Persian Psalms

PERSIAN PSALMS
The rapture pulsing through the wine,
TO THE READER It never pleased me, to receive
Another’s breath, that I might live:
A straw, at times, becomes the screen of my Give me a breath as light as morn,
eye; A sigh that in the home was born.
And with one look, at times, I have seen both I am a torrent: do not set
the worlds. Me dribbling in a rivulet,
The Valley of Love is a long way away, and But give my waters space to spill
yet, at times, O’er valley broad and spreading hill.
The journey of a hundred years is covered in Is it thy will to fashion me
a sigh. A rival to the boundless sea,
Persist in your search, and do not let go of the Amid the tumult of the main
hem of hope— Grant me the pearl’s repose to gain.
There is a treasure that, at times, you will find Thou had’st the falcon that I am
by the way. Follow the leopard for his game:
Give me high will, a sharper claw,
[Translated by Mustansir Mir]
To win my victim to my maw.
The small fowl of the Sanctuary
I marked my precious prey to be:
Grant me an arrow that, unsped,
Unerring flies, and strikes them dead.
PERSIAN PSALMS Illuminate my lifeless clay
With anthems David used to play;
Let all my atoms swiftly spring
PART ONE
Upborne upon an ember’s wing.
Passing over outdoor matters, 1
I have spoken of inside matters;
Tumultuous Love where’er it rove
With what bold abandon I have said
Unto Thy street is brought;
things
What boasteth he who findeth Thee
That had been left unsaid!
That for himself he sought?
[Translated by A.J. Arberry]
INVOCATION
2
I pray thee, Lord, to me impart
The ardent longing in our hearts—
Within my breast a conscious heart:
Where does it come from?
Give me the vision to divine
Persian Psalms 229
Ours is the tumbler, but the wine within— And when my breath caressing
Where does it come from? Shall softly, sweetly blow,
The withered heart will blossom,
I know that this world is mere dust,
The tulip newly glow.
And that we, too, are a handful of dust.
But this pain of quest that runs through our My fantasy is soaring
being— Beyond the stars and sun;
Where does it come from? Why lurkest Thou in hiding,
When hunting’s to be done?
Our glances reach the neckline of the Galaxy;
This obsession of ours, this tumult and O Master, guard the honour
clamor— Of him who begs of thee;
Where does it come from? He’ll let no wine of others
Within his goblet be.
3
5
O bring me back the singing,
The airs of long ago; From my handful of dust You draw out a
Bring back the sweet, sad music hundred laments;
To set cold hearts aglow. You are nearer than the soul—for all Your shy
reserve.
Too hushed is mosque and temple,
Too silent church and shrine; Hiding in the gentle breeze, thief‐like You
Stir up a thousand tumults enter the garden;
With that dark glance of Thine. You mix with the flower’s perfume, and blend
with the bud.
Fill me the fiery goblet
That made my dust to flame: The West is indifferent to You, the East is all
Youth thirsts anew, desirous, legends;
And youth shall quaff the same. It is time you etched a new design in the
world.
The pipe that sets a‐dancing
The heart within the breast, He who is heady with the ambition of world‐
The wine that moves the spirit conquest—
And melts and soul oppressed— Soothe his craze with the lancet of Genghis.
Soft amid Persia’s rushes An unreined bondsman, I might slip away
The breeze of morning sings: again—
Bring me the spark that trickles Suppose You hung these curly tresses around
From those melodious strings. my neck!
4 Lament is all I know, but they say I am a
singer of ghazal;
Thou who didst make more ardent
What is this dew‐like thing You are pouring
My sighing and my tears,
on my heart?
O let my anthem quicken
Dust of a thousand years. [Translated by Mustansir Mir]
What wilt Thou of my heart, then, 6
Who with the wine of life
Though dust, and dark as dust, am I,
Excitest in the goblet
I have a little heart, whereby
This passion and this strife?
With vision open as a star
230 Collected Poetical Works of Iqbal
I gaze on beauty from afar. From the full splendour of Thy Face.
Praying Thy fingers may caress, Play once again the ancient song,
Unuttered is my heart’s distress; And swiftly pass the wine along;
And Thou supposest that maybe Let the flame‐fever of Thy cup
My lyre has lost its minstrelsy. Irradiate us as we sup.
Do Thou so quicken my desire Why, with Thy ringlets for a snare,
That, with a melody of fire, Forth to the garden dost Thou fare,
I may the earthy heart make bright, When on Thy roof a bird there be,
And wholly melt the heart of light. More worthy of Thy venery?
The burning fever of my breed Expectant waits the Iraqi sand,
Is symptom of my so great need; Athirst is Hijaz’ desert land;
Thou, who art God, and lackest naught, To Syria and Kufa give
Know’st not the anguish in me wrought, Husain’s spilled blood, that they may live.
I never sought to make this plain Love spurneth the attendant guide,
Or keep it hid from any man; Alone upon the way he’ll ride,
My secret has itself displayed, Nor yield to any man’s control
And so my melody was made. The reining of his stubborn soul.
7 To convent foolishly I went,
Upon that threshold to lament,
With a song of agony,
Until I found my road to be
With a sweet, soft melody,
Direct unto God’s sanctuary.
To a dying world athirst
Lo: life’s flagon I have burst. Behold this lone bird on the wing,
First of the caravan of Spring,
In the way as beggars are
Who in his solitary cage
Thou hast set that world ajar
Carols the message of his age!
Ere the ambition to attain
Ever sprang in mortal brain. 9
‘Twas Thy surmah‐shaded eye A flame is in my minstrelsy,
Heart and soul were ravished by; A fearlessness, a tragedy;
O, the archery of it, A spark is smouldering in my corn,
With one shaft two marks to hit! And sprightly blows the breath of morn.
What a springtime of delight Love keeps no state, no manner grand.
Greets my underserving sight! And yet an axe is in Love’s hand
Hear me in the meadow sing, Wherewith the mountain’s heart is hued
Like a new thrush caroling. All innocent of Parviz’ blood.
Not so strange, if monarchs, twain It pricked my heart, this subtlety
In one kingdom cannot reign, An orator once told to me:
As that both the worlds are less ‘The loved one’s glance hath more to teach
Than one dervish to possess. Than all the wizardry of speech.’
8 Come to my pillow once again;
Sit for one moment; for the pain
On faith and infidelity
Of separation wracks my soul,
O scatter wide Thy Clemency;
My cup of loneliness is full.
At last the veil of darkness raise
Persian Psalms 231
Awhile into the mead I came, High waves never wrecked anyone’s boat in
Naked my anguished spirit’s flame; the sea;
The breeze of morning fiercer blew, The danger that love sees lies in the safety of
My heart was sprinkled o’er with dew. the shore.
The secret sign will overset With a stately disregard I passed by the lords
The lover’s shrine entire; and yet of the world—
It is the fearless glance I need Like a full moon passing by the stars.
That makes the lovers’ heart to bleed.
Water’s the seat of both, and clay;
11
What is the mystery then, I pray,
The mind doth like the clay right well, Though the falcon of the brain
But there the heart is loth to dwell? Yearneth on the wing to be,
Archers in this desert plain
Behold, and see! in Ind’s domain
Wait upon him secretly!
Thou shalt not find the like again,
That, though a Brahman’s son I be, Yet the tied and twisted cord
Tabriz and Rum stand wide to me. Lacketh not for remedy:
Singing can the cure afford
Of this hard perplexity.
10
If the power of speech be there,
The eyes and heart that I have take such Yet is knowledge not possessed;
delight in view— Hapless servant, who doth bear
What is my fault if I should carve idols out of Such a secret in his breast!
rough stone?
Though a hundred varied ways
For all Your manifest glory You are veiled— They should burn and ravage me,
You cannot suffer looks! There is comfort in my blaze
Tell me, my moon, what is my recourse other And a glad felicity.
than lament?
Dust, and dead as dust, are we,
What harm would come if You strolled by the Yet a heart we merited:
lodgings of a caravan, Lo! the living deity
Whose only unworthy possession is a little, Heart‐engendered in the dead.
broken heart?
In my breast there is a flame
I sang out a ghazal, hoping that expression Setteth all the house aglow,
would bring relief— Yet it is the very same
The flame does not die down with one spark That the house doth overthrow.
breaking off.
Plato’s mind the world described,
The livinmg heart You gave me is ill at ease Yet I will not trust in it,
with veils— For a heart is in my side
Give me an eye that will see the fire in the Bold to view the infinite.
rock.
12
Every piece of my heart shares in the joy it
What is the world? The temple of my thought,
gives—
The seen projection of my wakeful eye;
How did You vest Your sorrow in a heart of a
thousand pieces? Its far horizons, instant to espy,
A circle by my spinning compass wrought.
As I behold, or not, is aught, or naught; 14
Time, space, within my mind audacious lie,
From life and being’s twisted skein
Movement, repose, are my heart’s wizardry Let me be free;
Whereby are secrets known, and mysteries In resignation is to gain
taught. True liberty.
That other world, where reaped is all our Love quivered, and within this field
sown, Of barren spring
Its light and fire are of my rosary made; Sprinkled a thousand seeds, to yield
My harvesting.
I am fate’s instrument, whose antiphon
Responds to every string thought ever played, Indeed I know not what His glance
Viewed in my clay
Where is Thy sign? In Thee my life is stayed;
Upon the stone of time and chance
Where is Thy world? These twain are mine
Me to assay.
alone.
With stubble and with straw He came
13
A world to found,
It is the season of the spring Then gave to me a heart of flame
And nightingales are carolling; To prove me sound.
O smile on me, and chant a song,
O take the goblet from my hand,
And freely pass the wine along.
For hope is past;
Behold the tears that I have shed, The saki played at glances, and
Then on Thy beauty turn Thy head; My heart was lost.
O set my heart of reeds afire
15
With the swift lightning of desire.
Rise! and upon the thirsty land
And bid the breeze of spring, I pray,
Sprinkle life’s wine with lavish hand;
Unto my fancy take its way
Kindle anew the spirit’s fire,
And paint the valley and the plain
And bid the flame in us expire.
With beauteous images again.
The tavern wine is drained and gone,
Flower in the mead that blossometh,
The drinkers find oblivion;
Receive new freshness from my breath;
The school re‐echoes to the shout,
Amid Thy bower, since I was born,
And every lamp has flickered out.
I lived beside the rose and thorn.
Reason’s a knot‐resolving slave,
On my heart’s touchstone then assay
Faith mid convention’s laid to grave,
This world of water and of clay;
For in the breast there beats a heart,
My heart shall prove a mirror bright
The unseen target of love’s dart,
Reflecting all Thy shade and light.
Both are in quest of one abode
Thou ’st never gambled with Thy heart,
And both would lead upon the road:
Nor of the world had any part;
Reason tries every stratagem,
When in Thy presence I would be,
But love pulls gently by the hem.
What day of reckoning I see!
Love to the dust ruin hurled
The aged ringdovc in the glade
The tabernacle of the world,
Hearkened to my lament, and said,
And stretches high his fingers, even
‘No songbird ever carolled here
Unto the canopy of heaven.
So sweet an air of yesterday.’
Persian Psalms 233
16 What cause to despair, though the circling sky
Be wrapped in a veil?
Thinkest Thou that to the threshold
It will pierce a rock, the audacious eye,
I have made this pilgrimage?
And it cannot fail.
With the master of the household
I have business to engage. Our sprinkled dew is an ocean wide,
And the sky its shore;
O deny me not Thy presence,
Let a lone wave break, and its swelling tide
For a wan, pale spark am I
Shall yet higher soar.
That to win a moment’s lustre
In eternal fever lie. When Thou shalt stand with Him face to face,
Do not lift thine eyes;
Never more will I look backward
For sight is vain in that holy place,
On the road that I have traced;
And the vision dies.
‘Tis to gain the far to‐morrow
That, like Time, I forward haste. How should I weep, though sorrow sears?
For my broken heart
Lo, love’s ocean is my vessel,
Is borne on the flood of my bitter tears,
And love’s ocean is my strand;
And wi1l soon depart.
For no other ship I hanker,
Nor desire another land. 18
Scatter now a spark, but gently, Better is the robbers’ train
Such a spark as will not burn; Than the heaven‐pacing brain,
I am newly fledged to needing, Better one distress of heart
To the nest I would return. Than all Plato’s learned art.
In the far, fond hope that, haply, Yesterday the Magian boy
Thou wilt hunt for me one day, Told me of love’s secret joy:
From the spinning noose of princes ‘Better that salt tear of thine
Like a fawn I leapt away. Than the sweet and ruby wine.’
And if Thou wilt be so gracious, Better poverty, that gains
I will give these friends of mine Bloodlessly the heart’s domains,
A bright glass or two delightful Than the realm Darius won,
Of my night‐consoling wine. Feridun’s dominion.
17 In the Magian temple cry;
Let Thy voice be heard on high!
With a glance at us who sit by the way
But within the Sufi cell
He goes riding by:
Better is the whispered spell.
Conceive, if Thou canst, my soul’s dismay
Sore distraught am I. With our river of heart’s blood
Need is none of Noah’s flood;
What have I to tell of the lovely fair
Better there one swelling wave
Unto anyone?
Than where Oxus’ waters lave.
With a gaze as swift as a spark in the air
He is past and gone. Lo, Thy torrent sweeping down
Threatens to engulf the town!
To the friend’s abode it is hard to tread
Better let Thy havoc be
And the road is far;
In the desert’s privacy.
But love rides high, and is quickly sped
On the back of a star. Singer Iqbal, sooth to tell,
Call him not an infidel:
Better he were out of school Till my folly’s governor
Till his fevered brain shall cool! Says there is no desert more.
[Translated by A.J. Arberry] In such frenzy of the soul
Still I do not yield control:
19
Every madman cannot boast
Either do not tell the Muslim to put his life at That to self he is not lost!
risk,
21
Or else breathe a new soul into this worn‐out
frame. All that in life I love the best
Do one thing or the other! Is the sweet fever of Thy quest;
The way is like an adder’s sting,
Either tell the Brahmin to carve a new idol,
Be not to thee my wayfaring.
Or go and dwell in zunnar‐wearersʹ hearts
Yourself Lo, Gabriel with naked heart
Do one thing or the other! Out of love’s bosom doth depart,
Hopeful to catch a spark of fire
Either a new Adam, a little less evil than Iblis
From the vast flame of Thy desire.
Or another Iblis to challenge faith and reason!
Do one thing or the other! Anon I rend my veil in twain,
Yearning the vision to attain;
Either a new world or a new test!
Anon with unavailing sight
For how long will you go on treating us like
I veil myself before Thy light.
this?
Do one thing or the other! Whether in quest of thee I go,
Or at the last myself to know,
Give us poverty? Do it, but gives us Chosroe’s
Intellect, heart, sight—all astray
glory as well!
Blindly the wander on Thy way.
Or give us reason together with Gabrielʹs
disposition. I was a seedling of Thy mead;
Do one thing or the other! Sprinkle Thy dew upon my head;
The blossom’s heart will quicken, yet
Either kill the desire for revolution that stirs
No drop hall lack the rivulet.
in my heart,
Or completely change these heavens and the 22
earth.
The night grows late, the route is up,
Do one thing or the other!
No need for saki now or cup;
[Translated by Mustansir Mir] Pass me Thy goblet, friend of mine,
I’ll pour thee the remaining wine.
20
Whoever from the golden bowl
Intellect is passion too,
Quaffs the sweet poison of the soul,
And it knows the joy to view,
In my clay jar the bitter juice
But the poor unfortunate
Is the sole antidote of use.
Dares not as the inebriate.
Lo, from my dust the sparks unspire:
Though I know the fantasy
Whose spirit shall I set afire?
Of the stage was shaped by me,
‘Twas wrong, to kindle in my breast
Yet it were a coward’s way
This furnace of desire’s unrest!
On the journey to delay.
Alas, the Western mind hath soiled
Every moment is my prayer
The springs of knowledge undefiled;
That I may yet further fare,
Persian Psalms 235
Stoic alike and Platonist 24
Have shrouded all the world in mist.
The juice that maketh tulips spring
‘Ah! I am poisoned’—hark, the cry Within the heart—a bumper bring,
Of the world’s heart ascendeth high; Saki! and let the April gust
Reason replies lamentingly, Scatter at will my body’s dust.
‘I know no charm, no remedy.’
I drank the West’s enamelled bowl,
Let it be priest, or beggar poor, And darkness settled o’er my soul;
King, or the slave that keeps his door, O give me sight to see the way
All seek success of merchandise And where I went so sore astray.
Amid hypocrisy and lies.
Upon the wave of every breeze
The money‐changers in the mart Like chaff I turned as it might please;
Are blind of head, and black of heart; Tumultuous beats the heart of me
The brighter gleams my glowing gem, With vain surmise; give certainty!
The meaner is its worth to them.
My spirit’s fretful small desire
23 Glows wanly as a spark of fire;
Give me desire of heart’s delight,
Saki, on my heart bestow
A star to shine upon my night.
Liquid flame with living glow;
Let the resurrection day Thou gavest in my hand a pen
Dawn tremendous on my clay. Skilful to paint a king of men;
Thou madest me a scribe; then give
He, for one small grain of corn,
A tablet, that my creed may live!
Cast me to the earth in scorn;
Pour one glass, and see me rise 25
Glorified beyond the skies.
Of every image that the heart
Give to love Thy liquor, then, Takes from the eye—I have no part;
Strong to loose the thighs of men; Perception weigheth not with me,
Toss the liquor’s sediments I beg for pure reality.
In the beaker of the sense.
Anon a touch of madness lies
Wisdom and philosophy In the conventions of the wise;
Are a grievous load on me; I come with collar torn, a fool,
Heavenly guide! Stretch out Thy hand, For all I went to wisdom’s school.
Lift my burden, let me stand.
Anon I wrap me in the world,
If hot liquor proveth vain Anon about me ‘tis enfurled;
To illuminate the brain, Pass round the wine, and pass again,
Suffer me a second chance, That I may break this tangled skein.
Save me with Thy flashing glance.
No Saki’s glance enchants me here,
Fear and hope are yet at odds Nor any talk of love sincere;
In our banquet of the gods; From Mullah’s board and Sufi’s feast
Make us all in ignorance be I nothing gain but care increased.
Of the wheel of destiny!
‘Th time that they had much to do
Roses and anemones With me, Thy choice and favoured few:
Scatter at the autumn breeze; The desert was my upbringing;
Yet within our ancient bough I fearless stride before the king.
Set the new sap rising now!
26 28
Against the light, an infidel, Faith and infidelity
My heart, unfettered, doth rebel; Fight not for the mind of me;
It bows before God’s sanctuary, No delights of Paradise
And idols serves, indifferently. Do my stricken soul entice.
It sets a balance, to access Cleave my heart and lay it bare,
The value of its righteousness, Thou shall find Thy image there,
Ready to strike a bargain smart Gleam pervasive, shadowless,
With God, in resurrection’s mart. Moonlight on a wilderness.
It would have earth and heaven fulfil 29
All the requirements of its will,
Thine is the hawk upon the wing
And claims, though dust, a judge to be
And thine the thrush sweet‐carolling,
With a divine authority.
Thine is the light and joy of life
Anon it will with God accord, And thine its fire and baneful strife.
Anon it fights against the Lord,
Thou gayest me a heart awake
Stands for a time as truth’s ally.
And, through the world my way to take,
And then it doth the truth deny.
A little dust—a moon forlorn
While in its essence void of hue, Upon a night‐dark litter borne.
It paints a lying image, too:
My every thought from thee doth start,
A Moses, who the part doth bear
Whether on lip or in the heart;
Of prophet, and of sorcerer!
Whether the pearl be brought from sea,
Its glance a touch of the insane Or left enfoundered, ‘tis of thee.
Imparteth to the prudent brain,
I am the selfsame cloud of dust
And yet a lancet it can use
Swept idly as the wind doth lust;
The madman’s swelling to reduce.
Tulip, and springtime’s scattered dew.
When shall this traveller reach his goal, Thou art their sole creator too.
The inner chamber of the soul,
Thou art the painter; Thy design
That doth these thousand years abide
Inspires and moves this brush of mine;
At falsehood’s shrine, in slothful pride?
Thy hands the living world adorn,
27 And shape the ages yet unborn.
Why in the concourse dost Thou seek Much sorrow in my heart I had
The poet’s wild, ecstatic shriek, That by the tongue could not be said:
Or lookest for another’s riot, Love, lovelessness, troth, treachery—
Whose heart is troubled and unquiet? All things alike are sprung of thee.
My affluent muse was taught by thee 30
To swim the waves of melody;
One step on friendship’s road
Why seekest Thou the gem? Behold,
Fairer I see
My pierced heart doth the sea enfold.
Than the moat pressing load
Except within Thy presence there Of piety.
I stand. I cannot breathe my prayer:
Take for Thy rest awhile
My heart before Thy feet I fling—
This heart of mine
What else should unbeliever bring?
And lay aside Thy toil
Persian Psalms 237
And task divine. With trappings, caravan, and stage.
O come; and tidings bring Where is the lightning of the gaze
How stands my heart, That shall my dwelling burn and raze?
Where I am wandering, Fain would I yet a bargain keep
And where Thou art. With what men sow, and what men reap.
Recall those glances pure O let this layman’s vessel ride
Of love intense Upon a full, tempestuous tide:
How long must I endure The wave affrighteth me so sore,
Indifference? I fix my gaze upon the shore.
Last night the burning moon Ah, what adventure is to gain—
Did me address: To quiver, never to attain:
‘Accept the anguish, son, Thrice happy he, who even now
Of unaccess.’ Behind the train doth riding go.
Fair spake she; but, ah yes, But he who never knew his heart
My creed of love From the two worlds to dwell apart,
To live in loneliness He still bemused and cheated is
Doth not approve. By unsubstantial images.
Before thee I have laid A single, brief epiphany
This heart of mine; Consoleth not the passionate eye:
Haply the twist thread Where shall I take the wounding dart
Thou canst untwine. That pricketh even yet my heart?
31 In the glad presence of the friend
A history is that hath no end,
In my heart’s empire, see
As still these sorrows yet unsaid
How He rides spitefully,
Lie in my heart deep‐buried.
Rides with imperious will
To ravage, and to kill! 33
No heart is there, but bright The days are ended
Gleameth in that moon’s light; Of winter long;
A thousand mirrors, see! The branches quiver
Reflect His coquetry. With living song.
To each hand he hath won The breeze in beauty
Ten realms of Solomon, Arrays the rose
Yet gambles with it all As from the river
To gain a poor, mean thrall. It gently blows.
The hearts of such as know The tulip’s lantern
Swift He assaults; but lo: In desert bare
Before the unwise, unskilled, Is fanned to brightness,
He casteth down His shield. By the spring air.
32 Sad, mid the roses,
My heart doth dwell,
Upon the road of high desire
Yea, from the meadow
My load yet lieth in the mire,
Flees the gazelle;
Because my heart would still engage
A little eases From the eastern skies
With grief and pain Sleep to me denied.
Or like a bill‐stream Like the stars I ride.
Laments again.
36
Lest my heart’s passion
Thou didst turn my night to dawning;
May softer grow,
O Thou sun of presence bright,
Not to the trusty
Like the sun Thou art in brightness,
I’ll tell my woe.
Light unveiled, most worthy light!
34
Camest Thou to ease my sorrow,
At home to loiter never did me please, And within my thought didst rest,
A rover I, stranger in every land. Then didst vanish from my vision
At dawn, the ashes thus addressed the breeze: With so swift, impetuous haste.
‘This desert’s air put out my flaming brand; Thou assay of the assayless,
Pass gently; scatter me not with Thy hand; Ease of the reposeless mind,
I yet recall the caravans’s unease.’ Cure of the afflicted spirit,
My tears, like dew, trickled upon the sand, Save too rare Thou art to find!
I, too, being dust on the world’s passages. Passion’s sorrow, passion’s pleasure,
Then in my heart I heard a soft voice sing: Two fold is love’s influence:
The stream of time did from my fountain Now an agony and burning,
spring. Now the drunkard’s turbulence.
The past is all my fever and fire of yore, Speak me then, for true Thou knowest:
The future all that I am yearning for:
Of my heart the history tell—
Think not upon thy dust, O think no more— Where is now my heart in hiding?
Lo, by the life, I know no perishing! In my breast it doth not dwell.
35 By the majesty I swear it,
No desire my spirit moves
By the Saki’s eye
Save the prayer: An eagle spirit,
Heart‐enflamed I lie;
Lord, bestow upon Thy doves!
Drunk without wine—
O delight divine! 37
All unveiled, desire None other in this tavern is,
Burns a fiercer fire; Saki, to share my mysteries;
Let me see or no, Am I the first (O who can tell)
Yet my soul’s aglow. Conceived in heaven, on earth to dwell?
See the rebec’s string Awhile this spent and weary frame
At my fingering Thou makest dust; and on the same
Like a candle’s wick Scatterest water; lo I see
Flameth bright and quick. Fire in the ashes presently
Save my heart can be Bring me that fortune ever new,
Lodging none for me, The cup where lies the world to view,
Naught is me assigned, For, in the palace of the East,
Ne’er a way I find. Another Jamshid sits to feast.
Till the sun arise
Persian Psalms 239
38 Black, white, sea, mountain, valley, moon and
sun;
Tell me this: what is Thy share
Thou seekest one familiar with the light,
In this world of pain and care?
My quest is He who cannot bear the sight.
Knowest Thou the spirit’s smart?
Hast Thou an uneaseful heart? 41
Of such bitter tears that well Give me the heart whose rapture fine
From the eye, what canst Thou tell? Flames from a draught of its own wine,
See, Thy rose’s petals hold And take the heart that, self‐effaced,
Dewy pearls of price untold! By alien fancy is embraced.
Or the soul, that numbereth Give me the heart, give me the heart
Life departing at each breath, That of the world will have no part;
Borrowed spirit, grief of time— I yield the heart right gladly o’er
Shall I speak thee in rhyme? That is a slave to less and more.
[Translated by A.J. Arberry] O draw me forth, Thou huntsman bold,
Out of fate’s quiver Thou dost hold;
39
Except the shaft be put to bow,
If a sight causes loss of self, it is better hidden How shall it lay the quarry low?
from view:
This life is ne’er a weary thing
I do not accept the deal, Your price is too
While there be worlds for conquerring:
high.
Behold, one world lies bound and tied—
Speak to us unveiled, the time for being Into another world I ride.
reserved is gone—
42
When others told us whatever it was You
wanted of us. A hand of dust is all I own;
I scatter it upon the way,
My insolent eyes have pierced the blue sky.
Because I hope that on a day
If you want to have a barrier between us,
It shall ascend to heaven’s throne.
build another world.
What stratagem have I, what art?
How You look out for Yourself! For all Your
For on the branch of wisdom’s tree
unconcern,
No thorn has ever sprung for me
You demand the blood of friends to prove
That I might thrust into my heart.
you exist.
The fires of separation give
Worship is one station, love is another:
A brief effulgence to my flame,
You want angels to bow before you, but men
And when I would damp down the same,
to do still more.
That very breath I no more live.
With love I convert the crude copper I have
Let it not vanish from my vein,
into gold,
The wine and drunkenness of love;
For when I meet you tomorrow, You will
I suffer none triumph of
want a gift from me.
My heart, to take it back again.
Upon the tablets Thou didst write
40 The argument entire and whole;
Thy light defineth all things one by one: And now, so discipline my soul
That I may read the script aright.
If in Thy presence one ghazal Rise melodious whisperings.
I ever made be sung to thee,
Well Thou knowest what conveying
What would it cost, the courtesy
Unto passion’s feast I went:
To whisper, ‘Yes, I know him well’?
Wine in vat, a mead of roses,
43 And a reed‐bed of lament.
Let this heart Thou gavest me Now renew love’s old dominion,
Overflow with certainty, That by virtue of its sway
And my world‐beholding glass Equal shall the vagrant’s mat be
All its radiance surpass. To the royal throne of Kay.
Let the bitter potion poured Cry the friends with glad rejoicing
By the heavens in my gourd That a wanderer is home;
On this toper’s tongue of mine Though I trod the paths of knowledge,
Taste as sweet as honeyed wine. In my desert still I roam.
44 46
To passion’s slaves let no man e’er Stars on my bosom shine
The mystery of Thy love declare: Wept from these eyes of mine:
It is not meet for straws to hear Lo, beyond heaven’s height;
Talk of the blazing brazier. Cast me the joy of sight;
I was to eloquence designed, Soared, though in dust I lay,
And Thou hast bid me speak my mind; High o’er the starry way,—
Such things are in the breast of me Life of the ember’s glow
As unto none may uttered be. Likes me not, Thou dost know.
Deep in my heart’s recesses lies All the world’s eve and morn
The sweetest song that yearns to rise; Are of my whirling born;
Among the leaves my notes shall ring, Thou know’st this morn and eve
But in the cage I cannot sing. My soul can scarce receive.
‘Tis passing strange, if yearning be Wine brimmed in heaven’s cup;
Not born to immortality; I took and drank it up;
How can Thy history be said Saki! not sparing be—
In these few breaths, ere I am dead? Another bowl for me!
45 Not both the worlds suffice
My folly’s avarice;
Ah, the wine, the lute, the piping,
Earth is a passing day,
The dear memories of old,
Heaven a passage‐way.
When I held the brimming beaker
And my friend a bowl of gold. 47
An’ Thou comest to my bosom, The East, that holds the heavens fast
In my autumn spring shall glow; Within the noose its fancy cast,
An’ Thou come not, May lies mourning Its spirit’s bonds are all united,
Colder than December’s snow. The flames of its desire have died.
Mute my soul, when Thou art absent, The burning glow of living birth
Like a harp with broken strings; Pulses no more in its dark earth;
From my breast, when Thou art with me, It stands upon the river side
Persian Psalms 241
And gazes at the surging tide. A high soul Thou gavest me;
Loose my bonds, and set me free?
Faint, faint the fires of worship be
Kingly raiment I would spurn
In temple and in sanctuary;
If Thy sackcloth I may earn.
The Magian still his cup would pass,
But stale the wine is in his glass. If the axe (as legend says)
Cleave the rock, shall that amaze
The vision of the West is blind,
Love upon his shoulder bears
Illusion fills the Western mind;
Such a mountain‐range of cares!
Drunken with magic scent and hue,
It bows before the great untrue. 49
Swifter it spins than heaven’s sphere; My soul, embattled
Death is a gentler ravisher; With fortune ever,
Its fingers have so torn my soul, Weeps like a river
Never again can it be whole. Among the mountains.
Of the earth earthy, it would try Open and secret
To emulate the ancient sky; Fate is assailing,
A rogue, a cheat, of works immense, To the unfailing
With pivot none, and little sense. Fickle and faithless.
The East is waste and desolate, Mountain and desert,
The West is more bewildered yet Ocean and prairie
The ardent quest inspires no more, Secret unwary
Death reigns supreme the whole world o’er. Unsympathising.
Bring me the wine of heart’s delight, Stranger to passion,
And spread the banquet of the night; Stranger to yearning
Give me the bold, adventurous eye, Rivulet’s turning,
And in love’s transport let me die.
Spray of the fountains.
48 Pale lamentation’s
Flameless outpouring
Leave no quarter to resist
Nightingales soaring
To this restless heart of mine
Give Thy curls another twist, Song in the thicket.
Let Thy tresses intertwine. Burns in my bosom
The brand of passion;
In my heart Thy lightning shone
Radiant as flashing gold, In such a fashion
Which the expectant sun and moon Burns not the tulip.
Marvelled sorely to behold. No wine of Saki,
Holy joy to dwell with thee No spirits’ riot;
Fashioned world idolatry; The soul unquiet
Love with his deceitful art Bitterly suffers.
Ever cheats the hopeful heart.
50
Come the meadow‐bird again
In Thy hands I now deliver
To the green and meadowed plain,
Once again my restless heart;
That with mind devoid of care
It will never cease from labour
I may tune a sweet, new air.
For the ease Thou wouldst impart
Hapless heart! whose whole affliction 52
Is the counting of the breath,
How long the veil of eve and dawn
Having not within its power
About Thy beauty shall be drawn?
To be lord of life and death.
Thy cheek display: make whole to me
In Thy thought as I was slumb’ring This incomplete epiphany.
Thou, desirous of display,
O glad consuming! rapture fine!
This Thy pearl of lustrous beauty
Thyself wouldst beg of me for wine
From Thy breast didst cast away.
If unto thee I did relate
Loud complaint they laid against thee, The intoxication of my state.
Moon and stars (didst Thou not hear?)
I added to the song of life
That Thy spark Thou hast enkindled
The counterpoint of fiery strife;
In my ashes dark and drear.
Scatter the dew that quenches drowth
In my breast His arrow pricking— Into the tulip’s thirsty mouth.
There is glory, there is fame!
Mind searched the volume thro’ and thro’
If I cast myself before Him,
Love found at once the subtle clue;
He’d not seize me for His game.
The clever bird will ever gain
51 Beneath the snare the hidden grain.
A single word sufficeth well Where is the song, and he that sung?
The passion of a world to tell: Words are a lyre pretence has strung;
The joy to view thee night to me I draw towards the camel‐train
Moved me to this long history. The erring beast without a rein.
Take Thou the faculty of speech In riddles yet I spake, forsooth;
From such as yearn Thy heart to reach, Now is the time for naked truth;
Knowest Thou not, that love conveys Do Thou declare, where I shall lead
Eloquence in the tongueless gaze? My fellow‐travellers in their need.
To sons of light naught else is known 53
Except the messenger alone;
One by one we count our breath
The son of earth, in rank so base,
On the narrow road to death;
High heaven holds in his embrace.
Like a raging sea we roar
If but one atom I must give As we walk along the shore.
Of this the fabric that I live,
Though the terror of the sea
Too great a price were that, for me
Gives to none security,
To purchase immortality.
In the secret of the shell
Great ocean, infinitely vast, Self‐preserving we may dwell.
Into Thy wave myself I cast;
Ask them not to price the heart,
Yet not ambitious to obtain
Money‐changers of the mart;
The pearl, or that far coast to gain.
We can estimate alone
Into my soul this meaning true The true merit of our stone.
Thou pourest like the summer dew,
Tribute none is asked of us
Whereof with sorrow and with sighs
For our fiefdom ruinous;
A new world dawns upon mine eyes.
Beggars sitting by the road,
We are princes of our‐ blood.
Persian Psalms 243
There is one (O wonderful!) Unveil Thy hidden beauty!
Dwells beside me in my soul; As the dawning sun
Who shall say, if it be thee All eyes to gaze upon thee
Or myself, I meet in me? Early we run.
Draw aside fate’s veil, I pray, Confirm our resolution
From this Adam shaped of clay; With a stronger faith:
On Thy path precipitate We come unhorsed, unarmoured
For our coming we await. To this field of death.
54 What a far gaze may fashion
Art Thou not aware?
No lament, no sigh I uttered;
So fared we in Thy presence,
Naught avail laments and sighs;
On our lips a prayer.
Best unspoken, the heart’s sorrow;
There be few to sympathise. 56
In the shrine and in the temple Lord, who didst bring the stars to birth,
There is love‐talk every where, Look down upon my scattered earth;
Yet through all the world none knoweth The atom doth itself enfold;
This great secret‐ that we share. This boundless wilderness behold.
Here are things too fine for vision; In solitude within my breast
As the sparks that upward soar Immortal beauty lies at rest;
Guard our world for a brief moment, Beneath this envelope of clay
And the next it is no more. Regard the sun’s effulgent ray.
Coming by the path of seeing Tumultuous love Thou didst impart
Thou didst past into my mind, To this my frail and mortal heart;
But so sudden was Thy passing See now Thy conflagration roll
In that hour my eyes were blind. Among the rushes of my soul.
They that tell the worth of jewels Clothed in the robes of old disgrace
Would not heed my jewelled ring; Note how I labour to efface
Since the world will not regard it, By hard endeavour every stain,
Unto thee my gem I bring. And wash life’s garment white again.
Lo, the goblet mind‐illuming My dust ascending in the air
That the West hath given me, Seeks a new heaven to prepare;
All the sun’s aglow within it; This atom, That is naught, and less,
Of the dawn no sign I see. Would populate a wilderness!
55 [Translated by A.J. Arberry]
Tremulous as the moon‐light
To our far abode
We came; and no man knoweth
How we trod this road.
PERSIAN PSALMS
Of our heart’s grief Thou spakest
To the watchful spies;
We came with lamentation PART TWO
Shameful of our sighs.
You are a branch of the Sidrah tree,
Do not become the thorns and thistles of What is Life? The world, and all,
the garden. To make spirit’s captive thrall;
If you have denied His existence, Since the world has prisoned thee,
Do not deny your own. How shalt thou bring this to be?
Both worlds may be seen in the wine‐pitches I ’Twas decreed, long since enow,
have! Sun and moon to thee should bow,
Where is the eye to view the sights I see? But as yet thou knowest not
How thou canst achieve, and what.
There will come another man, possessed, who
will shout hu! in the city; Take thou then a flask of wine
Two hundred commotions will arise from the From this tavern that is mine,
obsession I have. And of one poor clod of earth
Thou shalt bring a world to birth.
Do not worry, ignorant one, at the
approaching darkness of nights— Iqbal! What bright lamp is it
For the scar of my forehead sparkles like stars. In thy bosom thou hast lit,
That the things thyself canst do
You take me as your companion, but I am
Thou in us canst fashion, too?
afraid
That you are not up to the tumult and uproar 4
I have raised.
If it be thy will to gain
[Translated by Mustansir Mir] The safe shore of Passion’s main,
With a thousand brands of fire
1
One faint flame is thy desire.
Rise up! The hour is here
God has taught me how to spring
That Adam shall appear;
Joyously upon the wing;
The stars bow, as they must,
Thou aspirest but to rest
To this handful of dust.
Cowering in thy meadow’s nest.
The secret, that at rest
Seekest thou to win perchance
Was hid in Being’s breast,
The Beloved’s secret glance?
By Clay and Water stirred
First awhile be clutching then
Is magically heard.
So the skirts of conscient men.
2
With no madness in thy breast
On the roadway of desire Through the town thou clamourest;
Swift to gaze and to aspire, Pitcher shattered from thy grip,
Glance‐assaying, clear of head, Thou wouldst yet the revel keep.
Moon and star together tread.
Practice too the amorous art,
Say, what visions of delight Learn to captivate the heart,
In the dust amazed their sight, If thou dost desire of me
That they turned them from the skies Love’s immortal minstrelsy.
And have fixed on us their eyes.
5
3
Time is the winged messenger
Thou canst pass, like morning’s breeze, Of the Heart’s Desire;
Deep into the anemones, Wondrous herald! Tidings fair
With a single breath disclose Is his life entire.
The locked secrets of the rose.
Persian Psalms 245
Think not, thou shalt never win What is speechless to the flowers,
The Beloved to view: The birds’ lament reveals.
The desire thy breast within
Passion’s message, that anew
Still is raw, and new!
I tell unfeignedly,
Well I know that thou dost soar To the tulip spake the dew,
Hawklike high in air; But spake in secrecy.
Yet beware the flower, for
If my speech is all distraught,
Ancient is his snare.
What wonder were in this?
How may Gabriel aspire Of His tresses who speaks aught,
Where Man’s dust shall fly? His tale distressful is.
If his present fame is higher,
7
’Tis his roof that’s high!
Mind, that is ever questing,
All thy life is breath to take,
And finding, without resting,
Knowing not, frail man,
Fired by the joy of viewing
That true living is to break
Was vision still pursuing.
The days’ talisman.
Seek thou pure revelation
Of the science of the West
Past sun and moon’s low station,
This much I will speak:
For all things here reported
Sweet are sighs and tears expressed
By vision are distorted.
While the gaze is weak.
8
O’er the Crescent and the Cross
I am raised sublime; I am the slave of each living heart
Other tumult now doth toss Whose love is pure, refined,
In the brain of Time. Not cloistered monks who dwell apart,
Their hearts to none resigned.
6
With such a heart as knows the hue,
Of the Friend’s ingenuous wit Yet from all hue is free,
I can relate no more: In mosque, and inn, and temple, too,
By my pillow he did sit, The touchstone sure they be.
And spake upon the cure!
Beyond the moon and Pleiades
Though the tongue is bold enough, Their gaze is lifted high,
The argument right fair, The Milky Way contents not these
What can I declare of Love, For them to nest thereby.
Save that none can declare?
Within the multitude are they,
Happy he, who dared to reach Yet out of it withal;
Deep into Being’s brain In spirit’s solitude they stay,
And drew forth like jewels speech, While dwelling amid all.
And fluent spoke again.
Regard not meanly, nor despise
Desolate with joy am I The truly loving man;
That, recognizing me, Though little worth, ’tis merchandise
In reproach He whispered, sly, Fit for Life’s caravan.
“Poor, homeless vagrant, see!”
The charter of their liberty
Grieve not, that this world of ours Is writ for slaves to keep;
Its secret still conceals;
And now the Shaykh and Brahman be Then its water and its clay
Shepherds without their sheep. Men for new foundation lay.
Take thou the goblet in thy hold; Stored and cherished capital,
Wine lawful is, they tell For one glance they yield it all:
Although the tale be strange, ’tis told What a people these, who take
By speakers credible. Profit of the loss they make!
9 What upon a blade of grass
Ether‐borne they bring to pass,
The tulip of this meadowland
’Ttis not strange that they can prove,
Is yet all flecked with hue;
Ponderous mountain chains to move.
Cast not the shield out of thy hand,
For battle flares anew. Love is as a merchandise;
In Life’s marketplace it lies,
A tumult, in whose swelling breast
Now at little price is sold,
Two hundred tumults wait
And anon for mighty gold.
That maiden is, who dwells caressed
In Europe’s cradle yet. I have sung lamentingly
Out of sleep to waken thee,
O thou who sittest at thy ease
Else is Love a labour done
Beside the shore, arise!
Sighlessly, without a groan.
The whirlpool roars across the seas,
The shark in menace lies. 11
No part of wisdom ’tis, I trow, Drunk with self hood like a wave
The trusty axe to shun; Plunge into the stormy lave;
Within the rock’s heart, even now, Who commanded thee to sit
Are rubies to be won. With thy skirts about thy feet?
Await! and I will raise the veil, Let the tiger be thy prey;
That other songs may thrill; Leave the mead and flowers gay,
What should I of such music tell Out toward the mountain press,
The lute concealeth still? Tent thee in the wilderness.
When the world’s wondrous Artist viewed Cast thy strangling rope on high,
The madness in my brain, Circle sun and moon in sky,
He cried, “Too mighty swells thy mood, Seize a star from heaven’s sphere,
This ruin to contain!“ Stitch it on thy sleeve to wear.
10 Selfhood’s wine, as I have guessed,
Tart and bitter is to taste,
Faith depends on arguments
Yet regard thy pain within—
And on magic eloquence;
Drain our desperate medicine
Yet anon men serve the Lord
With the lance and fearless sword. 12
Oft the dervish robes conceal Out of Hijaz and the lonely plain
Underneath a coat of steel; The Guide of the Time is come,
Lovers, slaves to passion’s mood, Back from the far, far vale again
With such armour are endued. The Caravan hastens home.
When the world too old is grown, Lo, on the brow of the slaves I see
It is burnt and overthrown, The Sultan’s splendour bright,
Persian Psalms 247
The dust of Ayaz shines radiantly 14
With Mahmud’s torch alight.
Like the dervish drunken be;
In Ka‘bah and Temple long, long years Quaff the wine‐cup instantly,
The deep lament arose, And, when thou art bolder grown,
Till from Love’s banquet now appears Hurl thyself on Jamshid’s throne
One Man who the Secret knows.
‘‘This our world,” they asked of me,
The sighs that out of the bosom break “Is’t congenial to thee?”
Of a people at earnest prayer “Nay”, I answered; and they cried,
A brave and new foundation make “Break and strew it far and wide!”
In Life’s mind everywhere.
In the taverns I saw none
O take the trembling lute from me, Meet to be companion;
For my hand can play no more; Get thee less with tavern‐boys
In streams of blood my melody Smite with Rustam and rejoice!
From the heart of the harp doth pour.
Tulip in the desert bright,
13 Burn thou not in lonely light;
Let thy heart consuming glow
Of the Sultan I would take
Blaze in Adam’s bosom, too.
One gaze, if so I may;
Muslim I, I do not make Thou’rt His fiery inward mood,
A god of clay. Thou the fever of His blood;
Dost thou not believe? Go, rend
See, the independent heart
This world’s body, end to end.
That in my breast I bear
To the beggar doth impart Is the Mind thy lamp? To‐day,
A regal air. Set it out upon the war;
Is thy beaker Love? Drink wine
What doth on the tulip fall
With some trusty mate of thine.
Out of the starry sky,
O’er the verdant herbage all Ah, my heart is all aglow,
Now scatter I. From mine eyes the blood streams flow;
See, my ruby offering;
Ranging through the Infinite
Take, and wear this in thy ring.
My thought begs never boon,
As the Pleiades crave light 15
From sun and moon.
Greed is acting still his play
But if any wandering sun This world to dominate;
Toward my path should stray, What new turbulence, I pray,
With a smile I make it run Behind Heaven’s veil doth wait?
Far from the way.
Now and now Mind breaketh through
With the lustre and the flame What idols it designed;
That Nature hath endowed Come, for Love believeth true,
Like a lightning‐flash I gleam And infidel is Mind.
In a dark cloud.
Thou’rt the Leader of the train;
Well I know the wont and way Then labour fiercely still;
Of them that rule, aloof In our tribe, he rule doth gain
Joseph’s in the well, and they Who hath a warrior’s will.
Asses, on roof!
Thou hast closed thine eyes, and said, 17
“The world’s a dream, no less”:
Where is the Arab, to revive
Ope thine eyes; this dream‐abed
The old night‐revelry,
Is all of wakefulness.
And where the Persian, to bring alive
In thy solitude, alone, The love‐lute’s minstrelsy?
Create a company:
Under the Sufi elder’s gown
Love, that’s made to know the One,
The flagon is bare and dry;
The Many loves to see.
Alas, for none can tell in the town
But an instant quivered be Where young red wine’s to buy.
Ere to the saddle bound—
Every man in this grassy mead
Fortunate gazelle, to he
Fashions and takes his rest,
So singled out to wound!
But where is he, ah, where indeed,
In the garden and the mead Who will make, and burn, his nest?
I sow my jewelled air;
A thousand caravan‐trains have stared
Precious goods, yet cheap indeed
Like a stranger, and then passed on,
When there are none to hear.
But he that close as a lover dared
16 To gaze—is there anyone?
Although the Angel dwells beyond Rise like a wave, and surging flow
The talisman of the skies, In the ocean eternally?
Yet on this hand of dust in fond Thou seek’st the shore, and dost not know
Affection rest his eyes. Where ever the shore may be.
Think not upon one fashion goes Hither (for in thy tendril’s vein
The game of love forlorn; The fresh young blood doth bound)
Sane are the tulip and the rose Hither hasten, nor ask again
And yet their robe is torn. Where the Magian wine is found.
The tale of passion told may be Twist into one vast war‐array
Where the Friend sojourneth All ages that ever were;
Alone, with a lament that’s free Later and sooner are passed away;
Of all defiling breath. Where now is Time, ah, where?
So from a star a man may clutch 18
The apple of its eye;
Rise like the morning air
Mind is a falcon at his touch
And learn to blow again;
Eager and swift to fly.
Tulip and rose are fair;
Unveil thy face; for He Who spake, Play gently with their train;
“Thou shalt not gaze on Me” Deep in the rosebud’s heart
A hand of dust in view to take Learn how to stab thy dart.
Still waiteth patiently.
Though ermine wraps thy breast,
Who sang within the flowery mead? Thou tremblest listlessly;
Say, whence his anthem came This way thou shiverest
That lo! the rosebud hides her head, Will nothing profit thee;
The roses blush for shame. In the assembly learn
With love to shake, and burn.
Faithless! thy heart astray
Persian Psalms 249
Once more upon Him bind; Out of leaden sleep,
Break from all else away, Out of slumber deep
Nor unto self be blind; Arise!
Learn with thy eyes to view, Out of slumber deep
And how to close them, too. Arise!
Breath is a messenger, Now the sun, that doth adorn
Unheard its message told; With his rays the brow of morn,
Thy dust a vision clear, Doth suffuse the cheeks thereof
Yet thou canst not behold; With the crimson blush of love.
Learn once again to see, Over mountain, over plain
And hearing get for thee! Caravans take route again;
Bright and world‐beholding eyes,
No falcon’s heart of rage
Gaze upon the world, and rise!
We have, no eagle’s eye;
Out of leaden sleep,
Like homebirds in a cage
Out of slumber deep
We lack the joy to fly;
Arise!
Homebirds encaged! arise,
Out of slumber deep
And soar into the skies.
Arise!
Darius’ royal throne
All the Orient doth lie
Men sell not by the way;
Like strewn dust, the roadway by,
That mighty mount of stone
Or a still and bushed lament
They barter not for hay;
And a wasted sigh and spent:
Learn with thy own heart’s blood
Yet each atom of this earth
To purchase thee this good.
Is a gaze of tortured birth.
Thou weep’st; yet Destiny Under Ind’s and Persia’s skies,
Unchanging doth abide; Through Arabia’s plains, O rise!
The chain that circleth thee Out of leaden sleep,
Was aye as firmly tied; Out of slumber deep
Despair not, but anew Arise!
Learn how to weep for rue. Out of slumber deep
Art thou consumed? Take flame Arise!
Out of thy heart’s desire See, thy ocean is at rest,
And wrap thee in the same, Slumbrous as a desert waste;
And set the reeds afire; Yea, no waxing or increase
Along the stubble learn E’er disturbs thy ocean’s peace.
To run a torch, and burn! Ne’er thy ocean knoweth storm
Or Leviathan’s dread swarm:
19
Rend its breast and, billow‐wise
Little flower fast asleep, Swelling into tumult, rise!
Rise narcissus‐like, and peep; Out of leaden sleep,
Lo, the bower droops and dies Out of slumber deep
Wasted by cold griefs; arise! Arise!
Now that birdsong fills the air Out of slumber deep
And muezzins call to prayer, Arise!
Listen to the burning sighs
Listen to this subtlety
Of the passionate hearts, and rise!
That reveals all mystery:
Empire is the body’s dust; To dawn how shall it turn?
Spirit, true Religion’s trust;
The heart, whose whole desire
Body lives and spirit lives
I quenchless flame and fire,
By the life their union gives.
Who knows, if it shall grow
Lance in hand, and sword at thighs,
To lightning flash, or glow?
Cloaked, and with thy prayer mat, rise!
Out of leaden sleep, High fancy, passion’s glance,
Out of slumber deep And life’s exuberance,
Arise! Fear not, for these all three
Out of slumber deep Dust of the road shall be.
Arise! So live, that if our death
Thou art true and worshipful For aye continueth,
Guardian of eternal Rule, God shall be shamed, to know
Thou the left hand and the right What things He wrought below.
Of the World‐possessor’s might. 21
Shackled slave of earthy race,
Thou art Time, and thou art Space: Sleeper, rise thou up, and fast!
Wine of faith that fear defies Once again upon the past
Drink, and from doubt’s prison rise! And the future fix thy gaze;
Out of leaden sleep, Thou must think on other ways.
Out of slumber deep Love hath laid his heavy load
Arise! On Time’s saddle to the road:
Out of slumber deep Art thou lover? In thy need
Arise! Eve and dawn must be thy steed.
Against Europe I protest, Elder said, “This world below
And the attraction of the West: In no certain gait doth go;
Woe for Europe and her charm, We must close our eyes, nor care
Swift to capture and disarm! What is foul herein, or fair.
Europe’s hordes with flame and fire
Desolate the world entire; “If, the world being wholly spurned,
Architect of Sanctuaries, Unto Him thy mind is turned,
Earth awaits rebuilding; rise First of all the things to do
Out of leaden sleep, Is thy own life to forgo.”
Out of slumber deep “Ah, within my heart”, said I,
Arise! “Yet unbroken idols lie”:
Out of slumber deep “Then this temple”, answered he,
Arise “Must be shattered utterly!”
20 22
Our world is dusty clay My mind awhile was gone
Trampled upon the way; About the heavens to pace,
I do not think our breath High on the back of the moon,
Returneth out of death. Fast in the stars’ embrace.
This night, whose only home Think not we are enfurled
Is in the strangers’ tomb, Within this globe of clay;
No moon, no stars here burn; Each separate star’s a world,
Persian Psalms 251
Or was a world one day. 24
The lowly emmet sees No Jamshid’s memory, the wine
In vision clear and true That floweth in this inn of mine,
A thousand mysteries It is the pressing of my soul
Which we lack sight to view. That sparkleth in my Persian bowl.
Earth on her back doth bear Man like a billow quivereth
A many mountain tall; In eager quest of Being’s breath,
We, for the dust we were While yet his arrow lies encased
Lay heaviest of all. About annihilation’s waist.
The panting tulip sighed; Come, let us shatter (for we can)
How deeply, well I know; Like Abraham this talisman;
Her cup with blood is dyed, Within the temple, idols be
Her heart’s a brand aglow. Whatever I have seen, but thee.
23 Until thou deeply enterest
The very heart in Being’s breast,
A melody swept me through and through
To leave the gaze to speculate
And nobody knew;
Is wickedness, and sin most great.
The air and the note is all they know.
The high and low. To wander idly, without guide,
Peculiar pleasure is, beside;
Love in my heart was made to chime
Happy am I, that our abode
With thought sublime;
Is far, and ever winds the road.
Not like the moon I wax and wane;
I never attain. The casual glance, that gave to me
The leave to wander, and to see,
Weep no more, but with brave heart take
’Twas better far, that casual glance,
Disunion’s ache;
Than rapt attention to my chance.
Love, till it sigheth, scarce can guess
Its attractiveness. Though I was nourished all my days
Where infidel to idol prays,
Be thou a torch, and set afire
Behold, my opened lips impart
The bush and briar;
The secret of the Ka‘bah’s heart.
Men of clay have no right to be
In life’s sanctuary. 25
A falcon thou art; yield not thy soul I am a blossom of the plain;
To domestic fowl; Carry me back from the avenue
Rise, spread thy wing and pinion, and soar To mountain and wilderness again
Both high and far. Where air’s to breathe, and the vast to view.
The poet’s a glow that giveth light Far from self I have gone astray,
In life’s dark night; Learnt me the foxy and furtive wont;
A radiance shines in his wings anon, Carry me, helpers of the way,
And sometimes none. Back to the reeds, my ancient haunt.
Iqbal in his song his self has bared Once I had a word in my heart;
And truth declared; Now it has vanished from my breast;
This new‐unbeliever knoweth naught Though I am old, let me depart
Of cloister rote. Back to the school that taught me best.
I am a hushed and silent lute; Lover true is passionate
Now in my head is a new, sweet air; Selfhood’s world to recreate,
O let my strings be no longer mute, Not content to be enfurled
Take me to him whom will repair. By a bounded, finite world.
In this night that enshroudeth me Wakeful heart was never given
Sufficient sun is my ancient brand; Europe’s scientist by heaven;
Take away from my dormitory All that God has marked him by
The shuttered lamp that is in thy hand. Is the speculative eye.
Lo, to the slaves I have declareed Love he knows not, and the Brain
True kingship’s innermost mystery; Snake like bites into his vein,
I am a slave who greatly erred; Even though his golden cup
To the king for judgement O carry me! Flowing ruby filleth up.
26 Take the lees I give; for lo!
In the taverns that I know
I uttered a new word,
Aged vintner never more
But there was none that heard;
Stands, the young, fierce wine to pour
Vision to rapture grew,
But glance was none to view. 28
Be thou a stone, and pass In the heart of the birds, that range
Within these works of glass; This garden, is ever change;
Woe, stone to idol wrought ’Tis one with the rose at breast,
That goblet shattered not! And other within the nest.
Break down the old, and then Look thou to thyself intent;
Rebuild the world again; Of the world what cause to lament?
Who in “No God” remained There’s a different world to see,
Has ne’er “Except” attained. Be there change of sight in thee.
O happy rivulet Each moment, if but thine eye
In selfhood passionate, Regardeth attentively,
Who to earth’s heart dost flee Changeth the tavern road
And flowest not so sea! And the Magian’s wonted mode.
To Moses’ lesson list; The caravan’s leader greet
For Europe’s scientist With my blessing, and then repeat:
Though ocean’s depth he plumb, “Though the way unchanged remain,
Could ne’er to Sinai come. ’Tis a different caravan!”
Love’s self learnt quivering’s art 29
From this our trembling heart;
We are gone astray from God;
Our spark it was that spired
He is searching upon the road,
Until the moth expired.
For like us, He is need entire
27 And the prisoner of desire.
Never lover true is he On the tulip’s petal He writes
Who lamenteth dolefully; The message His heart indites,
Lover he, who in his hold Yea, and His voice is heard
Hath the double world controlled. In the passionate song of the bird.
Persian Psalms 253
He lay in the iris’ fold Greybird is a child, in truth,
Our loveliness to behold; Child a greybird, spite his youth.
Bright cup of the ardent gaze Revolt, I cry!
Whose glance is a hymn of praise! Revolt, defy!
Revolt, or die!
Parted from us, forlorn
He sighs with the breath of morn, Brother Muslims! woe to us
Within and out He doth stand, For the havoc science does;
Around, and on every hand. Ahriman is cheap enough,
God is rare, scarce‐offered stuff.
Great riot created He
Revolt, I cry!
A creature of clay to see,
Revolt, defy
Fashioned the piercing view
Revolt, or die!
To gaze upon mortal hue.
See how Falsehood’s blandishment
Hidden in every grain
Shadows Truth, with ill intent,
Not yet is He known to man,
How the Bat, with blinded eyes,
Though bright as the full moon’s grace
Plots against the Sun to rise.
In cottage and street is His face.
Revolt, I cry!
In our envelope all of dust Revolt, defy!
The jewel of life is lost; Revolt, or die!
Is it we, or Himself (O say),
In the Churches, Jesus Christ
This pearl that is gone astray?
On the Cross is sacrificed,
30 With God’s Book Muhammad too
Of the hirelings’s blood outpoured From the Ka‘bah flees anew.
Lustrous rubies makes the lord; Revolt, I cry!
Tyrant squire to swell his wealth Revolt, defy!
Desolates the peasant’s tillth. Revolt, or die!
Revolt, I cry! I have seen into the bowls
Revolt, defy! Furnished by this age for souls;
Revolt, or die! Such the venom they contain,
City shaykh with string of beads Serpents twist and writhe in pain.
Many a faithful heart misleads, Revolt, I cry!
Brahman baffles with his thread Revolt, defy!
Many a simple Hindu head. Revolt, or die!
Revolt, I cry! Yet the weak are given at length
Revolt, defy! Lion’s heart and tiger’s strength;
Revolt, or die! In this bubbling lantern, lo!
Prince and Sultan gambling go, Haply yet a flame will glow.
Loaded are the dice they throw. Revolt, I cry!
Subjects soul from body strip Revolt, defy!
While their subjects are asleep, Revolt, or die!
Revolt, I cry! 31
Revolt, defy!
Although the soul, I know,
Revolt, or die!
One day unveiled shall be,
Preacher’s at the mosque, his son Think not it shall be so
To the kindergarten gone;
By writhing endlessly. Thyself, nor melt to air.
It needs a blow, to stir Love is with speed to pass
The sleeping soul from earth Out of this shuttered sphere,
Unswept, the harp can ne’er To cast the moon’s bright glass
Bring melody to birth. High over heaven clear.
Thy cup replenish still Power is from hand to fling
With tears and midnight sighs, The cash of heart and faith.
Replenish it until To rule the world, a king,
The radiant sun shall rise. And brave the chance of death.
So faint a mote thou art, Philosophy is taught
I fear thou’lt vanish quite; By manly zeal alone,
Then fortify thy heart To whet the blade of thought
To meet the morning light. Upon the world for stone.
Transcend the dust, nor take The living spirit’s trust
Thy self but dust to be; Is no disordered dream,
If thou thy breast will break, But of this scattered dust
The moon shall shine from thee. To build a braver scheme.
If in thy face they lock 34
The gate to selfhood’s shrine,
Beyond heaven’s shuttered dome
Strike head upon the rock
I have found a way to come
And see the ruby shine.
Where swifter than thought may fly
32 The breath of a morning sigh.
Whether the world be foul or fair, Falcon thou art, and hast made
With a smile fare on; Thy nest in the grassy glade,
Forth from the nest, the cage, the snare, And its air, I am fearful, might
The bower, be gone! Foreshorten thy pinion’s flight.
Though stranger thou art, and dost not know Art thou dust become? It is clear
How the way doth wend, Thou canst not be resting here;
In a bold, familiar manner go On the breeze of the morning ride,
In the lane of the Friend. Sit not by the roadway side.
Each breath that thou drawest, differently From the stream of the stars arise
The world adorn; And cross the Nile of the skies;
Within this ancient hostelry For the heart must die right soon
Swift as Time be borne. If it lodge, though it be in the moon.
If Gabriel lay his hand on thy rein, Let its breast no longer beam
And the Houris, too, With the rockless lightning’s gleam,
With a loving glance pass on again Less worth than a straw reckon I
As fair charmers do. The mountain of Sinai.
33 How men may the manners keep
Of the throng, yet consuming leap
What is this life? A pearl
Ask not of us, whom the gaze
In thy own shell to bear,
Of the passing fair one slays.
In the flame’s heart to hurl
Persian Psalms 255
When I am dead, this my lay All faithless the wayfarers;
Men will recite, and say: And the caravan’s guide what load
“One man, who was self‐aware, Of problems oppressive bears!
Transformed a world everywhere!”
Drunk are the feckless spy,
[Translated by A.J. Arberry] The lover, the messenger;
So the words of the sweethearts lie
35
In how many loads to wear.
I am a sinner with self‐respect, I will take no
Its faith of believer true,
wages without labor;
Its doubt of the infidel—
I am scarred because my fault has been put
O Muslims, what shall I do
down to His decree.
With the heart that in me doth dwell?
Through bounty of love and ecstasy, I have
Sometimes the helmsman’s skill
taken thought to such heights,
The storm doth display, and more!
That, reaching behind, I can pluck the eyes of
Lo, the waves, impetuous will
the world‐brightening sun.
Hath cast our craft on the shore.
Since the First Morning, I have been a drawer
Who fashioned these seeing eyes
of wave and vortex;
In the wave, far in ocean lost,
When the sea becomes calm, I invoke the
That the pearl in the sea’s heart lies,
storm for help.
And the potsherd breaks on the coast?
A hundred times before now, too, I have lit a
No part of my soul’s unrest
fire under the world’s feet;
Hath stirred in my Native land;
My high and low notes burn the world clean With my magic I tried my best,
of peace and tranquility. It was lost on the desert sand.
I have danced before idols and worn the holy If a New World thou hast
thread, so that In thy bosom, declare thy faith!
The shaykh of the city may become a man of Wounded in heart and breast,
God by calling me a heretic. Europe is nigh to death.
Now they run away from me, now they 37
associate with me;
No friend in the world entire thou wilt find
In this desert, they do not know whether I am
Sincere in solicitude
hunter or prey.
Go, lose thyself in thy self, and mind
A heart that lacks warmth can ill profit from The honour of loverhood.
the company of a man;
I am grieved, that He Who created us
Come with red‐hot copper, so that my elixir
In rapture to be displayed
may work on you.
Hath concealed the infinite various
[Translated by Mustansir Mir] Manners of that His trade.
36 None but Ayaz alone doth know
The world had lost its sight This subtle and secret truth,
And the glass of the heart forsook, How the Ghaznavid’s love augmented so
But an eye now sees the light His poor slave’s anguish and ruth.
That into the heart can look. Less than a grassblade, in my view,
Dark is the night, twists the road, The knowledge and vision vast
That the trusty sword and the buckler true
From the hand of the warrior cast. Thro’ the heart o’ the glass.
Whatever the price of these goods, ’tis well In this garden, where
And profit will yield, not harm, Hushed is warbler’s air,
Razi’s intelligence to sell As each bursting bud
For the power of Hyder’s arm. Chant thy tragic mode.
If there is a drop of blood in thy vein, Earth hides not His grace,
A flutter to storm the height. Heav’n veils not His face
Come, learn with me the way to attain Thou may’st view, for sure,
The falcon’s ascending flight. If thou canst endure.
If fluting thou thinkst is but taking breath, Childlike watchest thou
How little truth thou hast guessed; Nests beneath the bough;
The minstrel his skill accomplisheth Mount on wings, and soon
With the point of the sword in his breast! Hunt the sun and moon!
38 40
The fine science thou dost learn Too oft was thy light
After vision does not yearn; With strangers to take wine,
‘Tis no wanderer far astray, To suffer others’ light
But a straggler on the way. Within the bowl to shine.
He whose all‐embracing brain The orient wine‐bearer
A new universe doth plan Hands thee the purple cup;
Burneth still with passion’s fire, Drink! Let the drunkard’s air
Never lacketh high desire. From thy parched earth mount up!
Though Love made the moon to err The heart that knoweth well
On the road a wayfarer, The fever of desire
Never blazeth in its breast Moth‐like will hover still
The vast furnace of unrest. About the candle’s fire.
So His beauty doth entrance, Sprinkle thy morning tears
I can never lift my glance Upon life’s desert plain;
From His Face, who heedlessly New harvest scarce appears
Doth not a glance spare for me. Except thou sow thy grain.
See, Iqbal in manly clothes Pass wine! Speak not to me
To his worldly labour goes; Of Europe’s tumult vast;
Proving that his dervishood Caravans countlessly
Ne’er depends on gown and hood. That desolation passed.
39 41
Vision can be won Love went searching thro’ the earth
As of morning sun, Until Adam came to birth;
Making this dark clay Out of water, out of clay
Radiant as day. Manifested his display.
Let thy vision be Sun, and moon, and stars on high,
Needle‐sharp in thee, These were little to set by
Like its lustre pass So to purchase in life’s mart
Persian Psalms 257
Adam’s dust, that owned a heart. To set the temple‐house afire.
42 In Muslim mosque and church of Christ,
In incensed temple, tavern spiced,
Come! The Asiatic man
Although a hundred charms were tried
Has created a new plan:
The heart was never satisfied.
Go not, pilgrimage to make
To the idol that he brake. Never in bower sweet with scent
I raised a sorrowful lament,
What is this epiphany
But from the mountain cataract
That men’s hearts, rejoiced to see,
I learned this music to enact.
From the ashes of the way
Gladly leap, like sparks at play? Wouldest thou approach me, here apart?
Come cold of breath, and warm of heart;
To attain what far abode
In thee is movement never calm;
Strive the Turks upon the road,
Such verve was not in David’s Psalm.
That their bosom fluttereth
With the quickness of their breath? Seek less my faults, but take my bowl
To be the measure of thy soul;
Strive thou, selfhood’s joy to know:
The pleasure of my bitter brew
They who on this journey go
Is never without spirit’s rue.
Shatter every worldly chain
That they may to self attain. 44
Men whose hearts are dead and cold The Saki, pouring his pure wine
As a cell this world behold; Upon my restless heart
With two cups to fill their head, Converts this quicksilver of mine
From the whole of life they fled. To gold, by magic art.
I will ever be the slave I do not know if it be light
Of those horsemen bold and brave Within my breast, or flame;
Who, with spear uplifted, far I only know its radiance white
Ride, to pierce and thread a star. Shines with a moonlike gleam.
Angels lack the season now Nature, all hushed, doth suddenly
Prostrate to their Lord to bow; My quiet heart assail;
Creatures of pure light, for they The instrument in ecstasy
Rapturous gaze on men of clay! Playeth its own sweet scale.
43 Grieve not, thou fool; the starry skies
Within this desert waste
I boast a love that is not grieved
Have many founts, that secret rise
By being or to be bereaved,
And to the torrent haste.
Whose infidelity doth ne’er
The girdle of existence wear. O thou who didst my sweet wine take,
Grieve not at my sharp sting;
If Love shall ever so command,
It needs my sting, that I may wake
Let precious life slip from thy hand;
Man from his slumbering.
Love is thy one beloved and goal;
There is no gain in life of soul. 45
The shattering of the idol‐shrine Brighter shall shine men’s clay
Doth infidelity refine; Than angels’ light, one day;
It needs Mahmud’s immortal ire Earth through our Destiny
Turn to a starry sky. Far from the threshold now
Of the Sultan’s gate I have strayed;
The fancies in our head
No infidel I, to bow
That upon storms were fed
To a god who can nothing aid.
One day shall soar, and clear
The whirlpool of the sphere. 47
Why askest thou of me? Far, far from every other go
Consider Man, and see With the One Friend upon the road;
How, Mind‐developed still, Seek thou of God thy self to know,
Sublime this subject will. And seek in selfhood for thy God.
Come fashioned forth, sublime. One piercing glance can ne’er impart
This common thought, in time, The consummation of it all:
And with its beauty’s rapture The gaze, the intellect, the heart,
Even God’s heart shall capture. Each needs its vision several.
46 Love is at Being’s board to sup,
To drain its glass, till all is gone;
I have never discovered well
Seek not the world‐revealing cup,
Law’s way, and the wont thereof,
Seek the world‐conquering hand alone!
But know him an infidel
Who denieth the power of Love. Naked of foot the travellers are,
Thorny the way, and hard indeed;
The travellers of the Shrine
Till thou shall reach thy selfhood far,
O may God succour and aid,
Take acquiescence for thy steed.
That they may truly divine
Man’s rank, who of clay was made. Only in perfect poverty
The proof of kingship is displayed;
I do not ask of the Way;
Beneath the rushes seek, to see
The Friend is my only quest,
The royal throne of Kaikobad.
For so I have heard men say,
“The friend, then the way, that’s best!’ Look onward; Life is but a way
That to another world doth wend;
Europe’s philosopher
From what has been, and passed away
So misseth the rapture fine,
Depart, and ever seek the end.
In the red bowl shines more clear
The gleam of the crimson wine. But if Fate’s buffet maketh thee
Like the lamenting reed to moon,
Better a man were blind,
Lay down the wine thou took’st from me;
Better a thousand wise,
Seek liniment to mend thy bone!
Than knowledge to have in mind
That the seeing heart denies. 48
Though intellect’s jugglery The world, but not selfhood, thou canst see;
Peculiar joy impart, How long in thy ignorance wilt thou sit?
Better than subtlety With thy ancient flame let the night be lit?
Is the faith of a simple heart. The hand of Moses is sleeved in thee.
I have washed my heart’s tablets clean Set forth thy foot from the circling skies;
Of the learning that charmed my youth, Greater and older than these thou art;
Opened my teeming brain Fearest thou death in thy deathless heart?
With the lancet of utter truth. Death’s but a prey that before thee lies.
Persian Psalms 259
Life, once given thee, none can take; Much of the Balance and the Scroll
’Tis for lack of faith men faint and die; I hear thee say;
Learn to be sculptor, even as I, Strange, that thou seest not at all
And haply anew thy selfhood make! This judgement‐day!
49 Blessed the man, who in his breast
The shrine hath known,
In the accidents of night
Fluttered awhile, then from the nest
There is naught can me affright,
Of speech was flown.
Seeing that the night is borne
By the wheeling stars to morn. No more the tavern and the school
I venerate;
Of its station unaware,
I do not reckon worshipful
It has fallen in its own snare,
The brow‐swept gate!
This thy love, that did arise
From thy supplicating cries. 51
When the heart gives forth a sigh, In the abode of passion, where
’Tis of burning inwardly; The dust is fraught with pain,
Let it not thy lips defile; Shineth in every atom there
Break it in thy breast, and smile! Pure spirit without stain.
None remains in tavern now; No Magian wine from Magian boy
Beg of Nature’s saki thou The revellers there take;
The rich wine that cannot pass One glance of rapture and of joy
In the drinkers’ narrow glass. Each fragile glass doth break.
Not with mosque and chanted verse, Let madness surge not in thee so
Not with learning schools rehearse When thou dost stand at prayer;
To repose returns the heart Keep firm thy reason; do not go
When its Darling doth depart. With shredded raiment there!
50 52
What man art thou, and where thy home? The young beloved, the ancient wine,
In the blue skies The maids of Paradise,
The stars have opened, to see thee come, These joys men reckon rare and fine
A thousand eyes! Charm not the truly wise.
Why shall I tell what thou hast done, Whate’er eternal thou dost deem,
What thou now art? Mountain, and sea, and shore,
Mahmud is now with Ayaz one— Land, plain, whate’er assured doth seem,
This breaks my heart! These pass, and are no more.
No Milky Way thou mountest up The learning of the Westerner,
At prayer to kneel; The East’s philosophy,
The Sufi’s and the poet’s cup All is an idol‐house of prayer—
Thy soul doth steal. And idols nothing be!
Though Europe many knots untied Cross not this desert terrified;
That chained thy thought, Fix on thy self thy thought;
Intoxication magnified Thou only art, and all beside,
Her next draught brought. Yea, all the world, is naught!
Upon this way mine eyelashes The breath is burning in my breast;
Have quarried out of stone, The sanctuary is my nest,
Nor stage nor caravan there is, And men may recognize my throat
And shifting sands are none. By the great ardour of my note.
53 Wrecked is the barque the ancient guide
Built out of sense, therein to ride;
Qalandars, who to their sway
Blest is the one who fashioned me
Water strive to win and clay,
To be his vessel on the sea.
From the monarch tribute bear
Though the beggar’s robe they wear. 55
They appear, and round the sun Each atom’s body like a spark
And the moon their rope is spun; I set a‐quivering,
They retire, and in their breast Each atom quivers through the dark
Time and Space repose at rest. And soars as on a wing.
When the revel rules the day List to my music burning new!
Bright as shimmering silks are they. Each diamantine grain
Yet when battle is toward I fashion like a drop of dew
For the sacrifice prepared. To trickle soft as rain.
A new order they devise From manifesting’s stage when break
For the broad and dappled skies, My soft, sweet melodies,
Bear the ancient stars and all Even in the dead of night I make
On their backs to funeral. The dawn desire to rise.
Time hath from her face untied Joseph, concealed from sight so long,
Morrow’s veil, to lay aside; I have revealed anew,
Yet to‐day men still delight That I may fire the needy throng
In the wine of yesternight. His beauty to pursue.
Hovers on my lip the word Dear love, that doth man’s patience try,
That must never be declared; To dust in ecstasy
Strange, the learned of the town Hath given eyes to weep, and I
Silent are, nor even frown! The wondrous joy to see
54 56
A double‐handled sword am I Ever to be about with men
Laid naked by the circling sky; Proveth the self doth not attain;
Fortune hath sharpened me in Space, To friends be thou a stranger, then,
And whetted me upon Time’s face. Who art familiar with pain.
I am the world of fantasy; How long before the palace gate
The genius of eternity Of princes wilt thou bow thy face?
The world of nightingale and rose From God, Who did thy soul create,
Hath shattered, fashioning me for those. Learn thou the pride of matchless grace.
The youthful wine to cheer the soul The warrior’s love will come one day
That I am pouring in the bowl To such a point of excellence
Is from the vat, whereby my jar That notice he will no more pay
And glass decanter molten are. To mortal beauty’s blandishments.
Persian Psalms 261
I sang before the sanctuary That your forebears lit one day,
So sad a song of heart’s desire, Things of water and of clay.
That each initiate learned from me
58
The joy of separation’s fire.
Soft my breath doth pass
Unseeing are the buyers’ eyes,
Soft as April airs;
And I rejoice and jubilate
Jasmine‐sweet the grass
Because Love’s precious merchandise
Springeth from my tears.
Remaineth still immaculate.
Desert tulip glows
Come, let us on the tulip tread
With the blood I shed
And drink the wine‐cup fearlessly;
As in beaker shews
Lawful it is, if lovers shed
Wine all ruby‐red.
The blood of ancient piety.
Soareth so my flight
Go forth from Muslim company,
O’er the highest sphere
And in Islam thy refuge take;
That the souls of light
For Muslims count as equity
Seek to trap me there.
The measures infidel they make.
Labours ever new
57
Make man’s dust to glow;
Like a tulip’s flame I burn Moon and star still do
In your presence as I turn; As long time ago.
By my life, and yours, I swear
My self’s lamp I lit,
Youth of Persia ever fair!
Now that Moses’ hand
I have dived, and dived again Men have hidden it
With my thoughts into life’s brain ‘Neath the wristlet‐band.
Until I prevailed to find
Come, O come to prayer;
Every secret of your mind.
Court no prince’s door:
Sun and moon—I gazed on these So our fathers were
Far beyond the Pleiades, When the world was poor.
And rebuilt a sanctuary
59
In your infidelity.
Leave him who never won to sight,
I have twisted well the blade
And bears report alone;
Till its edge was sharper made;
Who makes long speech, but the delight
Pale the gleam and lustreless
Of vision gives to none.
Wasted in your wilderness.
To bard and scholar listened I,
My thought’s images dispense
Philosopher to boot;
To the Orient’s indigence
Although their palm is proud and high,
The bright ruby that I gain
It yields nor leaf nor fruit.
From your mines of Badakhshan.
The gleam that hoary acolyte
Comes the man, to free at last
So prides himself upon
Slaves confined in fetters fast;
Reveals a thousand shades of night,
Through the windows in the wall
But never glow of dawn.
Of your prison I see all.
I have a charge ’gainst God to lay
Make a ring about me now;
That still I keep concealed;
In my breast a fire’s aglow
He takes my precious heart away, What use is in the minstrelsy
And Joseph does not yield. That all with Nature doth agree?
Neither in idol‐house nor shrine 62
That saki I can find
Eschew the West, and do not be
To grant, no ember’s fitful shine,
Bewitched by Europe’s wizardry;
But splendour unconfined.
Not worth a barley, in my view,
60 Is all her ancient and her new.
It chanced within the desert nigh Mighty Darius, Iskandar,
A caravan was passing by, Khusrau and Kaikobad—all are
And presently there reached my ear A blade of grass upon the way
The leader’s carol, loud and clear. Swept by a passing wind, to‐day.
“If from some Pharaoh’s dark redoubt Life is the self to beautify,
A Joseph might at last come out, To guard the self right jealously;
Open for all to plunder lies Upon a caravan thou art—
A caravan of merchandise.” Fare on with all, but go apart!
61 Radiant thou camest from the sky,
Far brighter than the sun on high;
Fool! Is there then such hope in thee
So live, that every mote may be
Of winning Europe’s sympathy?
Illumined by thy brilliancy.
The falcon grieves not overmuch
About the bird that’s in his clutch. Thou hast not spared thy precious ring
Idly to Ahriman to fling—
Shame on thee, only to desire
To pledge the which it were not well
Rubies bequeathed thee by thy sire!
Even to trusty Gabriel.
Is there not one delight alone—
To win thee rubies from the stone. The tavern is ashamed, because
So narrow is become our glass;
Speak not about the world to me,
A beaker take, and prudently
If it be not or if it be;
Drink wine—and then be off with thee!
I only know that I am I,
The world‐illusion let go by. 63
Trembles each tavern‐glass with fear A secret ’tis, ’tis evident
Because the officer is here, (Thou sayst) this world of hue and scent:
Except one lover’s bowl doth make Go, strike thyself upon its wire—
The very stones with dread to shake. Thou art the plectrum, it the lyre.
Sayst thou that veiled the selfhood is? The gaze disclosed in ecstasy
Say on; but let me tell thee this— Trembles to view its purity,
Tear not this veil into a shred; And yet thou sayst it is a veil.
Narrow’s the vision in the head. A covering, a thing unreal!
The ancient bough, beneath whose shade Pull down the pole of the immense
Thy little sprouting wings were laid, That struts heaven’s cerulean tents,
Were it into shame to move at last For like a spark it naked lies
Thy nest, when all its leaves are cast? Before the contemplative eyes.
Call that a song, which Nature brings High Paradise is not so fair
To serve as music for her strings; As this clay garment that I wear;
Persian Psalms 263
Within this sanctuary of mine In this and that is loss my pay;
Is holy fire, and joy divine. Each my brief nest and dwelling‐place—
Both let me kindle, and both raze!
I lose myself a little time,
I lose awhile the great sublime, 67
The twain discovering presently—
Spring is come; bright glances dart
O miracle, O mystery!
In the tulip’s bowl of fire;
64 Thousand thousand sighs upspire
From each several ember’s heart.
This brand of grief, His love apart,
Hath sown a garden in my heart; Pour a stoup of ruby glow
O desert‐flame anemone, O’er the garden’s dusty bed;
I have a word to say to thee! Strange and shy, in autumn’s dread,
Tulip and narcissus grow.
Best in the wilderness, alone,
To breathe the soul‐consuming groan; Hue‐and‐scent world fills thine eyes;
Yet what can I, condemned for good What the heart is, knowest thou?
To wrestle with the multitude? ’Tis a moon, that round its brow
Casts a halo of the skies.
65
68
When the tulip’s heart I viewed
With the gaze of certitude, The Artist, Whose vast mind
All I saw was ecstasy, Both day and night designed,
Sighs, and sobbing bitterly. Engraving these, displays
Upon Himself His gaze.
In the highest and the least
Is life’s quiver manifest; Sufi! Step out before
Over plain and hill and dell Thy dim and dusty store;
Ever leaps this wild gazelle. Nature has merchandise
To offer—at what price!
Life is not of us alone,
Life is not for us to own; Down, and the stars and moon,
Life is everywhere to see— Nightfall, the sun at noon—
Ah, and whence came life to be? All these unveiled the eye
For but one glance may buy!
66
69
This is a world, that like to it,
Each boundless is, and infinite, This ancient universe
An image each, a fantasy, New youth must now rehearse,
A smoke‐wave from the torch in me. Its trembling blade of grass
Huge mountains should surpass.
Two moments this and that endure,
I only everlasting, sure; The handful of poor clay
That of but little worth, as this, That did a glance display
My self the sole true coin is. All‐viewing, in the brain
Must shape a cry of pain.
Here to abide, and there to dwell,
Both here and there a little spell; Our aged moon and sun
What is my labour, here and there? The course have never run;
The lamentation of despair! Fresh stars we must pursue
To build the world anew.
This world and that my path waylay,
Each image of delight Adam’s ship rides not the main
That dawns upon my sight Save the torrent strive and strain;
Is fair; yet fairer still Every heart a thousand wise
The image that I will. Doth the helmsman agonize.
God said, “The world so lies, Of life’s story do not seek
And say not otherwise”; Any tale for me to speak;
Said Adam, “So I see; All its pain I sufferd long,
But thus it ought to be!” And departed with a song.
70 I have let my breath to ride;
With the breeze of morning tide;
In the mead a tulip blows
I have wandered in this mead
In whose breast no yearning glows,
Yet no rose hath known my tread.
A narcissus, languid too,
Yet it lacked the eye to view. Far from cottage and from street,
Yet in both abroad, and fleet,
Billowing breath was in the clay,
With the vision of the moon
But no heart did it display;
I have gazed this world upon!
Caravan upon the road—
Such was life, yet where the load? 72
Time itself was void and free Tulip in the mountains blowing,
Of the topers’ song of glee, Lamp in mead and garden glowing,
Wine was in the glass aflame Gaze on me, for I will give
Yet was none to quaff the same. Guidance on the way to live.
Sinai’s lightning made complaint We are not the pigment charming,
That desire was dumb and faint; Nor the scattered scent disarming,
In the peaceful valley there We are that which moves confined
Silent was the voice of prayer. In the heart, and in the mind.
Love upon our woe exprest Drunkenness is wine‐engendered,
Builds anew the great unrest, Springeth not of goblet tendered,
Else no murmur ever stirs Though it needs the goblet, too,
From these silent banqueters. To consume the wine, ’tis true.
71 Let thy breast be flame‐conceiving,
For within this night of living
Whence hath this commotion swirled
Self may never come to sight
In our old, slow‐moving world,
Save discovered by this light.
That each girdled infidel
Like a reed of grief doth tell? Wave of flame, O bare thy bosom
To the morning‐breeze; O blossom,
In the hut of the fakir,
Do not seek the dew, to quell
In the palace of the ameer
Thy heart’s fiery crucible!
There is pain and there is ruth
Huge to bow the back of youth. 73
Where is cure? For the disease I am a slave set free,
With the cure doth yet increase; And Love still leadeth me;
Science is all wizardry, Love is my leader still,
Mean deceit, and trickery. Mind bows to do my will.
Persian Psalms 265
The tumult flareth up They have put up their feet before reaching
Out of my circling cup; their destination:
This is my evening star, The earthlings have, perhaps, no breath left in
My full moon, flaming far. their chests.
The spirit slept at rest, Either the Register of Possibles has no blank
Desire stirred not the breast, pages left
Then struck a drunken air Or the Pen of Fate has grown too tired to
Caught in my circling snare. write.
O world of scent and hue, [Translated by Mustansir Mir]
How long shall we so do?
Death thy survival proves
My living all is Love’s.
The One my thought reveals,
The One my thought conceals; NEW GARDEN OF
Here is His dwelling‐place—
Behold my lofty grace!
MYSTERY
74
PROLOGUE
Silent rosebud in her heart
Had a secret, veiled apart, I have imparted insight to the pupil of your
Suffered countless aches and woes eye,
Buffeted by thyme and rose. And created a new world in your self;
All the East is asleep; hidden from the eyes of
So she sought, to keep her word, the stars,
Breeze of spring and meadow‐bird, I have created morning by the melody of life.
Putting faith in these (yet both
Soared on wing) to guard her troth INTRODUCTION
[Translated by A.J. Arberry] The old ardour has disappeared from the life
of the East;
75
Its breath wavered and soul left its body—
I bow down before myself—there is no temple Like a picture without the chain of breath—
or Ka’bah left! And does not know what the taste of life is.
This one is missing in Arabia, that one in Its heart lost desire and craving,
other lands. Its flute ceased to produce notes.
The petals of rose and tulip have lost their I am expressing my ideas in a different form,
colour and moisture; And writing in reply to the book of Mahmud.
The laments of birds have lost their melody. Since the time of the Shaikh,
No man has given the sparks of fire to our
In the workshop that is the world I see no life.
new designs: We lay on the earth with shrouds around our
Pre‐existence has, perhaps, run out of bodies,
blueprints. And did not experience a single resurrection.
The heavenly bodies no longer want to That wise man of Tabriz witnessed before his
revolve: eyes
Day and night are, perhaps, unable to move. Calamities that resulted from the invasion of
Genghis.
I saw a revolution of another type: Illumine the darkness of your night by my
Appearance of a new sun. lamp.
I removed veil from the face of meaning, Heart was sown into the soil of my body like
And gave sun in the hands of a mote. a seed,
Donʹt you think I am intoxicated without A different destiny was written on my tablet:
wine, To me the ideal of khudi is sweet as honey.
And spin tales likes poets. What else can I do? My whole stock consists
You will see no good from a low person, of this experience.
Who accuses me of being a poet. First I tasted the fruit of this experience
I have nothing to do with the street of the myself,
beloved, Then I decided to share it with the people of
And do not have a grief‐stricken heart nor a the East.
longing for the beloved;
If Gabriel were to go through this book,
Neither is my earth the dust of a street,
He would cast aside the pure [Divine] Light
Nor is within my clay a heart without
as if it were dust;
self‐control.
He would bewail about his [low] station,
My mission in life is in line with Gabriel the
And relate to God the condition of his heart:
Truthful,
“I no longer desire unveiled Epiphany,
I have neither a rival, nor a messenger, nor a
I desire nothing but hidden heart‐sore.
porter.
I am ready to forego eternal union,
Though a mendicant, I have the wherewithal
For now I realise what sweetness is in
of Moses:
lamentation!
Kingly pomp under a beggarʹs garment.
Give me the pride and submissiveness of
If I am earth, desert cannot contain me;
man,
If water, river cannot encompass me.
Give unto my heart burning and consuming
The heart of a stone trembles at my glass,
of man.”
The ocean of my thought is without a shore.
Behind my curtain lie concealed several QUESTION 1
destinies,
First of all I am perplexed about my thought:
And several resurrections take birth at my
What is that which is called “thought”?
hand.
What sort of thought is the condition of my
For a moment I retired unto myself,
path?
I created an immortal world.
Why is it sometimes obedience, sometimes
“I am not ashamed of such poetry,
sin?
For in a hundred years an ’Attar might not
appear.”1 ANSWER
A battle of life and death is being waged in What a light there is within the heart of man!
my soul, A light that is manifest in spite of its
My eye is riveted on immortal life. invisibility.
I saw your clay stranger to life, I saw it in the constancy of change,
Hence I breathed into your body of my own I saw it both as light and fire.
soul. Sometimes its fire is nourished by
I am wholly affected by the fire that I possess: argumentation and reasoning,
Sometimes its light is derived from the breath
of Gabriel,
What a life‐illuminating and heart‐kindling
The quotation is from The Garden of Mystery by
1
light!
Mahmood Shabistry
Persian Psalms 267
The sun is nothing in face of a single ray of To catch everything low and high.
this light. By its means it ensnares itself,
Conjoined with dust, it is above limitations of And wrings also the neck of duality.
space; One day the two worlds fall a prey to it
Chained to the alternation of day and night, it And are caught into its beautiful lasso.
is free from the bonds of time. If you conquer both these worlds,
The calculation of its time is not through You will become immortal even if everything
breath, else dies
There is none like it in seeking and Do not set foot in the desert of search lazily;
discovering. First, take hold of that world which lies
Sometimes it feels exhausted and sits on the within you.
shore, If you are low, become strong by conquering
Sometimes a shore‐less ocean is in its cup. the self.
It is both the river and the staff of Moses, If you wish to seek God, get nearer yourself.
On account of which the river is divided into If you become proficient in conquering self,
two. Conquering the world will become easy for
It is a deer whose pasture is the sky, you.
Who drinks water from the stream of the Happy is the day when you conquer this
Milky Way. world,
Earth and sky are its halting places, And pierce the bosom of the skies.
It walks alone amid a caravan. The moon will prostrate before you,
Some of its states are: the world of darkness And you throw over it a lasso of waves of
and light, smoke.
The sound of the trumpet, death, paradise, You will be free in this ancient world,
and Houri. Able to fashion the idols to your purpose;
It gives both to Iblis and Adam opportunity to To hold in the grasp of your hand all the
develop, world
And provides them a chance of expansions. Of light and sound, of colour and smell;
Eye is impatient at its sight, To change its quantitative aspect,
Its charms even beguile God. To mould it according to your purpose;
With one eye, it sees its own privacy, Not to be captivated by its sorrows and
With the other eye, it looks at its apparent delights
lustre. To break the spell of its nine skies;
If it closes one eye, it is a sin; To go down into its heart like the point of an
If it sees with both eyes, it is the true arrow,
condition of the path. Not to exchange your wheat for its barley;
Out of its little stream, it produces an ocean, This is indeed the‐true kingly glory,
It becomes a pearl and then settles at its This is the State that is linked to religion.
bottom.
Soon it takes a different form;
QUESTION 2
Becomes a diver and catches itself again. What is this ocean whose shore is knowledge?
In it there are noiseless commissions; What is that pearl which is found in its depth?
It has colour and sound perceptible without
ANSWER
eye and ear.
There is a world hidden in its glass, Ever‐moving Life is a flowing ocean,
But it reveals itself to us piecemeal. Consciousness is its shore.
What an ocean that is deep and surging
Life makes it into a lasso and throws it
A thousand mountains and deserts are on its O observer, make me your object,
bank. Make me existent by the grace of your sight.
Donʹt talk about its surging waves, The perfection of the being of a thing lies in
For each had overflowed its bank. being present,
It left the ocean and imparted moisture to the In becoming an object for an observer;
desert, Its defect, not to be before our eyes,
It gave to the eye the sense of quantity and Not to be illumined by our awareness.
quality. The world is nothing but our manifestation,
Whatever thing comes into its presence, For without us there would be no world of
Gets illumined through the grace of its light and sound,
consciousness. You also should crave help by associating
It is satisfied with its privacy and is not with it,
inclined to association with others, Discipline your eyes by its twists and turns.
Yet all things are illumined by its light. Rest assured that master‐huntsmen
First it brightens it up, Have sought help in this matter from insects.
Then it ensnares it in a mirror. With its help, keep a watchful eye on yourself;
Its consciousness makes it familiar with the You are like Gabriel the truthful; take wings.
world, Open the eye of intellect on this world of
The world made it aware of its potentiality. plurality,
Intellect removes veil from its face, So that you may enjoy the revelations of the
But speech reveals it much better. One.
Yet it is not confined to this mundane Take your share from the smell of the shirt,
world— While sitting in Kan‘an, get fragrance from
It is only one of its stages in the path of Egypt and Yemen.
evolution. Ego is the hunter, the sun and the moon are
its prey;
You look upon the world as existing outside
They are chained to the strings of his
you:
intellectual efforts.
These mountains and deserts, oceans and
Throw yourself on this world like fire!
mines;
Make an assault on the visible and the
This world of colour and smell is our nosegay;
invisible worlds alike.
It is independent and yet intimately related to
us. QUESTION 3
The ego bound them all by its one glance:
The earth and the sky, the moon and the sun. What is the union of the contingent and the
Our heart has a secret gateway to it, necessary?
For every existent depends for its existence What are ʺnearʺ and ʺfar,ʺ ʺmoreʺ and ʺlessʺ?
upon our perception. ANSWER
If nobody sees, it becomes contemptible;
The world of how and why has three
If anybody sees, it becomes mountains and
dimension
oceans.
Intellect controls its quantitative aspect.
The world has significance through our seeing
This is the world of Tusi and Euclid.
it—
The fit object of earth‐measuring intellect.
Its tree grows by our growth.
Its time and space are relative,
The problem of subject and object is a
And so are its earth and sky.
mystery;
Draw your bow and find the target,
The heart of every particle of matter is
Learn from me the secret of ascension.
expressing its supplication:
Persian Psalms 269
Do not seek the Absolute in this mundane It also regarded State and Religion as two.
world The churchman only tells his beads,
For the Absolute is nothing but the Light of For he has no work of the State to perform.
the Heavens. See deceit and artifice in statecraft:
Reality is beyond time and space, It is a body without a soul, or a soul without a
Donʹt say any more that the universe is body.
without a limit. Make intellect a companion of your heart;
Its limit is internal, not external; Behold, for instance, the Turkish nation.
There are no distinctions of low and high, By imitation of the West, the Turks lost their
more or less, in its internal aspect. individuality;
Its internal aspect is devoid of high and low, They did not see any link between State and
But its external aspect is liable to extension. Religion.
Infinity is not amenable to our intellect,
We looked at the One as compound of so
ʺOneʺ in its hand becomes a thousand.
many parts
As it is lame, it likes rest;
That we created numerals to count it.
It does not see the kernel; it therefore looks
Do you think that this ancient world is a
towards the shell.
handful of earth?
As we divided Reality into several spheres,
It is a fleeting moment of Godʹs activity.
We made a distinction of change and rest.
The scientists tend to adorn a dead body;
In non‐spatial sphere intellect introduced
They neither possess the Hand of Moses nor
spatial categories,
the Breath of Jesus.
Like a belt it girdled time round its waist.
I have seen nothing of value in this type of
We did not look for time within the depth of
science,
our hearts,
I have been craving for a wisdom of another
And so we created months and years, nights
sort.
and days.
I believe that the world is undergoing a
Your months and years are of no value:
revolution,
Just ponder over the Quranic verse, ʺHow
Its inside is alive and in convulsions.
long did you remain? ʺ
Pass beyond your numerals,
Reach within yourself and retire from this
Look for a while within your self and leave.
noisy world,
In a universe where a part is greater than the
Throw yourself into the inner recesses of your
whole,
heart.
The calculations of Razi and Tusi are
To talk of body and soul as two separate irrelevant.
entities is wrong; For a while familiarise yourself with Aristotle,
To see them as two is sinful. For another while sit in the company of
The whole secret of the universe lies in the Bacon.
soul, But then you must pass beyond their stand,
Body is one of its modes of expression. Donʹt get lost in this stage, journey on.
The bride of Reality adorned itself by the With the aid of that intellect that deals with
henna of form, quantities
It assumed different shapes for its Probe the depths of mines and oceans,
manifestation. Master the world of how and why,
Reality weaves veils for its face, Catch the moon and Pleiades from the sky.
For it finds delight in display. But then learn wisdom of another sort,
Since the West viewed body and soul as Free yourself from the snare of night and day.
separate,
Your real place is beyond this mundane Love does not acquire insight without
world, company,
Aspire for a right that is without a left. And without company, it does not become
self‐conscious.
QUESTION 4 In our assembly, there are divine
How did the eternal and temporal separate, manifestations, behold!
That one became the world, and the other The world is non‐existent and He is existent,
God? behold.
If the knower and known are the One pure Doors and walls, cities, towns and streets are
essence, not there,
What are the aspirations of this handful of For here there is nothing existent except we
earth? and He.
Sometimes He makes Himself a stranger to
ANSWER
us,
The life of the ego is to bring non‐ego into Sometimes He plays upon us as upon a
existence, musical instrument.
The separation of the knower and known is Sometimes we fashion His idol out of stone,
good. Sometimes we prostrate before Him without
Our ideas of eternal and temporal are due to having seen Him.
our way of reckoning, Sometimes we tear every veil of Nature,
Our reckoning is the result of the spell of And boldly see His beautiful face.
mathematical time. What fancy has this handful of dust?
We constantly talk of yesterday and It is due to this fancy that his inner self is
to‐morrow, illumined.
We deal with ʺis,ʺ ʺwas,ʺ and ʺmight be.ʺ What a nice fancy that he bewails in
To sever ourselves from Him is our nature, separation
And also to be restless and not to reach the And yet he grows and develops through it.
goal. This separation developed in him such a
Neither do we get worth in separation from spiritual insight,
Him, That he turned his dusk into a dawn.
Nor does He feel peace without union with He made the ego subject to affliction:
us; Thus turned the ancient grief into an
Neither He without us, nor we without Him! ever‐living joy.
How strange! He got strings of pearls from the tears of his
Our separation is separation‐in‐union. eyes
Separation gives to this dust (i.e. man) an From the tree of bewailing he got sweet fruit.
insight, To press the ego tightly to the bosom
It gives the weight of a mountain to a straw. Is to turn death into everlasting life.
Separation is a token of love;
What is Love? It is to tie all the different
It agrees with the nature of lovers.
stages in a knot.
If we are alive, it is due to this affliction (of
What is Love? It is to pass beyond all goals.
separation),
Love does not know of any termination,
And if we are immortal, it is due to it.
Its dawn has no dusk.
What is ʺIʺ and ʺHeʺ? It is a divine mystery!
There are no bends in its way as in that of
ʺIʺ and ʺHeʺ are a witness to our immortality.
intellect,
The light of the Essence is everywhere,
In its lustre of a moment, there is a world.
hidden and apparent;
Thousands of worlds lie along our path,
To live in company is real life.
Persian Psalms 271
How can our endeavours reach their finale? Its appearance is like the rising of the sun.
O traveller I live for ever and die for ever, In the innermost heart of ours is its sun,
Take hold of the world that comes before you. Our dust is illumined through its potency.
It is not the goal of our journey to merge You ask to be informed about ʺI,ʺ and
ourselves in His ocean. What is meant by ʺtravel into yourself.ʺ
If you catch hold of Him, it is not fana I informed you about the relation of body and
(extinction). soul
It is impossible for an ego to be absorbed in Travel into yourself and see what ʺIʺ is.
another ego, To travel into self?—It is to be born without
For the ego to be itself is its perfection. father and mother,
To catch Pleiades from the edge of the roof;
QUESTION 5 To hold eternity with a single stroke of
What am I? Tell me what ʺIʺ means. anguish,
What is the meaning of ʺtravel into yourselfʺ? To see without the rays of the sun;
To obliterate every sign of hope and fear,
ANSWER
To sunder the river like Moses,
Ego is the amulet for the protection of the To break this spell of sea and land,
universe. To split the moon with a finger.
The first ray of its essence is Life. So to return from this experience of the
Life awakens from its sweet dream, spaceless world,
Its inside, which is one, becomes many. That it is within his heart, and the world in his
Neither it develops without our expansion, hand.
Nor do we expand without its development. But it is difficult to unravel this secret:
Its inner core is a shoreless sea, Here ʺseeingʺ is valuable and ʺdescribingʺ
The heart of every drop is a tumultuous wave. worthless.
It has no inclination to rest, What can I say about ʺIʺ and its brilliance?—
Its manifestation is nothing but individuals. It is manifest from the Quranic text, ʺWe
Life is fire and egos are like its flames; proposed.ʺ
Like stars they are (both) stationary and The heavens are in terror of its glory,
moving. Time and space are in its grip.
Without going outside, it looks towards It sought refuge in the heart of man,
others; And has fallen to the lot of this handful of
Though in company, is yet in privacy. dust.
Just see its self‐meditation, It is distinct from the other and yet related to
It develops out of the trodden earth. it,
Hidden from the eyes, it is in tumult, Is lost within itself and yet conjoined with the
It is constantly in search of adornment. other.
It is in perpetual activity through its internal What kind of aspiration this handful of dust
ardour, has
As if it is at war with itself. That its flight is beyond the limitations of time
The world gets order through this strife of the and space.
ego! It is in prison and yet free! What is this?
A handful of dust becomes translucent It is the lasso, the prey, and the hunter! What
through strife. is this?
From its ray, nothing comes into being save There is a lamp within your heart;
egos, What is this light which is in your mirror?
From its sea, nothing appears save pearls. Donʹt be negligent, you are its trustee,
The earthly garb is a veil for khudi,
What folly that you do not look within your From determinism it passed over to freedom.
self!
When it (ego) removes from itself the dust of
QUESTION 6 determinism,
It drives its world like a camel.
What is that part which is greater than its The sky does not revolve without its
whole? permission,
What is the way to find that part? Nor do stars shine without its grace.
ANSWER One day it reveals its hidden nature,
And sees its essence with its own eyes.
Ego is greater than what we imagine it to be;
Rows of heavenly choir stand on either side of
Ego is greater than the whole which you see.
the road,
It falls from the heaven again and again to
Waiting for a glimpse of its countenance.
rise,
The angel gets wine from its vine,
It falls into the sea of the world to rise.
It gets significance from its earth.
Who else in the world is self‐conscious?
Who else can fly without wings? You ask about the way of its seeking;
It lies in darkness and yet has a light in its Come down to the state of lamentation.
bosom, Change your days and nights for eternity,
Outside the paradise and yet has a houri in Change from intellect to the morning
embrace! lamentation (intuition).
With the charming wisdom that it possesses, Intellect has its source in senses,
It brings out pearls from the depth of life. Lamentation gets light from love.
The impulse of life is eternal, Intellect grasps the part, lamentation the
But looked at from outside, it is bound by whole
time. Intellect dies but lamentation is immortal.
Upon its destiny depends the position of this Intellect has no categories to comprehend
universe, eternity,
Its manifestation and preservation of it. It counts moments as the hands of the watch.
What do you ask about its nature?— It contrives days and nights and mornings;
Destiny is not something separate from its It cannot catch the flames; therefore it takes
nature. on sparks.
What should I say about its character? The lamentation of the lovers is the ultimate
Outwardly it is determined, inwardly it is goal,
free. In one moment of it lies hidden a world.
Such is the saying of the Lord of Badr, When the ego manifests its potentialities,
That faith lies between determinism and It removes its inner knots and veil.
indeterminism. You do not have that light by which it sees
You call every creature to be determined, You look upon it as momentary and mortal.
To be confined to the chains of ʺnearʺ and Why fear that death which comes from
ʺfar.ʺ without?2
But the soul is from the breath of the Creator, For when the ʺIʺ ripens into a self it has no
Which lives in privacy with all its danger of dissolution.
manifestations. There is a more subtle inner death
Determinism with regard to it is out of Which makes me tremble!
question,

For soul without freedom is not a soul. 2 The lines “Why fear…really our death” are taken
It lay in ambush on this world of quantitative from Iqbal’s own translation in the essay
measurements. ‘McTaggart’s Philosophy.”
Persian Psalms 273
This death is falling down from loveʹs frenzy, The way of achieving it is to free oneself from
Saving oneʹs spark and not giving it away the limits of time and space.
freely to the heaps of chaff; You should enjoy privacy with the Divine
Cutting oneʹs shroud with oneʹs own hands; Person in such a way,
Seeing oneʹs death with oneʹs own eyes; That He sees you and you see Him.
This death lies in ambush for thee! Become illumined by the light of “what you
Fear it, for that is really our death. see.”
It digs your grave in your body, Do not wink, otherwise you will be no more.
Its Munkar and Nakir are with it. In His presence, be strong and self‐possessed,
Donʹt merge yourself in the ocean of His
QUESTION 7 Light.
Of what sort is this traveller, who is the Bestow that perturbation to the mote,
wayfarer? That it may shine in the vicinity of the sun.
Of whom shall I say that he is the Perfect So burn amid the splendour of the Beloved
Man? That you may illumine yourself in public and
Him in privacy.
ANSWER
He who ʺsawʺ is the leader of the world,
If you direct your eyes towards your heart, We and you are imperfect; he alone is perfect.
You will find your destination within your
If you do not find him, rise in search of him;
bosom.
If you find him, attach yourself to him.
To travel while at rest is:
Do not allow yourself to be guided by the
To travel from oneʹs self to oneʹs self.
faqih, shaikh, and mulla,
None knows here where we are,
Like fish, do not walk about careless of the
That we look so insignificant in the eyes of
hook.
moon and stars.
He is a man of the path in matters of State and
Donʹt seek the end of the journey, for you
religion;
have no end;
We are blind and he is a man of insight.
As soon as you reach the end, you lose your
Like the sun of the morning,
soul.
Wisdom shines from every root of his hair.
Do not look upon us as ripe, for we are raw,
The West has set up the rule of democracy,
At every destination we are perfect and
It has untied the rope from the neck of a fiend.
imperfect.
It does not possess sound without plectrum
Not to reach the end is life;
and musical instruments,
Immortal life for us lies in constant travelling.
Without a flying machine it does not possess
The whole world from the centre of the earth
the power of flying.
to the moon is within our reach,
A desolate field is better than its garden,
Time and space are like dust in our path.
A desert is better than its city.
Our selves are our centres and pine for
Like a marauding caravan it is active,
manifestation,
Its people are ever busy in satisfying their
For we are waves and rise from the bottom of
hunger.
Being.
Its soul became dormant, and its body awoke;
Lie in constant ambush against the self,
Art, science and religion all became
Fly from doubt to faith and certainty.
contemptible.
The fire and ardour of love are not subject to
Intellect is nothing but fostering of unbelief,
extinction;
The art of the West is nothing but man‐killing.
Faith and ʺsightʺ have no end.
A group lies in ambush against another
The perfection of life consists in seeing the
group,
Essence,
Such a state of affairs is sure to lead to When sense changes, this world becomes
disaster. different—
Convey my message to the West Rest and motion, quality and quantity are
That the ideal of democracy is a sword out of changed.
its sheath: It can be said that the world of colour and
What a sword that it kills men smell is non‐existent,
And does not make a distinction between a Earth and sky, house and street, are nothing.
believer and an unbeliever! It can be said that all these are dreams or
If it does not remain in the sheath for a little illusions,
more time, Or veils over the countenance of the Divine
It will kill itself as well as the world. Person.
It can be said that all is sorcery of the senses,
QUESTION 8 A deception produced by our eyes and ears.
What point does the aphorism ʺI am the But the ego does not belong to the universe of
Truthʺ imply? colour and smell;
Do you think that this mystery was mere Our senses do not intervene between us and
nonsense? it.
Eyesight has no access to its sacred precincts,
ANSWER
You can see ʺselfʺ without eyesight.
I am once again going to explain the mystery The calculation of its days is not through the
of ʺI am the Truth.ʺ revolution of the sky;
Before India and Iran I am unfolding a secret If you look within, there is no doubt or
again. misgiving about it.
The Magi in the circle of his followers said,
If you say that the ʺIʺ is a mere illusion—3
ʺLife was taken in by itself and uttered ʹI.ʹ
An appearance among other appearances—
God went to sleep and our being is through
Then tell me who is the subject of this illusion.
His dream;
Look within and discover.
Our existence and appearance are merely His
The world is visible, yet its existence needs
dreams.
proof!
Down and above, all four dimensions are
Not even the intellect of an angel can
illusions,
comprehend it;
Rest and motion, desire and search are all
The ʺIʺ is invisible and needs no proof
illusions!
Think awhile and see thine own secret!
Wakeful heart and wise intellect, a dream.
The ʺIʺ is Truth, it is no illusion;
Dread and anxiety, certainty and belief, a
Donʹt look upon it as a fruitless field.
dream;
When it ripens, it becomes eternal!
Your wakeful eye is in reality in a state of
Lovers, even though separated from the
dream,
Beloved, live in blissful union!
Your speech and action are all in a dream!
It is possible to give wings to a mere spark,
When He wakes up, nothing else remains,
And to make it flutter for ever and for ever!
There is no customer for the merchandise of
The Eternity of God is (elemental and) not the
yearning.ʺ
reward of His action!
The development of our intellect is through For His eternity is not through seeking.
reasoning,
Our reasoning depends upon the nature of
the senses. 3 The lines “If you say that…by love’s frenzy” are
taken from Iqbal’s own translation in the essay
‘McTaggart’s Philosophy.”
Persian Psalms 275
That eternity is superior, which a borrowed Has been called the world of moon and stars.
soul If any particle of it learnt to fly,
Wins for herself by loveʹs frenzy. It was brought under control by the spell of
The being of mountains and deserts and cities sight.
is nothing, Why do you seek rest for us?
The universe is mortal, the ego immortal and We are Tied to the revolutions of the days.
nothing else matters. Be careful of the ego within your heart,
Do not talk of Shankar and Mansur any From this star, the night was illumined.
longer,
The world is absolutely a place of decay,
Seek God through seeking your own self.ʺ
This is the gnosis in this strange land.
Be lost in your self to find the reality of the
Our heart is not seeking anything futile,
ego,
Our lot is not fruitless grief.
Say ʺI am the Truthʺ and affirm the existence
Desire is looked after here,
of the ego.
And also the intoxication of the yearning of
QUESTION 9 search.
Ego can be made immortal;
Who at last became familiar with the secret of Separation can be changed into union.
unity? A lamp can be lit by our hot breath,
Who is the wise man that is a gnostic? Crack in the sky can be sewn by a needle.
ANSWER The Living God is not without a taste for
The world beneath the sky is a charming beauty,
place, His manifestations are not without society.
But its sun and moon are prone to decay. Who cast the lightning of His Grace on the
The corpse of the sun is carried on the heart?
shoulders of the evening, Who drank that wine and struck the cup on
The stars vanish when the moon appears. the head?
The mountain flies like the moving sand, Whose heart is the criterion of beauty and
The river changes in a moment. good?
Autumn lies in ambush against the flowers, Whose house is it round which His moon
The merchandise of the caravan is the fear (of revolves?
loss) of life. From whose privacy the cry of ʺAm I not your
The tulip does not retain its beauty through Lordʺ arose?
dew, From whose musical strings the answer of
If it retains it for a while, it loses it the next ʺYesʺ appeared?
moment. What a fire Love kindled in this handful of
The sound dies in the harp without being dust
produced, One cry from us burnt down thousands of
The flame dies in the stone without veils.
manifesting itself. It is only our presence that keeps the cup of
Donʹt ask me about the universality of death, the Saki in motion
You and I are tied by our breaths to the chain And maintain liveliness in His society.
of death. My heart burns on the loneliness of God!4
An Ode

Death is destined to be the wine of every cup, 4 The lines “My heart burns…over my ‘I’” are taken
How ruthlessly has it been made common! from Iqbal’s own translation in the essay
The arena of sudden death ‘McTaggart’s Philosophy.”
In order, therefore, to maintain intact His Ego‐ An abode that possessed splendour but
Society lacked joy and happiness.
I sow in my dust the seed of selfhood, Its face was distorted by the ugly marks of
And keep a constant vigil over my ʺIʺ. servitude.
Its Adam entrapped in the net like a fish,
EPILOGUE He has killed God and worships man.
You are a sword, come out of your cover, Ever since you bound me down to this earth
Come out of your sheath. I have been ashamed of revolving round it.
Remove the veil from your potentialities, This world is not aware of the light of the
Take hold of the moon, the sun and the stars. soul,
Illumine your night by the light of faith, It is not worthy of the sun and the moon.
Take your white hand out of the armpit. Cast it away into the space blue,
He who has opened his eyes on the heart Sever the ties that bind us, the celestial beings,
Has sown a spark and reaped a fire. to it.
Have a spark from my innermost heart, Either relieve me of my service to him
For my heart is as fiery as Rumiʹs. Or create another Adam out of its soil.
Otherwise get fire from the new Culture of It were better if my ever‐vigilant eye be blind!
the West, O God, let this earthly abode remain without
Adorn your exterior and bring spiritual death light.ʺ
on you. Servitude deadens oneʹs heart,
[Translated by Bashir Ahmad Dar] It makes the soul a burden for the body.
Through servitude the young suffer weakness
of old age,
A fierce lion of the forest is enervated;
A society disintegrates
THE BOOK OF SERVITUDE And its members fly at one anotherʹs throat.
If one is standing, the other is in prostration;
Their affairs are disorganised like a prayer
INTRODUCTION without an Imam.
Everyone is fighting with the other
The world‐illuminating moon said to God:
Each individual is seeking his own interests.
ʺMy light turns the night into day;
Through servitude even a virtuous man goes
I remember the time when there was neither
astray
day nor night
And his potentialities for good fail to
And I lay slumbering in the depth of Time;
actualise.
There was no star in my retinue
His branches are shorne of leaves even when
And my nature was unaware of revolution.
there is no autumn.
No vast expanse of desert was illumined by
He is always encumbered with the fear of
my light
death.
Nor did the sea feel commotion on seeing my
Devoid of good taste, he takes the evil for the
beauty.
good,
Alas! all this was changed by the magic and
He is dead without death and carries his
spell of Being,
corpse on his shoulders.
By the illumination and by the desire for
He has staked away the very honour of life,
manifestation!
And like asses is content with hay and barley.
I learnt from the sun the art of shining
Just look at his ʺpossibleʺ and his
And brightened this dead earthly abode—
ʺimpossible,ʺ
Persian Psalms 277
See how months and years of his life pass. Keep away from his songs as far as you can.
His days bewail of one another, Beware! it is but the song of death!
Their movement is slower than the sands of It is nothing but nothingness in the guise of
time. sound.
Feeling thirsty? This Haram is without
Imagine a brackish ground, infested with
Zamzam.
stings of scorpions,
His songs bring about the destruction of
Its ants bite dragons and prey on scorpions.
mankind.
Its strong wind has fire as if from Hell
It removes from the heart all ambitions and
Which is for the barge of Satan steering gail.
gives grief instead,
The fire permeates the air
It pours poison in the cup of Jamshid.
Its flames intermingling and multiplying.
Hearken brother! grief is of two kinds,
A fire that has grown bitter through
Lighten your lamp of reason with our flame:
wreathing smoke—
One kind of grief is that consumes man;
A fire that has the roar of a thunder and the
The other kind of grief is that eats up all other
rage of a storming sea.
griefs.
On its outskirts, snakes are biting one another
The second kind of grief that is our
Snakes whose hoods are full of poison.
companion
Its flames pounce upon (people) like biting
Frees life from all kinds of grief.
dogs,
It involves the tumults of the east and west
Are dangerously frightening, burn them alive
It is like a vast ocean in which all beings are
and their light is dead.
submerged.
To live for millennia in such a dangerous
When it takes its abode in the heart,
desert
It turns the heart into a vast shoreless sea.
Is far better than a moment spent in servitude.
Servitude is but ignorance of the secret of life;
ON THE FINE ARTS OF SLAVES Its song is empty of the second kind of grief.
I donʹt say that its notes are wrong;
MUSIC
Such bewailings become only a widow.
Arts cultivated (by people) in servitude are
Song should be violent like a storm
symbols of death;
So that it may remove from the heart the
The spell cast by servitude is beyond
clouds of grief.
description.
It should be nourished on ecstasy—
Its songs are devoid of the fire of life;
A fire dissolved in the blood of the heart.
They storm the wall like a flood.
It is possible to develop flame out of its
The countenance of a slave is as black as his
wetness,
heart,
And to make silence a part of it.
The notes of a slave are as insipid as his
Do you know that in music there is a stage
nature.
Where speech develops ʺwithout wordsʺ?
His dead frozen heart has lost all gusto and
A brilliant song is Natureʹs lamp
ardour
Its meaning imparts form to it.
And is emptied of to‐dayʹs pleasure and the
I donʹt know whence comes the essence of
expectations of future.
meaning
His lute betrays his secret,
We are aware of its form which is apparent.
His instruments embody the death of
If the song is shorne of meaning, it is dead;
multitudes.
Its ʺheatʺ emanates from a dead fire.
It makes you weak and ill
The secret of meaning was unveiled by Rumi
And estranges you from the world.
On whose threshold my thought prostrates:
His eyes are always full of tears—
ʺMeaning is that transports you aloft He is led by the vulgar taste of the masses.
And makes you independent of the apparent He begs beauty from external nature,
form; He is a highwayman and tries to rob the
Meaning is not that makes you deaf and blind destitute.
And makes a man enamoured of mere form It is wrong to seek beauty outside oneʹs self;
all the more.” ʺWhat ought to beʺ is not (lying) before us.
Our musician did not enjoy the beauty of When a painter gives himself up to Nature,
meaning; He depicts Nature but loses thereby his own
He attached himself to form and ignored self.
meaning altogether. Not for a moment did he manifest his real
own self,
PAINTING
Nor did he ever try to break our (idols).
Similar is the case of Painting, Nature wrapped in multicoloured gown
It shows the stamp neither of Abraham nor of Can be seen on his canvas with a limping foot.
Adhar. His low burning moth lacks heat;
ʺA monk entrapped in the snare of baser His to‐day is devoid of reflections of
passion; to‐morrow.
A beloved with a bird in a cage; His sight cannot pierce through the skies,
A king (sitting) before a Khirqah‐clad dervish; Because he does not possess a fearless heart.
A highlander with a bundle of wood on He is earth rooted, without experience of
shoulders; ecstasy, shy,
A beautiful maiden on way to the temple; Totally devoid of contact with the world of
A hermit sitting in the solitude of his cell, spirit.
A puny old man crushed under the burden of His thought is hollow and he has no liking for
old age struggle,
In whose hands the flame (of life) has gone His Israfil‐like, call does not bring about any
out; resurrection.
A musician lost in a strange and alien song, If man deems himself earthly,
A nightingale bewailed and his string broke; The light divine dies in his heart.
A youth torn by the arrows of belovedʹs When a Moses loses hold of his own self,
glance; His hand becomes dark and his staff merely a
A child on the neck of his aged grandfather.ʺ rope.
From the pen flow nothing but discourses of Life is nothing without the capacity for new
death, creations,
Everywhere there is the story and spell of Not everybody knows this secret.
death.
The artist who adds to Nature
The modern science prostrates before the Reveals before our eyes his inner secret.
evanescent, Although his ocean does not stand in need of
It increases doubt and removes faith from the anything,
heart. Yet our rivulets do contribute to it.
A man without faith has no taste for search of He transforms the old values of life,
truth; His art establishes the true standard of
He has no capacity to create. beauty.
His heart is ever‐wavering, His houri is more charming than the houri of
It is difficult for him to bring forth new forms. paradise,
He is far removed from the self and is sick at He who does not believe in his Lat and Manat
heart, is an infidel.
Persian Psalms 279
He creates a new universe Then to strike oneself against difficulties.
And gives a new life to the heart. In servitude love is nothing but an idle talk,
He is an ocean and lets his waves strike Our actions do not correspond with our
against himself professions.
These waves scatter pearls before us. The caravan of his ambition has no inclination
With that fullness which characterises his for a journey,
soul, It lacks faith, has no knowledge of the road,
He strives to nourish the impoverished. and is without a guide.
His pure nature is the norm of the right and
A slave underestimates both religion and
the wrong,
wisdom;
His art reflects both the ugly and the
In order to keep his body alive, he gives away
beautiful.
his soul.
He is the very essence of Abraham and
Although the name of God is on his lips,
Adhar,
His centre of attention is the power of the
His hands make as well as break idols.
ruler—
He uproots all old foundations
Power that is nothing but ever‐increasing
And polishes all creation.
falsehood,
In servitude body is deprived of soul; Nothing but falsehood can come from it.
What good can be expected of a soulless As long as you prostrate before it, this idol is
body? your god,
Such a person loses all taste for creative work But as soon as you stand up before it, it
And forgets his own self. disappears.
If you make Gabriel a slave That God gives you bread as well as life;
He would of necessity fall down from his This god gives you bread but snatches life
lofty celestial sphere. away.
His creed is blind imitation and all his activity That God is One par excellence, this is divided
is centred in idol‐making; into hundred parts;
ʺNewnessʺ is an infidelity in his religion. That God provides everything for everybody;
New things increase his doubts and this god is totally helpless.
misgivings; That God cures the ailment of separation,
He is pleased with everything old and The word of this god sows the seeds of
decayed. disunity.
He always looks to the past and is blind to the He makes his worshipper intimate with
future, himself,
Like an attendant (of a tomb) he seeks his And then makes his eyes, ears, and
living from the grave. consciousness infidels.
If this is skill, then it is death of ambition, When he rides on the soul of his slave,
His inside is dark though his outside is It is (no doubt) in his body but (in reality) is
beautiful. absent from it.
A wise bird is never entrapped Alive and yet soulless! What is the mystery?
Though the net be of silken thread. Listen, I unfold for you its manifold meaning.
O wise man! dying and living are
RELIGION OF THE SLAVES Nothing but relative events.
In servitude, religion and love are separated For the fish, mountains and deserts do not
Honey of life becomes bitter. exist;
What is love? It is imprinting of Tawhid on the For the birds, the depth of the sea is simply a
heart, nonentity.
For a deaf person, there is no charm in a song; The chess‐player throws the chessman out, of
For him sound is non‐existent. his hand,
A blind man enjoys the song of the harp, And raises his pawn to the status of queen.
But before a display of colours, he remains He becomes so much enamoured of to‐dayʹs
unaffected. well‐being,
The soul with God is living and lasting; That in reality he becomes a denier of
For one it is dead, for the other it is alive. to‐morrow.
It is God who is living and never dies; His body fattens through the benevolence of
To live with God is absolute life; the kings,
He who lives without God is nothing but His dear soul becomes thin like a spindle.
dead. It is better that a whole village of men be
Although nobody weeps and bewails over destroyed
him. Than that a single pure soul be subjected to
To his eyes, thing worth seeing is hidden, sorrow and grief.
His heart is unaware of the desire for change. The fetters are not on feet, but (in fact) on the
There is no mark of devotion in his deeds; heart and soul;
There is no breadth of vision in his talk. This is indeed a very intriguing situation.
His religion is as narrow as his world,
His forenoon is darker than the night.
ON THE ARCHITECTURE OF FREE MEN
Life is a heavy burden on his shoulders; Seek for a while the company of the ancients,
He nourishes death in his own bosom. Have a look at the art of free people.
In his company even love suffers from Arise and see the work of Aibak and Suri;
manifold diseases, Open your eyes, if you have the heart to see.
With his breath is extinguished many a fire. They displayed their inner selves before the
For a worm that did not rise from the earth people,
The sun, the moon, and the revolving sky do And thus saw themselves through the eyes of
not exist at all. others.
You cannot expect from a slave any desire for By raising a structure of stones
ʺvision,ʺ They captured eternity in a moment.
Nor is there in him any sign of an awakened Looking on it makes you mature,
soul. And transports you to another world.
His eyes never bore the trouble of ʺseeingʺ; A symbol leads you to its creator
He ate, slept well, and died. And lets you peep into his innermost heart.
If the ruler unfastens one bond, A spirit of manly adventure and noble nature
He imposes another on him. Are the two precious jewels in the heart of the
He produces a complex and intricate canon, stone
And expects from the slave unswerving Donʹt ask me: Whose prayer‐ground is this?
obedience. O you ignorant! body cannot reveal the
He sometimes shows a bit of wrath and experiences of the soul.
malice towards the slave; Woe me! I am hidden from myself,
This increases in him the fear of sudden And have not tasted water from the river of
death. life.
When the slave loses all faith in himself, Woe me! I am uprooted from my native soil
From his heart vanish all desires. And have fallen far away from my real
Sometimes he bestows on him handsome position.
bounty, Stability arises from deep faith,
And also invests him with some powers. Woe me! the branch of my faith is sapless.
Persian Psalms 281
I do not possess that power (which is implicit Without love life is all a‐wailing
in) illallah; Its whole affair becomes corrupt and unstable.
My prostration is not befitting this shrine. Love polishes oneʹs common sense,
Just cast a glance on that pure jewel— And imparts the quality of mirror to the
Look at the Taj in the moonlight. stone.
Its marble ripples faster than flowing waters, It gives to the people with enlightened heart,
A moment spent here is more stable than the heart of Sinai,
eternity. And gives to the men of skill the ʺwhiteʺ
Love of men has expressed its secret, hand.
And perforated the stone by their eyelashes. Beside him, all possibilities and existences are
Love of men is pure and charming like a nothing
paradise, All the world is bitter; it alone is sweet honey.
It produces songs from brick and stone. To its fire is due the vigour of our thought
Love of men is the criterion of beauty; To create and to infuse soul is its work.
It unveils beauty and sanctifies it too. Love suffices men, animals, and insects:
His aspirations soar beyond the sky, ʺLove alone suffices the two worlds.ʺ
And go away from this world of quantity. Love without power is magic,
As what he sees cannot be expressed in Love with power is prophecy.
words, Love combined both in its manifestations,
He whisks away veil from his heart. Love thus created a world out of a world.
Through love passions are elevated,
[Translated by Bashir Ahmad Dar]
The worthless gain value through it.

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