| Again one must gaze on
the past and the future; |
| ho, rise up, for one
must think anew. |
| Love carries its load
on the she-camel of Time; |
| are you a lover? You
must make your mount of evening and morn. |
| Our elder said,
‘The world follows not a constant way, |
1685 |
| one must close
one’s eyes to its joys and griefs. |
| If, having abandoned
the world, you intend Him, |
| first you must pass
away from your self.’ |
| I said to him, ‘In
my heart are many Lats and Manats.’ |
| He said, ‘You must
destroy this idol-house utterly.’ |
1690 |
|
|
| Again he said to me:
‘Rise up, boy, |
| cling only to my skirt,
boy. |
| Yonder mountains,
yonder heights without a Moses, |
| so covered with snow as
to seem a heap of silver, |
| beyond them stretches a
diamond-shining ocean, |
1695 |
| its depths even more
translucent than its surface; |
| undisturbed by wave or
torrent, |
| in its nature an
eternal quiet. |
| This is the place of
power-drunk arrogants |
| denying the Unseen,
worshipping the seen; |
1700 |
| that one from the East,
the other from the West, |
| both at war and blows
with the men of God. |
| One has had on his neck
the staff of Moses, |
| the other struck
asunder by a dervish’s sword, |
| both Pharaohs, one
little, the other great, |
1705 |
| both dying of thirst in
the embrace of the sea; |
| each is familiar with
the bitterness of death— |
| the death of tyrants is
one of God’s signs. |
| Follow me closely and
fear no one; |
| place your hand in mine
and fear no one. |
1710 |
| I will rend apart the
sea like Moses; |
| I will guide you into
its very breast.’ |
|
|
| The sea opened to us
its breast— |
| or was it air, that
appeared as a water? |
| Its depths were a
valley without colour and scent, |
1715 |
| a valley whose darkness
was fold on fold. |
| The Sage of Rum chanted
the Sura of Taha; |
| under the sea streamed
down moonshine. |
| Mountains washed, naked
and cold, |
| and amid them two
bewildered men |
1720 |
| who first cast a glance
on Rumi, |
| then gazed one upon the
other. |
| Pharaoh cried,
‘What wizardry! What a river of light! |
| whence comes this dawn,
this light, this apparition?’ |
| Ah, I have gambled away
the coin of reason and religion; |
| I saw, but did not
recognize this light. |
| World-rulers, gaze all
upon me; |
| world-destroyers, gaze
all upon me! |
1730 |
| Woe to a people blinded
by avarice |
| who have robbed the
tomb of rubies and pearls! |
| A human shape dwells in
a museum |
| with a legend upon its
silent lips |
| telling the history of
imperialism |
1735 |
| and giving visions to
the blind. |
| What is the grand
design of imperialism? |
| To seek security by
contriving division. |
| From such evil doctrine
the fate of rulership declines, |
| the contrivances of
rulership become void and confused. |
1740 |
| If I could only see
God’s interlocutor again |
| I would beg from him a
heart aware. |