LXIX
I have completely stripped myself of my existence, I have utterly perished,
and become the interpreter of God; whether I am intoxicated or sober, now,
no one can hear from me any word other than His word.
* I entered the Egyptian bazaar, went up to the presence of a great person;
I saw one with the face of a Joseph, and in heedlessness I asked, “How much is this?”
The Aziz of Egypt said, “You are in love,” and granted him to me; this was
either from his extraordinary generosity, or his munificence, or his graciousness.
But I did not know his worth, I thought this desire was mere whim; ah,
from the longing I suffered in separation, ah from my heedlessness, ah how
regretful I am now.
Mawlānā
O beloved, by whose power and might hundreds of impossible things come
to pass, by God, I swear, in both worlds there is none who clings to the task
and succeeds like you, I say this with certainty.
* O Tabriz, you attained this exaltation since the time of “Alastu” (the primordial covenant);
even before my pride, Shams al-Dīn, the pen had written this, and now the pen is dry.
Divān-i Kabīr
LXXXII
Spring has come, friends, let us lodge in the garden, rise and
draw lines on the heads of the strangers to the greenery.
Let us fly from flower to flower today like bees, let us fly and
make the farthest corners of this worldly beehive flourish.
An envoy came from this fortress and gave the order not to beat the drum in secret;
let us now shatter the place where the drum of love is beaten with our cries.
Hear the voice coming from the sky: “Rise, O mad ones!” My soul
be sacrificed for the lovers, today let us scatter our souls.
Let us break the chains, each of us a blacksmith; let us go to the place
where fire is kindled, like the tongs of the smiths.
Let us stoke the fire of the heart like the forge of the smiths, and with this
breath, subdue the iron-hearted to our command.
Let us unleash a fire upon this world, let us stir up the sky,
let us spin this stubborn intellect round and round, and make it as dizzy
as ourselves.
We are a mace without head or foot, sometimes at the edge of the field,
sometimes at its center; where is being self-willed, where are we, how
could we wish and do this, desire and accomplish that?
No, no, we are just like a polo stick spinning in the hand of the king,
rolling hundreds of thousands of balls to the king’s feet.
Let us be silent, for silence is kneaded from the same dough as madness;
this thing called intellect is such a fire that we wrap it in cotton and hide it.
Mawlānā
LXXXIII
Again, like a new festival, I have come to break the door of the dungeon,
I have come to knock out the teeth of this fate that devours and exploits people.
* I have come to burn the waters of those seven thirsty stars that drink
the blood of those in the earth, to calm and extinguish their winds.
From the court of the king whose beginning has no beginning, I flew like a falcon,
I have come to tear apart the owl that eats the hoopoe in its ruined corner.
From the very beginning, I vowed to give my soul to the king; if I turn
back from my vow and covenant, may my soul’s back be broken.
* Today I am just like Āṣaf, the sword of command in my hand,
I will strike and break the heads of those who turn away in the king’s presence.
If for a day or two you see the rebels’ vineyards and gardens flourishing, do not grieve,
by a hidden way I will uproot their roots.
Other than oppression and torment, I break and destroy nothing,
nor anyone but the cowardly tyrant; if I break and destroy anything with even a grain of taste or flavor, may I be a disbeliever (kāfir).
Wherever there is a ball, the polo stick of unity rolls it,
the ball that does not come to the field, I strike and break with the stick.
I sat in his assembly, I saw how he clings to the task with his grace,
I became a hired laborer on his path to break the leg of Satan.
When I fell into the king’s hand, I was a mere grain, I became a mine,
I grew so heavy that, know this well, if you put me on the scales, I would break the pan.
Divān-i Kabīr
How do you take in someone as drunk and fallen as me into your house,
do you not know even this much, that I will break this, shatter that?
If the watchman says, “Hey, what are you doing?” I will pour the wine cup over him,
if the doorkeeper pulls his hand away, I will break his hand.
If the sky does not revolve around your heart, I will seize it,
uproot it entirely, if fate attempts baseness, I will break its neck.
You have spread the table of generosity, made me your guest;
when this is so, if I take a piece from the bread, why do you twist my ear?
No, no, I am at your table, I am your chief guest;
let me offer a couple of cups of wine to the guest, so that his shame may depart.
O you who make me recite poetry from within my soul, if I close my mouth
and fall silent, I fear I would not be obeying your command.
* If wine comes from Shams of Tabriz and I become intoxicated, I care for nothing,
I walk and break even the pillar of the planet Saturn (Zuhal).
Mawlānā
LXXXIV
Since I saw your face, O beloved who is the moon to me, who became a radiant light,
wherever I sit, I am joyful, wherever I go, that place is a rose garden to me.
Every place where the king’s image appears is a vineyard, a garden, a place of excursion;
wherever I arrive, I set up a banquet of revelry there.
Even if the doors of this six-doored lodge are closed, that moon-faced beauty
rises from the world of spacelessness, pokes his head through my window, and enters again,
* He enters and says, “Peace be upon you, I have brought you a hundred kinds of appetizers,
a hundred kinds of wine; I am the king, the king of kings, I play melodies from the curtain of Sipāhān (cavalry, army, Isfahan).”
I am your bright sun, I tear the veils delightfully. I am your spring,
I have come to uproot the thorns.
Whoever desires pleasure, revelry, amusement, excursion, joy, music day and night,
let him know that I am the taste of sugars, the oil of almonds.
Repeat your word, let it reach, begin anew with grace and generosity; come on.
Explain the reason for your lack of sorrow, my understanding is little, my mind is somewhat dull.
That hard-of-hearing ear, he says, is better than the ears of others;
this ear of yours is a hundred times superior to the ears of others, for in their ears is air, but in your ears, I am.
* Walk, walk, you are the possessor of fortune, you are the soul of life, you are pleasure, you are revelry, you are Riḍwān (the keeper of Paradise), you are ḥūrī (heavenly maiden), you are Paradise, for you have clung to my skirt,
Divān-i Kabīr
* You are the mountain, you are the Sīmurgh (the legendary phoenix), you are the strong rope. You are the water, you are the waterer; you are both my garden, my peace, and my jasmine.
Bow your head before the heavens, the angels spread their wings; the heart
says to you: “I am wax before you, but iron before others.”
“133
Mawlānā
LXXXV
Yesterday that beloved placed a golden crown on my head, no matter how much
you strike, the intoxication of that wine, the languor of that wine does not leave my head,
The king who sewed the cap of eternity, took off the cap he wore at night
and put it on my head, in short, what can I say, may it be everlasting.
If the cap does not remain on the head, I become completely headless like the moon;
for when the shell is not a mother-of-pearl, my pearl appears even more radiant.
Here is my head, here is the heavy mace; strike it to test,
if it breaks my skull, know that I am sweeter than intellect, sweeter than soul.
The walnut that chooses the shell has no kernel; how can it enjoy
the almond halva of my Prophet?
His almond halva, kneaded with walnuts, almonds, and sugars,
sweetens both my tongue and palate, and gives light to my eyes.
* O son, once you have found the kernel, you do not look at the shell; once you have reached the place where Jesus is, you no longer ask, “Where is my donkey?”
O my dear master, how long will you speak of a cap?
Suppose a donkey is missing from the herd, what of it? Watch my sturdy horse,
do not look at my lean horse,
The strength, might, size, and soundness of the lover comes from the strength
and might of the beloved; for the greatness of lovers, the greatest of the great, is from my God.
* O you who fall into troubles and sigh, do not say “ah, ah,” say “Allah.” O my Joseph raised by the soul, do not speak of the well, speak of the station, speak of fortune,
Divān-i Kabīr
LXXXVI
O love, you have shattered and broken me like an idol, I will take you to the judge;
no one needs to ask for a witness from me, for I am the witness (my beauty), I am not indebted.
The one who is judged is you, the one who judges is you. You are the future,
you are the past. You are the one who is angry, you are the one who is content;
in the end, from the bee to the mother, you appear in many forms.
O my beautiful, exalted love, I am you, and you are me. You are both the flood,
and the harvest, both the joy and the sorrow, both the pain and the grief.
These are from you, those are from you. You are beyond this, and beyond that.
You are that broad plain, you are that mountain, you are the plain of generosity.
You are the sweetness of the close ones, you are their intoxication.
You are the sea that scatters pearls, you are the mines filled with gold and coins,
You are the love of speaking, you are the passion for silence. You are understanding,
you are self-effacement, you are kufr (disbelief), you are hudā (guidance), you are justice, you are reproach.
O king of kings of kings, O intellect, O one who establishes a throne in the land of the soul,
O one whose traces are unseen though he has hundreds of works and signs, whose face cannot be seen, O sea of nonexistence, whose treasury you are.
Before you, the beautiful and the ugly are like images before a needle;
if you wish, you draw a beautiful picture on paper with that needle, if you wish, an ugly one; then you tear them up with death and illness.
If the images knew they came from the same pen, each image
would mingle and unite with the other like milk and honey.
Mawlānā
Your jealousy says “Go!” to those who come to you to give their soul;
your grace calls, “Yes, come near!”
But your grace is excessive, it draws the lover ever closer to itself;
just as light is superior to darkness, your grace is greater than your wrath, greater than your wrath.
Each person is led by a suspicion, a fantasy, it drags them from place to place;
but you are the one who draws those armies of fantasy, the banner is in your hand.
O possessor of dominion, O lord of fortune, then you bring another fantasy
that seizes greatness from the former, you make it captive to this one.
At every moment, a fantasy comes from the land of the soul to the body,
unaware of the distributor of destinies, like children saying, “The castle is ours.”