And asked him for a sheepskin he could wear,
And then, beneath the skin, began to creep
On hands and knees as if he were a sheep.
“Now lead your flock,” he cried, “past Leili’s tent;
It may be I shall catch her lovely scent
And hidden by this matted fleece receive
From untold misery one hour’s reprieve.”
And so Majnoun, disguised beneath the skin,
Drew near his love unnoticed by her kin –
Joy welled in him and in its wild excess
The frenzied lover lost all consciousness;
Love’s fire had dried the fluids of his brain –
He fainted and lay stretched out on the plain;
The shepherd bore him to a shaded place
And splashed cold water on his burning face.
Later, Majnoun was talking with some friends
When one said: “What a tattered fleece defends
Your body from the cold; but trust in me
I’ll bring you all you need immediately.”
Majnoun replied: “No garment’s worthy of
Dear Leili, but I wear this skin for love –
I know how fortune favours me, and I
Burn rue to turn away the Evil Eye.”
The fleece for him was silk and rare brocade;
With what else should a lover be arrayed?
I too have known love scent the passing air –
What other finer garment could I wear?
If you would scour yourself of each defect,
Let passion wean you from the intellect –
To leave such toys and sacrifice the soul
Is still the first small step towards our goal.
Begin, if you can set aside all shame –
To risk your life is not some childish game.
lines 3378–3405
The beggar who fell in love with Ayaz
A beggar fell in love once with Ayaz –
The news soon spread through markets and bazaars,
And when he rode about the gaping town
There was the beggar running up and down;
Or if Ayaz once halted in the square,
His eyes would meet the beggar’s hungry stare.
But someone gossiped to Mahmoud, who went
To try and apprehend the miscreant –
Ayaz rode out; Mahmoud was horrified
To see the beggar running at his side,
And from his hiding-place the monarch saw
The beggar’s face, wasted like yellow straw,
His back bent like a polo-mallet’s curve –
From side to side he watched him duck and swerve,
As if he had no self-control at all
But moved when hit just like a polo-ball.
He summoned him, then said: “And so you thought
A beggar could be equal to the court?”
The man replied: “In matters of desire,
A beggar is his monarch’s equal, sire –
You cannot sunder love from pauper’s rags;
They’re like a rich man and his money bags –
And poverty in love resembles salt:
It gives love taste; you can’t call that a fault!
You have the world and love your sovereignty –
You should leave passion to the likes of me!
Your love is with you; you need never know
The pains of absence love should undergo.
O, you are proud to have him, but love’s trial
Would come if you should lose him for a while.”
The king said: “You are ignorant, that’s all –
Staring as if he were a polo-ball!”
“It’s me who is the ball,” the man replied;
“Look – both of us are struck from side to side;
Each shares the other’s pain, each feels the force
Of Ayaz when he rides by on his horse –
lines 3406–27
We’re both bewildered by his mallet’s blows,
And where we’re going neither of us knows.
But if we share the same predicament
And seem in grief to be equivalent,
Yet still the ball does more than I can do
And sometimes gets to kiss his horse’s shoe.
Though both are hurt, mine is the grimmer part –
Its skin is scarred, my scars are in my heart.
Ayaz pursues the ball he hits – but I
In unregarded agony must sigh;
The ball will sometimes land at Ayaz’ feet,
But when shall Ayaz and a beggar meet?
The ball will know the scent of victory
But all such joys have been denied to me!”
The king cried: “You may boast that you are poor,
But where’s your witness? How can I be sure?”
“I don’t belong here, sire,” the beggar said,
“But I’m not poor and you have been misled;
You want a witness – if I sacrifice
My living soul for love, will that suffice?
O Mahmoud, love like yours is meaningless;
Die if you want to boast of your distress!”
Then, in the silence after he replied,
He sank at his beloved’s feet and died –
And when he saw the lifeless body there
The world was darkened by Mahmoud’s despair.
Prepare to risk your being while you live,
And know the glory sacrifice will give –
If you are summoned by that distant call,
Pursue the fading sound until you fall;
And as you fall the news you longed to find
Will break at last on your bewildered mind.
The Arab in Persia
Through Persia once an Arab took his way,
Where foreign customs filled him with dismay –
lines 3428–48
He met a group of dervishes, who had
Renounced the world and seemed to him quite mad
(But don’t be fooled – if they seem filthy thieves
They are far purer than the world believes,
And though in drunkenness they seem to sink
The ecstasy they know is not from drink).
The Arab saw these men; without a sound
He fainted and lay stretched out on the ground –
They quickly splashed his face to bring him round
And then cried: “Enter, no-one, enter here!”
And in he went, though torn by doubt and fear.
They made him drunk, he lost himself, and soon
His mind had foundered in a vacant swoon;
His gold, his jewels, his very livelihood
Were stolen there and disappeared for good –
A dervish gave him more to drink, and then
They pushed him naked out of doors again.
Dry-lipped and poor the man was forced to roam,
A naked beggar, till he reached his home,
And there the Arabs said: “But what’s gone wrong?
Where is your wealth, where have you been so long?
Your gold and silver’s gone, what can you do ?
This Persian expedition’s ruined you!
Did thieves attack you? You don’t say a word –
You seem so different; tell us what occurred.”
He said: “I went as usual – full of pride –
Then saw a dervish by the highway’s side.
But then what happened next I can’t be sure;
My gold and silver went and now I’m poor!”
They said: “Describe this man who blocked your way.”
He said: “I have; there’s nothing more to say.”
His mind was still elsewhere and all he heard
Seemed idle chatter, empty and absurd.
Enter the Way or seek some other goal,
But do so to the utmost of your soul;
Risk all, and as a naked beggar roam
If you would hear that “Enter” call you home.
lines 3449–68
The lover who wanted to kill his beloved
A selfless youth had lost his heart to one
Whose beauty beggared all comparison,
But then the girl grew sick (as Fate decreed),
As thin and yellow as a rotten reed.
Now death approached – she seemed to waste away;
Dark night descended on the brightest day.
When he was told his love despaired of life,
The youth ran riot, brandishing a knife,
And cried: “If Death – which no man can withstand –
Has come, then let her perish by my hand!”
But someone grabbed the wild youth’s arm and said:
“What point is murder, fool? Why should you shed
Her blood when in the hour she will be dead?”
“But if I kill her,” came the youth’s reply,
“The law decrees that I too have to die,
And at the resurrection hell will be
My burning doom through all eternity;
Thus I shall die for her today and light
A candle for her in the future’s night –
To die for her is my supreme desire,
To die, and burn for her in endless fire.”
True lovers tread this path and turn aside
From this world and the next unsatisfied;
Their souls rise up from death and seek above
The undiscovered, secret home of love.
The death of Abraham
As Abraham approached his life’s last breath,
He fought with Azra’el and parried death.
“Go back,” he cried, “and tell my king to wait;
The king’s friend will arrive a little late.”
God answered him: “But if you are my friend,
You are prepared, and glad, to reach life’s end.”
Then someone said: “What makes your soul rebel
lines 3469–85
And seek to hide itself from Azra’el?
True-hearted lovers risk their lives; so why
Are you reluctant or afraid to die?”
And he replied: “How can I give my soul
When Azra’el obscures the longed-for goal?
When Gabriel himself appeared in fire
And asked me to describe my heart’s desire,
I did not glance at him; the path I trod
Had then as now no other goal but God –
I turned my head aside from Gabriel,
And shall I hand my soul to Azra’el?
I shall not give this soul until I hear
The word of God command me to draw near;
And when I hear His voice this life will be
Less use than half a barley grain to me –
How could I give my soul to anyone
But Him? Enough, my explanation’s done!”
The Valley of Insight into Mystery
The next broad valley which the traveller sees
Brings insight into hidden mysteries;
Here every pilgrim takes a different way,
And different spirits different rules obey.
Each soul and body has its level here
And climbs or falls within its proper sphere –
There are so many roads, and each is fit
For that one pilgrim who must follow it.
How could a spider or a tiny ant
Tread the same path as some huge elephant?
Each pilgrim’s progress is commensurate
With his specific qualities and state
(No matter how it strives, what gnat could fly
As swiftly as the winds that scour the sky?).
Our pathways differ – no bird ever knows
The secret route by which another goes.
Our insight comes to us by different signs;
lines 3486–3505
One prays in mosques and one in idols’ shrines –
But when Truth’s sunlight clears the upper air,
Each pilgrim sees that he is welcomed there.
His essence will shine forth; the world that seemed
A furnace will be sweeter than he dreamed.
He will perceive the marrow, not the skin –
The Self will disappear; then, from within
The heart of all he sees, there will ascend
The longed-for face of the immortal Friend.
A hundred thousand secrets will be known
When that unveiled, surpassing face is shown –
A hundred thousand men must faint and fail
Till one shall draw aside the secrets’ veil –
Perfected, of rare courage he must be
To dive through that immense, uncharted sea.
If you discern such hidden truths and feel
Joy flood your life, do not relax your zeal;
Though thirst is quenched, though you are bathed in bliss
Beyond all possible hypothesis,
Though you should reach the throne of God, implore
Him still unceasingly: “Is there yet more?”
Now let the sea of gnosis drown your mind,
Or dust and death are all that you will find.
If you ignore our quest and idly sleep,
You will not glimpse the Friend; rise now and weep.
And if you cannot find His beauty here,
Seek out Truth’s mysteries and persevere!
But shame on you, you fool! Bow down your head;
Accept a donkey’s bridle and be led!
The stone man
A man in China has become a stone;
He sits and mourns, and at each muffled groan
Weeps melancholy tears, which then are found
Congealed as pebbles scattered on the ground
(What misery the world would know, what pain,
lines 3506–25
If clouds should shed such adamantine rain!).
This man is Knowledge (sensible, devout;
If you should go to China seek him out),
But he has turned to stone from secret grief,
From lack of zeal, indifference, unbelief.
The world is dark, and Knowledge is a light,
A sparkling jewel to lead you through the night –
Without it you would wander mystified,
Like Alexander lost without a guide;
But if you trust its light too much, despair
Will be the sequel of pedantic care,
And if you underestimate this jewel
Despair will mark you as a righteous fool
(Ignore or overvalue this bright stone,
And wretchedness will claim you for her own).
If you can step outside the stage we know,
The dark confusions of our life below,
And reach man’s proper state, you will possess
Wisdom at which the world can never guess.
The path brings sorrow and bewildered fear,
But venture on until the Way is clear,
And neither sleep by night nor drink by day,
But give your life – completely – to the Way.
The lover who slept
A lover, tired out by the tears he wept,
Lay in exhaustion on the earth and slept;
When his beloved came and saw him there,
Sunk fast in sleep, at peace, without a care,
She took a pen and in an instant wrote,
Then fastened to his sleeve, a little note.
When he awoke and read her words his pain
(Increased a thousandfold) returned again –
“If you sell silver in the town,” he read,
“The market’s opened, rouse your sleepy head;
If faith is your concern, pray through the night –
lines 3526–43
Prostrate yourself until the
dawning light;
But if you are a lover, blush with shame;
Sleep is unworthy of the lover’s name!
He watches with the wind throughout the day;
He sees the moon rise up and fade away –
But you do neither, though you weep and sigh;
Your love for me looks like an empty lie.
A man who sleeps before death’s sleep I call
A lover of him self, and that is all!
You’ve no idea of love, and may your sleep
Be like your ignorance–prolonged and deep!”
A watchman in love
A watchman fell in love – the poor man kept
Love’s vigil day and night and never slept.
A friend reproved this lover. “Sleep!” he cried,
“sleep for one moment!” But the man replied:
“I am a lover and a watchman; how
Could I know sleep and break this double vow?
How can a watchman sleep? especially
A wretched watchman who’s in love like me ?
My earthly duties and my love unite
To ward off sleep throughout the longest night.
There’s no sleep in me – can I ask a friend
For sleep? It’s not a substance you can lend!
Each night love puts his watchman to the test,
Watching to see the watchman has no rest,
Beating a drum as if to wake the dead,
Or slapping me about the face and head –
And if I slept a moment, sleepless love
Would raise a tumult to the skies above.”
His friend said: “But you never even blink;
All night you burn and cannot sleep a wink!”
He answered him: “A watchman never sleeps;
He knows no water but the tears he weeps –
A watchman’s duty is to stay awake,
lines 3544–63
And lovers parch with thirst for passion’s sake;
Since lovers’ eyes are filled with flowing tears
Sweet sleep is driven out and disappears –
A lover and a watchman should agree,
Since neither sleeps through all eternity.
Love helps the watchman’s vigilance; its pain
Will banish slumber from his fevered brain.”
Shun sleep if you would be this sentinel
(Though if your vigil is mere talk, sleep well!).
Pace the heart’s streets; thieves lurk in ambush there,
Waiting for you to waver in your care;
But as you scan the darkness you will find
New love and insight wake within your mind;
The man who suffers, who will watch and wait,
The Conference of the Birds (Penguin) Page 18
