Divān-i Kabīr
O you, in whose assembly the soul and the heart fall in love and dance, O beautiful one, in whose battle countless heads are severed and roll upon the ground,
O Rūḥu’l-Amīn (the Trustworthy Spirit, i.e., Gabriel), when you intend to come to the arena of the earth, all the particles of dust hear of your intention and begin to dance.
When the command, perfectly timed, comes so that the blood of the heart may be spilled, O my king, blood adorns the face of blood, beautifying it with kohl, and, due to the precision of your decree, it begins to dance.
O most sagacious of all kings who have come and gone since the time of the Prophet Adam, take my soul as a pledge, for it has already heard of your intention and has entered the dance.
The Khwārazmians denied the vision of God, which is beyond description and attribute, yet because of your vision, Khwārazm too is stamping its feet and whirling in dance.
O sun of your face, who defeats the moon, the moon that is rightly guided is also pleased with your pressure and has begun to dance.
If Shams of Tabriz glances even once at the codex of the heart, the diacritics and vowels upon that codex, too, enter the dance, as does your resolve (intention).
220.
Divān-i Kabīr
CXXXIV
On this side, there are a few libertines (rind) who have hidden in its shadow. That sun has struck their souls from the ceiling of the heart, making them shine.
Every star has become a Venus, every particle has become a sun; the sun and the stars have become mere particles in their presence, spinning and turning.
Each of those who have lost their minds and hearts, who have raised their souls to the seventh heaven where Saturn is, is a Keykhosrow, a king without tent or banner.
For a long time you have been a mount, circling the world. Now journey to the land of the soul and see the people who are all soul from head to toe.
With all this bounty and beauty, with so much grace and loveliness from God, still, observe the men who are immersed in the command, who never turn away from it, who worship the decree.
Their hearts are without rancor; they are like a spotless mirror. Their hearts have become a field like the sky, and the king has come and settled in that field.
From their cries of “hey-hey,” from the lips that chew sugar, in our city, appetizers have become cheap, as have wine and everything else.
If, as last night, I were to lose myself again, if I were not afraid of seditions, I would recite the rest without being myself.
But now I close my mouth, for I am in my senses. I remain silent until my heart becomes intoxicated with that wine.
The sultan of the sultans of the soul, the Shams of God of the people of Tabriz… Every soul has become an ocean because of him; every body has become coral because of him.
Mawlānā
CXXXV
O you who are weary of my work and occupation, who are fed up with me, I am ever more thirsty; if you would grant just one of my wishes, what would you lose?
If, because of your face, nonexistence were to become existence, if the non-existent were to find and wear a garment, if it were to possess a banner from existence, you would lose nothing.
Or if one deserving of mercy were to attain a station, a rank, and read a verse (āya) from the Preserved Tablet (Lawḥ-i Maḥfūẓ) in your school.
O mercy to the worlds, if you would grant from the sea of certainty a pearl to those who have made this earth their home, a comfort and tranquility to the fish in the sea.
The wave of that sea sometimes gives pearls, sometimes, by its grace, it makes the ship sail; in each of these creatures, there is a state, a joy from it.
Indeed, most of that sea is in prostration like those who give thanks; sometimes its waves rise up and stand tall for a service.
In comparison to this hidden sea, the seven seas of the world are like a generous benefactor who gives, or like a nun engaged in worship.
Our sea is filled with pearls and corals, our long life, our soul is ours; with your grace, our life becomes endless, no end can be found for us.
O drop, if only you understood, you would join the floods; the flood would carry you to the sea, and you would suffer no harm along the way.
Or you might turn away, become heedless, but that all-encompassing flood of love would seize you by the ear and pull you along, for it protects and guards you.
Musta‘filun musta‘filun, now let me hide the sugar, for from the unseen realm, many parrot birds have been sent to plunder my sugar.
Behold, ever anew, all sorts of sugars; listen to the sounds that arise from chewing them; but neither these sugars have a form, nor do these parrots have jaws or teeth; none of them are visible.
God has another kind of sugar that does not come from the sugarcane; neither the parrot bird has the strength to eat it, nor does the human throat have the capacity for it.
That sugar is almost like Shams of Tabriz; it cannot be contained in the heavens; the place where its sun rises is a wondrous realm indeed.
Mawlānā
CXXXVI
O you who pitched a hair tent in the garden of the world, O you who set fire to body and soul, arranging and adorning them, making them into a decorated spirit (ruh),
The feet of the trees were bound, you untied them. The field of the rose garden was earth, you paved it with pearls.
You taught the bird that utters riddles how to speak; you gave hundreds of wings to the nest of the heart that had withered and fallen into disarray.
O giver of immortal life, O provider of sustenance to the unsupplied, truly you have given a strong shield against the arrow of death,
The lover is like a pen on this path, walking crookedly; to make it go straight, you drew a pure line in the ledger of the soul.
If you make an animal, an ox, into a human, it is not surprising, for you have turned the dung of the sea-cow into ambergris in the sea.
To the one who conquers the whole world in your path, who encompasses the universe, you have given, from his own parts, hundreds of swords and soldiers, like the sun and its rays.
If the angel prostrates before Adam, it is not surprising; you have made even the heavens a servant to man, who was created from earth, making the skies slaves to him.
You created in the stars the ability to affect stone and earth, poured this effect upon the earth, and built a ladder, a passage from the path of the heart to the sky.
You gave to black earth a desire, a lust to give birth, so that one earth became a father, another a mother.
In this verse, the “hair tent” is used in the Turkish style as “alaçuk.”
Divān-i Kabīr
You have the power and strength to open the gates of paradise within the grave; in the tomb of the body, you created the five senses, opening a door to the world.
You hid hundreds of rains of mercy in the fire of the father’s anger, created hundreds of fires in the hearts of the heroic lineage.
From our phlegm, bile, blood, and passion, from these four cloaks, you pitched a tent for the spirit (ruh), O my king.
A day will come when these words will enter into enmity with the hearer; I spoke words to you like the water of life, but you came with deafness and did not hear.
O Shams of Tabriz, explain the meanings from hair to hair; since you have made a head, give it a hand, give it a foot as well.
Mawlānā
—Y—
CXXXVII
O sun of the rebellious, O beautiful one who bows to no one, you have reconciled with the Milky Way in the sky; you have mingled with the servants like milk and honey, you have united.
Or, like wine that adds soul to the soul, you have given joy to every part, or, like rains of generosity, you have merged with the earth, you have sunk into this earth,
You have plunged into so many fires that you have even burned the fire itself, you have searched so much for your trace that, in the end, you have united with the one whose dust of trace cannot be found.
O secret of God who needs nothing, O one who is independent of both good and evil, you turned away from yourself and reconciled with the strong and mighty hero, you have united.
Souls have sought you much, but no one has even caught a scent of you; they became despondent, their hearts were shattered, then suddenly you united with them.
It is not surprising for those of the same kind to unite and mingle. Those who are not of the same kind cannot reconcile; but you are neither this nor that, yet you have united with both this and that.
Both worlds are your guests, seated around your table; you have poured out a hundred kinds of blessings, you have united with the guest.
Divān-i Kabīr
You have united so completely that one cannot distinguish himself from you; indeed, how could he, for you have united as the body and soul unite.
You became the beauty and freshness of this rose garden, and, O old man, you became young again; O arrow, now you will reach the prey, for you have united with the bow.
O fortune and luck of all, you have stolen everyone’s possessions; you came swiftly, cut off the road, yet you reconciled with the caravan, you united.
You taught the path, the heavens are walking and traveling; you reconciled with the world, and the soul too flies to the heights, as does the world.
I am amazed at your grace; when wrath rises up and becomes stubborn, you seize it and bend its neck as butchers do with sheep.
You taught those with Joseph’s beauty how to kill lovers; you reconciled the thorn, which is like Satan, with the rose garden.
Leave this, O one who knows and understands, gaze at it with a pure look, contemplate it; you have been freed from the parts of the earth, you have reconciled with the sky, you have united.
O bird of the soul, you have escaped the trap, perched on the rose branch, freed from the whisperings of the heart, you have entered the gardens of paradise, you have reached that world.
O water of life, honor of the living, you came from the roof of the sky, wandered upon our roof, and united with the gutter.
How can a thief find you at night, when you are not at home? You are striking the roof with the stick, you have reconciled with the watchman.
Explain these secrets from hair to hair, without veil or letter, O you who, when speaking, mingle with letter and sound, uniting with letter and sound.
Mawlānā
CXXXVII
O you whose grace gives the soul a state more beautiful than intoxication, who brings the soul to a state more delightful than eternal drunkenness, without wine or cup,
Come, even for a moment, bestow such graces upon the soul that the moment you grant is purer than purity, beyond everything; how long must we wait for that unique moment?
You are such a plundering king of kings that, because of the fortune in your plunder, even the enemy waits for the moment you will come to plunder him.
Is it your own form, or the form of the world that bestows souls? How can the soul not know this? The foot surely knows and recognizes the shoe that fits it.
The foot is constricted by another’s shoe, but is comfortable in its own.
The soul knows its match, its equal, understands good and evil, for from the unseen realm, each soul has been given a knowledge, an understanding according to its measure.
The intellect that possesses this capacity is imprisoned in this world, for it cannot bear that moment in this time.
Just as a prince is a child, and the garment he will wear when grown is kept in the treasury, locked in the storehouse, so it is.
Unlock the heart’s lock and walk to the treasury; if you obtain the treasury, you will have no need for any question in both worlds.
The tavern of the men is the heart; if only you knew what intoxications are found there… But now you are a child, your foot is stuck in the mud, endure to the end.
Endure to the end so that fortune may bring you a cluster from a corner; look, a dust has risen from afar, shining like a flag, exalted.
Divān-i Kabīr
Upon the flag is written: this is the sign of our master, our noble Shams al-Dīn,
the king whom Tabriz and China boast of, who is a proof and evidence for those whose inner eye is open.
Mawlānā
CXXXIX
O unique rider, hasbek, you rode your horse from the world of the soul and stirred up the taverns, galloping your horse toward the arena…
Those who dwell in the sky are our listeners: they twisted their mustaches, and you twisted yours and rode your horse toward them.
O you who, with one step, surpasses both worlds, if only you knew, what field is it upon which you have ridden your horse?
Indeed, veils and rhyme have been ruined by your love; when you march toward them, you leave no veil remaining.
When you ride your horse upon the soul and set out to plunder, the intellect loses its mind, love is amazed at you, and from the body only a name remains.
Divān-i Kabīr
CXL
Now, for the sake of the lovers, show consideration, O moon-faced one, for a moment adorn the sky with veils.
When your name is mentioned in conversation, it gives one the intoxication of old, well-aged wines; teach the interpreter, even for a moment, the art of winning hearts.
The sea is but a drop in your palm; with all your generosity, still you have deprived an intimate; do not do so, for a moment lull the watchman to sleep.
The joy of love offers a wine that cannot be described, and keeps mixing opium into the wine; how can the intoxicated one, who is lost in this wine, give any sign or trace of the one whose dust of trace is not manifest?
Illuminate the world with your face, make the eye of the heavens languid; for a moment, remove these sorrows from the soul of the world.
O you who are a hundred times sweeter than the soul; how can the tongue describe you? Only the Sufi can speak of it, bring that Sufi, even for a moment.
God forbid, O intellect, how can the Sufi find a path to him? How can every bird fly that way? For a moment, hold your tongue.
O sun of God, even the moon has torn its collar and lapel in love for you; for the love of the lips that chew sugar, O evening redness, for a moment, leave it,
Let your heart be filled only with his love, do not busy yourself with vain strategies, do not settle anywhere, for a moment, annihilate all existence.
O you in whose fear there is security, in whose circle decisions and rests are hidden, the soul so longs for you that union with you has come for a moment, abandoning security and seeking refuge.
Mawlānā
My body is like a bow, my heart like a bowstring; O soul, set the bow upon the sky, for a moment, lean that ladder against the heavens.
Because of your sorrow, everywhere a youth has grown old without suffering any calamity; show your eyebrow so that I may see some fortune, for a moment, let me attain eternity, never to grow old.
Look at the one who cries out, now remember fidelity even once; my king, show grace, display justice, have mercy, and for a moment, turn your horse’s head this way, guide the reins.
Come this way for a moment, let the soul chew on sugars, for a moment, grant our eyes a place in the manifest light, let us see you.
When I wish to leap and spring, I become an arrow, I fly to the village to make things better, show your eyebrow for a moment so that I may draw that bow.
O raven of separation, which has no reality and is born of imagination, when will you leave me and go, like a raven?
When will that light, which every beholder longs for, that light of kingship, say, “I want so-and-so for a moment”?
O lion-like nafs (the lower self), how did you become separated from that love? O lion-natured nafs, throw those delicious bounties, throw that table before the dog, throw it away.
O you who have no knowledge of the wine of the soul, how long will you boast of skill? For a moment, throw that bread-trap to the very depths of hell.
Where is the king of the age, Shams al-Dīn, whom everyone serves and worships? O Tabriz, for a moment, make a door for that king whose kingship is manifest, serve him.
Divān-i Kabīr
CXLI
O our king, our sultan, you came from the realm of the king whose sovereignty has neither beginning nor end;
you entered into the very heart of the moons, you seized the banners of kings.
O you who are the foundation of the soul’s abode, you rose like a moon from the realm of spacelessness; you struck and scattered hundreds of suns and skies like particles, and thus you came.