| Life out of the delight
of absence and presence |
115 |
| fashioned forth this
world of near and far; |
| so snapped asunder the
thread of the moment |
| and mixed the hues of
Time’s house of amazement. |
| On all sides, out of
the joyous yearning for habitude |
| arose the cry: ‘I
am one thing, you are another.’ |
120 |
| The moon and the stars
learned the way to walk, |
| a hundred lamps were
kindled in the firmament. |
| In the azure heavens
the sun pitched |
| its gold-cloth tent
with its silver ropes, |
| raised its head over
the rim of the first dawn |
125 |
| and drew to its breast
the new-born world. |
| Man’s realm was a
heap of earth, no more, |
| an empty wilderness,
without a caravan; |
| not a river wrestled in
any mountain, |
| not a cloud sprinkled
on any desert, |
130 |
| no chanting of birds
among the branches, |
| no leaping of deer
amidst the meadow. |
| Sea and land lacked the
spirit’s manifestations, |
| a curling vapour was
the mantle of earth’s body; |
| the grasses, never
having known the breeze of March, |
135 |
| still slumbered within
the depths of earth. |
| The azure sky then
chided the earth, saying: |
| ‘I never saw
anyone pass so miserable a life! |
| In all my breadth what
creature is so blind as you? |
| What light is yours,
save that drawn from my lamp? |
140 |
| Be earth high as
Alvand, yet it is only earth, |
| it is not bright and
eternal as the skies. |
| Either live with the
apparatus of a heart- charmer, |
| or die of the shame and
misery of worthlessness!’ |
| Earth felt put to shame
by heaven’s reproach, |
145 |
| desperate, heavy of
heart, utterly annihilated, |
| fluttered before God in
the agony of unlight. |
| Suddenly a voice echoed
from beyond the skies: |
| ‘O trusty one, as
yet unaware of the trust, |
| be not sorrowful; look
within thy own heart. |
150 |
| The days are bright of
the tumult of life, |
| not through the light
thou seest spread in all quarters. |
| Dawn’s light comes
from the spotted sun, |
| the soul’s light
is unsullied by the dust of time; |
| the soul’s light
is upon a pathless journey, |
155 |
| roves farther than the
rays of sun, and moon. |
| Thou hast washed from
the soul’s tablet the image of hope, |
| yet the soul’s
light manifests out of thy dust! |
| Man’s reason is
making assault on the world, |
| but his love makes
assault on the Infinite; |
160 |
| his thought knows the
way without any guide, |
| his sight is more
wakeful than Gabriel. |
| Earthy, yet in flight
he is like an angel; |
| heaven is but an
ancient inn upon his way; |
| he pricks into the very
depths of the heavns |
165 |
| like the point of a
needle into silk; |
| he washes the stains
from the skirt of Being, |
| and without his glance,
the world is blank and blind. |
| Though few his
magnificats, and much blood he sheds, |
| yet he is as a spur in
the flanks of doom. |
170 |
| His sight becomes keen
through observing phenomena |
| so that he sees the
Essence within the attributes. |
| Whoever falls in love
with the beauty of Essence, |
| he is the master of all
existing things. |