Heaps of books lay around and in front of him, 1425 And on his lips was the key to all their mysteries. Shams-i Tabríz, directed by Kamál,[98] Sought his way to the college of Jalálu’ddín Rúmí And cried out, “What is all this noise and babble? What are all these syllogisms and judgements and demonstrations?” 1430 “Peace, O fool!” exclaimed the Maulavi, “Do not laugh at the doctrines of the sages. Get thee out of my college! This is argument and discussion: what hast thou to do with it? My discourse is beyond thy understanding, 1435 It will not brighten the glass of thy perception.” These words increased the anger of Shams-i Tabríz And caused a fire to burst forth from his soul. The lightning of his look fell on the earth, And the glow of his breath made the dust spring into flames. 1440 The spiritual fire burned the intellectual stack And clean consumed the book of philosophy. The Maulavi, being a stranger to Love’s miracles And unversed in Love’s harmonies, Cried, “How didst thou kindle this fire, 1445 Which hath burned the books of the philosophers?” The Sheikh answered, “O unbelieving Moslem, This is vision and ecstasy: what hast thou to do with it? My state is beyond thy thought, My flame is the Alchemist’s elixir.” 1450 Thou hast drawn thy substance from the snow of philosophy, The cloud of thy thought sheds nothing but hailstones. Kindle a fire in thy rubble, Foster a flame in thy earth! The Moslem’s knowledge is perfected by spiritual fervour, 1455 The meaning of Islam is _Renounce what shall pass away_. When Abraham escaped from the bondage of “that which sets,”[99] He sat unhurt in the midst of flames.[100] Thou hast cast knowledge of God behind thee And squandered thy religion for the sake of a loaf. 1460 Thou art hot in pursuit of antimony, Thou art unaware of the blackness of thine own eye. Seek the Fountain of Life from the sword’s edge, And the River of Paradise from the dragon’s mouth, Demand the Black Stone from the door of the house of idols, 1465 And the musk-deer’s bladder from a mad dog, But do not seek the glow of Love from the knowledge of to-day, Do not seek the nature of Truth from this infidel’s cup! Long have I been running to and fro, Learning the secrets of the New Knowledge: 1470 Its gardeners have put me to the trial And have made me intimate with their roses. Roses! Tulips, rather, that warn one not to smell them-- Like paper roses, a mirage of perfume. Since this garden ceased to enthral me, 1475 I have nested on the Paradisal tree. Modern knowledge is the greatest blind-- Idol-worshipping, idol-selling, idol-making! Shackled in the prison of phenomena,