| Like a blind man, my
    hand on my companions shoulder, | 
  
    | I placed my foot within
    a deep cavern; | 530 | 
  
    | the moons heart
    was sore ravaged by its darkness, | 
  
    | within it even the sun
    would have needed a lamp. | 
  
    | Fancies and doubts made
    assault upon me, | 
  
    | hung my reason and
    sense upon the gallows. | 
  
    | I went along a road
    where highwaymen lurked in ambush, | 535 | 
  
    | my heart void of the
    joy of truth and certainty; | 
  
    | presently
    manifestations met my gaze unveiled, | 
  
    | a bright dawn without
    any rising of the sun | 
  
    | a valley, whereof each
    stone was an idolater, | 
  
    | a demons haunt
    thick with lofty palm-trees. | 540 | 
  
    | Was this place truly
    compounded of earth and water, | 
  
    | or was my sleeping
    fantasy painting pictures? | 
  
    | The air was filled with
    the joy and gaiety of wine, | 
  
    | the shadows, kissing
    its dust, were lights own essence. | 
  
    | No cerulean sky spanned
    its earth, | 545 | 
  
    | no twilight painted its
    margin crimson and gold; | 
  
    | there light was not in
    the chains of darkness, | 
  
    | there no mists
    enveloped dawn and eventide. | 
  
    | Under a palm-tree an
    Indian sage, | 
  
    | the pupils of his eyes
    bright with collyrium, | 550 | 
  
    | his hair knotted on his
    head, his body naked, | 
  
    | coiled about him a
    white snake writhing, | 
  
    | a man superior to water
    and clay, | 
  
    | the world a mere image
    in the cloister of his fantasy, | 
  
    | his time subject to no
    revolution of days, | 555 | 
  
    | he had no traffick with
    the azure-tinted skies. | 
  
    | He said to Rumi,
    Who is your fellow-traveller? | 
  
    | In his glance there is
    a desire for life! | 
  
    | A man who is a wanderer
    on the quest, | 
  
    | a fixed star with the
    constitution of a planet. | 560 | 
  
    | His enterprise is more
    mature than his immaturities; | 
  
    | I am a martyr to his
    imperfections. | 
  
    | He has made of his
    glass the arch of heaven, | 
  
    | his thought seeks to be
    boon- companion of Gabriel! | 
  
    | He swoops like an eagle
    on the moon and sun, his prey, | 565 | 
  
    | hot-foot he
    circumambulates the nine spheres. | 
  
    | A drunkards words
    he has spoken to the people of earth | 
  
    | calling the houris
    idols, Paradise an idol-house. | 
  
    | I have seen flames in
    the billow of his smoke, | 
  
    | I have seen majestic
    pride in his prostration. | 570 | 
  
    | Ever he laments
    yearningly like a flute, | 
  
    | separation and union
    alike slay him. | 
  
    | I do not know what is
    in his water and clay; | 
  
    | I do not know what his
    rank and station may be. | 
  
    | Man is a sword, and God
    is the swordsman; | 
  
    | the world is the
    whetstone for this sword. | 
  
    | The East saw God and
    did not see the world, | 
  
    | the West crept along
    the world and fled away from God. | 580 | 
  
    | True servanthood is to
    open the eyes to God; | 
  
    | true life is to see
    oneself without a veil. | 
  
    | When a servant takes
    quittance of life | 
  
    | God Himself calls down
    blessings on that servant. | 
  
    | Whatever man is
    unconscious of his destiny, | 585 | 
  
    | his dust travels not
    with the fire of the soul. | 
  
    | Tied up in the knot of
    being and not-being | 
  
    | the East has seen
    little into these secrets. | 
  
    | The task of us
    celestials is only to see, | 
  
    | and my soul does not
    despair of the Easts tomorrow. | 590 | 
  
    | Yesterday I saw on the
    summit of Qashmarud | 
  
    | an angel that had
    descended out of heaven; | 
  
    | out of his glance the
    joy of sight distilled | 
  
    | as he gazed solely
    towards our mound of dust. | 
  
    | I said to him,
    Hide not a secret from your confidants; | 595 | 
  
    | what is it that you see
    in this silent dust? | 
  
    | Do you melt for the
    beauty of some Venus? | 
  
    | Have you flung your
    heart into the well of Babylon? | 
  
    | He said, It is
    the hour of the Easts arising; | 
  
    | the East has a new sun
    shining in its breast. | 600 | 
  
    | Rubies come forth from
    the stones of the road, | 
  
    | its Josephs are issuing
    out of the well. | 
  
    | I have seen a
    resurrection happening in its bloom, | 
  
    | I have seen its
    mountains trembling and quaking; | 
  
    | it is packing up to
    quit the station of Azar | 605 | 
  
    | at last to forswear
    forever idolatry. | 
  
    | Happy is the people
    whose soul has fluttered, | 
  
    | that has created itself
    anew out of its own clay. | 
  
    | For the Throne 
    angels that hour is the dawn of festival | 
  
    | when the eyes of a
    nation at last awake! | 610 | 
  
    | The Indian sage was
    silent for a little while; | 
  
    | then he looked at me
    again, somewhat impatiently. | 
  
    | He asked, Death
    of the reason? I said, Giving tip thought. | 
  
    | He asked, Death
    of the heart? I said, Giving up remembrance. | 
  
    | He asked, The
    body? I said, Born of the dust of the road. | 615 | 
  
    | He asked, The
    Soul? I said The symbol of One God. | 
  
    | He asked, And
    Man? I said, One of Gods secrets. | 
  
    | He asked, The
    world? I said, Itself stands face to face. | 
  
    | He asked, This
    science and art? I said, Mere husk. | 
  
    | He asked,
    What is the proof? I said, The face of the Beloved. | 620 | 
  
    | He asked, The
    commons religion? I said, Just hearsay. | 
  
    | He asked, The
    gnostics religion? I said, True seeing. | 
  
    | My words brought much
    pleasure to his soul, | 
  
    | and he disclosed to me
    delightful subtleties. |