now like that first king 810
And see within yourself all of your offspring.
What’s in the jar that’s not found in the river?
What’s in the house that’s not in cities ever?
The world’s the jar, the heart’s the river clearly;
The world’s one room, the heart a marvellous city.
Solomon declares, ‘My effort concerning our faith is purely on God’s command. There isn’t the slightest self-interest in me concerning you, your beauty, and your kingdom. You’ll see for yourself when your inner eye is opened with the Light of God.’
‘Come, for I am a Prophet with a call.
Like death, I slay lust; I’ve fled its control.
I rule lust, if there is some still in place,
Not captive to lust for an idol’s face.
My roots are steeped in smashing them—I am 815
Like idol-smashing Prophet Abraham.
If I go to an idol’s temple, it
Prostrates to worship me, not I to it.’
The Prophet and Bu Jahl in one instance
Both stood in one, but their acts had much difference:
Bu Jahl bowed to the idols on display;
They bowed before Mohammad straight away.
The world of lust’s an idol temple where
Both infidels and Prophets live, but there
Lust is the slave for every holy one— 820
Unlike mere alloy, pure gold doesn’t burn.
The holy are pure gold, the infidel
Is false coin—both are in the crucible.
The latter turns black once it enters here;
The former’s goldenness is made more clear.
Pure gold will gladly throw its limbs in there;
Its veins smile in the fire without a care.
Our body veils us from the people’s vision;
Hidden beneath mere straw, we are an ocean.
Don’t look at faith’s king as mere bodily clay—825
That’s what accursed Satan did that day.*
How can one smear the lofty sun with just
A handful of your mud? If you pour dust
And ashes now on top of shining light,
It will still rise through them before your sight.
What’s straw to cover water? What’s mere clay
To cover up a single solar ray?
Rise Belqis and her kind like Ebn-e Adham,
Scatter the smoke of this most transient kingdom!
Remainder of the Story of Ebrahim Ebn-e Adham.
That man of good repute while on his thronē830
Heard banging on his roof one night alone:
Loud footsteps from the roof of his great palace.
He thought, ‘Who has the gall now to attempt this?’
He shouted through the window, ‘Who’s up there?
Is it a ghost, since humans wouldn’t dare?’
A wondrous group brought their heads to his sight:
‘We’re going all around to search tonight.’
‘What are you seeking?’ ‘Camels,’ they replied.
‘Camels on roofs? Why have you even tried?’
They snapped back, ‘Why seek God while you still sit835
On a grand throne? That’s mad too, isn’t it?’
He wasn’t seen again. That was it. Closed.
He vanished from all people like a ghost,
While from the people his true nature then
Was veiled—just cloak and beard were seen by men.
On leaving everybody’s vision, he
Became just like the phoenix, legendary:
The soul of every bird that’s risen to
Mount Qaf draws from all praises that are due.
Once this light from the East had reached her nation, 840
Belqis and all her men made a commotion.
All the dead spirits took wing suddenly:
They peeked out of the body’s grave to see
And gave each other good news, ‘Now a call
Is coming from the sky above us all.’
That call makes faiths grow that before were lean
And the heart’s branch and leaf transform to green.
Like Resurrection’s blast, Solomon’s breath
Freed all the corpses from the grave of death.
After this, may felicity reach you, 845
Solomon. It has passed. God knows what’s true.
The remainder of the story about the People of Sheba and the advice and guidance Solomon gave to them, for each one something appropriate for him and his difficulties with faith and the heart, and how Solomon hunted each kind of intellectual bird with the whistle and bait appropriate for it.
I’ll speak with force about the Sheba nation:
When His fine breeze came to the tulip garden
People attained their union on that day;
Children went to their source then straight away.
Secret love’s group among groups is like kindness
Surrounded by the censure caused by sickness.
Bodies give spirits what they have of baseness;
Spirits give bodies what they have of greatness.
O lovers, this sought draught of love’s for you. 850
You will endure—Eternity’s yours, too.
Forgetful ones, arise and love. This is
Joseph’s scent, so inhale it and feel bliss .*
You know bird-speech, so share with us the song
Of every single bird that comes along.
God sent you to the birds and so He taught
The song of every bird, which you had sought.
Tell the determinist bird of that notion;
Speak patience to the bird whose wings are broken.
Maintain the patient bird both safe and cheerful. 855
Describe Qaf to the Anqa—it’s not fearful.
And warn the pigeon of the hawk, then talk
About peace and forbearance to the hawk.
As for the bat that is deprived of sight,
Help it become familiar with the light.
Teach peace now to the partridge, that warmonger,
And show dawn’s indications to the rooster.
From hoopoe to the eagle similarly
Please show the way. God knows best, doesn’t he?
Belqis becomes liberated from the kingdom and drunk with longing for belief, and the attention of her aspiration becomes severed from all of creation at the moment of her migration, except for from her throne.
Solomon whistled to the birds of Shebā 860
And captured all of them at once, all eager,
Except those not possessing any heart,
Or soul, or thought, deaf and dumb from the start.
I’m wrong for if the deaf one should submit
To God’s speech, He’ll give hearing then to it.
Belqis resolved with heart and soul at last,
Regretting time she’d wasted in the past.
She gave her wealth and kingdom up the same
As lovers who shun honour and good name.
The slaves she’d had, and all the fine handmaidens 865
Now seemed in her eyes like some rotten onions.
Palaces, orchards, rivers all around
Now seemed like trash heaps due to love she’d found.
Love overwhelms and even makes the lovely,
Through its dismissiveness, appear so ugly.
God’s jealousy makes emeralds appear
Like leeks—negation’s meaning is thus clear.
It is ‘There is no God but He ’* that can
Make the full moon appear like a mere pan.
Sheba’s queen missed no wealth and no possession 870
Except for her throne—that’s the sole exception.
Solomon realized then what she’d tried
To hide, since his heart had a route inside—
Someone who hears the voice of ants can hear
The secret groans of people who aren’t near.
One who perceives what ‘One ant said ’* can tell
The ancient heavens’ secrets just as well.
From distance he saw that the one now known
For her submission longed still for her throne.
It would take far too long now to explain 875
Why she still loved the throne from her past reign.
The writer’s pen might be inanimate
Unlike him, but it’s his associate,
And every tool belonging to the craftsman
Is an inanimate friend of that person.
I would have told the reason with precision,
But fog now clouds your eyes of comprehension.
Transporting that throne to her new abode
Was not an option for that huge a load.
Too risky to attempt to take apart, 880
Its parts were joined just like a body part.
Solomon said, ‘Although to me it’s known
She’ll in the end lose feelings for that throne,
For when the soul shows it has turned so fair
Through union, then the body can’t compare;
And when the pearl is captured from the ocean,
One then sees foam and twigs with much revulsion;
And when the sparkling sun should raise its head
Who’d settle then for Scorpio’s stars instead?
Despite all this, we have to seek for now 885
A way to have it moved here anyhow,
So she won’t feel deprived when we next meet,
At peace like children with their yearned-for treat.
For us it’s trivial, but to her it’s dear—
Admit the bad to join the good ones here.
That throne will then remind her of her roots,
As Ayaz used his old cloak and old boots,*
So that flawed one remembers still her past,
From where she came to where she’s reached at last.’
God also keeps before our eyes each day 890
Our origin of semen, flesh, and clay:
‘Where did I bring you from, you whose intentions
Are so bad that you now raise your objections?
You used to be a lover of that place,
Denying talk about this present grace.
This grace here is your past denial’s rebuttal,
What you would claim when clay still and not rational.
The proof against it is your transformation,
But medicine’s made you a sicker person!
How could an earthly form start contemplating, 895
And semen start denying things and hating?
You lacked both heart and soul then, and so you
Denied reflection and rejection too.
From that inert state your denying began,
And you were resurrected as a man.’
It is like knocking on a door to hear
That owner claim, ‘The owner isn’t here.’
‘Isn’t’ means really ‘is’ here if you’re looking
For that same person, so you won’t stop knocking.
Your past denying serves to make so obvious 900
That from inert things He can raise what’s wondrous.
So much was done until from the terrestrial
Through ‘has there come a time? ’* emerged denial.
Water and clay would say, ‘There’s no denying!’
And they’d shout, ‘Nor informing!’ while informing!
I’d like to show this in a hundred ways
But brains can’t follow subtle speech’s ways.
Solomon solves the problem of bringing Belqis’s throne from Sheba.
A ghoul claimed, ‘I will conjure it right now
Before you leave this place, if you allow.’
Asaf said, ‘Using God’s Most Powerful Name, 905
I’ll fetch it here for you if that’s your aim.’
The ghoul had mastered sorcery, no doubt,
But Asaf’s speech’s breath brought it about:
That very moment Belqis’s throne came
Through Asaf, not the ghoul with his big claim.
Solomon said, ‘Praise be to God for this
And countless other miracles of His.’
Solomon looked then at the throne with glee
And said, ‘You’re a fool-catcher, former tree!’
How many fools bow down their heads beforē910
What’s carved from stone or wood and nothing more.
Clueless about the soul, the fool detects
Movement inside him, some most slight effects:
He has perceived while drunk and stupefied
Playing in wrong locations worship’s game
He deems a real and a stone lion the same.
The lion that’s actually real throws him a bone
Nonetheless from munificence alone,
Saying, ‘Although that dog is flawed, my kindness 915
Gives bone-like gifts to everyone regardless.’
Story about how Halima asked idols for help when she lost Mohammad whom she had been weaning and how the idols trembled and prostrated and bore witness to the magnificence of Mohammad’s mission.
I’ll tell you of Halima’s mystery
So her tale can reveal your misery.
She parted young Mohammad from her breast,
Holding him like a flower that’s caressed
So he would be untouched by any bother,
So she might take this king to his grandfather.
While bringing what had been entrusted, fear
Led her towards the Kaaba, and once near
She heard a voice shout: ‘Kaaba’s wall, a sun 920
That is magnificent chose you and shone
Its light on you—there comes to you today
From that Most Generous Sun ray after ray.
Today a king, who has great fortune too,
Will bring each kind of trapping here for you.
Today, without doubt, you’ll become once more
The station for exalted souls that soar.
Souls of the holy now will come to you
From all around, drunken with passion too.’
This shouting made Halima lose her mind;925
Nobody was in front, no one behind;
Nothing in any of the six directions
But all this shouting had no interruptions
Nor pause. She put Mohammad on the ground
And sought the shouting’s source from all around.
She sought it everywhere and then, with pleas,
Cried, ‘Where’s the king who speaks such mysteries?
For such a loud shout comes from all around,
So, Lord, please tell me where its source is found.’
She didn’t see a soul—inevitably
This made her shake like branches on a tree. 930
She went back to that child with holy grace,
But couldn’t find Mohammad in his place.
Her heart grew more bewildered than before;
Her world turned dark through all the grief she bore.
She ran to houses and made a commotion:
The Masnavi, Book Four Page 9