Explaining the state of those who are self-conceited and unthankful for the blessing of the existence of the prophets and saints—peace be unto them!
شاعر: رومی
وزن: فاعلاتن فاعلاتن فاعلن (رمل مسدس محذوف یا وزن مثنوی)
صنف: مثنوی
Whosoever of them (the proclaimers of Divine Mercy) has spoken of fault and sin, and of a heart like stone, and of a black soul;
And of being, like women, enslaved to the fleshly soul by passion and by love of this vile world;
And of fleeing from the pungent sayings of sincere counsellors, and of shrinking from the countenance of the righteous;
(And of) estrangement from the spirit and spiritual folk, (and of) fraud and fox-like behaviour towards the (spiritual) kings;
Or you hypocritically excuse yourself, saying, “I am held back (by what I have to do) in maintaining my wife and children.
Neither have I leisure to scratch my head, nor have I leisure to cultivate religion.
O so-and-so, remember me in thy benedictions*, that in the end I may become one of the saints.”
These words he does not even speak from (true) passion and ardour; (’tis as though) a drowsy man muttered some idle talk and went to sleep again.
(He says), “I cannot help feeding my family: I strain every nerve to earn a lawful livelihood.”
He can do without God, but not without food; he can do without the Religion, but not without the idols.
Where is (one like) the Friend (of God)*, who came forth from the cave (of idolatry), and said, “This is my Lord (as ye assert). Take heed! Where is the Maker (of all)?”—
(One who shall say), “I will not look at the two worlds until I see to whom these two assembly-places (really) belong.
If I eat bread without the view of God's attributes, it will stick in my throat.”
How should a morsel digest without the sight of Him, without the view of His roses and rose-garden?
Save in hope of God, who but an ox or ass would for one moment drink from this pond?
(Who but) he that was like the cattle, nay, more lost?—though (indeed) that stinkard is full of cunning.
His cunning went headlong (to ruin), and he went headlong: he passed a little while, and his day set.
His brain became dull, his mind doting: his life is gone—and like (the letter) alif he hath nothing.
(As for) his saying, “I am thinking about it”—that too is only (part) of the deceit of the fleshly soul;
And (as for) his saying, “He (God) is forgiving and merciful” —that is naught but a trick of the villainous flesh.
O thou that art dead with anxiety because thy hands are empty of bread, what is this fear, since He is forgiving and merciful? An old man said to a doctor, “I am in torment because of my brain.”