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

The followers of Jesus ask their leaders,
‘Which one of you is his successor?’
After a month had passed in bitter grief,
The people asked, ‘Who now can serve as chief ?
Which one do we consider up to it
To swear allegiance to him and submit?
We’ve roasted, but the sun has left no trace ––
Don’t we now need a torch to take its place?’
When union with the Lord has left our sight
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We need to be reminded of His might,
Like when the fragrant rose’s life is spent
Rose water lets us still breathe in its scent;
God won’t reveal himself although He lives
So prophets serve as representatives,
They’re not apart from what they represent ––
That’s incorrect, it’s not what I 
first meant:
They seem distinct if to their form you’re tied,
Discerning eyes can tell they’re uni
fied.
You’re seeing double if their form’s your aim,
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Observe their light, you’ll see that it’s the same!
Who can discern his own eyes’ share of light
When it’s this light which gives each man his sight:
If you light up ten lamps when there’s a storm
Each di
ffers from the other in its form,
But no one still can separate their light
Which makes the space around you clear and bright;
You now see countless apples in the cart
But once they’re crushed you can’t tell them apart:
The Jewish Vizier who Misled Christians
44

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The spirit’s realm has no plurality,
685
Division, individuality;
This union of the lovers waits for you,
Hold on, don’t let its form obstruct your view,
Melt stubborn form through hardship and be bold
And you’ll
find unity beneath like gold!
If you don’t melt it, then his kindness will,
The master of our hearts supports us still:
He shows his face inside your happy heart
And sews the Su
fi cloak that’s torn apart.
Like one expansive whole was our past state,
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Beyond one could not di
fferentiate,
The same throughout in form just like the sun,
Like water, clear and still as if it’s one;
When it took form that pure light multiplied
Like shadows of the battlements outside ––
Demolish all of them my faithful troop,
Erase the di
fferences among this group!
I would have clari
fied this all, my friend,
Had I not feared you wouldn’t comprehend,
These points are 
finer than a sabre’s tip,
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Escape, if you’ve no shield yet in your grip!
Without a shield don’t try to hold your own,
In murder this cruel blade no shame has shown,
I’ve put my own sword in its sheath again
So my intentions aren’t misread by men;
Now let’s complete the story rapidly
About those godly Christians’ loyalty:
After their teacher died they tried to 
find
Someone to 
fill the role he’d left behind.
The struggle between the leaders over successorship
One of the leaders stepped up, tall and proud,
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Before the faithful and expectant crowd,
He said, ‘I’m the successor of that sage
To represent Lord Jesus in this age,
The Jewish Vizier who Misled Christians
45

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This scroll is evidence for all to see
That his inheritance belongs to me!’
But from the crowd another leader came,
His claim to be successor just the same:
He held a scroll too under his right arm ––
In rage they cursed and wished each other harm!
In turn, the other leaders made their way,
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Drawing their gleaming swords to join the fray,
Each held a scroll and sabre in the maul,
Like drunken elephants they’d swing and fall;
Thousands of Christian bodies soon lay dead
And mounds were formed by gathering each one’s head,
Just like a 
flood their blood spilled all around,
Enormous clouds of dust rose from the ground.
Dissension’s seed which that vizier had sown
Produced such tragedies that chill the bone;
Their walnut bodies soon were split and cracked,
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Only the purest kernels stayed intact.
Death’s what the body’s nature seems to 
fit
As pomegranates must be crushed and split:
The sweet ones turn to syrup, pure and good,
The rotten just make sounds like lumps of wood,
Those with pure spirits 
finally see His face
While rotten ones will only 
find disgrace.
Don’t worship form, but look for loftier things
Because the spirit gives the body wings,
Keep company with those who’re spiritual
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To gain His grace and be more liberal.
A body which does not contain a soul
Is like a sheath that holds a wooden pole,
While hidden in the sheath it might seem good,
But burning is the only use for wood,
With just a wooden sword don’t join this 
fight,
Check 
first, or you’ll regret your wretched plight:
The Jewish Vizier who Misled Christians
46

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If yours is wooden, change it straight away,
But if it’s razor-sharp then join the fray!
Saints have such swords among their armory,
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Just seeing them for you is alchemy ––
Listen to this description once again:
He is 
a mercy to the world of men.
*
Buy pomegranates that the grocer’s split
So that its mouth will show the seeds in it,
For generous laughter shows us openly
The heart, a pearl within the spirit’s sea,
The tulip’s laughter though displays its sin ––
Its mouth reveals the darkness deep within.
Whole gardens bloom when pomegranates smile:
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To be like mystics stay with them awhile,
For even if you should be made from stone,
Through mystics as a jewel you’ll soon be known;
Plant love of saints now 
firmly in your heart,
Submit your soul to those who’ll never part,
While there’s still hope don’t wallow in despair,
Why choose the dark when there’s a sun up there?
Your heart will lead you to the mystic way,
Your body drags you to its cell of clay,
So give your heart food from those in accord ––
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Seek fortune from the ones who know their lord!