THE SPHERE OF THE MOON
This earth and heaven are the Kingdom of God, | |
this moon and Pleiades are our patrimony; | |
whatever thing meets your gaze upon this road, | |
regard it with the eye of intimacy. | 470 |
Go not about your own dwelling like a stranger | |
you who are lost to yourself, be a little fearless! | |
This and that impose your command on their hearts; | |
if you say Dont do this, do that, they obey. | |
The world is nothing but idols of eye and ear; | 475 |
its every morrow will die like yesterday. | |
Plunge like a madman into the desert of the Quest, | |
that is to say, be the Abraham of this idol-house! | |
When you have travelled all through earth and heaven, | |
when you have traversed this world and the other, | 480 |
seek from God another seven heavens, | |
seek a hundred other times and spaces. | |
Self-lost to sink on the bank of the river of Paradise, | |
quit of the battle and buffetting of good and evil | |
if our salvation be the cessation of searching, | 485 |
better the grave than a heaven of colours and scents. | |
Traveller! the soul dies of dwelling at rest, | |
it becomes more alive by perpetual soaring. | |
Delightful it is to travel along with the stars, | |
delightful not to rest one moment on the journey. | 490 |
When I had tramped through the vastness of space | |
that which was once above now appeared below me, | |
a dark earth loftier than the lamp of night, | |
my shadow (O marvel! ) flung above my head; | |
all the while nearer and nearer still | 495 |
until the mountains of the Moon became visible. | |
Rumi said, Cleanse yourself of all doubts, | |
grow used to the manners and ways of the spheres. | |
The moon is far from us, yet it is our familiar; | |
this is the first stage upon our road; | 500 |
seen must be the late and soon of its time, | |
seen must be the caverns of its mountains. | |
That silence, that fearful mountain-range, | |
inwardly full of fire, outwardly riven and ravined! | |
A hundred peaks, such as Khaftin and Yildirim, | 505 |
smoke in their mouths and fire in their bellies; | |
out of its bosom not a blade of grass sprang, | |
no bird fluttered in its empty spaces; | |
clouds without moisture, winds swift and sword-sharp | |
ever doing battle with a dead earth. | 510 |
A worn-out world without colour and sound, | |
no sign of life therein, neither of death, | |
no root of the palm tree of life in its navel, | |
no events hidden in the thighs of its time; | |
though it is a member of the family of the sun | 515 |
its dawn and evening beget no revolution. | |
Rumi said, Rise, and take a step forward, | |
do not let slip this wakeful fortune. | |
Its interior is fairer than its exterior, | |
another world lurks hidden in its hollows. | 520 |
Whatever presents itself to you, man of sense, | |
seize it in the rings of the eye and the ear. | |
If the eye has vision, everything is worth seeing, | |
worthy to be weighed in the glances balance. | |
Wheresoever Rumi leads, there go; | 525 |
be estranged a moment or two from all but he. | |
Gently he drew my hand towards him, | |
then swiftly he sped to the mouth of a crater. |