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AN INDIAN
ASCETIC, KNOWN TO THE PEOPLE OF INDIA AS JAHAN-DOST, WHO LIVES
AS A HERMIT IN ONE OF THE CAVERNS OF THE MOON
| Like a blind man, my hand on my companion’s shoulder, | |
| I placed my foot within a deep cavern; | 530 |
| the moon’s heart was sore ravaged by its darkness, | |
| within it even the sun would have needed a lamp. | |
| Fancies and doubts made assault upon me, | |
| hung my reason and sense upon the gallows. | |
| I went along a road where highwaymen lurked in ambush, | 535 |
| my heart void of the joy of truth and certainty; | |
| presently manifestations met my gaze unveiled, | |
| a bright dawn without any rising of the sun— | |
| a valley, whereof each stone was an idolater, | |
| a demon’s haunt thick with lofty palm-trees. | 540 |
| Was this place truly compounded of earth and water, | |
| or was my sleeping fantasy painting pictures? | |
| The air was filled with the joy and gaiety of wine, | |
| the shadows, kissing its dust, were light’s own essence. | |
| No cerulean sky spanned its earth, | 545 |
| no twilight painted its margin crimson and gold; | |
| there light was not in the chains of darkness, | |
| there no mists enveloped dawn and eventide. | |
| Under a palm-tree an Indian sage, | |
| the pupils of his eyes bright with collyrium, | 550 |
| his hair knotted on his head, his body naked, | |
| coiled about him a white snake writhing, | |
| a man superior to water and clay, | |
| the world a mere image in the cloister of his fantasy, | |
| his time subject to no revolution of days, | 555 |
| he had no traffick with the azure-tinted skies. | |
| He said to Rumi, ‘Who is your fellow-traveller? | |
| In his glance there is a desire for life!’ |
Rumi
| A man who is a wanderer on the quest, | |
| a fixed star with the constitution of a planet. | 560 |
| His enterprise is more mature than his immaturities; | |
| I am a martyr to his imperfections. | |
| He has made of his glass the arch of heaven, | |
| his thought seeks to be boon- companion of Gabriel! | |
| He swoops like an eagle on the moon and sun, his prey, | 565 |
| hot-foot he circumambulates the nine spheres. | |
| A drunkard’s words he has spoken to the people of earth | |
| calling the houris idols, Paradise an idol-house. | |
| I have seen flames in the billow of his smoke, | |
| I have seen majestic pride in his prostration. | 570 |
| Ever he laments yearningly like a flute, | |
| separation and union alike slay him. | |
| I do not know what is in his water and clay; | |
| I do not know what his rank and station may be. |
Jahan-Dost
| The world is a thing of colour, and God is without colour. | 575 |
| What is the world? What is man? What is God? |
Rumi
| Man is a sword, and God is the swordsman; | |
| the world is the whetstone for this sword. | |
| The East saw God and did not see the world, | |
| the West crept along the world and fled away from God. | 580 |
| True servanthood is to open the eyes to God; | |
| true life is to see oneself without a veil. | |
| When a servant takes quittance of life | |
| God Himself calls down blessings on that servant. | |
| Whatever man is unconscious of his destiny, | 585 |
| his dust travels not with the fire of the soul. |
Jahan-Dost
| Tied up in the knot of being and not-being | |
| the East has seen little into these secrets. | |
| The task of us celestials is only to see, | |
| and my soul does not despair of the East’s tomorrow. | 590 |
| Yesterday I saw on the summit of Qashmarud | |
| an angel that had descended out of heaven; | |
| out of his glance the joy of sight distilled | |
| as he gazed solely towards our mound of dust. | |
| I said to him, ‘Hide not a secret from your confidants; | 595 |
| what is it that you see in this silent dust? | |
| Do you melt for the beauty of some Venus? | |
| Have you flung your heart into the well of Babylon?’ | |
| He said, ‘It is the hour of the East’s arising; | |
| the East has a new sun shining in its breast. | 600 |
| Rubies come forth from the stones of the road, | |
| its Josephs are issuing out of the well. | |
| I have seen a resurrection happening in its bloom, | |
| I have seen its mountains trembling and quaking; | |
| it is packing up to quit the station of Azar | 605 |
| at last to forswear forever idolatry. | |
| Happy is the people whose soul has fluttered, | |
| that has created itself anew out of its own clay. | |
| For the Throne – angels that hour is the dawn of festival | |
| when the eyes of a nation at last awake!’ | 610 |
| The Indian sage was silent for a little while; | |
| then he looked at me again, somewhat impatiently. | |
| He asked, ‘Death of the reason?’ I said, Giving tip thought.’ | |
| He asked, ‘Death of the heart?’ I said, ‘Giving up remembrance.’ | |
| He asked, ‘The body?’ I said, ‘Born of the dust of the road.’ | 615 |
| He asked, ‘The Soul?’ I said ‘The symbol of One God.’ | |
| He asked, ‘And Man?’ I said, ‘One of God’s secrets.’ | |
| He asked, ‘The world?’ I said, ‘Itself stands face to face.’ | |
| He asked, ‘This science and art?’ I said, ‘Mere husk.’ | |
| ‘He asked, ‘What is the proof?’ I said, ‘The face of the Beloved.’ | 620 |
| He asked, ‘The commons’ religion?’ I said, ‘Just hearsay.’ | |
| He asked, ‘The gnostics’ religion?’ I said, ‘True seeing.’ | |
| My words brought much pleasure to his soul, | |
| and he disclosed to me delightful subtleties. |
