Just like the broker who once told his son:
‘I’ve found a bride for you, a lovely one.
She’s very pretty, but that ravisher
Is daughter of the town’s confectioner.’
The son said, ‘That to me is even better—
His daughter must be curvier and sweeter.’
The buyer said, ‘If you have only clay
For weights, that’s better—I crave clay all day.’
The pharmacist placed clay inside one pan
Instead of stone weights, then that clever man
Placed sugar in the other the same way
Up to the weight of that first piece of clay.
He took his time to find a pick to use,
Leaving the customer there as a ruse—
That one gazed at the clay and stealthily
He stole some, acting so predictably.
He feared, ‘He’d better not look round at me
To check up on me for security.’
The pharmacist saw, but stayed occupied.640
‘Steal more, sick man, till you are satisfied.
If you desire to steal clay, go ahead—
You’ll just be stealing from yourself instead.
You’re frightened of me, but from foolishness.
I’d be more sad if you were eating less.
Though I am busy, I’m not such a donkey
To let you pilfer this fine sugar from me.
Once you see how much sugar you have bought,
Matching the clay that’s left, you’ll see I’m not
The fool—you are.’ The bird likes watching bait,645
But bait is robbing it—to see, just wait.
While coveting your brother’s meat, your eye
Is feeding off your own kebab supply.
Such staring is a poisonous arrow—cease
Or else your lust will grow, restraint decrease.
Worldly wealth snares the birds here that are feeble;
Wealth from beyond snares those birds that are noble,
For it makes mighty birds fall captive there
Within that realm, which is the deepest snare.
Solomon said, ‘I don’t crave your dominion, 650
But rather I will save you now from ruin,
For in your kingdom you are now the bondsmen;
True rulers are the ones who flee destruction.’
O prisoner of this world, ridiculously
You’ve called yourself its ruler—can’t you see?
The world’s slave with soul captive, for how long
Will you claim lordship, as if you are strong?
Solomon shows kindness and gentleness to the envoys, drives away annoyance and harshness from their hearts, and explains to them the reason he did not accept the gift.
‘Envoys, I’ll send you as my envoys now,
And my refusal’s better anyhow.
Relate to Belqis wonders you have seen 655
About the gold-filled fields where you have been,
So she learns we don’t covet gold at all—
We get ours from the One who makes it all.
The One who, at His mere wish, the whole planet
Would turn to gold with precious pearls laid on it.
(You who choose gold, it is for this same reason
God turns earth silver for the Resurrection.)*
We don’t need gold; we are so skilful we
Turn earthly beings to gold with alchemy.
How could we beg more gold from you, we whō 660
Can make an alchemist of all of you.
Abandon even your own realm, my sons—
Beyond these there are more dominions.
You call a mere stone “throne” and deem it more
Your seat of honour, while outside the door.
You don’t rule your own beard—your power’s that feeble.
You can’t claim mastery over good and evil.
Your beard turns white regardless of your wishes.
You with strange hopes should feel embarrassed by this.
He owns the kingdoms; He’ll give hundreds tō 665
Those who bow down and wipe all else from view.
Prostration to the Lord tastes sweeter than
Two hundred worldly fortunes to each man.
“I don’t want kingdoms,” then you will exclaim,
“Keeping prostration’s kingdom is my aim.” ’
Worldly kings have an evil attitude;
They’ve no clue of the wine of certitude,
Or they’d, like Ebn-e Adham, lose their wits
But God wished to maintain this world, so Hē 670
Placed seals on mouths and eyes deliberately,
So thrones and crowns would taste sweet and they’d say:
‘We’ll tax landowners and then have our way.’
Should taxes raise gold-filled dunes of much worth,
Inheritance like this must stay on earth:
Kingship and gold can’t travel with your soul—
Give gold away, acquire true vision’s kohl
To see this world’s a well, and then grip fast
The rope as Joseph did once in the past,
So when you get out from it finally,675
Your soul says: ‘Goodness—this youth is for me! ’*
Inside the well you see the wrong way round,
Labelling ‘gold’ some stones upon the ground.
Children in folly, when they wish to play,
Claim crockery is gold in the same way.
Mystics are alchemists, so to their vision
Gold mines are worthless and have no attraction.
How a dervish saw in a dream a group of shaikhs and begged for a daily portion of lawful food without having to earn it and while unable to worship, and how they instructed him and how the bitter and sour fruit of the mountain became sweet to him through their grace.
A dervish once said, ‘In my dream last night
I saw some Khezr-like Sufis. What a sight!
I asked them, “Where can I obtain, for free, 680
Lawful food that will not be bad for me?”
They led me to the mountains and they shook
The fruit down from the trees, and I partook.
“God made the fruit taste sweet to you,” they said,
“Through our grace and arrival for your aid.
Eat what is pure and lawful now without
A headache or the need to rush about.”
This food gave me amazing speech that day
Which stunned minds who’d now relish things I’d say.
I asked, “O Lord, is this a strange temptation? 685
Give something to me that from most stays hidden.”
That speech left me; I gained a happy heart.
Like pomegranates I could split apart
From mystic savour: I said, “On that side,
If there is just this joy I feel inside,
I wouldn’t ask for more grace or more gains;
I’d shun the houris and the sugar canes.
From former earnings, as most people do,
I’ve saved in my shirtsleeve a coin or two.” ’
He resolves: ‘I will give this gold to that firewood-carrier since I’ve gained sustenance from the miracles of the shaikhs,’ but the firewood-carrier is upset with his thought and intention.
‘A poor man with some brushwood passed that way,690
Weary and worn out by his work that day.
So I thought, “Since I have become now free
From earning my own living, thankfully,
Fruit tasting sweet to me which others hate
And sustenance arriving on my plate,
Since I don’t need to fill my stomach, I
Will give these coins to that man passing by,
So that hard-working man enjoys a day
With the provisions for which
they will pay.”
He read my thoughts since he had the perception 695
That God’s light gives to certain people’s vision.
To him, the secret thoughts would all appear
Just like the lamp’s glass—bright and crystal clear.
From him, no thoughts were hidden; he could reign
As ruler of what people’s hearts contain.
Under his breath he muttered to what I
Had thought about in this form of reply:
“You think about the kings in such a way?
If they don’t give, how will you eat each day?”
I didn’t understand, but my heart shook, 700
Affected sharply by this man’s rebuke.
Then, with the grandeur of a lion, he
Put down his load and walked across to me.
The way he put the wood down was so powerful
That all my limbs began right then to tremble.
He said, “O Lord, if You have an elite
Whose prayers are always answered and whose feet
Are blessed, let Your grace now with alchemy
Transform this wood to gold immediately.”
I watched the brushwood turn to gold, amazed. 705
It was as if a massive fire had blazed.
I lost my wits for quite a while and when
I came back to myself through fervour, then
He said, “God, should those great ones be discreet
And fame be shunned by this reserved elite,
Then turn the gold to brushwood now once more
Without delay, just as it was before.”
To brushwood all the gold at once transformed—
I got drunk witnessing what was performed.
He picked the wood up and walked rapidly 710
Towards the town and far away from me.
I wished to follow him with every question
I had that puzzled me, and then to listen,
But awe of him had shackled both my feet:
The vulgar can’t get close to God’s elite,
But if one does approach, give this instruction:
“Bow down, for this is due to their attraction.” ’
Consider as a godsend then their guidance,
If God’s friends should admit you near their presence.
Don’t be like one who nears, then suddenly 715
Falls off the path for nothing, flimsily.
When out of kindness they let him nearby,
He will complain, ‘It’s just an ox’s thigh.’
Liar, it’s not an ox’s thigh! It has
Appeared to you as one, for you’re an ass.
This is a royal gift. It is pure grace
With no ulterior aim or other face.
Solomon urges the envoys to hasten Belqis’s emigration for the sake of faith.
King Solomon in battle had no peer,
And he attracted Belqis’s troops near,
Saying, ‘Come back soon for God’s Bounty’s ocean, 720
Has surged and now, dear men, its waves have risen;
The surges of these waves each moment are
Scattering more waves to you from afar.
Welcome, you righteous ones and wait no more,
For paradise has opened now its door.’
He added then, ‘Head off, dear messengers,
To Belqis and her faithful followers,
To say, “Come here as fast as possible
For God invites to peace .* This is for all.”
Come, seeker of felicity! Don’t wait 725
For grace is opening up right now its gate.
And you who’re not a seeker, hurry too—
This friend will help you find the urge in you.’
The reason for Ebrahim Ebn-e Adham’s migration and relinquishing the kingdom of Khorasan.
Like Ebn-e Adham, break up rapidly
This kingdom, and thus gain eternity!
One night while he was sleeping on his throne
Guards on his rooftop made their presence known.
By having guards, this king’s aim wasn’t to
Ward off all rogues and burglars, for he knew
That the just man is always free from harm 730
And in his heart he feels secure and calm.
Justice is thus protector of delight,
Not guards who beat their sticks throughout the night.
His aim in listening to these lute sounds rather
Was to hear God’s speech to His ardent lover:
The clarion’s blasts and banging on the drum
Evoke the trumpet of that world to some.
Theosophers say, ‘These tunes reach our ears
Directly from the turning of the spheres,
And all the songs men sing and lutes they play 735
Are the spheres’ turning sounds which come our way.’
The faithful say, ‘It’s heaven’s influence
That makes harsh noises beautiful at once.
We were all parts of Adam, and back then
We heard those tunes which now we hear again.
Now inside earthly forms, we’re doubting it,
But we still can remember them a bit.’
It’s mixed now with the dust of earthly grief—
How can that music give the same relief?
Pure water mixed with urine and pollution 740
Becomes an acrid and most foul solution.
Our bodies hold some water, too, no doubt,
Though it be urine, which can put flames out.
When made unclean, water won’t lose its power
To put grief’s flames out even if they tower.
Sama‘ is food for God’s true devotees,
For it induces union’s ecstasies.*
Music can strengthen mental images
Which change to forms through music’s influences.
Music intensifies the fire of love, 745
Like flames in one who dropped nuts from above:
Story about the thirsty man who, from the top of a walnut tree, would throw down walnuts into a stream within a hollow below without himself going to the water, so that he could hear the sound of splashing as the walnuts fell, and how the sound of the splashing made him as happy as sweet sama‘ does.
Water filled hollows near a walnut tree,
From which one thirsty threw down nuts with glee.
The walnuts rained down from the treetop where
He’d climbed up—he heard splashes form down there.
A knowledgeable man said, ‘Stop it! Cease!
The walnuts only make your thirst increase.
The harder walnuts are thrown down that way,
The further that they will be borne away.
When you come down from there it will be clear. 750
The stream will then have borne them far from here.’
The thrower said, ‘These nuts aren’t my objectives.
Observe beyond appearance new perspectives.
The splashing sound is what I want to hear,
And I want surface ripples to appear.’
In this world what do thirsty men desire?
To circle pools forever and not tire:
To circle streams, their water and its sound,
Just like the Kaaba pilgrims circle round.
Hosamoddin, Truth’s Light, this Masnavi 755
Makes you my actual aim so similarly.
In both its roots and branches, altogether
It’s yours and you’ve accepted it, my brother.
By kings, both good and bad things are accepted;
When they accept, it is no more rejected.
If you have planted it, now water it.
If you’ve released it, then untangle it.
My aim’s your mystery with this composition.
My aim’s your sweet voice with this recitation.
Your voice is God’s voice to my loving heart; 760
God
won’t force lovers to remain apart.
Beyond analogy there is a union
Between God and the soul of every human.
‘Human’, I said, not ‘ghoul’—fit for this role
Are just souls that can tell another soul.
If that’s a human, where’s humanity?
You just see its rear-end unfortunately.
You’ve read ‘You did not throw when you just threw, ’*
But you’re mere body, separate with no clue.
Like Belqis, throw the kingdom’s body out 765
For Solomon’s sake—leave behind all doubt.
I say, ‘God’s strength! ’* not for myself, but due
To thoughts in the suspicious person who
Hears what I say and inwardly imagines
Some reasons for denial and suspicions.
By ‘God’s strength! ’ ‘I am helpless’ is my aim
Since your heart’s filled with oppositional blame.
My words stick in my throat, and so I’ll stay
Silent—you say what you would like to say.
The reed-flute was once played by a reed-player 770
When suddenly a fart boomed from his chair.
The reed-player turned to his backside and said:
‘If you can play it better, go ahead.’
While on the mystic path, please realize
You must bear what’s ill-mannered to your eyes.
If you see someone who complains forever:
‘So-and-so has bad traits and a bad temper,’
Count that complainant as himself ill-mannered
For he speaks ill of someone else bad-tempered.
Good men are unassuming and forbearing775
Of every brother’s temper and shortcoming.
The shaikh’s complaint, though, comes from God’s command,
Not finding fault, desire, or rage that’s fanned.
That’s not complaint, but to reform your soul
Like that of prophets carrying out that role.
The Lord commanded their intolerance;
If not their kindness would bear insolence.
Forbearance killed their low selves long ago;
God ordered the intolerance they show.
Solomon, show God’s clemency to crows 780
And falcons both, all birds, both friends and foes.
Your clemency won scores like Belqis there—
‘Guide my folk! They don’t understand, ’* your prayer.
Solomon sends a threat to Belqis, saying: ‘Don’t think of persisting in polytheism. Don’t delay!’