The Masnavi, Book One (Oxford World's Classics)

The story about the competition between the Greeks and
the Chinese in the art of painting and portraiture
Once the Chinese said, ‘At art we’re the best!’
The Greeks said, ‘With more talent we’ve been blessed!’
The sultan said, ‘I’ll set a test for you
To see which of your claims is really true.’
They all prepared to paint a room’s interior,
In knowledge though the Greeks were far superior.
‘Come, show us to a room,’ said the Chinese,
‘And give the Greeks one similar to it, please.’
They found adjoining rooms which formed a pair,
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One half for each group, thus completely fair;
Then the Chinese requested lots of paint,
The king supplied them, generous as a saint:
Each dawn from his own storehouse men would bring
More paint for them as gifts from this kind king.
The Greeks said, ‘Colourful paints will not prove
Successful –– colour’s what we must remove!’
They closed their space o
ff, polished every wall
Clear as the heavens up above us all;
The Greek-Chinese Painting Competition
212

---

Colour to colourlessness can change quite soon,
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Colour’s a cloud, colourlessness the moon;
If in the clouds some radiance should appear,
It’s from the sun and moon that it shines here.
Once the Chinese felt their work was complete
They banged their drums to celebrate this feat,
The king arrived and saw such paintings there
That stunned him, for their beauty was so rare;
Then he went to the Greeks, who quickly raised
The screen in front and left him more amazed:
The image of that work which was so 
fine
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Re
flected on the walls that they’d made shine––
Whatever he’d seen there shone on each wall,
Out of their sockets eyes began to fall!
The Greeks stand for the Su
fis clearly:
Without techniques from books of theory,
They’ve cleansed their breasts so well that they shine bright
Free from all stinginess, desire, and spite.
The heart’s a mirror with such purity
It can re
flect forms from eternity:
Such a pure image, boundless, unlike art,
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Shone through the hand of Moses
* from his heart;
These forms the heavens even can’t contain,
Nor throne, nor ocean, nor an open plain,
For they’re all numbered and delimited,
While hearts are one and they’re unlimited ––
The brain falls silent here or goes astray:
The heart’s with God, or is God in some way.
No form’s re
flection shines eternally
But through the heart, home of in
finity,
For every image which should reach this place
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Appears without a veil across its face.
Polishers 
fled all colours, so they could
Each breath see what is beautiful and good:
Beyond the husk of knowledge they can see,
They’ve raised the banner of true certainty,
The Greek-Chinese Painting Competition
213

---

All thought has left them, for they’ve seen the light,
The sea’s depths and their breasts they keep in sight.
Of death all other men are running scared,
To mock and laugh at it these men have dared,
To conquer their hearts there’s no hope in hell ––
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The pearl is not harmed, only its mere shell;
Transcending grammar, law, theology,
They’ve chosen self-e
ffacement, poverty,
When images from heaven shone to earth
Their hearts received them, and they knew their worth;
Their place is loftier even than God’s Throne,
God’s
Seat of Certainty
* they’ve made their own.