| Rumi, that guide to passion and love | |
| whose words are as Salsabil to throats athirst, | |
| said, ‘The poetry in which there is fire | |
| originates from the heat of "He is God!" | |
| That chant transforms rubbish into a rose-garden, | 705 |
| that chant throws into confusion the spheres, | |
| that chant bears testimony to the Truth, | |
| bestows on beggars the rank of kings. | |
| Through it the blood courses swifter in the body, | |
| the heart grows more aware of the Trusty Spirit. | 710 |
| Many a poet through the magic of his art | |
| is a highwayman of hearts, a devil of the glance. | |
| The poet of India-God help him, | |
| and may his soul lack the joy of speech! — | |
| has taught love to become a minstrel, | 715 |
| taught the friends of God the art of Azar. | |
| His words are a sparrow’s chirp, no ardour or anguish; | |
| the people of passion call him a corpse, not a man. | |
| Sweeter than that sweet chant which knows no mode | |
| are the words which you utter in a dream. | 720 |
| The poet’s nature is all searching, | |
| creator and nourisher of desire; | |
| the poet is like the heart in a people’s breast, | |
| a people without a poet is a mere heap of clay. | |
| Ardour and drunkenness embroider a world; | 725 |
| poetry without ardour and drunkenness is a dirge. | |
| If the purpose of poetry is the fashioning of men, | |
| poetry is likewise the heir of prophecy.’ | |
| I said, ‘Speak again also of prophecy, | |
| speak again its secret to your confidant.’ | 730 |
| He said, ‘Peoples and nations are his signs, | |
| our centuries are things of his creation. | |
| His breath makes stones and bricks to speak; | |
| we all are as the harvest, he the sown field. | |
| He purifies the bones and fibres, | 735 |
| gives to the thoughts the wings of Gabriel; | |
| the mutterings within the hearts of creatures | |
| upon his lip become Star, Light, and Pluckers. | |
| To his sun there is no setting, none; | |
| to his denier never shall come perfection. | 740 |
| God’s compassion is the company of his freemen, | |
| the wrath of God is his impetuous blow. | |
| Be you Universal Reason itself, flee not from him, | |
| for he beholds both body and soul together. | |
| Stride then more nimbly on the road to Yarghamid | 745 |
| that you may see that which must be seen— | |
| engraved upon a wall of moonstone | |
| behold the four Tasins of prophecy.’ | |
| Yearning knows its own way without a guide, | |
| the yearning to fly with the wings of Gabriel; | 750 |
| for yearning the long road becomes two steps, | |
| such a traveller wearies of standing still. | |
| As if drunk I strode out towards Yarghamid | |
| until at last its heights became visible. | |
| What shall I say of the splendour of that station? | 755 |
| Seven stars circle about it unceasingly; | |
| the Carpet-angels are inly lit by its light, | |
| its dust’s collyrium brightens the eyes of the Throne-angels. | |
| God gave to me sight, heart and speech, | |
| gave me the urge to search for the world of secrets; | 760 |
| now I will unveil the mysteries of the universe, | |
| I will tell you of the Tawasin of the Apostles. |