To represent Lord Jesus in this age,
This scroll is evidence for all to see
That his inheritance belongs to me!’
But from the crowd another leader came,
His claim to be successor just the same:
He held a scroll too under his right arm—
In rage they cursed and wished each other harm!
In turn, the other leaders made their way,
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Drawing their gleaming swords to join the fray,
Each held a scroll and sabre in the maul,
Like drunken elephants they’d swing and fall;
Thousands of Christian bodies soon lay dead
And mounds were formed by gathering each one’s head,
Just like a flood their blood spilled all around,
Enormous clouds of dust rose from the ground.
Dissension’s seed which that vizier had sown
Produced such tragedies that chill the bone;
Their walnut bodies soon were split and cracked,
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Only the purest kernels stayed intact.
Death’s what the body’s nature seems to fit
As pomegranates must be crushed and split:
The sweet ones turn to syrup, pure and good,
The rotten just make sounds like lumps of wood,
Those with pure spirits finally see His face
While rotten ones will only find disgrace.
Don’t worship form, but look for loftier things
Because the spirit gives the body wings,
Keep company with those who’re spiritual
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To gain His grace and be more liberal.
A body which does not contain a soul
Is like a sheath that holds a wooden pole,
While hidden in the sheath it might seem good,
But burning is the only use for wood,
With just a wooden sword don’t join this fight,
Check first, or you’ll regret your wretched plight:
If yours is wooden, change it straight away,
But if it’s razor-sharp then join the fray!
Saints have such swords among their armory,
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Just seeing them for you is alchemy—
Listen to this description once again:
He is a mercy to the world of men.*
Buy pomegranates that the grocer’s split
So that its mouth will show the seeds in it,
For generous laughter shows us openly
The heart, a pearl within the spirit’s sea,
The tulip’s laughter though displays its sin—
Its mouth reveals the darkness deep within.
Whole gardens bloom when pomegranates smile:
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To be like mystics stay with them awhile,
For even if you should be made from stone,
Through mystics as a jewel you’ll soon be known;
Plant love of saints now firmly in your heart,
Submit your soul to those who’ll never part,
While there’s still hope don’t wallow in despair,
Why choose the dark when there’s a sun up there?
Your heart will lead you to the mystic way,
Your body drags you to its cell of clay,
So give your heart food from those in accord—
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Seek fortune from the ones who know their lord!
Veneration of the description of the Prophet Mohammad which was included in the gospels
Inside the gospel was Mohammad’s name,
The soul of prophecy who’s free from blame:
Accounts of his appearance it contained,
His battles, fasts, and diet it explained;
A Christian sect, for their own benefit,
On reading his most glorious name in it
Would kiss the text and raise it to their head,
Respecting what the holy gospel said:
In all this latest strife that group were saved
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From terror, for the good way they behaved,
And from the evil of that sly vizier,
Protected by his name, which they held dear;
Their offspring flourished, fortune didn’t end,
Mohammad’s light became their helpful friend.
The other Christian groups made no attempt—
They held the name Mohammad in contempt,
So they met shame and suffering so severe
From seeds of evil sown by that vizier:
Their faith was tampered with,* it’s not the same,
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Those false, misleading scrolls are all to blame!
From Ahmad’s name you can gain such support,
His light gives help of a much higher sort,
His name’s a fort that foes can’t penetrate—
Imagine then his truthful spirit’s state!
The story of another Jewish king who tried to destroy the religion of Jesus
After this bloodshed with no remedy
Caused by that sly vizier’s sheer cruelty,
Another king descending from that Jew
Attempted to destroy the Christians too,
If you desire to learn of this attack
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Recite, By heaven and its zodiac!*
The former king’s bad precedent, by fate,
This other king now tried to imitate;
Those who established evil customs still
Receive each hour a curse which makes them ill,
While habits of the good don’t fade away,
From wicked men oppression’s what will stay,
Until the end of time this latter kind
Towards their fellow tyrants are inclined.
In parallel veins different waters passed
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And they’ll continue till the trumpet blast,*
Sweet water reaches good men in the end,
What is it? To the good the Book we send*
When you express your need, that is a flame,
From prophethood’s home straight to you it came,
Like flashes always circling round their source
They’d head back there if they could find the force;
Light from the window circles round within
Because the sun from star to star must spin.
If you’re associated with a star,
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You’ll share your journey home, however far,
With Venus as ascendant, what delight!
You’ll be disposed to love, and want what’s right;
But if it’s murderous Mars, then all will see
That what you seek is war and enmity;
Beyond them there’s another universe
Where stars don’t burn out, nor seem ominous,
In other heavens such stars circle round,
Not those that we can gaze at from the ground,
Bathed in the light of God, immaculate,
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Not joined together, nor kept separate—
If for ascendant you have one of these
Your soul will burn each infidel you seize!
It’s not the rage of Mars, so don’t be fooled,
It doesn’t change from mastery to being ruled,
This ruling light which God helps keep alight,
By shielding it with fingers curled up tight;
Over all souls God lets His radiance fall,
The lucky lift their skirts to catch it all,
Appreciating their small share of light
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From all apart from God they blind their sight;
Whoever lacked a skirt acquired through love,
Could not catch any radiance from above:
Round Universal Being contingents turn
While roses make each nightingale’s heart burn.
The ox has on the outside coloured skin,
Col
ours in humans are found deep within:
Bright colours from the vat of purity
And ugly ones from brooks of cruelty:
The colouring by God* is rated first,
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The filthiest is called what God has cursed;
All flotsam on the sea must run its course
But in the end it goes back to its source,
Like rapid torrents in the peaks above
And human souls returning through their love.
The Jewish king makes a fire and places an idol next to it, saying ‘Whoever prostrates himself before this idol will escape the fire’
Now witness what that Jew tried to conspire,
He placed an idol right beside the fire,
Saying, ‘Bow down before this to be free
Or else you’ll burn in fire eternally!’
Not dealing with his own self’s vile abuse
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An idol form’s what he let it produce;
Such forms the mother of all idols makes:
Your dragon-self produces countless snakes!
Idols are sparks your flint-like self sends out,
Water is what you need to put them out,
But water can’t defeat that stubborn stone
So safety’s what no selfish man has known.
The idol is foul water in a bowl,
Its source is nothing but the carnal soul;
The idol is just like a filthy flood,
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The self produces it like its own blood;
A stone can break a hundred cups and more,
But nothing stops the fount’s relentless pour:
To break an idol is an easy task,
To smash yourself is hard—you need to ask?
To know the self’s form, read what he dictates
Concerning hellfire and hell’s seven gates:
Each moment there’s a plot, dear travellers,
Drowning more pharaohs with their followers*—
To Moses and his God escape today,
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Don’t spill faith’s water—that’s the pharaoh’s way!
Cling to the Prophet and his God, take pride,
Your body’s ignorant, cast it aside!
A child begins to talk from inside the fire, urging people to throw themselves into it
This Jew then brought a woman with her child
Before the idol while the flames grew wild,
Then grabbed her child and quickly threw it in
So she, in fear, would swap her faith for sin:
He wanted her now to bow down her head,
But then her child cried, ‘Stop, for I’m not dead!
I haven’t died, I’m happy, join me here!
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It only looks like fire, so have no fear!
The fire just blinds you to what’s really there:
God’s mercy which has come out of thin air.
Enter, and witness living proof of God,
The joy which makes His own élite applaud,
Come and see water that’s like fire, it’s true,
A world of fire which seems like water too!
And Abraham’s well-hidden mysteries:*
Here he found jasmine and tall cypress trees.
When you gave birth to me I saw my tomb—
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How much I feared I’d fall down from your womb!
Once born I fled the confines of that cage
To fresh air and a bigger, brighter stage.
But now that world seems like a womb to me
For in this fire I’ve found serenity:
I’ve seen a world without a trace of death,
All atoms here have Jesus’s pure breath,*
A world that’s dead in form, but lives in essence,
While that world lives in form, the realm of transience.
Enter, for every mother has the right,
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You’ll see it has no flames though it shines bright!
Enter, for all good fortune’s found in here,
This opportunity will disappear!
You’ve seen the might of tyrants who are base,
Now come and see the power of God’s grace!
His mercy is what makes me now implore,
Since drowned in joy I think of you no more;
Come in, and call the other people too,
A royal banquet’s waiting here for you!
Come in believers! Our pure faith apart,
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All other things bring torment to the heart—
Enter the flames like moths which burn their wings,
Good fortune blossoms here like endless springs.’
The child’s repeated shouting was so loud
Amazement filled the souls of all the crowd,
So, selflessly, each one of them in turn
The Masnavi, Book One: Bk. 1 (Oxford World's Classics) Page 11
