بخش 69 - باز دادن شاه گنج‌نامه را به آن فقیر کی بگیر ما از سر این برخاستیم

When the king handed over to that grief-stricken man the treasure-scroll (which was) fraught with commotion,

He (the fakir) became secure from rivals and annoyance, (so) he went and wrapped himself in his melancholy madness.

He made sad-thoughted Love his friend: a dog licks his own sore himself.

Love hath none to help him in his torment: there is not in the village one inhabitant familiar with him.

None is more mad than the lover, (yet) Reason is blind and deaf to his melancholia,

Because this is no common madness: in these cases Medicine cannot give right guidance.

If frenzy of this kind overtake a physician, he will wash out (obliterate) the book of Medicine with (tears of) blood.

The Medicine of all intellects is (but) a picture of him (Love); the faces of all sweethearts are (but) a veil of him.

O votary of Love, turn thy face towards thine own face: thou hast no kinsman but thyself, O distraught one.

He (the fakir) made a qibla of his heart and began to pray: man hath naught but that for which he laboureth.

Ere he had heard any answer (to his prayer) he had (already) been engaged in praying for (many) years.

He was always praying intently without (receiving) any (overt) response, (but) he was hearing Labbayka in secret from the (Divine) grace.

Since that sickly man was always dancing without the tambourine, in reliance upon the bounty of the Almighty Creator,

(Though) neither a heavenly voice nor a (Divine) messenger was (ever) beside him, (yet) the ear of his hope was filled with Labbayka;

His hope was always saying, without tongue, “Come!” and that call was sweeping (all) weariness from his heart.

Do not call the pigeon that has learned (to haunt) the roof: drive it away (if you can), for its wings are stuck (to the roof).

Do thou, O Radiance of God, Husámu’ddín, drive him (such an one) away (if thou canst), for (’tis) through meeting with thee (that) his spirit has grown up in him.

If thou unconscionably drive away the bird, his spirit, it will still circle about thy roof.

All its grain and food is on thy roof: (while) flying in the zenith, it is (still) intoxicated with (love for) thy snare.

If for one moment the spirit stealthily (secretly) disbelieve in rendering thanks to thee, O (thou who art bestowing) victory and favour (upon it),

Love, the magistrate who exacts vengeance repeatedly, will lay the fiery cauldron (of separation) on its breast,

Saying, “Come to the Moon and leave the dust behind; Love, the King, calls thee: return with all speed!”

I am flying ecstatically, like a pigeon, about this roof and pigeon-house.

I am Love's Gabriel, and thou art my Lotus-tree; I am the sick man, and thou art (my) Jesus son of Mary.

Let that pearl-shedding sea (of thine) break into surge: to-day ask kindly after this ailing one.

When thou hast become his, the sea (of spiritual mysteries) is his, even though this is the hour of his crisis.

This (Mathnawí) is only the wailful music that he has uttered; (as for) that which is (kept) hidden (within him), (have) mercy, O Lord!

We have two vocal mouths, like the reed: one mouth is hidden in his lips.

One mouth is wailing unto you: it lets (many) a shrill note fall on the air; But every one who hath insight knows that the lamentation (issuing) at this end is (inspired) from that end.

The noise of this reed is from his breaths: the spirit's outcry is from his outcry.

If the reed had no converse with his lip, the reed would not fill the world with (music sweet as) sugar.

With whom hast thou slept and from what (whose) side hast thou risen, that thou art so full of agitation, like the sea?

Or hast thou recited (the words of the Prophet), “I pass the night with my Lord,” and plunged into the heart of the sea of fire?

The shout (of God), “O fire, be cool,” became a protection to thy spirit, O exemplar (for all).

O Radiance of God, Husám (Sword) religious and spiritual, how can a sun be daubed over with clay?

These lumps of clay (thy detractors) attempted (in vain) to cover up thy sun.

The rubies in the mountain's heart are brokers (advertisers) of thee; the orchards in (their) laughter (full- blown beauty) are filled to the brim with thee.

For one familiar (as I am) with thy manhood, where is a Rustam that I might tell (him) a single barley-corn (thereof) out of (thy) hundred stacks?

When I wish to sigh forth thy secret, like ‘Alí I put my head down into a well.

Since his brethren have vindictive hearts, the bottom of the well is (the) best (place) for my Joseph.

I have become intoxicated, I will set about making a row: what of the well? I will pitch my tent in the open plain.

Put the fiery wine in my hand, and then behold the pomp and glory that is enjoyed by the drunken!

Bid the fakir wait (though he is still) without the treasure, for at this moment we are drowned in the syrup (of union).

Now, O fakir, seek refuge with God: do not seek help from me who am drowned;

For I have no concern with lending support (to you): I have no recollection of myself and my own beard.

How should there be room for wind of the moustache (self-assertion) and water of the face (personal reputation) in the wine in which there is no room for a single hair (of self-existence)?

Hand (him) a heavy (large) goblet, O cup-bearer: deliver the Khwája from his beard and moustache.

His arrogance is (contemptuously) curling a moustache at us, but he is (really) tearing out his beard in envy of us.

(He is) mated by Him (God), mated by Him, mated by Him, for we are acquainted with his impostures.

The Pír is seeing distinctly, hair by hair, what will become of him (the Khwája) after a hundred years.

What does the common man see in the mirror that the Pír does not see in the crude brick (of iron)?

That which the bushy-bearded man never saw in his own house is apparent at once to him who has but a few hairs on his chin.

Go to the Sea of whose fish thou art born: how hast thou fallen, like rubbish, into the beard?

Thou art not rubbish—far be it from thee! Thou art an object of envy to the pearl: thou hast the best right (to dwell) amidst the waves and the sea.

’Tis the Sea of Unity: there is no fellow or consort: its pearls and fishes are not other than its waves.

Oh, absurd, absurd to make (aught) its partner. Far be it from that Sea and its pure waves!

In the Sea there is no partnership or perplexity; but what can I say to him that sees double? Nothing, nothing.

Since we are the mates of those who see double, O idolater, ’tis necessary to speak in the fashion of him who attributes a partner (to God).

That Unity is beyond description and condition: nothing comes into the arena (domain) of speech except duality.

Either, like the double-seeing man, drink in (absorb and be satisfied with) this duality, or close your mouth and be very silent;

Or (do both) in turns, now silence, now speech: (in the company of the uninitiated) beat the drum like him that sees double, and peace (be with you)!

When you see a confidant, declare the mystery of the Spirit: (if) you see the rose, sing loud like nightingales.

(But) when you see (one who resembles) a water-skin full of deceit and falsehood, shut your lips and make yourself like a (dry-lipped) jar;

(For) he is an enemy to the water (of spiritual life): in his presence do not move (your lips), else the stone of his ignorance breaks the jar.

Patiently endure the punishments inflicted by the ignorant man: give him fair words and dissemble (towards him) with the reason that is divinely inspired.

Patience (shown) to the unworthy is the means of polishing (purifying) the worthy: wherever a heart exists, patience purifies it.

The fire of Nimrod was the means of making pure (resplendent) the (inward) mirror of Abraham in (the process of) polishing.

The iniquitous unbelief of Noah's people and the patience of Noah were instrumental in polishing the mirror of Noah's spirit.