The Masnavi, Book One: Bk. 1 (Oxford World's Classics)

by Jalal al-Din Rumi

  We’re generous to a fault—does He want more?’

  He said, ‘You gave bread then because of rules

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  And out of habit, not for God, you fools,

  Just to show off about your piety,

  Not out of fear and inner poverty!’

  Don’t sow the seed of wealth on rotten land,

  Don’t place a dagger in a robber’s hand,

  Discern the faithful from the enemy—

  With those who know the Lord keep company:

  All men put first their own kind—that’s a fact,

  Just fools think a good deed is their own act.

  An enemy spits in the face of the Commander of the Faithful* Ali, who drops his sword

  Learn how to act sincerely from Ali,

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  God’s lion, free from all impurity:

  During a battle, he subdued a foe

  Then drew his sword to deal the final blow.

  That man spat in Ali’s pure face, the pride

  Of every saint and prophet far and wide:

  The moon prostrates itself before this face

  At which he spat—this act was a disgrace!

  Ali put down his sabre straight away

  And, though he was on top, he stopped the fray.

  The fighter was astonished by this act,

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  That he showed mercy though he’d been attacked:

  ‘You pointed your sharp blade at me before,

  But then you simply dropped it on the floor—

  Greater than fighting me what did you see

  That you eased up in your attack on me?

  What did you see to end your vehemence,

  For lightning to flash bright then dim at once?

  What did you see that was reflected here

  Deep in my heart, and made a flame appear?

  What did you see beyond both being and place

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  That you spared me though I spat in your face?

  You are God’s lion through your bravery

  And who knows your high rank in chivalry!

  You’re Moses’s cloud in the desert heat

  Which brought a feast beyond compare to eat.’

  The clouds bring wheat which men can grind and bake

  To make some sweet and wholesome bread and cake:

  The wings of mercy Moses’s cloud spread

  To give him ready-made hot cakes and bread;

  For those who ate this bounty he unfurled,

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  Through such kind grace, their banner in the world,

  For forty years that wonderful largesse

  Fed those with hope without becoming less,

  Until they asked, because they’d grown so base,

  Why herbs and onions weren’t sent in its place!*

  Mohammad’s people, noble men, can see

  Such food from God will last eternally:

  He said, ‘I was with God the night before,*

  Who fed me’—this was not a metaphor!

  Accept this reading, make no argument,

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  Such milk and honey you too might be sent;

  Interpreting throws back what you’ve received,

  Due to a fault in it that you’ve perceived.

  Seeing faults shows your mind is weak as well,

  Wisdom’s the kernel, reason’s just the shell.

  Judge critically your own vile self instead,

  Don’t criticize the rose bush but your head!

  ‘You are completely intellect and sight,

  Ali, what did you see to stop the fight?

  Our soul’s been split by your most gentle sword,

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  Our earth’s been washed by knowledge you have poured.

  I know these are His secrets, but tell me!

  Slaying without a sword’s His mystery.’

  That Craftsman with no tools or hands still knows

  How to create the gifts that He bestows:

  He’ll make you taste a hundred wines and more

  Which ears and eyes have never known before.

  ‘O heaven’s hunting falcon, please tell me,

  Through the Creator what did you just see?

  Your eyes have learned to see the hidden sphere

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  Unlike those stitched-up eyes of others here;

  One sees the moon above as clear as day,

  “The whole world’s dark,” another man will say;

  Another sees three moons in the same space,

  Though each observes the sky from the same place—

  Their outward eyes are sharp, their ears are too,

  And yet they flee me but hold on to you!

  Is this illusion or His marvellous grace—

  You looking wolf-like, while I’ve Joseph’s face?

  If there were eighteen thousand worlds, not all

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  Would find each one of them perceptible—

  The secret, great Ali, won’t you relate,

  You who brought good fate after evil fate?

  Either tell what your mind’s seen candidly

  Or I’ll divulge what trickled down to me:

  It shone on me through you, but still was bright.

  Thus, like the moon, you silently spread light;

  But if the moon should speak to us one day

  It would lead men more quickly on their way—

  They’re safe from errors of neglectful fools

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  Because the moon subdues the shrieks of ghouls,

  Though silently the moon can serve as guide

  A talking moon’s light would be multiplied.

  Since you’re “the gate to where God’s knowledge is”*

  A ray from the bright sun of grace that’s His,

  Open up gate! To seekers you’re eternal,

  And, through you, every husk can reach its kernel,

  So open up forever, mercy’s gate

  To There is none like Him*—don’t make us wait!’

  Each atom is a place where He’ll appear

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  But if it’s closed who’ll say: ‘the door is here!’

  Unless the guard should swing it open wide

  Belief in this will not be roused inside,

  But when it’s opened it can vivify

  Your bird of hope, which then will start to fly.

  If treasure’s found in ruins by a man

  He’ll then search every ruin that he can;

  If from a dervish pearls you fail to find

  Why should you try the others of his kind?

  Opinion, if for years itself runs on,

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  It can’t pass its own nose, where it was born—

  If you’ve not caught a scent from the unseen,

  Can you claim that beyond your nose you’ve seen?

  The infidel asks Ali, ‘After defeating someone like me, why did you drop your sword?’

  That friendly infidel then asked Ali

  Through drunkenness and savour, thoughtfully:

  ‘Commander, please inform me, go ahead!

  Make my soul like a foetus bow its head!’

  The seven planets play in turn a role

  In nurturing the foetus, O dear soul,

  But when it needs a spirit, then the sun

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  Provides the help required to get this done:

  The foetus is stirred by the sun a bit

  When quickly it provides a soul for it;

  From planets it gains naught but a small trace

  But then the sun shines down on it warm grace.

  But how was this connection first begun

  Inside the womb with the most gorgeous sun?

  A hidden route beyond our human sight

  Provides a path to that celestial light,

  That route by which all hidden gold’s refined

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  And stones tu
rn into jewels that are mined,

  That route which gives each ruby its red shade

  And sends a spark where every horseshoe’s made,

  That route which ripens fruit while on the tree,

  That route which gives the timid bravery.

  ‘Tell all, great falcon, with your blazing wing,

  Who’s been trained on the forearm of the king,

  O phoenix-catching falcon, make it known,

  You who defeat vast armies on your own—

  You are yourself my whole community,

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  Since I’m your prey, great falcon, please tell me!

  Mercy in wrath’s place! I don’t understand

  Why you would choose to shake a dragon’s hand!’

  The Commander of the Faithful* answers, saying what the reason was for dropping his sword in that situation

  He said, ‘I use my sword the way God’s planned,

  Not for my body but by God’s command;

  I am God’s lion, not the one of passion—

  My actions testify to my religion:

  “You did not throw when you threw,”* God has said:

  I’m just a sword the Sun swings at your head;

  I’ve moved the baggage of my self away,

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  “All but God’s non-existent,” I now say,

  My Lord’s the Sun and I’m the shadow seen,

  For I’m His servant this side of the screen;

  Adorned with jewels of union like a knife,

  While fighting I don’t kill but grant new life.

  My diamond-bright blade blood can never stain—

  How can the wind drive off my clouds again?

  A mountain of forbearance and deep calm

  The fiercest winds can’t blow away or harm;

  That which is swept by wind is trash, no more,

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  And there are many winds like this in store!

  The wind of rage and that of greed and lust

  Blow those who don’t pray at the time they must!

  I am a mountain, He’s my solid base,

  Like straw I’m blown just by thought of His face;

  My longing changes once His wind has blown,

  My captain is the love of Him alone,

  Rage may rule kings but I have conquered it;

  I’ve tied up anger to my horse’s bit,

  The sword of my forbearance chopped my rage,

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  God’s anger is a mercy at my stage;

  Although my roof’s been wrecked I’m drowned in light:

  Father of Dust’s* a garden blooming bright!

  A reason had emerged in that attack

  For me to choose to draw my sabre back,

  So “he loves for God’s sake” should be my name,

  “He hates for God” my sole desire and aim,

  “He gives for God” my liberality,

  “He clings to God” my being, as you see;

  I’m mean or generous too for God alone,

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  I’m His possession, not what men can own.

  My deeds for God are not based on opinion

  Or mere conformity, but through His vision,

  Reasoning and calculation I have fled

  To tie my sleeve to God’s cloak hem instead;

  While flying I can see the realm I’m in,

  While whirling the sole point round which I spin;

  If I should drag a load I know to where,

  For I’m the moon—my chief’s the sun up there!

  I can’t tell any more humanity,

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  A narrow river can’t contain the sea!

  I speak thus for their brains are limited,

  This isn’t wrong, it’s what the Prophet did,

  So hear my evidence, I’m free from lust,

  The word of slaves is worth much less than dust.’

  The testimony of a slave’s worth naught

  According to the law upheld at court,*

  Though thousands of slaves be your witnesses

  The court still won’t give you allowances;

  The slaves of lust are much worse in God’s view

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  Than men they’ve captured, bound, and auctioned too.

  The latter type can be set free again

  While lust’s slaves live with joy but die in pain—

  The slave of lust has no means of release

  Except the grace of God which doesn’t cease.

  He’s fallen in hell’s pit now, it’s too late

  And it’s his own fault—it’s not down to fate:

  He’s thrown himself inside such a deep pit

  That I can’t measure the full depth of it.

  I’ll stop here, for if this speech should extend

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  Not only hearts but stones would bleed, my friend;