The Masnavi, Book Three
Page 35
Explanation of how the retreat of Prophets and Friends of God to mountains and caves is not in order to hide themselves, nor out of fear of distraction by people, but instead in order to guide people and to urge them to sever links with the lower world as much as possible
‘God’s Friends are in the mountains,’ people claim,
‘Because to hide from men’s eyes is their aim.’
Next to such men they’re higher than a mountain,
And they can step above the seventh heaven,
So why should they seek mountains now to hide,
When they’re beyond all mountains far and wide?
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They have no need for mountains, nor to flee;
Colt-like the sky pursues them desperately,
And fails to see dust leave shoes of their souls—
That’s why the sky is dressed for funerals.
Fairies, they claim, are hidden outwardly,
But Man is much more hidden, isn’t he?
The wise think humans hidden from our eyes
Much more than fairies. Wise men recognize
All human beings as hidden, all of them—
Imagine Adam’s pure rank in that realm.
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Comparison of the appearance of the Friends of God and their speech with the appearance of Moses’ rod and Jesus’ incantations
A human is like Jesus’ best spell
And just like Moses’ famed rod as well.
Between two fingers* is the faithful’s heart,
In God’s hand, so it’s just and fine. To start
It seems mere wood, but the whole world would fit
Inside its throat when opened just a bit.
Don’t think of Jesus’ spells as mere sounds—
Notice how death flees him. They know no bounds.
Don’t notice just the sounds of his spells—see
The corpses come to life miraculously.
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Don’t view the rod as something commonplace—
It combed the Nile’s waves somehow from their place.
You noticed a black canopy, then you
Stepped closer and the army came to view.
When you are distant, dust is all you notice—
Approach to see a man there you can witness.
His dust restores sound vision to your eye
And he can uproot mountains that tower high.
Remember how, when Prophet Moses came,
Mount Sinai danced, as if with heart aflame.*
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The exegesis of the Qur’ anic verse ‘O hills and birds, repeat his praise!’*
Glory made David’s face appear so bright;
Hills in devotion wept at such a sight.
The hills joined Prophet David when he’d sing,
All minstrels, drunk with deep love for their king;
When the command ‘Repeat his praise!’ first came,
They all became one voice, their song the same.
God told him, ‘Separation you have known,
Cut off from good friends for my sake alone,
A stranger with no close associate,
In whose heart flames of longing have been lit;
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You seek companions, minstrels, singers too—
Eternal God presents these hills to you.’
He makes them singers who can sing so well;
He makes these hills fall drunken in a spell,
So you’ll know God lets hills without mouths sing
And God’s Friends too experience such a thing—
The particles of that pure-bodied man
Send melodies to his ears—yes, they can,
Though not heard by those in proximity—
He who has faith in him lives joyfully.
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Inside his soul he finds inspired words too,
Although those sitting near him have no clue.
Questions and answers at a rapid pace
Enter your heart from realms beyond all space;
Though you can hear them, others cannot hear,
Even if they should bring their own ears near.
Deaf man, I know your ears do not perceive;
You’ve seen the outward signs—why not believe?
The answer to the one who criticized The Masnavi owing to deficient understanding
Deriding dog! You’re barking. Sense you lack!
You’re mocking the Qur’an behind its back.
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This is no lion from which you can flee
And save your faith from its ferocity.
Till Resurrection the Qur’an declares:
‘You slaves of ignorance once had such airs,
Reckoning me a fable none should heed,
Sowing your unbelief and mocking’s seed—
What you were scoffing at you now can view:
The transient, worthless fairy tale is you!
I am God’s speech, subsisting through His essence,*
The purest gem, food for the soul’s transcendence.
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I am the sun’s light shining on you now,
Though I’ve not parted from it anyhow.’
The Water of Life’s spring is here, behold!
I free the mystic lovers from death’s hold.
If your vile greed had not caused such a smell,
God would have poured drops on your grave as well.
No, I’ll heed the advice from Sana’i—
I won’t let critics’ comments bother me.
Parable about the foal that refused to drink water because of the clamour by the grooms and trainers
Sana’i told of a foal next to its mother
Which once were trying to drink up some water.
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Some men yelled at the horses constantly:
‘Hurry up! Drink your water rapidly!’
When the foal heard the clamour, it instead
Refused to drink by lifting up its head.
The mother asked, ‘Foal, why is it you shun
Drinking the water now, before you’re done?’
The foal replied, ‘This group are yelling here
And all their clamour stiffens me with fear,
So my heart trembles and leaves my control—
The yelling brings dread which consumes your foal.’
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Its mother said, ‘Since this world was created,
Such people have lived who’ve just irritated.’
Do your own work, good man! Each one you’ve feared
Will soon be witnessed tearing out his beard.
Time is short and the waters are in motion—
Hurry! Don’t fall apart in separation.
The Water of Life’s stream is one all know—
Draw some, so in you mystic plants will grow.
We drink Khezr’s water from the streams, where you
Find God’s Friends’ speech—all thirsty should come too.
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If you can’t see this water, like the blind
Dip your jug in the stream and never mind!
You’ve heard there’s water in this riverbed
And blind men have to imitate instead.
Now take along your thought-filled water-skin,
Feel it gain weight as water’s flowing in.
When yours is heavy, you’ll learn true cognition,
And then your heart will shun blind imitation.
Although the blind man can’t see water there,
He can tell his jug’s weight to be aware,
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And say, ‘Stream water’s entered my jug now—
Before light, it’s grown heavier somehow.
Since every breeze would sweep me off before,
But, now I’m heavier, they can’t any more.’
Any old gust sweeps wretched men away,
For they’ve no faculties that we can weigh:
&nbs
p; The wicked man’s an anchorless ship, so
He has no guard against the winds that blow.
Intellect’s anchor gives security
For wise men—beg for one now desperately,
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Since he’s grabbed wisdom’s graces from the treasury
Of pearls inside the Ocean of God’s bounty.
Such grace fills hearts with virtues that then fly
From the heart to illuminate the eye:
The heart’s light settles in the eye, which turns
To heart itself, then by itself discerns.
Hearts come in contact with true wisdom’s rays,
And give a share to eyes through hidden ways.
Regard the blessed water poured from heaven,
Their inspiration and true exposition.
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Let’s drink stream water like the foal, and then
Disregard bad suggestions from those men.
If you’re a follower of the Prophets, then
Take this path and ignore those scolding men.
Why should the lords who have completed it
Listen to barking from mere dogs one bit?
Remainder of the mention of that visitor at the mosque that killed its guests
Divulge now what appeared in that mosque to
That lion-heart gambler! What then did he do?
He slept there, though that’s just how it would seem,
For how can drowned men sleep in a mere stream?
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Immersed in whirlpools of their grief, such lovers
Sleep lightly, bird-like, underneath the covers.
A very frightening voice at midnight said:
‘I’m coming for you! All you’ll gain is dread!’
Five times this powerful voice rose up and tore
His heart apart each time he heard it roar.
Exegesis of the verse ‘And use your horses and footsoldiers in an assault against them!’*
Whenever you strive in religion’s way
The Devil shouts at you within, to say:
‘Don’t take that path! Think, stray one, or you’ll be
A captive soon to pain and poverty.
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Cut off from friends, you’ll have no food and you
Will be debased, humiliated too.’
The Devil’s shouts will fill you with such terror
That you’ll flee certainty and head to error,
Saying: ‘Tomorrow or next year I will
Follow religion’s path; there is time still.’
You will see death again, which everywhere
Is killing friends, whose cries now fill the air.
You’ll then turn to religion’s path again
From mortal fear and be a man, so then
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You’ll put on knowledge and true wisdom’s armour,
Vowing: ‘I won’t retreat again in horror.’
That voice will try again its trickery:
‘Be scared! Give up the sword of poverty!’
You’ll flee enlightenment’s straight path once more,
Shedding knowledge’s armour as before.
For years you’ll be his slave due to one shout
And settle in a place that’s dark throughout.
Men are enslaved through fear of such a yell
From that cursed Devil who grabs throats as well,
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To make their souls lose hope of light, as slaves
To his dark ways, like infidels in graves.
If that cursed one’s yell spreads such terror, then
Imagine what God’s yell will spread to men.
The partridge dreads the falcon, but the fly
Does not feel dread—here is the reason why:
The falcon doesn’t hunt them: realize
That only spiders ever hunt for flies.
The spiderish Devil lords it over you,
Not over partridges. This is not new.
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The Devil’s yell acts as the damned men’s herder,
That of the Great King is His Friends’ protector.
Since these two are as different as can be;
None of the sweet sea joins the salty sea.*
The talismanic roar reaches the guest in the mosque at midnight
Heed now the tale about that roar that proved
Too weak for that man, as he wasn’t moved.
‘Why should I fear the drums of Eid?’ he said,
‘Let all those beaten drums feel fear instead!’
Lacking hearts, empty drums, your only share
Of spirit’s Eid is being struck—beware!
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Resurrection’s Eid, infidels the drums:
We laugh and celebrate the day Eid comes.
Hear how he cooked good fortune’s broth: he made
It in a pot while drums were being played.
That man with vision heard the drum and said:
‘Why should Eid’s drum fill up my heart with dread?
Don’t tremble, heart, for souls that are too prone
To doubting die from that, and them alone.
The time has come for me to act like Ali:
To seize the kingdom and give up my body.’
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He leapt up, shouting, ‘Prince of this loud drum,
I’m ready; if you are a real man, come!’
At his voice that drum’s talisman broke, while
Nuggets of gold rained down, pile after pile.
So much gold rained down that he was left shocked
And feared the doorway even might get blocked.
Then that strong lion rose up and went on
Dragging the gold all out until the dawn.
He buried one huge pile and then went back
To get some more with a huge, empty sack.
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That one who’d gambled his own life was fearless,
Piling treasures, leaving fear for retreaters.
The thought that it’s gold of the earthly kind
Comes to each blind gold-worshipper’s stray mind:
Children break earthenware and then they name
It ‘gold’ and pocket it in their own game;
During that game, if you say ‘gold’ you’ll find
Only this unreal ‘gold’ comes to their mind.
Real gold displays God’s hallmark, so it never
Loses its value, and it lasts for ever.
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From that gold this world’s gold acquired its lustre,
Brilliance, splendour, and its fine hue and colour.
That gold makes hearts rich and it can outshine
The moon at its most radiant—it’s divine.
He was the moth while that mosque was his candle;
With his own self this moth desired to gamble.
His wings were singed, but he liked this the best
Because, from diving in, he’d be so blest;
That fortunate man was just like Moses, who
Saw the bush burn, then heard words that were true.
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Since so much grace rained down, what in his sight
Had seemed to be fire was in fact pure light.
You see a Friend of God from the outside
And think he has a human’s fire inside,
Because you have that and it shapes your vision;
Our low realm hosts the fire of vain opinion.
He’s Moses’ bush and is filled with light—
Call him ‘light’. Don’t say ‘fire’. Get this fact right!
Severance from here seemed fire to your own eyes,
But turned out to be light to your surprise.
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Faith’s candle always rises just the same;
It doesn’t melt like those that have a flame
And seem like light but burn those who come near—
This looks like fire, but roses greet
you here.
That one seems friendly, but burns body parts;
This one at union gives pure light to hearts.
The flame of pure light’s form to those who’re present
Is light, but it seems fire to those who’re distant.
The meeting of that lover with the Sadr-e Jahan
That brave Bukharan threw himself in too;
His deep love meant the pains he felt were few.
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His burning sigh rose to the heavens and
Softened the sadr’s heart, although unplanned.
The sadr said to himself at the next dawn:
‘How is our wandering friend, Pure, Holy One?
We saw him sinning, but he didn’t know
About the mercy we like to bestow.
The sinner’s conscience fears us, but it’s clear