لطفا منتظر باشید ...
IN THE PRESENCE OF SHAH-I HAMADAN
Zinda-Rud| I seek from you the key to the secret of God: | |
| He sought from us obedience, and created Satan. | |
| So to adorn the hideous and unlovely | 2885 |
| and to demand of us comeliness of works— | |
| I ask you, what is this magic-mongering, | |
| what this dicing with an evil adversary? | |
| A handful of dust, against yon revolving sphere— | |
| tell me now, did it beseem Him so to do? | 2890 |
| Our labour, our thoughts, our anguish | |
| is but to bite our hands in despair. |
Shah-i Hamadan
| The man who is fully aware of himself | |
| creates advantage out of loss. | |
| To sup with the Devil brings disaster to a man, | 2895 |
| to wrestle with the Devil brings him glory. | |
| One must strike oneself against Ahriman; | |
| you are a sword, he is the whetstone; | |
| become sharper, that your stroke may be hard, | |
| else you will be unfortunate in both worlds. | 2900 |
Zinda-Rud
| Under the heavens man devours man, | |
| nation grazes upon another nation. | |
| My soul burns like rue for the people of the Vale; | |
| cries of anguish mount from my heart. | |
| They are a nation clever, perceptive, handsome, | 2905 |
| their dexterity is proverbial, | |
| yet their cup rolls in their own blood; | |
| the lament in my flute is on their behalf. | |
| Since they have lost their share of selfhood | |
| they have become strangers in their own land; | 2910 |
| their wages are in the hands of others, | |
| the fish of their river in other men’s nets. | |
| The caravans move step by step to the goal; | |
| but still their work is ill-done, unformed, immature. | |
| Through servitude their aspirations have died, | 2915 |
| the fire in the veins of their vine is quenched. | |
| But do not think that they were always so, | |
| their brows ever lowered thus to the dust; | |
| once upon a time they too were warlike folk, | |
| valiant, heroic, ardent in battle. | 2920 |
| Behold her mountains turbaned in white, | |
| behold the fiery hands of her chenars; | |
| in springtime rubies leap down from the rocks, | |
| a flood of colour rises from her soil, | |
| stippled clouds cover mountain and valley | 2925 |
| like cotton-flocks strewn from a carder’s bow. | |
| Mountain and river, and the setting of the sun: | |
| there I behold God without a veil. | |
| I wandered with the zephyr in Nishat | |
| chanting as I roved, ‘Listen to the reed’. | 2930 |
| A bird perched in the branches was singing: | |
| ‘This springtide is not worth a penny. | |
| The tulip has blossomed, the dark-eyed narcissus is in bloom, | |
| the breeze of Nauruz has torn their skirts; | |
| for many ages from this mountain and valley have sprung | 2935 |
| daisies purer than the light of the moon, | |
| for many ages the rose has packed and unpacked her baggage, | |
| yet our earth has not begotten a second Shihab al-Din.’ | |
| The passionate lament of that bird of dawn | |
| filled my heart with new fire and fever. | 2940 |
| Presently I beheld a madman, whose threnody | |
| robbed me of all endurance and reason. | |
| ‘Pass us by, and seek not an impassioned lament, | |
| pass from the rose-twig, that talisman of colour and scent. | |
| You said that dew was dripping from the tulip’s petals; | 2945 |
| nay, it is a feckless heart weeping beside the river. | |
| What have these few feathers to do with such a chant? | |
| It is the spirit of Ghani mourning the death of desire. | |
| Zephyr, if you should pass over Geneva | |
| speak a word from me to the League of Nations: | 2950 |
| they have sold farmer and cornfield, river and garden, | |
| they have sold a people, and at a price how cheap.’ |
Shah-i Hamadan
| I will tell you a subtle mystery, my son: | |
| the body is all clay, the soul a precious pearl. | |
| The body must be melted for the sake of the soul, | 2955 |
| the pure must be distinguished from the clay. | |
| If you cut off a part of the body from the body, | |
| that slice of the body will be lost to you; | |
| but the soul which is drunk with vision— | |
| if you give it away, it will return to you. | 2960 |
| The soul’s substance resembles nothing else; | |
| it is in bonds, and yet not in bonds; | |
| if you watch over it, it dies in the body, | |
| and if you scatter it, it illuminates the gathering. | |
| What, noble sir, is the soul ‘drunk with vision’? | 2965 |
| What does it mean to ‘give the soul away’? | |
| To give away the soul is to surrender it to God, | |
| it means melting the mountain with the soul’s flame. | |
| ‘Drunk with vision’ means discovering one’s self, | |
| shining like a star in the night-season: | 2970 |
| not to discover one’s self is not to exist, | |
| to discover is to bestow the self on the Self. | |
| Whosoever has seen himself and has seen naught else | |
| has drawn forth the load from the self’s prison; | |
| the ‘drunk with vision’ who beholds himself | 2975 |
| deems the sting sweeter than the honey— | |
| in his eyes the soul is cheap as the air, | |
| before him the walls of his prison tremble; | |
| his axe shivers the granite rock | |
| so that he takes his share of the universe. | 2980 |
| When he gives up the soul, his soul is truly his, | |
| otherwise his soul is his guest but for a moment or two. |
Zinda- Rud
| You have spoken of the wisdom of foul and fair; | |
| learned sage, expound a further subtlety. | |
| You were the guide of those who behold the inner meanings | 2985 |
| you were the confidant of the secrets of kings. | |
| We are poor men, and the ruler demands tribute; | |
| what is the origin of the sanction of throne and crown? |
Shah-i Hamadan
| What is the origin of Kingship in East and West? | |
| Either the consent of the peoples, or war and violence. | 2990 |
| Exalted sir, I will speak with you plainly; | |
| it is forbidden to pay tribute save to two persons: | |
| either those in authority as being among you, | |
| whose proof and demonstration is the verse of God, | |
| or else a hero swift-rising like a hurricane | 2995 |
| who seizes cities, and stakes himself in the battle, | |
| on the day of war conquering the land by force of arms, | |
| on the day of peace by the winning ways of love. | |
| You might indeed purchase Iran and India, | |
| but kingship cannot be bought from any man; | 3000 |
| virtuous friend, the Cup of Jamshid | |
| none shall procure from the glassmaker’s shop, | |
| or if he procures aught, all he owns is glass, | |
| and glass has no other property but to break. |
Ghani
| Who gave to India this yearning for freedom? | 3005 |
| Who gave the quarry this passion to be the hunter? | |
| Those scions of Brahmins, with vibrant hearts, | |
| whose glowing cheeks put the red tulip to shame— | |
| keen of eye, mature and strenuous in action | |
| whose very glance puts Europe into commotion. | 3010 |
| Their origin is from this protesting soil of ours, | |
| the rising-place of these stars is our Kashmir. | |
| If you suppose our earth is without a spark, | |
| cast a glance for a moment within your heart; | |
| whence comes all this ardour you possess, | 3015 |
| whence comes this breath of the breeze of spring? | |
| It is from the selfsame wind’s influence | |
| that our mountains derive their colour and scent. | |
| Do you not know what one day a wave | |
| said to another wave in Lake Wular? | 3020 |
| ‘How long shall we strike at each other in this sea? | |
| Rise up, let us break together against the shore. | |
| Our child, that is to say, yon ancient river | |
| fills with its roar valley and mountains and meadow; | |
| continually it smites the rocks on its path | 3025 |
| until it uproots the fabric of the mountains. | |
| That youth who seized cities, deserts and plains | |
| took his nurture from the milk of a hundred mothers; | |
| its majesty strikes terror into mortal hearts; | |
| all this is from us, not from any other. | 3030 |
| To live in the bounds of the shore is a sin; | |
| our shore is but a stone in our path. | |
| To accommodate oneself to the shore is eternal death, | |
| even though you roll in the sea morning and evening; | |
| life is to leap amidst mountain and desert— | 3035 |
| happy is the wave that has transgressed the shore!’ | |
| You who have read the lines on the brow of Life, | |
| you who have given to the East the tumult of Life, | |
| you who have a sigh that consumes the heart, | |
| stirring you to restlessness, and us still more, | 3040 |
| from you the birds in the meadow learned their threnody, | |
| in your tears the grasses make ablution; | |
| out of your genius the field of roses blossomed, | |
| out of your hope many souls are filled with hope. | |
| Your cry is a bell urging the caravans; | 3045 |
| why then do you despair of the dwellers in the Vale? | |
| Their hearts are not dead in their breasts, | |
| their embers are not extinguished under the ice; | |
| wait till you see, without the sound of the Trumpet, | |
| a nation rising out of the dust of the tomb. | 3050 |
| Do not grieve then, visionary; | |
| breathe out that sigh consuming all, dry and moist alike; | |
| many cities beneath the turquoise heaven | |
| have been consumed by the flame of a dervish heart. | |
| Dominion is frailer than a bubble | 3055 |
| and can be destroyed by a single. breath. | |
| The destinies of nations have been shaped by a song, | |
| by a song nations are destroyed and rebuilt. | |
| Though your lancet has pierced men’s hearts, | |
| none has perceived you as you truly are; | 3060 |
| your melody springs from a poet’s song, | |
| but what you utter transcends poesy. | |
| Stir up a new tumult in Paradise, | |
| strike up an intoxicating air in Paradise! |
Zinda- Rud
| Habituate yourself to the dervish wine and quaff it continuously; | 3065 |
| when you become riper, hurl yourself at the dominion of Jamshid. | |
| They said, ‘This world of ours-does it agree with you?’ | |
| I said, ‘It does not agree’. They said, ‘Then break it to pieces’. | |
| In the taverns I have seen there is not one worthy adversary; | |
| grapple with Rustam-i Dastan, have done with Magian boys! | 3070 |
| Tulip of the wilderness, you cannot burn alone; | |
| strike this heart- enflaming brand upon the breast of man; | |
| You are the ardour of his bosom, the heat of his blood— | |
| do you not believe me? Then tear apart the flesh of the world. | |
| Is reason your lamp? Set it on the path to shine; | 3075 |
| or is love your cup? Quaff it with the intimate. | |
| I pour forth from my eyes the bloody gouts of my heart; | |
| my ruby of Badakhshan - pick it up, and set it in your ring. |
