The Book of the Mesnevī: IX. The Poor Scenite Arab and his Wife

Should he conceive th’ idea of love for God alone, God's essence he'd deny, God's attributes disown. Man's fancy is a creature;—born with mortal lot. God was not born. His scripture says: "Nor was begot." 3 p. 200 The man in love with self, and with his fancy's freak, Can never be a lover who to God will seek. Were fancy's lover true, and free from crafty guile, His fancy's tropes had led him to the truth erewhile. That dictum would require a commentary, full, 520 But fear withholds me. Prejudice will have its pull! Old prejudice, quite purblind to the truth, I see, A hundred phantoms conjures up to frighten me. Not every man has heard aright the still small voice; Not every bird's a fig-pecker, that sweets rejoice; How then a bird that's dead,—turned putrid long ago;— A man of prejudice, all sightless, eyeless, so! A painted fish cares not for water, or for land. Soap to a blackamoor is one, or tar, in hand. Shouldst thou depict a portrait overwhelmed with grief, 525 Would grief or joy be felt, though shown in strong relief? The picture would look sorrowful;—no sorrow feel; Or smiling happiness;—without gay laughter's peal. The joy or grief depicted by a pencil's art, Is naught but simulated;—knows nor thrill, nor smart. Lugubrious countenances are for our behoof; That we may be reminded not to court reproof. And beaming visages are not without their use, If they recall us from mere form to sense occluse.

If they recall us from mere form to sense occluse. The various effigies we see in this bath-house, 1 530 Disguised in draperies, are dolls;—blind fools to chouse. So long as thou’rt outside, naught else but clothes thou’lt see. Undress thyself. Come in; and see the nude, the free. There's no admission granted to a bath, while dressed. But clothes, the body, this, the soul, leave all unguessed. p. 201 Our Arab man, from far in desert's sandy waste, Has reached at length the walls of Bagdād, home of taste. The guards, the officers, on duty at the gate, Received him with politeness, kindness delicate. Without a question asked, his case they'd understood. Their charge was to show kindness first, ere asked for food. 535 So they addressed him thus: "Ho, thou, good Arab prince! Whence comest thou? How fares it? Straight thy wish evince!" He answered: "Prince I am, if you to me be kind; But if you me contemn, I'm naught in my own mind. Your aspects indicate you're men of wealth and rank; Your speech and smiles betoken breeding, noble, frank. Mere sight of your kind features salve is to the eyes; Your looks alone enrich;—gold in your voices lies. Each one of you expression is of God's own grace; In Caliph's bosom nurtured, favoured with high place; 540 That you, in turn, dispense th’ elixir of support, And brighten longing eyes by words of kind import. I am a stranger, poor, come from the desert's sands,

I am a stranger, poor, come from the desert's sands, In hopes some favour to obtain from sovereign hands. The rumour of his goodness fills the wilderness; Each atom in its wastes blooms thence in joyfulness. In search of wealth have I approached his capital; Now I'm arrived, I burn with pleasures optical. E’en as the lass in search of bread at baker's shop, Struck with his 'prentice' beauty, swooned;—a lifeless drop! 545 Or like the saunterer for air in royal park, Who lost his heart to one he met, gay as a lark! Or like the desert merchant drawing from a well What he thought water, was entranced by Joseph's spell! Again, as Moses hasted for a coal of fire, And found the burning bush, that led him to empire p. 202 Or Jesus, who escaped his foes with one fleet bound, And found himself then landed where the sun goes round! 1 An ear of corn it was that baited Adam's trap. 2 550 Bat thence himself became the source of mankind's sap! The falcon stoops to earth enticed by luring fate; He there meets man's good teaching, soars to princely state. A child is sent to school to teach him learning's prize, In hope of toys and treats he studies till he's wise. On leaving school he sits in seat of law or power; He paid his schoolpence then;—he's now lord of the hour! So Abbās 3 sallied forth to war, with fierce intent, To put Muhammed down,—Islam to circumvent. Defender of the Faith, till death, he then became;

Defender of the Faith, till death, he then became; 555 The Caliphate was destined, in his line, to fame! So am I come, in hopes at this court to advance; Though at its gate as yet, I feel I've every chance. In quest of bread am I; as offering, water bring. The hope of bread sets wide heaven's portals at one swing. ’Twas bread that drove out Adam from his paradise; ’Tis bread will gain me entrance where my hopes take rise. From bread, from water, both, as angels, far I stroll; And, following the spheres, around this centre roll! Without an object none will toil on earth, you see, 560 Save true and godly lovers. They're from motives free!" Th’ Infinite's lovers finite's worshippers are not. Who seek the finite lose th’ Infinite, as we wot. When finite with the finite falls in love, perforce, His loved one soon returns to her infinite source. p. 203 A beard that puts itself into another's grasp, In lather's smothered; emblem of a weak mind's gasp. He's not his own lord; cannot guide his own affairs; He does but what he's told; where’er he's bid, repairs. Would'st sin with woman? Choose, at least, one that is free. Would'st rob and steal? Let pearls and jewels be thy fee. 565 A slave obeys a master; has himself no will; The scent is all the rose's; thorns show no such skill. A slave may not attain to wish that he may form; His toil is vain, his trouble profitless;—poor worm! Shall hunter snare a shadow? Where were then his food?

Shall hunter snare a shadow? Where were then his food? A shadow's not a substance;—can do no one good. A foolish hunter seized the shadow of a bird! The fowl, on tree securely perched, not one foot stirred; But, wondering, thought: "What is the stupid fool about? Demented, sure; his little wit he's let ooze out!" 570 But if thou thinkest finite's of th’ Infinite born; And sayest: "For love of rose, do honour to the thorn;" Consider: finite unto Infinite's not joined. Or what need of the prophets? They've not scripture coined. The prophets have been sent to link the two in one. If they're not two, but one, what have the prophets done? But let that be. Th’ inquiry has no useful end. The day is waning; let us to our tale attend. The Arab now his little pot of water showed. As seed to earth, he it on Caliph's court bestowed; 575 And said: "Present my offering at the sovereign's feet, If beggar save his king from want, it's surely meet. The water's fresh; the little jar green-glazed and new; Filled from a pool replenished by the rain and dew." p. 204 On hearing this the guards were laughing in their sleeves; But still, as precious, took the jar;—polite court-reeves! The Caliph's kindly nature, active, well-informed, To kindness had each member of his court reformed. For as the sovereign is, so will his subjects be. 580 The azure vault of heaven makes green the earth;—you see. A king's a reservoir; his servants are his mains,

A king's a reservoir; his servants are his mains, Through whom his bounty flows, to swell his subjects’ veins. The stream, if flowing from a tank all sweet and pure, Each main distributes bounty, courtesy;—be sure. But should the reservoir prove foul and nauseous, then, The mains can flow with naught but venom, like a fen. The mains can only what they get convey around. Remember this. We're treading now on solid ground. A sovereign's goodness is an unembodied soul, 585 That permeates the clay of human frame, its goal. It is the mind, the all-informing, well-derived, That brings the body into discipline, where hived. Love is a wanton, restless, reckless of control, That drives the man to madness; passion does extol; But goodness is a stream as sweet as Fount of Life; Its pebbles are all pearls, all jewels, beauteous, rife. Whichever be the science makes a teacher famed, His scholars' minds with that will surely be inflamed. A jurist's pupils study principles of law, 590 If but their mental principles be free from flaw. A lawyer's prentice over subtle cases pores; The principles, with him, are most unwelcome bores. A syntax-teacher rears a host of grammar's sons, With whom his syntax passes for the sun of suns. p. 205 A teacher who inculcates abnegation's creed, Surrounds himself with pupils free from lust and greed. But at the hour of death, of science's long roll, The art of poverty's what most behoves man's soul.

The art of poverty's what most behoves man's soul. A syntax-teacher, once, was mounted in a boat, Who to the skipper turned, as soon as e’er afloat, 595 And asked: "Hast studied syntax?" "No indeed," quoth he. The teacher then: "Thy life's half-wasted? Dost thou see?" The skipper felt heart-broken at this pert remark; But, for the moment, held his peace;—wise man's bulwark. The wind arose; the bark was sorely tempest-tossed; The skipper then addressed the teacher, sickness-crossed: "Knowest thou the swimmer's art, good friend? With speed reply." "Nay," said the teacher, "that's an art the schools decry." The skipper now remarked: "Thy whole life's gone to waste. The ship must go to pieces. Water salt thou’lt taste. 600 With syncope, not syntax, now we'll have to deal. With syncope, from water comes nor hurt, nor weal, The sea bears on its surface bodies of the dead; But living men it drowns; them sinks, as though of lead. So soon as thou’lt be dead to every human art To thee eternity its secrets will impart. Thou hitherto hast deemed us mortals asses all; Now thou thyself, as ass on ice, must have a fall. Although thou be the very Plato of the age, Thou’st still to learn that time, the world, is but a page." 605 This tale about the syntax-teacher we've tacked on, To show the grammar dissolution turns upon. All syntax, grammar, jurisprudence, law, and art, Thou’lt find, my friend, of knowledge is but a small part.

Thou’lt find, my friend, of knowledge is but a small part. p. 206 Our little learning is the Arab's water-pot. In Caliph, of God's wisdom we've an emblem got. We bring our pot of water to great Tigris’ stream. If we ourselves not asses call, us asses deem. The Arab of our tale excusable was,—troth; 610 He knew not of a Tigris. Where's the Arab doth? Had he, as we, known Tigris’ stream, and all its store, His water-pot had never travelled to its shore; Had he become aware of what a Tigris meant, Arrived at Bagdād, he'd his pot to fragments sent. The Caliph, when he saw that pot, and heard that tale, The vase had filled with golden sequins, like a bale, Our Arab thus to free from poverty's rude grasp;— A robe of honour, too; and presents for his clasp, He ordered. Then the whole unto the guards were sent, 615 With kindliest injunctions, fruit of good intent: "That all unto that Arab man be safely given, Whose journey home by Tigris’ arrowy stream be driven. By land he came; he'd travelled all the way on foot; But Tigris’ stream may bear him back a shorter route." Our Arab in a boat was placed at river's side; The stream he saw, admired, bowed low, lost all his pride; Exclaiming: "Wondrous goodness of the sovereign will! Th’ acceptance of my water-pot more wondrous still! How could that sea of wealth my drop deign to accept, 620 And largely thus to recompense the trifle kept?" Know now, my friend, this world ’s one mighty water-pot,

Know now, my friend, this world ’s one mighty water-pot, With wisdom and with beauty teeming; as all wot. One drop, however, ’tis, from ocean of His grace, Whose fulness cannot be confined in any place. That treasure latent was. Through fulness it burst forth, More glorious than the heavens became thenceforth the earth. p. 207 The latent treasure, pouring out its riches great, The earth made kinglike, clothed with more than regal state. One little branch canal from th’ ocean of God's grace, Thus overwhelms this mighty water-pot of space. 625 They who see God are ever rapt in ecstasy; And raptured, hold that water-pot mere fallacy. O thou! envy of whom is to that pot a stone! Though fractured by the shock, the pot yields sounder tone. The pot is cracked; but, still, its water is not spilt; The crack's the very source through which it's sounder built. The jar's each single particle's in dance and revery, Though unto man's poor wisdom this seems foolery. The pot, the world, all it contains, are lost to view. Consider well this fact! God knows it's simply true. 630 If thou canst grasp this meaning, thou’rt like falcon strong. Beat, then, the pinions of thy thoughts. Be hawk, ere long. Thought's pinions are bemired in thee, and heavy move; Because thou feedest on clay; clay's bread to thee, I'll prove. As flesh, bread is but clay. Trust not thereon for strength; Or thou’lt remain, claylike, within the earth at length.

Or thou’lt remain, claylike, within the earth at length. Dost hunger? What art thou, then, but a dog? Fierce, ill-affected, raging; lusts thy vitals clog! And when with food thou’rt filled, polluted straight becomest. Thou losest strength and sense; mere stock, thou sleep welcomest. 635 So, being doglike or a stock, senseless, impure, How canst thou progress make in path of virtue, sure? p. 208 Whatever ’tis thou huntest, dog thou art, in sooth. Feed not, then, thus, the dog of lust's voracious tooth. When dogs are satisfied, obedience they forswear; To follow up the game they one and all forbear. His want it was disposed the Arab of our tale, To travel till he'd reached the Caliph's courtly vale. We've shown the bounty of that sovereign merciful, 640 Shed on the Arab's wretchedness, most plentiful. Whate’er a lover says, the sentiment of love Shines through his words, if but thoughts towards his mistress rove. Discourses he on law, love furnishes the theme; Throughout his labouring periods, love's the enthymeme. Should blasphemy rise to his lips, of faith it smacks. Doubt, when by him expressed, shows confidence's knacks. The spume that rises from the sea of his pure heart Partakes the nature of its source, truth's counterpart. We must esteem such spume as foam of mountain-rill;— 645 Upbraiding from a lip beloved is worshipped still. Attention we pay not to harsh words issuing thence,;—

Attention we pay not to harsh words issuing thence,;— The features we adore divest them of offence. However strange such utterances, they all seem true; The stranger they appear, to sense they lend more cue. If sugar we should cast in mould to look like bread, Then eat it, we the sugar taste. Form's of no stead. Should true believer golden idol light upon, Will he for worship set it up, anon, anon? Nay! To the fire he'll quickly it in wrath cosign, 650 And strip it of the form that makes it sin's foul sign. The gold, abstracted from the idol's form, is pure. That form it is corrupts,—can men to sin allure. The gold's an essence fixed, produced by nature's God; The idol stamp is transitory;—soon downtrod. p. 209 Thou for one flea to flames thy bed wouldst never give; For one musquito's hum, not wish to cease to live. If form-entrapped thou be, idolater thou art! Eschew mere form; attend to essence, as thy part. Art bound on pilgrimage? Seek other pilgrims out;— Be they from Hind, from Tatary, or Hadramout. 655 Peer not into their features; look not at their skins. Inquire their thoughts, their hearts;—if these be free of sins. A negro findest thou one with thee in faith and creed? Him deem a white;—thy brother is he in thy need. Our tale is told. Its ups and downs are manifold. Like lovers’ thoughts, it's wandering, unconnected, bold. Commencement it has none;—eternity's its sign;—

Commencement it has none;—eternity's its sign;— Still less conclusion;—so, eternity's design. Or, rather, it's like water;—every drop, so rich, Commencement is, and end;—yet shows not which is which. 660 But, God forbid! Our story's not a fable. See! Its narrative's a point concerns both me and thee! A gnostic, in possession of his wits and sense, Repeats not what is past;—he bides the present tense. The Arab, his poor pitcher, Caliph, all, observe, Ourselves are. "He shall swerve whom God shall cause to swerve!" 1 Our Arab, know, ’s the mind; his wife, our lusts and greed. These two are tenebrous; the mind's the torch they need. Now hear whence has arisen the ground of their dispute: Th’ infinite finites holds, of various attribute;— 665 Parts finite;—not parts infinite of th’ infinite, Like scent of rose,—part infinite of definite. p. 210 The verdure's beauty infinite is, as a part; The cooing of the dove's as infinite, in logic art. But go we not too far afield for sorts and kinds; Or poor disciples ne’er will slake their thirsting minds. Dost doubt? Art racked with difficulties? To excess? Have patience. "Patience is the key of all success!" 1 Be abstinent. Let not thy crowding thoughts run wild. 670 Thoughts lions are, and antelopes. Mind's forest; child! The prime of remedies is abstinence, we know. And scratching irritates the itch;—as leeches show. Of treatment medical the base is abstinence.

Of treatment medical the base is abstinence. Therefore be abstinent. Show strength of mind and sense. Accept my counsel. Lend an ear as I advise; In golden earrings, counsel's pearls shall be thy prize. Be thou as slave to this, my cunning goldsmith-art; I'll teach thee how to soar beyond the stars’ bright chart. Know, first of all, creation's minds are manifold, 675 As are its forms;—from Alpha to Omega told. From this variety, disorder seems to rise; Though, in true sense, to unity the series hies. In one sense, they're discordant; other, in accord; They now as folly, now as wisdom, pass a word. The day of judgment will to each assign its place; All men of wisdom yearn to see that day of grace. He who, as blackamoor, is steeped in sin's dark dye, In that dread day shall gulp dishonour's foulest lye. The wretch whose countenance beams not bright as the sun, 680 Shall strive in vain behind the densest veil to run. p. 211 If, like some thorns, his stem display no single rose, That springtide will prove fatal to his safe repose. But he that blooms from head to foot with righteous deeds, With joy shall welcome spring's awakening of those meads. The useless thorn desires the nipping wintry blast, To lay all low and simplify the flowery vast; That so, all beauty cloaked, all squalor hid, the same, All glorious hues, all hideous sights, be rendered tame. The leaf's fall to such thorn more grateful is than spring;

The leaf's fall to such thorn more grateful is than spring; The ruby and the flint are one in tithesman's ring. 685 True, that the gardener's eye in winter knows the thorn; But what is one eye's scrutiny to general scorn! The vulgar public is, as ’twere, one witless wight; Each star's a clipping of the moon, in its fond sight. Not so great men of wisdom, radiant with troth, They shout with joy: "Good tidings! Spring breaks into growth!" Unless the flowers blossom on the fertile trees, How can the fruit be gathered, honey store the bees? The flowers blow and fade; the fruit begins to swell. So, when our bodies die, our souls in glory dwell. 690 The fruit's reality; the flower is but a sign; The flower's the harbinger; the fruit, the true design. The flower blown and past, the fruit then comes in sight; The first must perish ere the other can see light. Unless a loaf be broke, no nutriment it yields; Until the grapes are crushed, no cup of wine man wields. So drugs, to prove a solace to the sufferer's ache, Together must be blended, rolled in one smooth cake. 691 m165:1 Qur’ān xx. 97, makes the wandering Jew, Sāmirī, who produced the golden calf, to shun every one, saying, "Touch me not!" m167:1 Vicar of God is one of the Caliph's titles. This "pretender" must have been some particular adversary of the poet's. The satire is bitter. m167:2 Bāyezīd of Bestām, in Persia, an early Gnostic saint; died a.d. 874 (a.h. 261).

m167:2 Bāyezīd of Bestām, in Persia, an early Gnostic saint; died a.d. 874 (a.h. 261). m167:3 Yezīd, second Caliph of Damascus, persecutor of Husayn, son of the fourth Caliph ‘Alī. m167:4 The original naturally mentions the "qibla'' of Islām; not the "east," as used in Christian churches. m171:1 "My poverty's my pride" is a saying traditionally attributed to Mohammed. m177:1 Qur’ān iii. 12, mentions several things "made goodly to man." m177:2 Qur’ān vii. 189, relates the creation of a helpmate for Adam. m177:3 Muhammed. m177:4 For Humayrā, see a note in No. 8, dist. 69. m177:5 Yet Europe still pretends to believe that Islām has denied the possession of a soul by woman! m179:1 Qur’ān lxxix. 24. So Pharaoh is there said to have styled himself. m179:2 Qur’ān ii. 3, &c. m180:1 Not Easterns only have a superstition about treasures hid in ruins. m181:1 Qur’ān xxii. ix. m182:1 Man has a triple nature, vegetative, bestial, and human. m182:2 Qur’ān xxxix. 54. m182:3 Qur’ān vii. 142, &c. m183:1 Qur’ān xxxiv. 42. m183:2 Qur’ān vii. 75; xi. 65-70; xxvi. 142-158. Sālih was sent to the tribe of Thamūd, troglodytes who dwelt in the valleys about half-way between Medīna and the Gulf of Akaba. m183:3 Qur’ān xci. 13. m185:1 Qur’ān vii. 76, 89; xi. 70, 97; xxix. 36. m186:1 Qur’ān vii. 91. m187:1 Qur’ān lv. 20. m189:1 Qur’ān vi. 2, 60. m189:2 Qur’ān xxxviii. 34. m192:1 Not textually from the Qur’ān.

193:1 Not textually from the Qur’ān. m196:1 Qur’ān xxiv. 30. m197:1 Qur’ān ii. 23, &c. m197:2 Rich Muslims everywhere break their fast in Ramazān with water from the well of Zemzem, in Mekka, if possible. m198:1 A pearl is believed to be a special dewdrop, caught by a special oyster, and thence brought to perfection by a special providence. (See Sa‘di's ode at the end of translator's preface.) m199:1 Qur’ān xciii. 1. m199:2 Qur’ān xciii. 10. m199:3 Qur’ān cxii. 3. m200:1 The world. m202:1 The belief is that Jesus was not crucified, but was caught up to the fourth heaven, that of the sun, where he will live until he comes again in glory. m202:2 The belief is that Adam plucked an ear of corn, the forbidden fruit, in paradise. m202:3 Abbās, Muhammed's uncle, ancestor of the Abbāsī Caliphs. m209:1 Qur’ān li. 9. m210:1 Von Hammer, in his History of the Ottoman Empire, so entirely misunderstood this beautiful Arabian proverb, "Es sabru miftāhu ’l faraj," as to read "farj" (pudendum), for "faraj" (success); and cloaked his blunder by the remark: "Too pungent for literal translation."