The Persian Mystics: Jalálu'd-dín Rúmí

Rumi · en
_The Masnavi_.--Jalál is said to have been forty-three years engaged
in writing the _Masnavi_. Often whole nights were spent in its
composition, Jalál reciting and his friend Hasam copying it down and
sometimes singing portions of the verse in his beautiful voice. At the
completion of the first book Hasam's wife died, and two years elapsed
before the work was continued. The _Masnavi_ is full of profound
mysteries, and is a most important book in the study of Súfíism--
mysteries which must, for the most part, be left to the discernment
of the reader. Jalál himself has said that great Love is silent. It
is in Silence that we shall come to understand the supreme Mystery
of Love that has no comparison. The key-note to the _Masnavi_ may
be found in the Prologue to the first book. The poet here sings of
the soul's longing to be united with the Beloved. The fact that he,
and all other Súfí poets, use as an analogy the love between man and
woman renders the spiritual meaning extremely vague. We have, however,
already considered this point in the introduction, and it needs no
further explanation. The _Masnavi_ has all the pantheistic beauty of
the Psalms, the music of the hills, the colour and scent of roses,
the swaying of forests; but it has considerably more than that. These
things of scent and form and colour are the Mirror of the Beloved;
these earthy loves the journey down the valley into the Rose-Garden
where the roses never fade, and where Love is.


[Footnote 1: Book of Mysteries.]

[Footnote 2: Iconium.]

[Footnote 3: _The Fool of the World_.]

[Footnote 4: _The Festival of Spring_. Translated by the Rev. Prof.
William Hastie.]

[Footnote 5: See _The Masnavi_. Translated by Sir James W. Rodhouse.]

[Footnote 6: "The Acts of the Adepts."]

[Footnote 7: Prof. C. E. Wilson informs me that Jalál certainly had a
very fair sense of humour, and that in the original there is often a
clever and witty play on words.]




SELECTIONS FROM THE "DĪVĀNI SHAMSI TABRĪZ"


    "I AM SILENT"

    I am silent. Speak Thou, O Soul of Soul of Soul,
    From desire of whose Face every atom grew articulate.


    A CRY TO THE BELOVED

    Yestereve I delivered to a star tidings for thee:
    "Present," I said, "my service to that moon-like form."
    I bowed, I said: "Bear that service to the sun
    Who maketh hard rocks gold by his burning."
    I bared my breast, I showed it the wounds:
    "Give news of me," I said, "to the Beloved whose drink is blood."
    I rocked to and fro that the child, my heart, might become still;
    A child sleeps when one sways the cradle.
    Give my heart-babe milk, relieve us from its weeping,
    O Thou that helpest every moment a hundred helpless like me.
    The heart's home, first to last, is Thy City of Union:
    How long wilt Thou keep in exile this heart forlorn?



    REMEMBER GOD AND FORGET SELF