Water and clay he gave dark hues and growth—
How should the heavens choose turbidity?
Can clay and water then choose purity?
To each He has assigned a certain course;
Mountains can’t turn to straw through their own force.’
2910
The response of the Prophets to the fatalists
The Prophets said, ‘God did make qualities
That no one can escape; as well as these
He made some that are accidental too:
A vile man can become thus good and true.
Stones won’t transform to gold quite obviously,
But copper turns to gold through alchemy.
You can’t wish sand to turn into a rose,
But soil can do that—watch as its stem grows.
He’s given ailments with no remedy,
Like lameness and being blind congenitally,
2915
But also those for which cures are in place,
Like headaches and paralysis of the face.
He made those cures for harmony’s sake; pain
And remedy were not made just in vain.
Most ailments do have their own remedy—
You’ll find it if you seek it earnestly.’
The unbelievers repeat the arguments for fatalism
The people said, ‘Listen, our malady
Is not one for which there’s a remedy.
You’ve uttered spells and counselled us for years,
Each moment strengthening locks upon our ears—
2920
If it were possible to cure this sickness,
Then some part of it would now be a bit less.
With hepatitis water’s blocked from livers—
It goes elsewhere, though you drink down vast rivers.
The hands and feet swell so you’ll think they’ll burst
Yet all that water fails to quench your thirst.’
The Prophets’ next response to them
The Prophets said, ‘Despair is a disgrace,
For there’s no limit to God’s boundless grace.
With such a Benefactor don’t lose hope!
Cling to His mercy’s saddle-straps like rope.
2925
Many a plight was hard on the first day,
But was relieved as hardships passed away.
After despair, there’s still hope, so be wise:
After the darkness many suns will rise.
I see you’re now immovable as rocks
And on your hearts and ears you have put locks,
But your acceptance isn’t our main mission—
It’s doing God’s will in complete submission.
He ordered us to do this service, so
We don’t speak for our own sakes what we know.
2930
We have life just to follow His command—
If he says to, we’d cultivate dry sand.
A Prophet’s soul has just God as companion;
He disregards acceptance and rejection.
He gives rewards for our delivery;
For Him we’d turn vile like your enemy.
We don’t feel tired and weary at His court,
That, due to distances, we should stop short.’
Weary, with heart closed, is that gloomy person
Distant from God, as if inside a prison.
2935
The Sought Beloved’s with us nonetheless;
Our souls are grateful for His kind largesse.
Our hearts have fields of tulips and fine roses;
They block away age and what decomposes.
We stay forever fresh and delicate,
Laughing, refined, sweet, and immaculate.
A hundred years and one hour, long and short—
We’ve naught to do with measures of that sort.
Length is for bodies and things physical;
Such measures do not figure for the soul.
2940
For those men in the cave, so many years
Was one day free from sorrow, harm, and tears.*
It seemed to them just one day in that story;
From non-existence soul returned to body.
When there’s no day and night, or month and year,
None can feel sated, tired, or old, it’s clear.
Non-existence’s garden boasts pure selflessness,
So from God’s grace there is much drunkenness.
Only the one who’s tasted truly knows:
Dung beetles can’t conceive scent from the rose.
2945
And if it were conceived, it would have then
Faded like everything conceived by men.
Can hell conceive of paradise? Then, how?
A fair face can’t be witnessed on a sow.
Beware! Don’t slit your own throat. Heed my tips,
For such a morsel is now near your lips.
I have now brought the hard ways to an end,
Making the way so easy for each friend.
The community repeated their opposition to what the Prophets hoped for
‘Though you bring for yourselves luck,’ they replied,
‘You’re our bad luck, rejected and defied.
2950
Our souls were free from any cares, then you
Hurled us straight into pain and grief anew.
Your warning split a hundred times and more
Our concord and agreement from before.
Once parrots eating sugar, through you we
Have changed to birds who now think morbidly.
Wherever a grief-spreading tale is found,
Wherever ugly rumours spread around,
Wherever doom is forecast and mishaps,
Chastisements, deformations, and cruel traps,
2955
They fill your parables and dark predictions—
Your appetite is to create afflictions!’
The response of the Prophets once more
‘Warnings of doom are solidly supported
By your own souls,’ the Prophets then retorted.
If you are sleeping somewhere dangerous, where
A snake slides close while you are unaware
Then someone kind alerts you to it, screaming:
‘Jump quickly from that snake—don’t lie there dreaming!’
And you then say, ‘Foretelling doom’s not right.’
He’ll say, ‘What do you mean? Look in the light!
2960
From such a dark fate I’ll whisk you away
To my own home, where you can safely stay.’
Like Prophets, he informs of what’s concealed;
What’s veiled to others is to him revealed.
‘Don’t eat unripe grapes!’ if a doctor says,
‘For they will harm you in so many ways.’
Would you respond, ‘Why diagnose such pain?’
You’d be abusing someone’s help again.
And if astrologers tell you, ‘Today,
Don’t plan to do that action, come what may!’
2965
Though numerous times his words have proved untrue,
If he’s right once, you’ll do what he tells you.
Our stars don’t have such variability—
They’re always true and yet you fail to see?
Physicians’ and astrologers’ opinions
Give data, while we draw upon true visions.
We see in the far distance smoke and fires
Approaching to burn up all the deniers,
Yet you insist, ‘Be quiet and refrain
From tales of doom—it causes us much strain.’
2970
You who ignore help from the ones who know
Will have bad fates wherever you should go.
A snake slides on your back beyond your view,
And someone on a roof is warning you,
But you say, ‘Silence! Don’t stress me t
his way.’
‘Stay happy then; my talk’s stopped,’ he will say.
When the snake bites your neck, and joy you sought
Turns bitter, you will scold him then for naught:
‘Is that all you could say? Then why not holler
And with your wailing tear your own shirt-collar?
2975
Or from above throw down a stone at me
To warn of danger coming imminently?’
He’ll say, ‘Because you said you’d be annoyed.’
You’ll snap back, ‘Well you’ve left me overjoyed!’
‘Chivalrously I warned you,’ he’ll remind,
‘To help you to escape that awful bind,
But, due to your vile state, you wouldn’t see,
And answered with offence and injury.’
This is the nature of base wretches sadly:
You treat them well and they will treat you badly.
2980
Through self-restraint make your vile self surrender;
Kindness is not fit for that cursed offender.
For noble men you should do a good turn—
They’ll give you several hundred in return.
Treat a wretch with much wrath and cruelly
And he’ll serve as your slave then dutifully.
Infidels torture while they’re prosperous, but
In hell they plead, ‘Lord, help!’ while desperate.
The wisdom of the creation of hell in the hereafter and the prison in this world, so they may be places of worship for the arrogant: ‘Come either obediently, or disliking it!’*
The cursed are cleansed when they are met with harshness
And they become cruel when you show them kindness.
2985
In this way, hell’s their mosque for worship—where
Are wild birds caught apart from in the snare?
For thieves and villains, gaol’s a monastery—
They’re mindful there of God continuously.
Worship is mankind’s purpose, and so hell’s
The place of worship for one who rebels.
Man has a hand in all things one could mention,
But worship is his purpose and intention:
‘I made mankind and jinn for just one thing’:*
No other point but worshipping their King.
2990
Though a book’s purpose is its content, you
Can use it as a pillow easily too!
To serve as pillow was not its intention,
But guidance, theory, gain, and information.
If you should use a sword just as a nail,
You’re choosing to lose out and not prevail.
The point of Man is knowledge of the Way,
But each has his own personal way to pray.
‘I’ve honoured him’ is fitting for the noble;
‘I’ve made him weak’ is fitting for the woeful.
2995
Strike villains till they bow down in submission.
Give to the noble, then watch their fruition.
God’s made a mosque here naturally for both;
The former’s hell, the latter’s gain and growth.
Moses put up Jerusalem’s small gate,
To force vile men to bow down and prostrate,
For they’d been proud and so imperious;
Like that gate, hell’s a place for neediness:
Explanation of how God has made the appearance of kings the means of subduing the proud and haughty who refuse to be subdued by God Himself, just as Moses built the Small Gate in the walls of Jerusalem in order for the haughty among the Israelites to bow down on entering, and say: ‘Enter the gate, prostrating yourselves, and say “God lighten our burden!”’*
Likewise, the Lord has built a small gate too
From flesh and bones of kings—heed what is true!
3000
Worldly men bow to them so happily,
Though they won’t bow down to God’s majesty.
God made a dunghill as their niche to pray—
It is called ‘prince’ or ‘champion of the day’.
For such a holy presence you’re unworthy:
Holy men’s canes have sugar; yours are empty.
Grovelling before the curs you’ll see the base;
For lions, grovelling there is a disgrace.
Cats oversee mouse-natured ones; it’s clear
Mice don’t deserve to fear a lion’s near—
3005
Only mere curs of God give them a fright;
How should they feel scared of God’s suns’ strong light?
‘My Lord, Most High!’ the prayer of the greats;
‘The lord, most low!’ however suits ingrates.
For lions of the fray mice feel no fear—
That’s for the mystics who are swift as deer.
You should seek one who’s slightly less a beggar
And choose him as your lord and benefactor.
Enough! If I explain it all to you,
The prince will rage, because he knows it’s true.
3010
The upshot is: ‘Treat villains badly, friends,
So they will lay their necks down in the end;
If you should treat the wretched self now kindly,
Like thugs, it shows ingratitude so blindly.
This is why those who suffer are so grateful,
While prosperous men rebel and are deceitful—
With gold-embroidered robes they’re proud and rude;
With plain cloaks they’ve a grateful attitude.
Thanking won’t grow from blessings and possessions;
It grows instead from pain and tribulations.
3015
Story about a Sufi’s love for an empty mealcloth*
A Sufi saw a mealcloth on a hook—
He ripped his shirt once he had had a look,
Shouting, ‘Behold food of the foodless there!
A cure for pains and famines that is rare.’
When his hot fervour boiled and reached the brim,
Whoever was a Sufi joined with him.
They shrieked and stamped their feet in ecstasy,
Some losing consciousness so drunkenly.
A meddler asked the Sufi, ‘Why this mood
Over a mealcloth which contains no food?’
3020
He said, ‘Begone! You’ve form, but not the essence.
You’re not a lover—go and seek existence.’
Love for the lack of food can sate the lovers
Who aren’t bound to existence like the others.
Lovers have no care for their being at all;
They profit when they have no capital.
Without wings they can fly to distant lands,
And win at polo though they have no hands.
A dervish who perceived reality
Wove baskets though he was an amputee.
3025
Lovers have pitched their tents in Non-existence;
They’re similarly one-coloured with one essence.
To babies sweetmeat’s taste is still unknown,
Though fairies sense it through its scent alone.
But how can men perceive through just a scent,
When from a fairy they’re so different?
From scent that fairy gains a whole lot more
Than you can gain from a whole sweetmeat store.
Egyptians viewed the Nile as death and blood,
But to the Jews the same waves were so good;
3030
For them the waves became a road that’s paved,
Yet they drowned Pharaoh, who would not be saved.*
How Jacob was privileged to taste the cup of the Truth from Joseph’s face and to inhale the scent of the Truth from Joseph’s scent, and the exclusion of his brothers and the others from both these privileges
In Joseph’s face what Jacob then could view
Was privileged—Jose
ph’s brothers had no clue.
Through his love, Jacob would have gone to dwell
Inside the trap they’d dug for him: the well.
His mealcloth had no food in their poor sight;
Jacob saw it as full through appetite.
You can’t see houris with your face unwashed;
The Prophet said, ‘No prayer unless you’ve washed.’*
3035
Love’s food and drink for souls—that’s what is meant
When saying hunger is their nourishment.
Jacob hungered for Joseph in that instance,
So his desired food’s scent came from the distance.
The man who brought the shirt at rapid pace
Could not perceive of Joseph’s scent one trace,
The Masnavi, Book Three Page 25