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

A man from Qazvin
* gets tattooed with the image of a
lion on his shoulder but regrets it because of the pain
caused by the needle
Now listen to this tale on what I’ve seen
And heard about the people of Qazvin:
Their shoulders, arms, and bodies they tattoo
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With needles and a special ink that’s blue.
One of them asked a barber casually,
‘Please draw a beautiful tattoo on me.’
He asked, ‘What image do you have your eye on?’
He said, ‘Tattoo the 
figure of a lion;
Leo is my ascendant, so I think
A roaring lion’s best –– use lots of ink!’
He said, ‘Now all I need to know is where?’
‘Across my shoulder-blades –– you’ll
find space there.’
But when the barber stuck the needle in
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The man felt pain he couldn’t bear begin:
Our fearless hero screamed, ‘Aargh! Stop it, sir!
What are you stabbing like a murderer!’
‘You did ask for a lion, didn’t you?’
He wailed, ‘What part was it that you just drew?’
The Qazvin Softie who Wanted a Tattoo
183

---

‘I started the tattoo back with the tail.’
‘Leave that bit out, for it’s of no avail.
I’ve just been strangled by its tail and rear,
They blocked my windpipe, which before was clear!
So draw a tailless lion now instead,
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That needle of yours 
fills my heart with dread!’
He started then to draw another bit,
Not showing mercy or restraint in it.
The man then screamed, ‘Which part have you drawn here?’
He said, ‘Its ears, dear fellow, have no fear.’
‘Let it be earless, nobody will see,
Leave out the ears, and 
finish rapidly!’
He now pricked somewhere else just as before,
The hero from Qazvin complained once more:
‘Which part is this? I’m sure I must have bled!’
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‘It’s just the lion’s stomach, friend,’ he said.
‘I beg you, leave the stomach out as well!
Don’t prick so deeply, please, this hurts like hell!’
The barber grew confused and so perplexed,
He bit his 
finger, wondering what’s next,
Then
finally flung his needle on the ground,
And shouted, ‘Where is such a lion found
Without a tail and ears, and stomach too?
No lion like this lives, I swear to you!’
Brother, you have to bear the needle’s pain
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To 
flee your infidel self’s poisonous reign;
Sky, sun, and moon bow down and show obeisance
To that group who’ve escaped their own existence:
The sun and clouds obey what’s speci
fied
By those whose self-love has completely died;
Their hearts have learned to light their lamps, and so
The sun can’t burn them with its 
fiery glow:
The sun moved strangely, far apart it kept,
Turning thus from the cave
* where that group slept;
The thorn too turned completely to the rose:
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Towards the universal each part goes.
How can a man praise God, the lord of all?
Be like mere dust, contemptible and small!
The Qazvin Softie who Wanted a Tattoo
184

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What can men learn about God’s being one?
To burn themselves in Him just like the sun!
If like the day you wish to shine so bright,
Burn up your being, for that’s like the night ––
Like copper burn yourself with alchemy
In that One who gives being generously!
You’ve clung fast to the self of ‘I’ and ‘you’
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Although all wretchedness stems from these two.