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

The story of the caliph who surpassed Hatem Ta

i* in
generosity for his own time, and was peerless then
There was a caliph once in history
2255
Who seemed superior to Hatem Ta

i,
The
flag of generosity he’d raise,
Eradicating need through his kind ways,
His generous deeds produced pearls in the sea
And stretched around the world repeatedly,
He was like clouds or rainfall for dry land,
Thus representing God’s own giving hand;
His gifts made deepest mines and oceans quake,
The route to him all caravans would take.
The needy turned towards his door in prayer,
2260
News of his generous ways spread everywhere:
Persians, Greeks, Arabs, Turks, with eyebrows raised,
By his muni
ficence were left amazed––
Water of Life
*, and sea of kindness too,
Through him all humans were soon born anew.
Story about the poor bedouin and his wife’s altercation
with him because of their want and poverty
A bedouin lived with his weary bride;
Since they were hard up, every day she cried:
‘We always have to su
ffer and be poor,
The rest rejoice, while you and I endure:
We have no bread, just jealousy and pain,
2265
We have no water –– tears replaced the rain;
Just sunlight clothes us in the afternoon,
At night our sheets are beams shone by the moon ––
Imagining the moon’s a wholesome pie
We lift our hands to grab it from the sky!
Paupers, ashamed at our sad poverty,
Just watch us starve, 
filled with anxiety;
The Poor Bedouin and his Wife
139

---

Our kin as well as strangers keep away
Like Sameri
* when not allowed to stay:
If I ask for some beans to 
fill my cup
2270
They shout, ‘May you die painfully –– shut up!
In war and charity is Arab pride,
Among them you’re a blemish that must hide!’
Fighting? We don’t need that to have no life,
Beheaded thus by poverty’s cruel knife!
Charity? We must beg for our food 
first!
We suck the blood of 
flies to slake our thirst!
And if a guest should ever come our way,
While he’s asleep I’d take his coat away!’
The deception of needy disciples by false claimants whom they
imagine to be venerable authorities who are in union with
God, not knowing the di
fference between fact and fiction, between
what grows naturally and what has been grafted
Because of this the wise have understood
2275
‘One must become the guest of someone good’:
You’re the disciple of a person who
Through meanness will steal all your gains from you ––
How can he help you when he has no power?
He gives no light –– you’ll darken by the hour!
Since he has no light, how can people say
By seeing him they’ll gain a single ray!
Just like a half-blind doctor treating eyes
He pulls wool over them –– this man just lies!
‘In poverty and wealth we are this way,
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May no guest by us two be led astray!
If you’ve not seen a famine’s face before
Look at us bedouins now at your door!
Each false guide hides our features inwardly:
His heart is dark though he talks cleverly.’
Of God he doesn’t have a single trace
But claims more grace than Adam to your face,
The devil won’t show him a single hair,
‘I’m greater than the saints,’ he’ll still declare,
The Poor Bedouin and his Wife
140

---

He’s stolen terms from Su
fis for his speech
2285
So men might think he’s quali
fied to teach,
To Bayazid he even deals out blame,
His inner being makes Yazid
* feel shame––
Without a crumb from heaven, he’s alone,
God hasn’t even thrown to him a bone.
He’s said, ‘I’ve spread a feast, come everyone,
For I’m God’s deputy, the caliph’s son;
Hey simple-hearted people everywhere,
Come
fill your stomachs here with my hot air!’
Some waited years for promises he made,
2290
Tomorrow never comes, and dreams must fade.
It takes a while until one’s inner soul
Becomes revealed to others as a whole:
Is there some gold beneath the body’s wall
Or just a snake-pit where foul insects crawl?
Once it is known that this man was depraved,
His students will be too old to be saved.
In explanation of how it happens occasionally that a disciple
sincerely believes that a false claimant is authentic, and, through
this conviction of his, reaches a station that his shaikh has never
even dreamt of, such that 
fire and water cannot harm him
though they do harm his shaikh. But this is very rare
Occasionally, we see the opposite:
From falsehood some disciples bene
fit;
With a sincere aim they may reach their goal
2295
Though a mere body they had thought a soul.
Guessing the qebla
* in the dead of night,
God heard their prayers though they did not guess right.
‘This vain impostor lacks a soul within
Just as we both lack food and are so thin ––
The Poor Bedouin and his Wife
141

---

Why should we hide our want like this big fake,
And merely for our reputation’s sake!’
The bedouin tells his wife to be patient and explains the
virtue of poverty and patience
‘Why keep on seeking wealth?’ her husband said,
‘Most of our life has passed –– we’ll soon be dead!
The wise don’t think of gain and loss like you
2300
For both are like a 
flood that passes through––
Whether it’s clean or foul, don’t waste a breath,
Within a moment it will meet its death.
Thousands of animals live wild and free
Without such ups and downs, so joyfully:
The dove gives thanks to God from that tall tree
Although for food there’s still no guarantee,
The nightingale sings praise of God as well:
“We count on you, and you respond so well!”
The falcon 
finds her bliss on the king’s hand,
2305
Forgetting all the carrion in the sand;
From gnats to elephants the same applies:
They’re all God’s family, whom He supplies.
The grief inside our breasts is worthless nonsense,
Mere fog and dust of our wind-like existence,
Uprooting griefs are scythes which wickedly
Keep whispering, “It’s like this, can’t you see?”
Each su
ffering is a piece of death no doubt––
If you know how to, cast that portion out!
Since you can’t
flee that part of death, heed well:
2310
All of it will be poured on you in hell!
But if this part of death tastes sweet to you
God will make all the rest of it sweet too.
Pains are like messengers from death –– don’t shun
Death’s messenger, you weak, distracted one!
Those who live now in pleasure die in pain,
The body’s worshippers no soul will gain:
From pastures sheep are driven to their pen,
The fattest ones are picked for slaughter then.
The Poor Bedouin and his Wife
142

---

The night has passed and dawn has come, dear wife,
2315
Will you just talk of gold for all your life?
When you were young you were more satis
fied,
Now you seek gold, then you were gold inside,
A fruitful vine once, now you can’t be sold,
Your fruit should ripen, but you’re dry and old,
Your fruit ought to be sweeter now than that,
But you’ve reversed the way rope-makers plait,
*
Since you’re my wife we should be similar,
To make our life together easier :