by Paulo Coelho
tie up Borāq, the steed of rational speech.
As speech reveals the error of your ways,
it’s tearing down the veil of what is hidden,
And God requires concealment for a time.
Drive off this drummer-boy; close off the road!
Don’t gallop; draw the reins. Restraint is better;
it’s better all are happy in their views.
God wishes those who have no hope in Him
to not avert their faces from His worship.
While there’s still hope, they’ve still nobility.
A day or two they run beside His stirrups.
He would prefer His mercy shone on all,
on good and bad, in universal mercy.
God wishes every prince and every pauper
was full of hope and fearful and was cautious.
This fear and caution are within a veil,
so that behind the veil they are protected.
Where’s fear, where’s caution, when the veil is torn?
The awesomeness of unseen worlds is shown!
Thought struck a youth upon a river-bank:
‘That fisherman of ours is Solomon!
If that’s him, why’s he on his own, disguised;
if not, then why the look of Solomon?’
He was in two minds, thinking thoughts like this,
till Solomon returned as king and sovereign.
The demon fled the throne and left the kingdom;
the sword of fortune spilled that demon’s blood.
And when he put the ring upon his finger,
the hordes of sprites and demons gathered round.
And men came too to see what they could see –
among them was the youth who’d had the vision.
And when he saw the ring upon his finger,
his wonderings and worries went at once.
Suspicion’s at its height when something’s hidden;
investigation chases what’s unseen.
Imagining the absent one inflamed him;
when he appeared, imagining dispersed.
If shining heaven is not devoid of rain,
nor is dark earth devoid of verdant growth.
Because I need the sense ‘they trust the unseen’,
I’ve closed the window of this worldly mansion.
If I cleave heaven apart for all to see,
how could I say, ‘Can you see cracks in it?’
So in this darkness they investigate;
each person turns his face in some direction.
Awhile the world’s affairs are upside down,
the thief will take the governor to the gallows.
And many a sovereign prince and noble soul
becomes his servant’s servant for a while.
In absence, good and beautiful is service;
recalling absent ones in service pleases.
The one who stands before the king to praise him
is what, compared to him who’s meekly absent?
The governor who is at the empire’s outposts,
far from the sultan and the royal shadow,
Defends the fortress from the enemy –
he’ll not forsake the fortress for a fortune.
Remote from court and in outlandish outposts,
he keeps his loyalty like one who’s present.
And for the king he’s better than the rest
who serve him there and sacrifice their lives.
The smallest scrap of duty’s care in absence
is worth a hundred thousand in his presence.
Obedience and faith are precious now,
but after death, when all is clear, they’re surplus.
Since absence, absent one and veil are best,
then close your lips: a quiet mouth is best.
O brother, steal yourself away from words
for God Himself reveals inspired knowledge.
The sun’s face is the witness of the sun.
‘What is the greatest testimony? – God.’
No, I shall speak, for God and all the angels
and learned men agree in explanation:
‘God and the angels and the learned witness:
there is no lord except the Lord abiding’,
Since God has testified who are the angels,
that they are partners in His testimony.
It is because weak hearts and eyes can’t bear
the beams of light and presence of the sun.
It’s like a bat that’s given up all hope
because it cannot tolerate the sunlight.
Be sure, the angels help as we are helpers,
reflectors of the sun in highest heaven.
We say we’ve gained this splendour from a sun;
we’ve shone upon the weak as did the caliph.
And like a moon that’s new or half or full,
each angel has perfection, light and power.
By rank each angel has from that effulgence
a three- or fourfold set of wings of light,
Just like the wings of human intellects,
among which there is so much variation.
The partner of each human, good or evil,
is just that angel which resembles it.
The bleary-eyed who cannot bear the sun –
the star is meant for him to find his way.
The Prophet (Peace Be Upon Him) Said to Zayd, ‘Do Not Tell this Secret More Plainly than This, and Keep Watch over Your Obedience’
The Prophet said, ‘My followers are stars,
a lamp for travellers, and for Satan stoning.’
If every person had the eye and strength
to take the light of the celestial sun,
Who would have need of stars, O wretched man,
to give an indication of the sun?
The moon declares to earth and cloud and shades,
‘I was a mortal “but it is revealed…” ’
And in my nature I was dark, like you.
The sun revealed to me a light like this.
Compared with suns, I have a darkness in me,
but I have light for darkness of the souls.
I’m fainter so that you can bear my truth,
for you are not a man of brilliant suns.
I’m blended in like vinegar and honey,
so I can reach the sickness in the liver.
O addict, when you’ve shaken off your illness,
leave off the vinegar and feed on honey.
The throne, which is the heart set free from lust –
now see ‘the Merciful sits on the throne’.
Thereafter God controls the heart directly,
for now the heart has found the true relation.
These words go on forever – where is Zayd
that I may warn him not to seek disgrace?
Returning to the Story of Zayd
You’ll not find Zayd, for he has disappeared:
he’s fled the shoe rack, and he’s dropped his shoes.
And who are you? Zayd could not find himself;
he’s like the star on which the sun has shone.
You’ll find there is no sign nor signal of him;
you’ll find no clue along the Milky Way.
The sense and speech of our forefathers are
suffused within the light of our king’s wisdom.
Their senses and intelligences lost
in wave on wave of ‘be arraigned before us’.
When morning comes it is the time of burden;
the stars that had been hidden go to work.
God gives sensation to the senseless ones,
to rings of them, with rings upon their ears.
They dance and wave their hands about in praise,
rejoicing with ‘O Lord You have revived us.’
Their scattered skin and dislocated bones
turned into horsemen churning up the dust.
On Resurrection Day the gratef
ul and
ungrateful change to being from non-being.
Why snatch away your head? Do you not see?
Did you not turn it first in non-existence?
Your feet were planted firm in non-existence.
You asked, ‘Who will uproot me from my place?’
Do you not see the action of your Lord?
He is the One who takes you by the forelock.
And so He draws you to all sorts of states
of which you had no inkling or conception.
Non-being is eternally his servant.
To work, O demons! Solomon’s alive!
The demon fashions bowls ‘like water-troughs’.
He does not dare refuse or answer back.
See how you are atremble out of fear;
be sure non-being’s also ever-trembling.
And if you’re striving after high position,
it’s just the fear your spirit is in turmoil.
For all except the love of God most fair
is turmoil, even if it’s sugar-coated.
So what is turmoil? Going towards death,
not having plunged into the living water.
The people’s eyes are cast on earth and death;
they doubt life’s water with a hundred doubts.
Strive to reduce your hundred doubts to ninety;
be gone by night or, if you sleep, night goes.
By night’s obscurity seek out that day
and find that darkness-burning intellect.
In evil-coloured night there is much goodness;
the living water is the bride of darkness.
Yet who can lift his head up out of sleep
and sow these hundred seeds of inattention?
The deadly sleep and deadly food befriend you.
The master slept; the night thief went to work.
Do you not recognize your enemies?
The fiery ones are foes of those of earth.
Fire is the foe of water and her children
as water is the rival of his spirit.
The water will extinguish fire because
it is the enemy of water’s children.
And so the fire’s the fire of human lust
in which there lies the root of sin and error.
The outer fire may be put out with water;
the fire of lust will take you down to hell.
The fire of lust is not appeased by water,
because it has hell’s nature in tormenting.
What is the cure for lust? The light of faith:
‘Your light will quench the fire of unbelievers.’
What kills this fire? The light of God Almighty,
so make the light of Abraham your teacher,
So that your body like a timber frame
escapes your fire of self, which is like Nimrod.
This fiery lust does not abate with practice,
but only by abstaining does it lessen.
So long as you lay firewood on a fire,
how will the fire die down by stoking it?
When you deprive the fire of wood it dies,
so fear of God pours water on the fire.
How can the fire besmirch the lovely face
whose cheeks are rouged with ‘reverence of their hearts’?
A Fire Breaks Out in Medina in the Days of Omar (May God Be Pleased With Him)
A fire broke out back in the days of Omar;
it was consuming stones like kindling wood.
It fell on buildings and on dwelling houses,
and even caught the wings and nests of birds.
And half the city went up in the flames,
and water boiled in shock in fear of them.
And those who had their wits about them
threw their water-skins and vinegar on the fire.
The fire was growing stronger in its rage;
the source that fuelled it was infinite.
The people flocked in haste to Omar’s side:
‘We cannot put the fire out with water!’
He said, ‘Indeed that fire’s a sign of God –
a flame out of your fire of stinginess.
What’s water? What is vinegar? Give bread!
Bypass your meanness if you are my people!’
The people said, ‘We’ve opened wide our doors;
we have been liberal and bountiful.’
‘You’ve given out of habit and by custom.
You have not opened up your hands for God
But all for glory, showing-off and pride,
not piety and fear and dedication.
Wealth is a seed, don’t sow in barren soil;
don’t put a sword in every brigand’s hand!
And know the faithful from the hateful ones;
seek out companions of the truth and join them!
Each person shows a liking for their own.
A fool alone then thinks he’s done good deeds.’
RABINDRANATH TAGORE
from Selected Poems
Brahmā, Viu, Śiva
In a worldless timeless lightless great emptiness
Four-faced Brahmā broods.
Of a sudden a sea of joy surges through his heart –
The ur-god opens his eyes.
Speech from four mouths
Speeds to each quarter.
Through infinite dark,
Through limitless sky,
Like a growing sea-storm,
Like hope never sated,
His Word starts to move.
Stirred by joy, his breathing quickens,
His eight eyes quiver with flame.
His fire-matted hair sweeps the horizon,
Bright as a million suns.
From the towering source of the world
In a thousand streams
Cascades the primeval blazing fountain,
Fragmenting silence,
Splitting its stone heart.
In a universe rampant
With new life exhalant,
With new life exultant,
In a borderless sky
Viu spreads wide
His four-handed blessing.
He raises his conch
And all things quake
At its booming sound.
The frenzy dies down,
The furnace expires,
The planets douse
Their flames with tears.
The world’s Divine Poet
Constructs its history,
From wild cosmic song
Its epic is formed.
Stars in their orbits,
Moon, sun and planets –
He binds with his mace
All things to Law,
Imposes the discipline
Of metre and rhyme.
In the Mānasa depths
Viu watches –
Beauties arise
From the light of lotuses.
Laksmī strews smiles –
Clouds show a rainbow,
Gardens show flowers.
The roar of Creation
Resolves into music.
Softness hides rigour,
Forms cover power.
Age after age after age is slave to a mighty rhythm –
At last the world-frame
Tires in its body,
Sleep in its eyes
Slackens its structure,
Diffuses its energy.
From the heart of all matter
Comes the anguished cry –
‘Wake, wake, greatŚiva,
Our body grows weary
Of its law-fixed path,
Give us new form.
Sing our destruction,
That we gain new life.’
The great god awakes,
His three eyes open,
He surveys all horizons.
He lifts his bow, his fell pināka,
He pounds the world with his tread.
From first things to last it trembles a
nd shakes
And shudders.
The bonds of nature are ripped.
The sky is rocked by the roar
Of a wave of ecstatic release.
An inferno soars –
The pyre of the universe.
Shattered sun and moon, smashed stars and planets
Rain down from all angles,
A blackness of particles
To be swallowed by flame,
Absorbed in an instant.
At the start of Creation
There was dark without origin,
At the breaking of Creation
There is fire without end.
In an all-pervading sky-engulfing sea of burning
Śiva shuts his three eyes.
He begins his great trance.
MARY SHELLEY
from Frankenstein
My present situation was one in which all voluntary thought was swallowed up and lost. I was hurried away by fury; revenge alone endowed me with strength and composure; it moulded my feelings, and allowed me to be calculating and calm, at periods when otherwise delirium or death would have been my portion.