The Masnavi, Book One: Bk. 1 (Oxford World's Classics)
Page 39
Such talk can tear apart the veil between
This world, with all its faults, and the unseen;
God’s wish is to stay hidden still today,
So drive the drummer off and bar the way!
He’s best left veiled, so draw the reins, sit tight!
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In mental images let men delight.’
The Lord wants even those who’re in despair
To worship Him and never turn from there,
With just the hope that they may gain His grace
Their goal for several days these men will chase.
On all of us He wants his grace to shine:
The good and bad receive grace that’s divine;
God wants each prince and prisoner in his cell
To hope and fear and to beware as well;
This hope and fear are just component parts
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Of the thick veil that’s covering their hearts—
Where’s hope and fear when you’re beyond the screen,
Might and strong rule await in the unseen.
A youth sat by a stream once with this thought:
‘That fisherman is Solomon, is he not?
If so, why’s he alone and in disguise?
If not, why does he seem so to my eyes?’
Like this, in two minds, he was wondering
Till Solomon emerged as their own king;
From his great kingdom then the devil fled,
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Solomon’s fortune’s sword left him for dead,
For he wore on his finger the famed ring;
Devils and fairies were seen gathering,
Men came as well in order just to see,
Including that youth with the fantasy—
Once he had seen the ring that his king wore,
This wiped out what he’d thought about before.
We have such doubts when something is not here,
We guess the qebla* when it is unclear,
Thoughts of the one who’s absent fill one’s breast,
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But when he’s present they are laid to rest;
And if the radiant sky does not lack rain,
Plants keep on growing in the fertile plain.
Believers in what is unseen* to be,
Shutter the windows of the world you see.
If I should split the sky now in plain view,
How can I ask, ‘Does it look cracked to you?’*
To find the qebla in the dark men face
All angles, each from his own starting-place.
Things seem reversed like this for a short time:
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The thief will try the judge now for a crime,
The sultans and high-ranking men as well
Are slaves of their own servants for a spell.
Serving in absence is so laudable
Like keeping faith in what’s invisible,
For those who praise the king while in his presence
Fall short still of those humble in his absence:
The governor at the empire’s furthest end,
Far from the capital, will still not bend;
He guards his garrison from enemies
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And won’t sell out for treasures vast as seas—
Out on the furthest frontier, far away,
He’s loyal like those with the king today;
He’s better in the king’s own eyes than those
Who sacrifice themselves just when he knows:
Fulfilling one small duty thus in absence
Is better than a thousand in his presence:
Faith and obedience, though now praiseworthy,
Become void after death when truth you’ll see.
Since absent and veiled things thus seem the best,
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Seal up your lips—don’t make things manifest!
Brother, refrain from talking! Don’t you know
Much hidden knowledge God will soon bestow;
The sun’s best witness is its own bright face:
Who’s the best witness? God, in every case!
No! I will speak, since God, the angels too,
And others who know are all telling you—
God, angels, and those who have certainty,
God is the one who lives eternally.
But who are angels when God’s testified
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To also now bear witness on his side!
Weak eyes and hearts don’t have the strength to bear
The radiant presence of the sun up there,
They’re just like bats that cannot bear the sun
And so they give up hope it can be done;
The angels help us, so please realize
They manifest the sun’s rays in the skies;
We’ve gained this radiance from the sun, so we
Share it with weak men like a deputy.
Like different phases of the moon at night
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Each angel has its own true worth and might
And different wings of light—some four, some three*—
Each angel to a different degree,
Just like the human intellect’s own wings,
From those of fools to those of learned kings.
Each has an angel as associate,
The one that is the most appropriate,
The blind can’t bear a single solar ray,
So stars serve as the lamps to show the way.
The Prophet tells Zayd, ‘Don’t divulge this secret further than this—be sure to comply!’
‘My followers are stars,’* the Prophet said,
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‘Lamps for the faithful, stones for Satan’s head.’
If everyone possessed such powerful sight
That sees directly heaven’s sun’s pure light,
What need would men have for the stars should they
Be guided by the sun along the way?
He told the earth and clouds what had transpired:
‘I’m just a man, but I have been inspired.’*
I used to be in nature like the rest
Till revelation’s light filled up my breast;
I’m dark still when compared with the Supreme
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Though next to men’s souls like pure light I seem:
My light is faint, so you can cope with it,
Since to behold the sun’s rays you’re unfit;
I’m honey mixed with vinegar, to heal
Your heart of the affliction that you feel—
When you’re completely healthy once again
Throw out the vinegar—eat honey then!
When your heart’s passion-free for God alone,
Witness The Merciful sits on the throne,*
Once the heart gains this link, then God’s decree
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Rules him without an intermediary;
This discourse could go on, but there’s no space—
I must advise Zayd not to seek disgrace.
Resumption of the story about Zayd
You won’t find Zayd now, for this man has fled
Like horses from the shoeing-line they dread,
Who’re you? Zayd cannot find himself—he’s gone
Just like a star on which the sun has shone!
You won’t find hide nor hair of him today,
Not even one star, nor the Milky Way!
The speech and senses of our fathers are
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Effaced in this king’s knowledge like a star,
Their senses and their reasoning in turn,
Like waves to stand before us* will return.
The dawn brings back the burdens of all men,
Stars which were hidden go to work again:
God gives the witless back their wits at dawn,
Group after group with slavery’s earrings on,*
Stamping their feet and waving arms in praise,
; ‘O Lord, you have revived us!’* each now says.
That crumpled skin and bones is now a knight
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Who raises dust on racing out of sight:
The grateful and ungrateful non-existents
At Resurrection thus change to existents.
Why turn your face and not look? Didn’t you
Do that at first in non-existence too?
Later you dug your heels deep in the sand,
Saying, ‘Who can remove me from my land?’
Do you not see God’s actions are so clear:
He dragged you by your ears all the way here
To various different states that lay in store
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Which you had not believed were real before;
That non-existence is his slave, so strive
To work hard, devil! Solomon’s alive!
A demon makes large bowls like troughs* for him
Scared to rebuff him or refuse his whim.
Look at yourself now, trembling fearfully
Like non-existence, which shakes constantly,
If you are holding on to status here,
That too is from your soul-consuming fear,
For everything will hurt and wound your heart
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Though it tastes sweet, the love of God apart.
Approaching death gives such heart-wrenching strife
If you lack Water of Eternal Life:*
People just think of death when they’re on earth,
And doubt the Water of Life’s actual worth—
Try to reduce these doubts of yours, my friend,
Go! If you sleep the night will quickly end!
Seek out that day within the depths of night,
The dark’s consumed by that pure wisdom’s light;
There is much gloom in its gloom, though it’s stark—
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Water of Life is found close to the dark.
From slumber how can one lift up his head
While sowing seeds of heedlessness in bed?
Eating what’s dead supports a sleep death-deep,
The burglar breaks in when the guard’s asleep,
You don’t know who your foes are in this instance,
Those made of fire are foes of your existence;
For water and its family fire’s the foe,
Even though it can put it out, it’s so:
Water can end fire’s life if necessary
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Because it’s water’s children’s enemy;
Also, there is the fire of lust, wherein
You’ll find the root of error and all sin—
The outward fire though water deals with well,
The fire of lust can take you straight to hell—
This fire of lust is not controlled by water
Because it shares its nature with hell’s torture.
The light of faith is lust’s fire’s only cure,
It puts out infidels’ fires, that’s for sure;
Who puts them out? God’s Light, for it’s superior,
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So make the Light of Abraham your teacher,
That from your Nimrod-like self’s fire there may
Be for your incense-form a route away;
Indulging it won’t cool your fiery lust,
Denial works—in this now put your trust!
How can the fire go out once it is lit
And you keep placing planks of wood on it?
This fire dies out if you deny it wood,
For water’s poured on it through being good—
How can fire blacken faces that now shine
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Rosy with rouge from fear of the Divine?*
The fire in the city of Medina under Omar
Omar’s reign saw a fire blaze up that could
Consume huge rocks as if they were dry wood,
It spread to buildings, then soared heavenwards
And reached the highest nests of all the birds;
Half of Medina was in days burnt down,
Water, afraid of this, then fled the town!
Some clever men tried putting out the fire
With vinegar and water—it rose higher:
The flames spread further still in spite of this—
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They gained support straight from the Limitless.
The people hurried to Omar to cry:
‘Water can’t put it out—we’re bound to die!’
He said ‘This is a sign from God no less,
It’s due to your own flame-filled stinginess.
What use is water now—distribute bread!
Stop being stingy, if by me you’re led!’
The people said, ‘We’ve opened every door,