The Masnavi, Book Three

by Jalal al-Din Rumi

  In His divine book, Hakim Ghaznavi

  Makes this point, if you listen carefully:

  ‘With what fate has decreed don’t interfere!

  The donkey’s body suits the donkey’s ear.’

  Bodies and limbs as well fit with each other,

  As attributes and souls belong together:

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  Its attribute suits perfectly each soul,

  For God has made it one harmonious whole.

  Since God’s the One Who put them in their place,

  They match as well as eyes in someone’s face.

  Ugly or fair, these attributes all fit;

  Any words God writes are appropriate—

  Between two fingers* eyes and hearts of men

  Are in the Writer’s hand just like a pen.

  The fingers are His wrath and His compassion;

  Their pen, the heart, contracts then feels expansion.

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  Pen, if you glorify the Lord, please view

  Whose pair of fingers* is now holding you.

  The fingers give you motion and intention;

  Your nib is now at a main intersection.

  He alternates, like letters, your heart’s states—

  From Him all your intent originates.

  Neediness and abasement work alone,

  But not by every pen is this fact known.

  Pens only know to their capacity,

  Shown through their good or bad activity.

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  The hare and elephant tale they would use

  To mix eternity with a plain ruse.

  Explanation of why not everyone can give parables, especially those concerning God

  Such parables can’t be made by your sort

  And then applied to that most holy court.

  All parables belong to God, not you,

  Like hidden knowledge and what’s in plain view.

  What do you know of the disguised intention,

  Baldhead, that cheeks and tresses you should mention?*

  Moses thought it a rod once by mistake;

  Its hidden side then showed it was a snake.*

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  When such a king mistook wood’s hidden side,

  How can you see the snares with bait inside?

  Moses mistook that past similitude,

  How can mice see who meddle and intrude?

  He’ll turn to dragons your analogies,

  And they will tear your body up with ease.

  Cursed Satan used analogies this way

  And was then cursed by God till Judgment Day.*

  Korah’s analogy made him sink down

  Into the soil with both his throne and crown.

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  Deem your analogies as owls and crows—

  Hundreds of households were destroyed by those.

  Noah’s community said parables in mockery when the ark was being built

  Pure Noah built the ark in the parched desert.

  Parable-tellers chose to mock his effort:

  ‘Here in the desert, where one cannot find

  A well, he builds an ark—he’s lost his mind!’

  Another said, ‘I hope your ship can run!’

  ‘Make wings for it too!’ joked another one.

  Noah responded, ‘This is God’s decree

  And won’t be foiled by witty irony.’

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  Story about the burglar who on being asked, ‘What are you doing at midnight at the base of this wall?’ said ‘I’m beating a drum’

  Now heed this parable: a thief one night

  Bored into a wall’s base while out of sight.

  Someone sick was at midnight half-awake

  And heard the tapping sound the thief would make.

  He went up to his roof for a good view,

  Then asked, ‘Mister, what are you trying to do

  At this late hour? I’d like this clarified.

  And who are you?’ ‘A drummer,’ he replied.

  ‘What are you doing?’ ‘Drumming!’ said the thief.

  ‘Where is its music? That’s beyond belief.’

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  ‘You’ll hear its sound tomorrow, every yell,

  Sigh, exclamation, and lament as well.’

  That tale which you just heard about the hare

  Was false, but of its truth you’re not aware.

  The answer to the parable that the unbelievers relate about the hare being an ambassador with a message from the moon in the sky

  Find out the secret meaning of the hare

  Who came as an ambassador once there,

  Depriving your dumb soul, which hardly thinks,

  Of Water of Life that the great Khezr drinks.

  You have perverted its true meaning, so

  Prepare yourself for unbelief’s earned blow.

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  The moon broke in the water’s image here

  And that filled all the elephants with fear.

  You tell this tale about the spring, the hare

  And elephant whom they could easily scare,

  But, blind, raw ones, how does this moon resemble

  A moon that makes us helpless and most humble?

  What is the moon, the sun, and the vast sky,

  Intellects, souls, and angels up on high?

  Ray of light from the sun what do I say?

  Surely I’m talking in my sleep today?

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  The wrath of mystic kings has wiped away

  Millions of cities, you who are astray!

  Into a hundred bits the mountains split;

  Eclipses made suns helpless, desperate.

  The wrath of such men makes the clouds turn dry

  And has destroyed worlds which would reach so high.

  Unembalmed corpses, turn around to see

  Where punishment reached Lot’s community!*

  What’s a mere elephant when birds alone

  Could easily pulverize its every bone.

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  Those ababil* birds were so weak, but then

  The elephants could not stand up again.*

  Who hasn’t heard of Noah’s flood, my son,

  Or how the troops of Pharaoh were undone?*

  The spirit cast them into waves that tore

  Them to a hundred separate shreds and more.

  Who hasn’t heard of Thamud’s fate that day,

  And how the wind swept all the Aad away?*

  Look fondly at such elephants that kill

  The other elephants that wish you ill.

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  Those elephants and kings of tyranny,

  When facing wrath of hearts will always flee

  From darkness to more darkness: they forever

  Descend and find no mercy whatsoever.

  Maybe the news of good and bad missed you,

  Though everybody else heard of those two?

  You claim not to have seen what was made clear,

  But death will open your eyes to what’s here.

  Suppose the world is filled with splendid light—

  When you sink to a grave as dark as night

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  No share of those strong rays stays in your view;

  Your window’s blocked from generous moonbeams too.

  You’ve sunk down from the tower into the pit—

  Is it the world’s fault that you’re losing it?

  The soul remaining wolf-like stubbornly

  Will not see Joseph’s face assuredly.*

  David’s Psalms reached the rocky mountain’s ear,

  But stony-hearted men still couldn’t hear.*

  May mystic intellects be always blessed!

  And God knows what’s the path that is the best.

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  Believe the Prophets, Sheba’s people, and

  The spirit captured by Him, understand!

  Believe in them! They’re rising suns and they

  Will save you from disgrace on
Judgment Day.

  Believe them! They are full moons that are radiant,

  Before they meet you at the Hour of Judgment.

  Believe them! They’re lamps in the dark. Don’t mope,

  But honour them; they are the keys of hope.

  Believe them! They don’t seek your wealth! Don’t stray

  Nor try to lead the other men astray!

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  Abandon Arabic, in Persian say:

  Be Indian slaves of Turks, you men of clay!

  Heed testimonies that the kings will tell.

  The heavens do believe—you should as well.

  The meaning of prudence and the parable of the prudent man

  Observe what was your predecessors’ fates

  Or fly through prudence to see what awaits.

  What’s prudence? Weighing up two plans you see,

  To choose that furthest from insanity.

  ‘No water’s on this road,’ one person says,

  ‘And there’s foot-scorching sand for several days.’

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  Another says, ‘What lies! Proceed; each night

  You’ll find a flowing fountain in plain sight.’

  Prudence means taking water just in case,

  Freed from concerns thus from what you might face.

  If water is there, pour your own away;

  If not, the stubborn ones will feel dismay.

  O children of God’s deputy, be fair!

  Be prudent—now for Judgment Day prepare!

  That foe showed your forefather so much spite

  Dragging him down to gaol from such a height,

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  Checkmating the heart’s king with frightening ease,

  From paradise down to calamities.

  How often did he seize him in the fight

  And pin him down to give him such a fright.

  He did this to that champion, so don’t view

  Him as a weakling when compared with you.

  That envious one could snatch so cleverly

  Both of our parents’ crowns and finery.

  He left him wretched, bare, and desperate;

  Adam would weep for years, disconsolate,*

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  Such that a plant soon grew from every tear.

  He wept, ‘Why must I stay in Non-being here?’

  The Devil’s impudence reached the degree

  That he snatched such a great chief’s dignity.

  Beware, materialists, of him! Instead

  With ‘God give me strength!’* chop off his vile head,

  Since from his hideout he now spies on you—

  Beware because he’s hidden from your view.

  The hunter keeps on scattering seeds around—

  They’re seen, but traps are hidden underground.

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  Wherever you should see a seed, beware!

  Don’t let your wings get captured in a snare.

  The bird that sees seeds, but opts not to eat,

  Will eat seeds in the realm free from deceit,

  Feeling content with that and set free too

  From snares—its wings can move as they wish to.

  The unsoundness of the action of that bird which abandoned prudence due to greed and lust

  A bird is perched there on the wall again,

  Eyes fixed upon the snare’s alluring grain.

  It glances at the open field in view,

  But turns around to that snare’s grain anew;

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  This glance and that one battle constantly

  And empty wisdom from birds suddenly.

  A different bird puts dithering aside

  And turns to that field where it may abide.

  Its happy wings must be congratulated,

  For it’s the chief now of the liberated.

  Whoever follows it will gain salvation

  Through that security and liberation,

  Because its heart’s the king of prudent fellows

  Its home is in the rose gardens and meadows.

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  Prudence is pleased with it and that is mutual—

  Act like this to avoid becoming rueful!

  Repeatedly you’ve fallen in greed’s snare

  And let your throat be cut while unaware.

  Time and again Compassionate God has freed you,

  Accepted your repentance, brought you joy too:

  ‘Return like this and we will too,’ He said;

  ‘We match your actions with rewards ahead.*

  When I draw one to me, I guarantee

  Its mate will follow soon and run to Me.

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  We’ve paired all actions with effects—it’s clear

  Once one comes soon its partner will appear.’

  A raider carries off a man, and then

  His wife trails him to find her spouse again.

  You’ve come once more to this snare, and have thrown

  Dust in repentance’s eye—it is your own.

  For you once more Forgiving God unbound

  A knot and said, ‘Flee now, don’t look around!’

  When heedlessness’s chief one more time came,

  It dragged your soul directly to the flame.

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  Moth, end forgetfulness and questioning!

  Look just one time now at your own burned wing.

  Once you’ve escaped, to give thanks means not to

  Look back towards the grain that once drew you,

  So that when you give thanks, He’ll then bestow

  Daily bread free from fear about your foe—

  To give thanks for that grace that set you free,

  You must remember God’s grace constantly.

  How many times, while suffering, you would cry:

  ‘God, free me from the snare in which I lie,

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  That I may serve and always act with kindness,

  Then throw dust at the Devil to cause blindness.’

  Story about the vow made by dogs every winter: ‘When summer comes then we’ll build a house in readiness for winter’

  Wintertime makes a dog’s bones draw together;

  They’re made so small due to the frosty weather.

  ‘With such a tiny body’, he’ll then moan,

  ‘I soon must build a storehouse made of stone;

  Once summer comes, I’ll build with my own paws

  A storehouse to live in till winter thaws.

  But when the summer comes, its bones stretch back

  And that dog’s skin is now no longer slack.

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  It sees itself fill out with its own eyes,

  Then asks, ‘Which house can fit a dog my size?’

  It grows and drags its feet to somewhere shady,

  Now overfed, sharp, cowardly, and lazy.

  Its heart repeats, ‘You must erect one now!’

  But it responds, ‘How will I fit in? How?’

  When you feel pain, your greed’s bones then contract

  Due to the struggles by which you feel racked.

  You say, ‘I’ll build a house in my contrition,

  A winter refuge for my own protection.’

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  But when your pain subsides, and you grow greedy,

  Like that dog you’ll no longer then feel needy.

  To thank God tastes more sweet than grace bestowed;

  Thankers don’t chase more or feel something’s owed.

  Thanking is bounty’s soul, bounty its shells,

  For thanking leads to where the Loved One dwells.

  Bounty makes people heedless, thanks aware—

  Hunt bounty with your thanks to Him as snare!

  The bounty of your thanks makes you content,

  So you’ll give to the poor more than you’re sent;

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  You’ll eat your fill of God’s meats and sweets too,

  So begging and going hungry both leave you.


  The deniers prevent the Prophets from giving counsel and bring forward fatalistic arguments

  The Sheba People said, ‘Preachers, it’s clear

  You’ve said enough, if men have interest here—

  God’s locked our hearts, so it’s of no avail;

  Over Our Maker no one can prevail.

  That Artist has designed us in this way

  And this won’t change no matter what you say;

  You’re telling pebbles, “Turn to rubies now!”

  Or something old to turn brand-new somehow;

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  Or dust to turn to water, clear and runny,

  Or water to transform next into honey.

  He made the heavens and celestials,

  The water, earth, and all terrestrials.

  He gave skies purity and turning; both