046

I have never discovered well Law’s way, and the wont thereof, But know him an infidel Who denieth the power of Love.

The travellers of the Shrine O may God succour and aid, That they may truly divine Man’s rank, who of clay was made.

I do not ask of the Way; The Friend is my only quest, For so I have heard men say, “The friend, then the way, that’s best!’

Europe’s philosopher So misseth the rapture fine, In the red bowl shines more clear The gleam of the crimson wine.

Better a man were blind, Better a thousand wise, Than knowledge to have in mind That the seeing heart denies.

Though intellect’s jugglery Peculiar joy impart, Better than subtlety Is the faith of a simple heart.

I have washed my heart’s tablets clean Of the learning that charmed my youth, Opened my teeming brain With the lancet of utter truth.

Far from the threshold now Of the Sultan’s gate I have strayed; No infidel I, to bow To a god who can nothing aid.

047

Far, far from every other go With the One Friend upon the road; Seek thou of God thy self to know, And seek in selfhood for thy God.

One piercing glance can ne’er impart The consummation of it all: The gaze, the intellect, the heart, Each needs its vision several.

Love is at Being’s board to sup, To drain its glass, till all is gone; Seek not the world revealing cup, Seek the world conquering hand alone!

Naked of foot the travellers are, Thorny the way, and hard indeed; Till thou shall reach thy selfhood far, Take acquiescence for thy steed.

Only in perfect poverty The proof of kingship is displayed; Beneath the rushes seek, to see The royal throne of Kaikobad.

Look onward; Life is but a way That to another world doth wend; From what has been, and passed away Depart, and ever seek the end.

But if Fate’s buffet maketh thee Like the lamenting reed to moon, Lay down the wine thou took’st from me; Seek liniment to mend thy bone!

048

The world, but not selfhood, thou canst see; How long in thy ignorance wilt thou sit?

With thy ancient flame let the night be lit? The hand of Moses is sleeved in thee.

Set forth thy foot from the circling skies; Greater and older than these thou art;

Fearest thou death in thy deathless heart? Death’s but a prey that before thee lies.

Life, once given thee, none can take; ’Tis for lack of faith men faint and die;

Learn to be sculptor, even as I, And haply anew thy selfhood make!

049

In the accidents of night There is naught can me affright, Seeing that the night is borne By the wheeling stars to morn.

Of its station unaware, It has fallen in its own snare, This thy love, that did arise From thy supplicating cries.

When the heart gives forth a sigh, ’Tis of burning inwardly; Let it not thy lips defile; Break it in thy breast, and smile!

None remains in tavern now; Beg of Nature’s saki thou The rich wine that cannot pass In the drinkers’ narrow glass.

Not with mosque and chanted verse, Not with learning schools rehearse To repose returns the heart When its Darling doth depart.

050

What man art thou, and where thy home? In the blue skies The stars have opened, to see thee come, A thousand eyes!

Why shall I tell what thou hast done, What thou now art? Mahmud is now with Ayaz one— This breaks my heart!

No Milky Way thou mountest up At prayer to kneel; The Sufi’s and the poet’s cup Thy soul doth steal.

Though Europe many knots untied That chained thy thought, Intoxication magnified Her next draught brought.

Much of the Balance and the Scroll I hear thee say; Strange, that thou seest not at all This judgement day!

Blessed the man, who in his breast The shrine hath known, Fluttered awhile, then from the nest Of speech was flown.

No more the tavern and the school I venerate; I do not reckon worshipful The brow swept gate!