| 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.’ |
| 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. |
| 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. |
| 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! |
| 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. |