Poems of Farid ud-Din Attar

 

From Mantic at-Tayr (The Conference of the Birds) and other works

 

By

 

Farid ud-Din Attar

 

 

Ref: http://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/A/AttarFaridud/index.htm#PoemList

 


CONTENTS:

 

The Dullard Sage. 3

Invocation. 5

God Speaks to Moses. 6

God Speaks to David. 7

The Pupil asks; the Master answers. 8

The Nightingale. 9

How long then will you seek for beauty here?. 10

Look -- I do nothing; He performs all deeds. 11

The Hawk. 12

The Lover 13

The peacock's excuse. 14

The Vain Bird. 15

I shall grasp the soul's skirt with my hand. 16

Looking for your own face. 17

Mysticism.. 18

All who, reflecting as reflected see. 19

The angels have bowed down to you and drowned. 20

The Birds Find Their King. 21

The Eternal Mirror 22

 


The Dullard Sage

 

Lost in myself

     I reappeared

          I know not where

a drop that rose

     from the sea and fell

          and dissolved again;

a shadow

     that stretched itself out

          at dawn,

when the sun

     reached noon

          I disappeared.

I have no news

     of my coming

          or passing away--

the whole thing

     happened quicker

          than a breath;

ask no questions

     of the moth.

          In the candle flame

of his face

     I have forgotten

          all the answers.

In the way of love

     there must be knowledge

          and ignorance

so I have become

     both a dullard

          and a sage;

one must be

     an eye and yet

          not see

so I am blind

     and yet I still

          perceive,

Dust

     be on my head

          if I can say

where I

     in bewilderment

          have wandered:

Attar

     watched his heart

          transcend both worlds

and under its shadow

     now is gone mad

          with love.


Invocation

 

We are busy with the luxury of things.

Their number and multiple faces bring

To us confusion we call knowledge. Say:

God created the world, pinned night to day,

Made mountains to weigh it down, seas

To wash its face, living creatures with pleas

(The ancestors of prayers) seeking a place

In this mystery that floats in endless space.

God set the earth on the back of a bull,

The bull on a fish dancing on a spool

Of silver light so fine it is like air;

That in turn rests on nothing there

But nothing that nothing can share.

All things are but masks at God's beck and call,

They are symbols that instruct us that God is all.


God Speaks to Moses

 

One day God spoke to Moses and said:

'Visit Satan, question him, use your head.'

So Moses descended to Hells burning halls;

Satan saw him coming, a smile did he install

On his fiery face. Moses proudly asked him

For advice, waiting for Satan's crafty whim;

Satan spoke through his coal-black teeth:

'Remember this rule which sense bequeaths

Never say "I" so that you become like me.'

So long as you live for yourself you'll be

A drum booming pride a cymbal of infidelity.

Vanity, resentment, envy and anger shall be cemented

Into your inner state; you shall be like a demented

Dog with lolling tongue, infected with indolence of sin.

You shall become your own tracked prisoner within.


God Speaks to David

 

David was an open vessel, the light

Poured into him. God's words took flight

In him and through him God said:

'To all humankind, who are wed

To hubris and sin, I say: "If heaven and hell

Did not exist to catch you and break you,

Would you, though a speck of dust, tell

Truth from falsehood, would your eye find true

Centre in my words? If there was nothing but dark

Would you think of me, still less mark

Your place with the leaf of prayer? Yet

You are bound to my will, your soul is set

In the direction of my breath, with hope

And fear which cracks the dawn of your heart,

So you will worship me with all your mind

Words and inclination. Make a start:

Burn to ashes all that is not I, bind

The ashes to the fidelity of the wind,

Extract the ore of your being,

Then you shall start seeing."'


The Pupil asks; the Master answers

 

'Why was Adam driven from the garden?'

The pupil asked his master. 'His heart was hardened

With images, a hundred bonds that clutter the earth

Chained Adam to the cycle of death following birth.

He was blind to this equation, living for something other

Than God and so out of paradise he was driven

With his mortal body's cover his soul was shriven.

Noblest of God's creatures, Adam fell with blame,

Like a moth shrivelled by the candle's flame,

Into history which taught mankind shame.

Since Adam had not given up his heart

To God's attachment, there was no part

For Adam in paradise where the only friend

Is God; His will is not for Adam to imagine and bend.'


The Nightingale

 

'Why was Adam driven from the garden?'

The pupil asked his master. 'His heart was hardened

With images, a hundred bonds that clutter the earth

Chained Adam to the cycle of death following birth.

He was blind to this equation, living for something other

Than God and so out of paradise he was driven

With his mortal body's cover his soul was shriven.

Noblest of God's creatures, Adam fell with blame,

Like a moth shrivelled by the candle's flame,

Into history which taught mankind shame.

Since Adam had not given up his heart

To God's attachment, there was no part

For Adam in paradise where the only friend

Is God; His will is not for Adam to imagine and bend.'


How long then will you seek for beauty here?

 

How long then will you seek for beauty here?

Seek the unseen, and beauty will appear.

When the last veil is lifted neither men

Nor all their glory will be seen again,

The universe will fade -- this mighty show

In all its majesty and pomp will go,

And those who loved appearances will prove

Each other's enemies and forfeit love,

While those who loved the absent, unseen Friend

Will enter that pure love which knows no end.


Look -- I do nothing; He performs all deeds

 

Look -- I do nothing; He performs all deeds

And He endures the pain when my heart bleeds.

When He draws near and grants you and audience

Should you hang back in tongue-tied diffidence?

When will your cautious heart consent to go

Beyond the homely boundaries you know?

O slave, if He should show His love to you,

Love which His deeds perpetually renew,

You will be nothing, you will disappear --

Leave all to Him who acts, and have no fear.

If there is any "you", if any wraith

Of self persists, you've strayed outside our faith.


The Hawk

 

He was a soldier with a soldier's pride,

This hawk, whose home was by a king's side.

He was haughty as his master, all other birds

Thought him a disaster, his beak was feared

As much as his talons. With hooded eyes

(His place on the royal roster was his prize)

He stands sentinel on the king's arm, polite

And trained meticulously to do what is right

And proper with courtly grace. He has no need

To see the Simurgh even in a dream, his deeds

Are sufficient for him, and no journey could replace

The royal command, royal morsel food no disgrace

To his way of thinking, he easily satisfies the king.

He flies with cutting grace on sinister wing

Through valleys and upward into the sky,

He has no other wish but so to live and then to die.

The hoopoe says: 'You have no sense with your soldier's pride.

Do you think that supping with kings, doing their will

Is enough to keep you in favour, always at their side?

An earthly king may be just but you must beware still

For a king's justice is whim pretending to be good.

Once there was a king who prized his slave for his beauty.

His body's silver sheen fascinated the prince who would

Dress him in fine clothes so his looks alone were his duty.

The king amused himself by placing on his favourite's head

An apple for a bullseye, the poor silver slave would grow

Yellow with fear because he knew too well blood is red.

His silver hue would be tarnished if the king's bow

Was not true; an injured slave would his silver lose

To be discarded because the king would not be amused.'


The Lover

 

A lover', said the hoopoe, now their guide,

'Is one in whom all thoughts of self have died;

Those who renounce the self deserve that name;

Righteous or sinful, they are all the same!

Your heart is thwarted by the self's control;

Destroy its hold on you and reach your goal.

Give up this hindrance, give up mortal sight,

For only then can you approach the light.

If you are told: "Renounce our Faith," obey!

The self and Faith must both be tossed away;

Blasphemers call such action blasphemy --

Tell them that love exceeds mere piety.

Love has no time for blasphemy or faith,

Nor lovers for the self, that feeble wraith.


The peacock's excuse

 

Next came the peacock, splendidly arrayed

In many-coloured pomp; this he displayed

As if he were some proud, self-conscious bride

Turning with haughty looks from side to side.

'The Painter of the world created me,'

He shrieked, 'but this celestial wealth you see

Should not excite your hearts to jealousy.

I was a dweller once in paradise;

There the insinuating snake's advice

Deceived me -- I became his friend, disgrace

Was swift and I was banished from that place.

My dearest hope is that some blessed day

A guide will come to indicate the way

Back to my paradise. The king you praise

Is too unknown a goal; my inward gaze

Is fixed for ever on that lovely land --

There is the goal which I can understand.

How could I seek the Simorgh out when I

Remember paradise?' And in reply

The hoopoe said: 'These thoughts have made you stray

Further and further from the proper Way;

You think your monarch's palace of more worth

Than Him who fashioned it and all the earth.

The home we seek is in eternity;

The Truth we seek is like a shoreless sea,

Of which your paradise is but a drop.

This ocean can be yours; why should you stop

Beguiled by dreams of evanescent dew?

The secrets of the sun are yours, but you

Content yourself with motes trapped in its beams.

Turn to what truly lives, reject what seems --

Which matters more, the body or the soul?

Be whole: desire and journey to the Whole.


The Vain Bird

 

'You see I am vanity personified,

Iblis watches over me night and day

Thus I'm prescribed by him without a guide.

I am torn self from self, I can't find the Way.

I'm a finger of the Devil's pride.

I cannot resist, I am the Devil tried.'

The hoopoe hears the sixth bird out

and says: 'You're meat for the dog of desire.

The Devil's fool you are, no matter how you shout

Your avowals to start again. The devil you acquires

With vain conceits that steadily eat your soul

As worms quilt the body's fodder which is your end.

Unless you realize in heart and mind that as you are

You're the Devil's coal ready to burn to ash. No friend

Is he who seems to satisfy your whims, you're far

From the Way you wish to travel or so you say;

Reject the world's blandishments that spin you astray.'


I shall grasp the soul's skirt with my hand

 

I shall grasp the soul's skirt with my hand

and stamp on the world's head with my foot.

I shall trample Matter and Space with my horse,

beyond all Being I shall utter a great shout,

and in that moment when I shall be alone with Him,

I shall whisper secrets to all mankind.

Since I shall have neither sign nor name

I shall speak only of things unnamed and without sign.

Do not delude yourself that from a burned heart

I will discourse with palatte and tongue.

The body is impure, I shall cast it away

and utter these pure words with soul alone.


Looking for your own face

 

Your face is neither infinite nor ephemeral.

You can never see your own face,

only a reflection, not the face itself.

 

So you sigh in front of mirrors

and cloud the surface.

 

It's better to keep your breath cold.

Hold it, like a diver does in the ocean.

One slight movement, the mirror-image goes.

 

Don't be dead or asleep or awake.

Don't be anything.

 

What you most want,

what you travel around wishing to find,

lose yourself as lovers lose themselves,

and you'll be that.


Mysticism

 

The sun can only be seen by the light

of the sun. The more a man or woman knows,

the greater the bewilderment, the closer

to the sun the more dazzled, until a point

is reached where one no longer is.

 

A mystic knows without knowledge, without

intuition or information, without contemplation

or description or revelation. Mystics

are not themselves. They do not exist

in selves. They move as they are moved,

talk as words come, see with sight

that enters their eyes. I met a woman

once and asked her where love had led her.

"Fool, there's no destination to arrive at.

Loved one and lover and love are infinite."


All who, reflecting as reflected see

 

All who, reflecting as reflected see

Themselves in Me, and Me in them; not Me,

But all of Me that of contracted Eye

Is comprehensive of Infinity;

Nor yet Themselves: no Selves, but of The All

Fractions, from which they split and wither fall.

As Water lifted from the Deep, again

Falls back in individual Drops of Rain,

Then melts into the Universal Main.

All you have been, and seen, and done, and thought,

Not You but I, have seen and been and wrought:

I was the Sin that from Myself rebell'd;

I the Remorse that tow'rd Myself compell'd;

I was the Tajidar who led the Track;

I was the little Briar that pull'd you back:

Sin and Contrition -- Retribution owed,

And cancell'd -- Pilgrim, Pilgrimage, and Road,

Was but Myself toward Myself; and Your

Arrival but Myself at my own Door;

     Who in your Fraction of Myself behold

     Myself within the Mirror Myself hold

     To see Myself in, and each part of Me

     That sees himself, though drown'd, shall ever see.

     Come you lost Atoms to your Centre draw,

     And be the Eternal Mirror that you saw:

     Rays that have wander'd into Darkness wide

     Return, and back into your Sun subside.'


The angels have bowed down to you and drowned

 

The angels have bowed down to you and drowned

Your soul in Being, past all plummet's sound --

Do not despise yourself, for there is none

Who could with you sustain comparison;

Do not torment yourself -- your soul is All,

Your body but a fleeting particle.

This All will clarify, and in its light

Each particle will shine, distinctly bright --

As flesh remains an agent of the soul,

You soul's an agent of the sacred Whole.

But "part" and "whole" must disappear at last;

The Way is one, and number is surpassed.

A hundred thousand clouds above you press;

Their rain is pure, unending happiness;

And when the desert blooms with flowers, their scent

And beauty minister to your content;

The prayers of all the angels, all they do,

All their obedience, God bestows on you.


The Birds Find Their King

 

Once more they ventured from the Dust to raise

Their Eyes -- up to the Throne -- into the Blaze,

And in the Centre of the Glory there

Beheld the Figure of -- Themselves -- as 'twere

Transfigured -- looking to Themselves, beheld

The Figure on the Throne en-miracled,

Until their Eyes themselves and That between

Did hesitate which Seer was, which Seen;

They That, That They: Another, yet the Same;

Dividual, yet One: from whom there came

A Voice of awful Answer, scarce discern'd,

From which to Aspiration whose return'd

They scarcely knew; as when some Man apart

Answers aloud the Question in his Heart:

'The Sun of my Perfection is a Glass

Wherein from Seeing into Being pass.'


The Eternal Mirror

 

Not You but I, have seen and been and wrought. . . .

Who in your Fraction of Myself behold

Myself within the Mirror Myself hold

To see Myself in, and each part of Me

That sees himself, though drown'd, shall ever see.

Come you lost Atoms to your Centre draw,

And be the Eternal Mirror that you saw:

Rays that have wander'd into Darkness wide

Return, and back into your Sun subside.

 

 

THE END