First Volume
The Chinese said, “We are more skilled painters.” The people of Rum (the Greeks/Byzantines) also said, “Our skill surpasses theirs.” The king said, “I will test you; let us see who is right in their claim.” The Chinese and the painters of Rum prepared themselves; the painters of Rum were those more versed in their knowledge.
The Chinese painters said, “Give us a special room, and let the other be yours.” There were two rooms, their doors facing each other. The Chinese painters took one of them, and the painters of Rum took the other. The Chinese asked the king for a hundred kinds of paints. The exalted king, upon this, opened his treasury. Every morning, paints were given to the Chinese from the treasury.
The painters of Rum said, “Other than removing rust, neither painting nor color is of any use!” They closed the door and began to polish the wall. They made it as clean, pure, and clear as the sky. Rather than being painted in two hundred kinds of colors, colorlessness is better. Color is like a cloud; colorlessness is the moon. If you see brightness and light in the cloud, know that it is from the star, the moon, and the sun.
The Chinese painters finished their work. All of them rejoiced in the beauty of the paintings they had made. The king entered through the door and saw the paintings in the room. All were things beyond reason and comprehension, extraordinarily beautiful.
After that, he went to the room of the painters of Rum. One of the painters of Rum lifted the curtain that prevented the other room from being seen. The paintings and decorations made by the Chinese painters in the other room reflected onto the polished wall of this room. Whatever was there appeared here even better; the reflection of the paintings was dazzling to the eye.
O son, the painters of Rum are the Sufis. They have no lessons or books to memorize. But they have thoroughly polished their hearts (qalb—the heart), and have purified themselves from desire, ambition, greed, and hatred. The purity and clarity of that mirror is the attribute of the heart (qalb). Countless forms can be reflected in the heart (qalb). The formless and boundless form of the unseen (ghayb) was also reflected in the mirror of Moses’ heart (qalb), and appeared in the hand he drew out from his bosom.
That form cannot fit into the sky, the Throne (ʿarsh), the earth, the seas, from the highest heaven to the fish at the bottom of the sea. For all these have limits and numbers. However, the mirror of the heart (qalb) has no limit. Here, the intellect either falls silent or is left bewildered. The reason is this: Is the heart (qalb) Allah, or is Allah the heart (qalb)?
From the heart (qalb), which is both finite and infinite (both immersed in multiplicity and having found unity), the reflection of any other image passes and is not eternal. But every new image that has appeared from pre-eternity to post-eternity is reflected in the heart (qalb), and is manifested there without veil, in a clear form.
Those who have polished their hearts (qalb) have been freed from color and scent. At every breath, they see a beauty effortlessly. They have left the image on the shell of knowledge, and have raised the banner of certainty by direct vision (ʿayn al-yaqīn). They have abandoned thought, found the sea of intimacy, and have been annihilated in union.
Everyone fears and dreads death. But this people smiles at it under their breath. No one can overcome their hearts (qalb). The shell is harmed, not the pearl.
They have abandoned jurisprudence (fiqh) and grammar (nahw), but have chosen annihilation and non-existence. As the images of the eight paradises shine, they are reflected on the tablet of their hearts (qalb), and are manifested there. The rank of those who sit in the station of truthfulness (maqām al-ṣidq) of Allah, who have made it their homeland, is higher than the Throne (ʿarsh), higher than the Footstool (kursī), higher than the void!