1. Life.

Abu Muin Nasir-i Khusraw, ranked among the half dozen greatest poets of Persia, was born in Qubadian, a small town in the region of Marv, in 394 A.H./1004 A.D. Little is known of his childhood and early years except for a few references in his book of poetry, the Diwan, and his philosophic works. Our information concerning his life is largely derived from his travel boo, which he composed after his seven year journey through the Islamic world as far as Egypt and back again to his native land.

The age in which Nasir lived was one of commotion and turmoil. On the one hand the province of Khorasan, his native land, was a battlefield for two rival Turkic tribes, the Ghaznavids and Seljuks; Nasir was 35 years old when the Ghaznavids were dealt with a fatal blow by the Seljuks, who came to power under Alp-Arsalan (429/1038). On the other hand, the land was rife with religious controversies. There was a clandestine struggle between the Hanafites and Shafiites (two schools of Sunni Islam), with occasional skirmishes which ended in the triump of the former over the latter. More significantly for our story: Khorasan had become a scene of contention between two rival caliphates, each carrying out its own religious propaganda, the Abbasid and Fatimid.

The Turkish dynasties ruling Persia paid allegiance to the Abbasid caliphs at Baghdad, and were in turn supported by them. The Fatimids exercised a more hidden influence, never gaining significant territory in the Eastern lands of Islam, but claiming many adherents.

The Fatimids, who had established a vast domain in Egypt, North Africa, Syria and Palestine, had come to power in 297/909 under Ubaydallah al-Mahdi, who claimed descent from the Prophet of Islam through his daughter Fatimah, the early Shiite Imams and Ismail, the son of the sixth Imam Jafar al-Sadiq; hence they were also called Ismailis. The Fatimids boasted a highly efficient and well-organised administration and sent missionaries to the remotest regions of the Islamic world. Although for the most part their converts were scattered throughout hostile populations, they were in some cases able to convert rulers, as in the case of Nuh ibn Nasr the Samanid. Their propaganda was particularly effective in Khorasan. Avicenna tells us that his father was converted to Ismailism, and that regular meetings were held in his house, though Avicenna did not respond to their call.

The more or less clandestine spread of Ismailism caused great hostility between the two caliphates; the Abbasids not without reason, looked on the missionaries as political agents. Both the Ghaznavids and Seljuks carried out a relentless persecution; during the reign of Sultan Mahmud of Ghazna (388/998) thousands of Ismailis were massacred in his conquest of Rayy, always a Shiite stronghold. Sultan Mahmud, in his letter to the Abbasid Caliph al-Qadir, reported ..... For the sake of the Abbasids I have turned my finger throughout the world searching for Qaramites, and wherever they are found, once they are proven to be so, they are sent to the gallows at once. (The Qaramites were an earlier and extremely violent sect of Ismailis, who caused difficulties even to the Fatimids; nevertheless, enemies of Ismailism tended to pump them all together under this name, or to call them batinis [Esoterists] or mulhids [heretics].) In an age of political and religious strife no doubt a certain number of philosophers and men of noble spirit wee charged with intellectual treason and put to death or tortured; Nasirs bitter complaints about the ill quality of the age should be read in this grim light.

There seems little doubt that Nasir, before his seven year journey (i.e. up to the year 437), was a court poet. We surmise that most of his poems were eulogies of kings or other powerful people, or celebrations of wine, women and other pleasures. After his conversion to Ismailism, he destroyed all his earlier work. In his travel book, he explicitly states that he seen the courts of sultans and kings of Persia . . . such as Mahmud of Ghazna and his son Masud. Before setting out for his journey, he had served as an official in the administration, busy with courtly affairs, and had gained a certain reputation amongst his peers.

Several harshly satirical poems in the Diwan seem to deal with this period. One, which we have call The Aging Rake, may be addressed to a former colleague of Nasirs; some scholars have even believed he is describing himself. In any case this poem and others like it have the ring of authenticity; there is no doubt that Nasir knew the world of courtier quite intimately.

Unlike many of contemporary poets however, Nasir was also a master of the sciences of his time. As the late S.H Taqizadeh remarked in the introduction to his first edition of the Diwan, Nasir was well-versed in the traditional and intellectual sciences, and particularly in Greek sources such as the Almagest of Ptolemy and the Element of Euclid; he knew medicine, arithmetic, astronomy, philosophy, theology and theosophy. As we shall see, he has also made a study of other religions, and even had a first-hand knowledge of some of them.

But one night in his forty-second year, Nasir had a dream which changed his life. .... I used to drink wine without ease (the Prophet, upon whom be peace, said, ATell the truth, even if it reflects against you!@); one night I had a dream in which someone asked me, AHow long will you desire to drink of a wine which ruins human reason? It were better for you to be sober.@ I answered him, AWise men can do nothing else, for wine diminishes the grief and sorrow of the world.@ He replied, AThere is no peace of mind in senselessness and unconsciousness. One cannot be called wise who leads people to unconsciousness; one must go after that which increases wisdom and sobriety@. I asked, AWhere shall I look for it?@ He answered me, AHe who seeks, shall find.@ Then he pointed in the direction of Mecca, and said nothing more.

When I woke from sleep, I remembered everything perfectly. The experience had a deep effect on me, and I told myself, AI have awakened from last nights sleep; now I should wake fromthe slumber of forty years.: I reflected that if I did not change my ways I should not attain salvation ... I washed my head and body, went to the Friday Mosque and prayed and asked for Gods aid, Blessed is His Name for doing what is hidden; and blessed is it to abstain from what is forbidden, as God, the Judge, the Almighty, has commanded us.

Who addressed him in the dream? Possible it was the Prophet himself, or one of the Imams, who are for the Shiites the embodiment of the sacred and of spiritual authority. In any case, Nasir set out at once on a long journey which took him as far west as Egypt, which was the capital of the Fatimids and one of the greatest centres of learning and culture the Islamic world has ever known.

There are some scholars, including W. Ivanow, who maintain that Nasir was an Ismaili before his departure to the western lands of Islam; they base this opinion on such assumptions as that Shiism was widely spread in Khorasan and Central Asia; and that Nasir did not accompany the regular pilgrims caravan, as was the custom; or that he could not have sustained himself on the journey had he not been supported by Ismailis cells along the way. Moreover, they take the story of the dream to represent an actual conversion to Ismailism. But none of these arguments seem particularly convincing, especially in the light of Nasirs own account of his spiritual journey.

This is to be found in a famous poem in the Diwan, known as the Confessional Ode (qasidah iitirafiyyah), which is quite evidently an allegorised version of his conversion experience, from his dream (clearly referred to at the beginning of the poem) to his experiences in Cairo. The qasidah is the longest in the Diwan (over 130 lines); we shall translate here only those sections which help us attain a clear picture of his story.

O widely read, O globally travelled one,

(still earth-bound, still caught beneath the sky),

what value would the spheres yet hold for you

were you to catch a glimpse of hidden knowledge?

Will your flesh luxuriate forever

in the boons and blessings of the world? Why not

for a little while enjoy as well the fruits

of knowledge with the tongue of the Spirit?

The dreamers banquets cannot profit him;

only the waking know the taste of gain

and loss. What does the dreamer know of stars

and turquoise dome, or things the Almighty brings

to pass upon his dusty sphere?

. . . Wake up

from this charming vision, you who have slept and dreamt

for forty years, and see that off all the friends

of your youth not one remains. No one is left

to share your drowse and super but the beasts . . .

and that which donkeys eat is not a blessing

any more than that which Caesar conquers

is a kingdom!

. . . Reader if you miss the Path

I would not be surprised, for I, like you,

languished in perplexity for years.

Three hundred ninety four of them had passed

since the Migration, when my mother

dropped me in the dust, a voiceless creature

like a weed which thrives on soil and rain.

From this vegetative state I reached

that of the beasts, and floundered like a bird

whose wings are clipped, till in the Fourth Age

I gained the stature of a man and left

a soul of reason worm its way into

my gloomy body. When the clock of years

had turned some forty-two rounds, my conscious self

began to seek our wisdom. From the mouths

of sages or the pages of ancient books

I heard of the Cosmos, of the whirl of Time

and the Three Kingdoms; but I found myself

superior to all around me, and

among all creatures (so I mused) there must

be one superior to others, like

the falcon amongst all birds, a camel amongst

all beasts of burden, the palm amongst the trees,

the Quran amongst all books, the Kaaba amongst

all houses, heart in the body, sun among stars.

I wondered, and my soul was filled with grief,

my meditations blasted with fear of all

the objects of thought.

From every School I searched:

from Shafiite, Malikite, Hanafite, sought a sign

of guidance, of the Chosen One of God,

the Almighty, the Guide; and each one pointed me

a different way, one to China, one

to Africa. When I asked for a reason, or

for corroboration from the Quran, they recoiled

in helplessness, like blind men, like deaf men.

Then one day, a I read in the Book the Verse

of the Oath, in which God proclaims His Hand

is above all hands, and pondered on that group

who swore allegiance beneath the Tree (like Jafar,

Miqdad, Salman, Budhar) I asked myself

How is it now with that Tree and with that Hand?

Where shall I see that Hand, that group, that Oath?

I asked, but was rebuffed. They are no more

-so I was told- The Tree, the Hand are gone,

the Assembly dispersed, the Hand concealed and veiled

in secrecy. Those men were the Companions,

favoured by that allegiance and chosen to be

with the Prophet in Paradise.

But I said to myself

In the Book it is clear that Ahmad is the Messenger

of Good News, and the Warner, luminous as light.

If the unbelievers wished to blow it out

God would light it again in spite of them.

How is it today that no one is left

of that Community? Surely the word

of the Universal Judge cannot be false!

Whose hand should we grasp, where should we take an oath

that even we men of latter times might enjoy

the justice of heaven? Why should it be our fault

not to be born in that era? Why should we

be deprived of the Prophet, afflicted and distressed?

My face grew pale as a yellow blossom in

the pain of ignorance. I bowed in the wind

of doubt like an aging cypress. The learned man

is like a pomander, his knowledge a halo of musk;

or like a mountain concealing its vein of gold;

but ore without gold, perfume without aroma

are worth no more than dust.

. . . Then I arose

and set out on my way, remembering

neither my home nor past nor garden of roses.

From Persian, Arab, Hindu, Turk and Jew,

from the folk of Sind, from the Romans, from everyone

I met the philosopher, Manichee, Sabaean, atheist,

I asked, I questioned, I pestered. Many a night

I made a stone my pillow, the clouds my tent.

I sank as low as a fish, I ascended as high

as the stars above the hills; now in a land

where water was frozen as marble, now in a land

where the very dust was hot as a spark, I roamed.

Now by the sea, now on the high plateau

or trackless waste, across mountains, sand and streams,

up and down the precipices, coil of rope

round my shoulder like a camel driver, pack

on my back like a mule, inquiring I went my way,

searching from city to city, shore to shore.

. . . . The one day I reached those city gates

where angels are servants, where planets and stars are slaves,

a garden of roses and pines girded round with walls

of emerald and jasper trees, set

in a desert of gold-embroidered silk, its springs

sweet as honey, the river of paradise:

a city which only Virtue can aspire

to reach, a city whose cypresses are like

the blades of Intellect, a cit whose sages

wear brocaded robes woven of silk . . .

And here, before these gates, my Reason spoke:

Here, within these walls, find what you seek

and do not leave without it. So I approached

the Guardian of the Gate, and told him of

my search. Rejoice he answered. Your mine

has produced a jewel, for beneath this land of Truth

there flows a crystal ocean of precious pearls

and pure clear water. This is the lofty sphere

of exalted stars; aye, it is paradise

itself, the Abode of Houris. I heard these words

freighted with meaning, sweet as honey, and felt

myself on the threshold of heaven. I told him, My soul

is weak, though my body may seem strong to you.

I am in pain, but that is nothing. I refuse

a medicine. I cannot understand,

I reject all that is beyond the law.

I am a doctor, he answered. Speak to me

and tell me all that ails you, every detail.

[Here Nasir burdens the gate-keeper with a hundred questions about the Origin and End of the Universe, the mystery of pre-destination, the purpose of creation, and Gods reason for sending Messengers to man. He asks a minute detail abstruse questions of a philosophical and theological nature. Then . . . ]

That sage set his hand upon his heart

(a hundred blessings be on that hand and breast!)

And said, I offer you the remedy

of proof and demonstration; but if you

accept, I shall place a seal upon your lips

which must never be broken. I gave my consent and he

affixed the seal. Drop by drop and day

by day he fed me the healing potion, till

my ailment disappeared, my tongue became

imbued with eloquent speech; my face, which had

been pale as saffron now grew rosy with joy;

I who had been a stone was now a ruby;

I had been dust - now I was ambergris.

He put my hand into the Prophets hand,

I spoke the Oath beneath that exalted Tree

so heavy with fruit, so sweet with cooling shade.

Have you ever heard of a sea which flows from fire?

Have you ever seen a fox become a lion?

The sun can transmute a pebble, which even the hand

of Nature can never change, into a gem.

I am that precious stone, my Sun is he

by whose rays this tenebrous world is filled with light.

In jealousy I cannot speak his name

in this poem, but can only say that for him

Plato himself would become a slave. He

is the teacher, hearer of souls, favoured of God,

image of wisdom, fountain of knowledge and Truth.

Blessed the ship with him for its anchor, blessed

the city whose sacred gate he ever guards!

O Countenance of Knowledge, Virtues Form,

Heart of Wisdom, Goal of Humankind,

O Pride of Pride; I stood before thee, pale

and skeletal, clad in a woolen cloak,

and kissed thine hand as if it were the grave

of the Prophet or Black Stone of the Kaaba.

Six years I served thee; and now, wherever I am

so long as I live Ill use my pen and ink,

my inkwell and my paper . . . in praise of thee!

The story of the oath of allegiance (bayah) of the Holy Prophet and his Companions plays a very significant role in the esoteric teachings of Islam. In Sufism, for example, the allegiance paid to the spiritual master and related to the central act of initiation, is looked upon as an echo or prolongation of that original allegiance.

Nasir mentions - though not explicitly - the person who introduced him to the mysteries of religion. He describes him as the guardian of a city. In another poem, he gives more details about this spiritual guide:

Why so silent, eloquent one? Why do you not

string pearls and corals upon the necklace of verse?

Do not content yourself to be like the mob;

take your place of pride amongst your equals,

for thanks to the spiritual guidance of Khwajah Muayyad

God has opened Wisdoms gate for you.

He who sees the Khwajah on assembly day,

sees Intellect itself in the midst of turmoil.

He made my dark night bright day

with proofs luminous as the sun.

Khawajah Muayyad was the nickname of Hibat-Allah Musa ibn Dawud Shirazi, one of the greatest divines of Ismailism. Fortunately we have detailed knowledge of his life through an autobiography called Sirat al-muayyadiyyah, published in Egypt in 1949.

According to his book, Muayyad was the Hujjat (Proof, a term to be explained later) of Ismailism in the province of Fars in southern Persia, and later occupied the highest rank of Dai al-duat in the spiritual hierarchy of the Fatimid administration. While in Fars, he succeeded in converting many people to Ismailsm, including the local ruler. This success brought him to the attention of the Abbasids, who eventually managed to have him banished back to Egypt, where he arrived in almost the same time as Nasir. The Caliph al-Mustansir showed enough confidence in Muayyad to send him on a military expedition to Syria, which ended with the Fatimid conquest of Baghdad itself. Al-Mustansir then made him the head of all Ismaili religious missionary work (Dai al-duat).

It is natural that two Persians, both scholars and thinkers of the first rank, both strangers in a foreign land, should meet. Nasir must have impressed the Khawjah with the high quality of his verse, and his spiritual sincerity. There are stories, perhaps unauthentic, relating how Muayyad introduced Nasir to the Caliph himself.

Al-Mustansir, the eigth Fatimid Caliph, ruled from 427/1035 to 487/1094. This long reign is considered the Golden Age of the Fatimd empire. The number eight plays a significant role in Ismaili cosmology and starts a new cycle in the numerical series (the fundamental unit being the set 1-7); symbolically al_Mustansirs ascension is considered the starting-point of a new era. It was during this period that Ismaili missionary work reached its peak of effectiveness and efficiency. Interestingly, it was about this same time that the famous Hasan-i Sabbah came to Cairo to be trained as a missionary. He returned to Persia where some time later he was to found the Nizari branch of Ismailism, popularly (and incorrectly) called the Assassins.

After six years in Cairo, Nasir was appointed Hujjat of Khorasan by al-Mustansir. Hujjat, or Proof, was not merely a honorific title (as Ivanow has claimed) but a strict term in the hierarchy in the Ismaili spirituality. The Fatimids divided the entire realm of Islam into twelve provinces or islands, and sent one very distinguished scholar who was a Proof to each of these provinces as a spiritual guide. Khorasan, in the north east of Iran, was on the one hand a focal point of Ismaili propaganda and on the other hand, from the early days of Islam, one of the great centres of culture and learning.

After his return to Persia, in 1052, Nasir plunged into his missionary work in a province which was eventually hostile to Ismailism. Contemporary works refer to his journey to Mazandaran in norther Iran, a stronghold of Shiism. He finally settled in Balkh, but his teaching was not well received. His opponents incited a mob to sack his house, and even attempted to assassinate him. Finding his native province so uncomfortable, he fled to the remote valley of Yamgan (which he was to make famous in his poems), possibly because it was ruled by the Emir of Badakhshan, a former associate. Hence-forward, he lived an extremely secluded life and in fact called himslef the prisoner of Yamagan. He spent the rest of his life in this bleak valley. His loneliness, and the hostile attitude of his countrymen, made a deep impression on him, and help to explain his often negative and even gloomy attitude.

The year of his death is not certain, but probably took place some time between 465/1072 and 471/1078. His tomb in Yamagan is still a popular place of pilgrimage, and in fact certain histories speak of a religious order, the Nasiriyyah, which viewed him as the their patron saint. Over the years, Nasir acquired the reputation of a miracle worker and even magician, and marvellous stories about him were collected into several pseudo-autobiographies.

2. Works.

Besides the Diwan which will be dealt with later, the works of Nasir can be enumerated as follows:

Rawshanai-namah (The Book of Light), a poem of 582 lines in the Berlin edition. Ivanow suggests 444/1053 as the probable date of composition. Ismaili concepts of Divine Unity, Logos, Universal Soul, the human soul and its becoming, the necessity for a spiritual guide, reward and punishment in the hereafter are discussed it is also known as Shish fasl (Six Chapters), under which title it has had extensive influence on later Persian poetry.

• Safar-namah (Travel Book) a lucid and highly readable account in Persian of his voyages to Egypt and elsewhere, containing valuable geographical and historical information; it has been translated into European and Eastern languages several times.
• Wajh-i din (The Face of Religion), a basic work of Ismaili doctrine in Persian dealing with metaphysics, theology and ritual. The Berlin edition is faulty.
• Gushayish wa rahayish (Release and Deliverance), a treatise in Persian in thirty questions and answers dealing with the Creator and the creature, the relation of God and the world, the eternal and the created, being and nothingness, substance, matter, physics, jurisprudence, etc.
• Khwan al-ikhwan (The Feast of the Brethren), in a hundred chapters, written in Persian for less educated readers and dealing with the same topics as No. 4. The author draws on many Ismaili works which are no longer extant, including some of his own lost works.
• Zad al-musafarin (Provision for the Road) written in Persian in 453/1061, divided into 27 chapters; purely philosophical in nature, with little reference to specifically Ismaili themes. Quotes extensively from earlier Islamic philosophers concerning whose philosophical ideas little is known, such as Muhammad ibn Zakariyya, Razi and Abul-Abbas Iranshari.
• Jami al-hikmatayn (Harmonisation of the Two Wisdoms; i.e., the philosophical and the religious), the last work of Nasir; an attempt to unify Greek philosophy, especially that o Plato and Aristotle, with the tenets of Islam, and particularly Ismailism. This book is an answer to the famous ode of Abul Haytham al-Jurjani in which crucial questions in philosophy, theology, logic, physics, grammar, cosmology, hermeneutics and eschatology are raised. Written in Persian in 462/1070 at the request of the Emir of Badakhshan.

There are about seven other works of Nasir, mentioned by him but unfortunately lost.

3. The Diwan.

Nasir-i Khusraw is one of the few poets in the history of Persian literature to be given the honorific title of Hakim of Sage. One can compare this with the same title among the pre-Socratic Greeks. He is one of the early links in that chain of metaphysical peotry, so rich and prolific in Persia, which was continued by such figures as Rumi, Attar, Sadi and Hafiz. But more than other Nasir is a preacher of philosophical wisdom; he never loses an opportunity to encourage his reader to become wise, illumined, awakened. To stand face to face with reality which is perennial and at the same time always accessible.

The reader who takes even a cursory glance at the Diwan is struck by the frequent mention of Speech or Word, which might well be translated as Logos. His use of this word has a philosophical as well as a metaphysical significance. In Christianity, Christ is the Word or Logos of God, while in Islam the Quran plays the same role thus in the former, the Word is incarnated in a person, in the latter in a revealed Book. One of the miracles of Islam is the beauty of this revealed Word in an absolute sense and as an eternal prototype of literary excellence to be imitated but never successfully attained. The Prophet of Islam said, I am the most eloquent among the Arabs.

As to the moral or didactic nature of some of his poems, Nasir should not be taken as a mere preacher of certain moral dogmas as understood in the West today or the proponent of a certain moral school, or - still worse - as a moraliser in its current sense. His teaching is rooted in the essence of Wisdom. In Persian literature, especially in those poets whom we may call metaphysical, such as Rumi, the moral element is always emphasised but in the bosom of metaphysical doctrines. A poet in the traditional sense is one who leads people to enlightenment; unlike Platos poets, he is not to be banished from the ideal city. His moral injunctions are not of a merely individualistic and egoistic nature but have to do with the universal essence of man - man as he is in himself - or rather, as he should be in himself: eternal being, standing face to face with the Absolute.

The Western reader may be unfavourable struck by Nasirs warnings to abstain from the world and from all material desires. This abstinence, amounting almost to revulsion, should not be explained away on any psychological grounds. It is an attitude shared by certain saints and mystics throughout human history. Even if these poems seem at times pietistic and even dry, they are inevitably enlivened by Nasirs powerful poetic imagery, which allows the reader an imaginative participation - at least - in his worldview.

There is, too, a more positive aspect to this moral teaching. Life is a kind of struggle with the difficulties which surround us and keep us from realisation. One must endeavour ceaselessly to attain to the ultimate end of life. Man is inferior to the gigantic force of Nature from one point of view, but he far surpasses them in the potential for Wisdom. His destiny is determined by himself, he is responsible for his actions and must not blame no one but himself for his failures. The struggle should be waged with patience and even love, for pain and suffering will ultimately end in peace: dark night will usher in bring day. So, for Nasir, man is despicable only as one of the mob; as an image of the Divine, he is the highest of all realities on this plane of being.

One refreshing aspect of Nasirs poetry is the total absence of praise of rulers and the powerful; E.G. Browne points out that in this Nasir is virtually alone in his age. Kings and potentates kept poets, in some cases as they might keep clowns and chefs, and paid them for the most fulsome flattery. Addressing such parasites, Nasir says that they are pleased with telling lies; he mentions a bard who said of Sultan Mahmud, May he live for another thousand years! when in fact the king had already been dead for two decades!

Of course, Nasir does eulogise one person: the Caliph al-Mustansir. For him, however, the Caliph is not the representative of worldly rule or secular power, but rather the spiritual master of masters, representative of the Holy Prophet, the Pole of the Age. These eulogies are not mere poetic effusions, but deep felt songs of devotion.

4. Ismalism.

From an historical point of view, Shiism is based on the doctrine of the spiritual pre-eminence of Ali, the cousin and son-im-law of the Prophet. Shiites quote many sayings of Muhammad in support of this, and point out that the Prophet gave his only daughter, Fatimah, to Ali in marriage. Ali is to me as Aaron was to Muses, except that there is no prophet after me. I am the City of Knowledge and Ali is the Gate; do not enter the City except through the Gate. According to the Shiites, the Prophet expressly appointed Ali as his heir (wasiy) and spiritual successor (khalifah). In the year before he died, Muhammad gathered certain Muslims at Ghadir Khumm after the Pilgrimage. There, he asked the crowd, Am I not the Messenger of God?; they answered, whom I was the (spiritual) master, hence-forward Yeah (bala), and he continued, Those over help him and abandon those who abandon him.Ali is their master. May God help those who

According to a belief accepted by all Muslims, Shiite and Sunni alike, Muhammad is the last prophet. After the end of the cycle of prophecy does the possibility of the divine communication with mankind therefore come to an end? Shiites (and Sufis) maintain that it does continue through the cycle of initiation or sainthood (wilayah). Morever, every divine messenger in addition to his function as law-giver has the deeper function of sainthood, which is either manifested (as in the case of Jesus) or hidden (as with Moses). The function of sainthood in a prophet is no less significant than his function as law-giver. After the end of the cycle of prophecy no new revelation is transmitted to mankind and consequently there is no new Divine Law (Shariah), but this does not mean that initiation, direct contact with the divine, also comes to end. The end of the cycle of the prophecy is the beginning of the cycle of sainthood. Ali is the saint par excellence, the starting point of the new cycle, and he is also the rightful successor of the Prophet in the sense of temporal ruler. The combination of these two functions constitutes the Imamate as the Shiite conceive it, and Ali is the first Imam. After him, this function remains within the family or Household of the Prophet, his descendants through Ali and Fatimah.

There are several branches of Shiism, the two major ones being the Ismailis and the Ithna asharis or Twelvers. Both branches insist on descendants of Ali as Imams, but diverge after the sixth Imam, Jafar al-Sadiq. The Ismailis recognised Ismail, his eldest son, as Imam. The Ithna asharis followed the younger son, Musa. For the Ithna asharis there are only twelve Imams; the last one, Mahdi, went into occultation and will return at some moment to this plane, bringing with him the reign of universal justice. For the Ismailis, however, there must always be an Imam present in this world; the present Aga Khan is the 49th Imam.

In Ismaili doctrine, God is envisaged in the two aspects of transcendence and immanence. In the first, He is beyond and qualification or description; even to call Him the Absolute is to determine and limit Him. There is nothing like unto Him (Qur. IX-42). The Divine Essence as such is beyond any quality, description or determination. God can only be known through His manifestations in the world, His Theophanies or Divine Perradiations. Everything in the Universe describes a Divine Name, or rather is the manifestation of all the Names. Man is the comprehensor of these Names, and himself a total manifestation or microcosm, the vicegerent of God on earth.

The cosmology and cosmogony of Ismailism is explained by the emanation of a hierarchy of intelligences which are ten in number. These are the cause of the creation of this world, the transmitters of knowledge and the vehicle of Divine Grace and guidance. The hierarchy is matched by a corresponding spiritual hierarchy in this world.

As already mentioned, Ismailis have often been called batiniyyah or esoterists. The word batin designates the inner essence or spiritual gist of religion. The whole doctrine of Ismailism is based on the idea of tawil, exgesis or hermeneutic interpretation. Every dogma in religion has two aspects, one exoteric and outward, which is understood and followed by the majority; the other esoteric and inner, within the exoteric truth, superior to it, hidden from the majority and revealed only to the elect. Tawil, is the only method of unveiling this esoteric truth; the word itself means taking something back to its primordial origin.

5. Conclusion.

It is hardly possible in such a brief introduction to deal with all the facets of Ismaili thought as they deserve to be discussed (and for this reason a bibliography of further reading has been supplied), or indeed with all the facets of Nasir-i Khusraws many-sided-genius. The few points we have discussed are meant only to serve as a guide for a summary understanding of this remarkable Islamic philosopher and poet, who in many ways bought the Ismaili tradition of philosophy to its apogee. But, as a universal intellectual figure, Nasir-i Khusraw speaks not only as an Ismaili missionary, or even only as an Islamic philosopher, but as a seer whose message addresses itself to men of all times and places. Let his poems speak for themselves.

Gholam-Reza Aavani

Tehran, May 26, 1977.

1. The First Poem

GOD IN HIS UNITY

MOST ANCIENT OF ALL.

NO MULTIPLICITY.

ALONE OF EVERYTHING

UNCREATED.

What say you? Why did He

make the universe

out of pearl?

neither matter for form

height nor breadth.

You agree: in every case

cause precedes effect

as ONE is prior to numbers

or part to the whole

and since heaven and earth (all agree)

are both effects

why consider heaven alone

a realm of knowledge and power

(like its own antecedent cause)?

What He brings today

from potency into Act

could just as well be

yesterday or tomorrow

since He is not in need

nor impotent. You claim

that between cause and effect

between nothingness and creation

some interval of TIME must intervene

but TIME itself is born

of the rolling spheres.

How can TIME exist?

a non-existent entity?

a beginningless void?

before the spheres themselves?

If you think of nothingness

subsisting in itself

then Unity must have an opposite

a partner in manifestation.

If nothingness

is merely a name or sound

would this not prove that even names

are not without their due effects?

God is above all

as ONE above the numbers:

only thus is TIME s existence known

that of PLACE refuted

genesis necessitated

and Eternity proven.

Do not if you are wise

attribute to HIM

any action but creatio ex nihilo

of a single being in the wink

of an eye

or less.

Do not speak of His Action

in such a way that His Essence

might be passive like our own

moulded in time by act

by the least of intentions.

ABSOLUTE UNITY:

seek nothing outside His Essence

for He is All-comprehensive

while the essences of things

are particular, determined.

If you claim He transcends all vision

do not attribute qualities to Him

for this would make Him

dual in essence

no longer singular, unique and ONE.

True, you see in this universe

a myriad things made of earth

wind, water, fire, metals and seas.

If you could float down

like Harut the fallen angel

from celestial spheres

then could you not

lift yourself up again

like the Morning Star?

EMANATION FROM ESSENCE

NOT FROM BEING:

the cause of the creation of one thing

must be ONE

The First Emanation is Intellect

then Soul, then Body,

plants, the abundance of beasts,

the Rational Animal.

Each Archetype contingent in itself

bu (in reality) an impossible being;

each one manifest in itself but

(in reality) a hidden non-existent.

What say you now? how this painted screen

is set up in the vasty air

like an enamelled pavilion pitched

in a desert of fire?

Does it move by itself or

has someone set it spinning?

keeps it revolving like this

around the zenith on high?

How do you define movement ?

Locomotion? Turning from one state

to another lowly or sublime?

Then explain to me please

its condition and locus

if you know. If you don t know

stay off the path of Wisdom

till your blindfold is untied.

When by way of demonstration

and deduction you speak

of NINE SPHERES -

what say you again?

what lies beyond these verdant fields?

If you answer VACUUM

I say you re wrong - impossible

that solid forms should hang

in a void. If you say

PLENUM - no no - one cannot conceive

a physical body without limit or end

like a sublime substance.

Then what keeps this ball of dust

suspended - so - between water and fire

thunderbolt and raging tempest?

If the elements are opposites in nature

why do the four of them

seem to embrace in an excess of unity

in a single place like

loving brothers? or if you say

they re not opposites in essence

why have they been given NAMES

which express their opposition?

BEGIN NOW

KNOW THYSELF and turn

your steed away from the

whirling spheres

and this duststained toy.

How can you taste Divine Mysteries

with the DEVIL in you

slashing about with his sword

duelling the inner ADAM?

Your vision of the

spiritual essence of things

reminds me of a blind man

dropped in the middle of the

soul-nourishing Garden of the Spirit

trying with his sightless eyes

to visualise the shapes and colours

of its delights.

2. Speech

YOU whirligig windowless jasper dome

with the hump of an old wife, power of youth

we your brood and you the unloving mother

you our mother! and yet so vengeful.

Black silent clay, this body s your baby

(not pure Intelligence nor rational Substance)

the body - abode of noble sublimities

and you the mother, mother of the house . . .

When I finish my work in this house today

I shall be off alone and tomorrow the house is yours.

MY SON this corpse of yours, this prison

will never be lovely even draped in silk brocades;

embellish your soul with the jewel of SPEECH

for the soul is ugly even in silk brocades.

Can you not see God s chains on your ankles

(only awakened souls can see them)?

Be a man in your chains and cinch your belt

nor dream your cell the realm of DARIUS:

those wh act in moderation find

kingdoms wider far than his.

Patience! no one finds heart s desire

but a man of patience;

and for sexual lust open the Qur an

to the story of Adam and Eve.

Stay out of harm s way and do no hurt

but justly, eye to eye:

stick to no petty grudge like the brambles

nor like the datepalm bend in humiliation

for dung is thrown in the pit because it sinks

sweet incence burned for its refreshing fragrance.

Don t run around with everyone nor shut yourself up alone -

walk wisdom s way - be neither fly nor gryphon:

if there s no one around worth talking to

then 100 times better alone than with idiots

(the SUN s alone - who blames it

or calls it less than the seven PLEIADES?)

Don t screw up your face at more or less;

do with what s given and be equitable with all.

The states of this vagabond world are fleeting

cold after heat, joy after sorrow -

better not to have grabbed for ephemeralities.

Listen - GOOD ADVICE - don t be a bilious fool.

Who cares if the earth is littered with pebbles or gold:

you will lie in your grave beneath a shack or a palace

(remember the man who built a castle in SANAA

now fallen to ruins in a ruined city).

The world s - a cunning devil whom the wise

have never cultivated for companionship;

if you have an ounce of sense don t swagger

in its sulphurous wake like a drunken clot.

The world s a bottomless mudchoked well -

don t lose your purified soul in its cloudy depths

(your soul purified by SPEECH - as the wise

through LOGOS have flown from well s-bottom to the stars).

Take pride in speech as the Prophet (who willed

not even a camel to his heirs) treasured his eloquence;

come to life in speech as Jesus

raised the dead with a word;

make yourself known through speech

for no one known if not by what he says . . .

But if you ve no ideas sew up your trap

for a word unspoken s better than an asinine remark.

Carve your utterance straight as quarrel s shaft

then shoot - don t fumble the bow.

Pay your attention to words than good looks

for man is SUBLIMED through speech not stature

(the almond gives better fruit than willows

or poplars which are taller;

a sober man may look like a tramp

but his words will brand him no drunk).

The ocean of LOGOS are the lovely words of God

sparkling with gemstones, glowing with pearls.

The outward form of Revelation: bitter as a gulp

of seawater - sweet pearls its innards to the wise.

If sunken treasure lies in ocean deeps

look for a diver - why run vainly down the strand?

Why has the Creator sunk these chests

of gems in briny weeded troughs?

Tell for the Prophet s sake! Who told HIM

to entrust the hermeneutic to the wise, words to the rabble?

The diver surfaces with a handful of slime

perhaps because he sees in you an enemy . . .

look for the pith of Revelation, don t follow the herd

content with husks like asses with their braying.

On the NIGHT OF POWER the mosques are bright as day

with your candles - but your heart is pitchy as 12 o clock;

don t waste wax - for tappers cannot banish

darkened from an ignorant heart.

You have not learned piety but from sheer pride

you solve riddles at midnight in an ebon well . . .

if you re not a snake why dot he believers

tremble in your hands and the Christians fear you?

Cease this rambling and giggling at the fortunes of life

for nothing on this dusty globe belongs to you.

How often the spinning spheres distracted the wise

and thrown their perfect peace in turbulence?

DARIUS left behind his slaves, his concubines

his castle and gold and departed with a decaying bag of skin.

Earth is a vulture, no creature safe

from its beak, neither lord nor butler.

A day comes in which is no shelter nor refuge

from the arbitration of a just and equitable Judge;

at that hour all shall be paid for their deeds

both the just and the unjust receive justice;

on that day of tumult in that turbulent crowd

before the martyrs of God I shall take refuge with

THE DAUGHTER OF MUHAMMAD

so that God the Almighty may decide

between me

and the enemies

of the household

of the Prophet.

3. The Angelic Presence

You, whose name has not been formed by anyone,

whose proof not even intellect can grasp.

To label you would be a loathsome act

for you are far removed from genus and species:

neither a subject nor an attribute ,

neither a Substance nor an Accident.

The moralist can t order you about

nor any censor tells you what to say.

The dance of the Sun s disc through the skies

is your command and gives birth to the shades

of animals; you stir the painter s pot,

the whirling spheres, mixing and mingling all

your most heart-catching colours in the stars.

The very mention of your name in the Nest

of Glory cuts off the wing of Gabriel;

on the Throne of Sanctity your lowliness

unveils the jewels which grace the bride of heaven.

Creation testifies that you were here before it,

and pre-eternity swears to your permanence.

O luminous sun, veiled by your shadow of light,

goal of all lovers, beyond their petty loves,

the paradoxical treasure of Qarun

(which is never where you find it) symbolises

your single pearl, concealed within two jewels -

two jewels which created the world, two gems

which chastised Adam.

The Universe is like

a rolling sea, our planet a tiny skiff

and Nature the anchor; its waves are trees, the stones

which wash up on the beach are animals;

but one, the pearl, the crimson carnelian

if YOU - the lonely beast endowed with speech.

And who is the diver? the Active Intellect

(worthy to be the mind of the Prophet himself).

What is the end? the same as was the beginning.

What is the goal? To seek that which is the best.

Behold the Good, if you have eyes, listen

to Truth, if you have ears to hear it with.

Lust s falcon has snatched you up in its beak, a dove

from Time s snare - have you forgotten, my brother,

Adam our father s sin and repentant tears?

I give a gift wrapped in veils of allusion

hoping you can slice away its seals

with meditation s sword: Adam ate

no bread in Eden; man was not the eater

of grain till his feet crossed the threshold of earth.

All this had happened to Adam when Satan s dam

had not yet come to birth.

What do you say

of Satan s refusal to worship man? Was he forced

not to bow, or did he have free choice to refuse?

If the power was his, to prostrate or not, then God

was impotent; but if God had pre-ordained

him to refusal, then God must be unjust.

No, give up thinking of work which is not your work

and cease to tread a path which is not your way.

No longer seek in vain the Water of Life

in the midst of your own darkness, like some lost

and bootless Alexander; for there were Khizr

found the fountain, the demon is no more

companion of the angel of our soul.

4. Freewill and Determination.

Who forced you to go for all this

eating and running around and sleeping and waking up

and what s the good of it? If this fate

didn t tickle your palate, why

have you spent your life guzzling and snoring?

How have you become such a disaster to yourself?

Tell the truth (wise men always tell the truth):

if you yourself destined to such a fate

then you must be your own Maker!

but this is manifestly bad doctrine. No,

the truth is that God s chains are upon you

and this abode is your pasturing place.

But munching grass and chewing cud

- damn! - this is work for cows!

How then do you explain your curious love

for the pasture? Ah, gourmet of hay,

all your fear and sorrow is the fear

of decrease - which cannot be avoided.

How in this hurlyburly world do you expect

to find permanence? Becoming the Change

to the wise are signs of Annihilation.

Your state changes, the stars shift about

day gives way to night - are these

not witnesses of the world s impermanence?

My dear tourist; this earth is like

a room in a onenight hotel, your journey

towards to Abode of Eternity.

Do not forget your passing from this place -

even if the house is torn down

religion prospers. Do not debase yourself

for finally someday however late a last

you must depart this caravanserai.

Make your provision for the road

obedience to God, devotion

the coin you spend on this difficult journey.

Gird yourself in armour of godliness and wisdom

for there lurks along the path a hideous dragon.

When you reach the fork, choose the best way

for one street lead to felicity, the other to Hell.

When the Prophet himself has come to you

with promise and threats, how can you claim

that Good and Evil are written, kismet, Fate?

Why try to shift the burden of sin and sloth

on to the shoulders of Destiny? Nonesense!

If God destined you to sin

then - according to you - the sin is God s

the evil-doer is God (hideous belief!)

Even if you don t dare to draw

the logical conclusion, in fear of getting

knocked on the head. Yes, that s your doctrine

even if your tongue proclaims Him Judge

the Wisest of Men, God knows

your tongue and heart do not agree - but you

lie boldfaced to the Lord of the Universe.

The wiseman treads midway

between Fate and Freewill

the path of the learned threads between hope and fear.

Seek you the Straight Way likewise

for either extreme leads to pain and suffering.

Straight indeed is that Way in religion

approved by Intellect, the gift of God to Man.

Justice is the Cornerstone of the Cosmos

- and consider! - by what faculty is justice

distinguished from tyranny except by Reason?

If man follows the tracks of Reason

it would not be wrong to expect to see

pearls spring up in his footprints from the soil.

Reason - Wisdom - only for this

and its radiant dignity does the Lord

of the Universe applaud and deign to address

his creature Man. Wisdom is the prop

for every weakness, relief from every sorrow

comfort in every fear, balm for each ill

noble companion, bulwark in the way of the world

and in religion a trusty guide, a stout staff.

Even if the whole Universe were free

it would be in bondage - but the wiseman

even in chains would be at liberty.

The Sage! Study him well with an awakened eye

and see by contrast with what black plague

this ignorant world is afflicted.

This one tells All actions are performed

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? (missing whilst photocopying)

submission and contentment. That one replies

All good is from God, all evil, O World

your work alone . But both parties

Agree on one thing at least, that a Great Day

is coming, a day of reward and punishment.

But if the work is not mine, how

shall be rewarded? Look: Illogic!!!

Where s the justice in chastising the innocent?

You may see it but I am nonplussed. No,

this arbitrator of your ( your in italic) judgement day

is the Drunkard of Sodom, not the Wise Being

who has built the vault of Heaven.

True wisdom could never lead us astray

in such error - then follow Wisdom s manifest Way.

Know the God of the Universe and be grateful -

these two precepts are worth more to you

than all the powers of Solomon.

Learn to be wise. Do not prattle

but speak in measure. Know that on the Last Day

these things have value, these are priceless.

The True Man is robed in Faith and virtue

- even fine silks cannot disguise

the art-less and wicked. Endeavour

to become a man by SPEECH - know

that for such a man all creatures

are but weeds and thorns. GOOD SPEECH

is to man s heart a air and water

to his body - a source of life.

Listen then O noble heart to the PROOF

for to the truly noble, his words are nobility.

5. Being and Becoming.

Whatever EXISTS, shall be worn away and die;

that which IS TO BE, then - whence does it spring?

He has not come into being, but is eternal;

that which BECOMES cannot be everlasting.

?????????? check seems a line missing ????????

Which does not increase, how can it die?

The world forever wears away and disappears

for if it did not die it could not grow.

No one can undo the knot tied by Gods hand.

Four wives and seven husbands procreate

without cease and all things of the world but God

are like these women. Decrepit filthy earth,

how does it manage to seize and enchant our hearts?

What do you think, my sage? When does the wheel

of this watermill ever cease to turn? Tell me how

that which is not can ever be, or that which is

can cease to be? Dont waste your time in chat

(fashionable as it may be with So-and-So);

how did you develop a taste for food

that gives indigestion? Rather ask:

if the world goes on forever, what can it do

for you? or if it dies, what can you do?

He who wants to know more of what I teach

ought first to purify his soul, for hone

cannot stick to a hand thats purified.

Wisdom asks no one but the wise

to busy himself with such matters.

Furs and silks are still lovely even on hag

but they cannot improve an ugly womans face.

He who cleanses his soul of error and sin

in the fire of intellect, deserves to dole out

measure by measure the contents of my sack,

but if you lack the wherewithal, refrain

from spattering heavens cupola with mire.

He whom love of the world has inflamed will never

be able to comprehend the truths I speak;

O confidence-man, O trickster, what can you gain

from poetry such as mine? You cannot trust

yourself - how then shall anyone trust you?

Prepare your heart, as I instruct and hope,

for the work at hand, so that this axe of mine

can trim the branches from your ignorance-tree

(but mildly and without pain); and turn your face

from those who deal in superstitious slander.

Good counsel scratches out the eye of ignorance

as sure as a fool in public will lose his pants!

6. Planets, Metals, Etc..

Reveille! Time to get up! from the couch of sloth! my son!

And gaze upon the globe with the orb of sagesse!

Eating and sleeping is the work of a creature with whom

you my ignoramus cannot hope to compare: the ASS.

Why do you suppose God gave you a brain?

foe eating and snoring contests with donkeys?

Tie round your fat head the turban of Wisdom

then one night raise your eyes to the lapis lazuli vault

or heaven like an emerald seas surging waves

which cast bright pearls from stygian trenches:

dark night crawling with stars like the armour

of Alexanders legions glinting through tenebrous shades.

See the Pleiades like seven sisters sitting side by side

Venus palefaced as terrified girl and Mars

with the baleful eye of a he-lion. Ponder:

Did the Dogstar grow silvery grey or Capella

begin to glow like a scarlet carnelian by themselves?

Each might the spheres spin their cerulean twine

about the throats of thousands upon thousands

of blossoming narcissus and lay their distant fires

around the harvest of the water lilies. But -

if these lights are really fires, how has this harvest

never been sent to increase or diminish?

Without, wick or wood fire never gives

light and radiance. If fire is that which needs fuel

that which needs no fuel cannot be fire.

The Sun is the maker of fire, distinguish, my boy,

between the maker and the fire itself.

Or if that which you see is an army, who

is its general? Socrates spoke of seven

commanders of these troops, prudent and energetic.

The Moon (said he) is green and from it grows

salt and bowels of the earth, silver in stone.

Mars breeds ill-tempered iron and from the womb

of the Sun (so he maintained) all gold is born.

>Jupiter he claimed >is the father of tin

and all copper has Venus for its dam.

Quicksilver is the daughter of Mercury

and Saturn the mother of gloomy lead.

Thus did the Greek associate with seven worlds

these seven melting metals; are the words

of this great sage true? Reason! come

and arbitrate my argument with him. I say

these planets are mere agents, helpless

with no will of their own. Each is charged

as guardian of a certain function - but

a true leader could never be an agent,

a slave or servant - no - he must be the king

who brought into being the very stars themselves

and the greensward on which they play.

It must be his command that alone has raised

without a scaffold the foundations of sea and land,

his decree that harmonises dry earth

with humid water, his power that revolves

the swift and gateless millwheel of the heavens;

and through him the dusty world adorns itself

with countless beauties. Four fecund sisters

and their innumerable spawn praise and glorify

HIM without end beneath this finespun azure

pavilion - but - who has ever heard such praise

of the seven planets? Unless by some hallucinatory

tintinnabulation on the broken eardrum of the heart?

Seize the hand of God or youll regret it! Find

a new-minted ear, a fresh eye to gaze upon

this great sovereign - for he will not grant you

audience unless you cut off your ears and pluck

your eyes from the webs of this world.

Your lord summons you to the heights why

have you cast yourself in the Pit? Climb

to highest heaven on feet of knowledge

and wings of devotion.

Oh you who tread the wilderness

of Insolence, your body lard, your soul starved thin

your arms coiled like snakes around the neck

of this deceitful world (imagining shes some

gorgeous slut) and clasp to your bosom something

more venomous than a king cobra -

seclude yourself from the world or not,

it makes no difference, shell have her

vengeance, her stiletto-satisfaction in the end.

To expect fidelity from this infidel is

to blow on sifted ashes hoping for fire and warmth.

This ghoul, this vampire has kicked a million

like you off the wharf and drowned them

in the shoreless passageless sea.

The world is a scab: it hurts

but it feels so nice to scratch it.

You think its pleasant and cozy as hot milk and sugar

but when it means you ill, watch out:

neither Caesar nor the Emperor of China

can do a thing to save you.

Sometimes it appears to you as a young bride

dripping with earings, bracelets and a diadem

who with sinuously erotic gestures, blushing

like a virgin, removes from her face

first the dust of humility and then - the veil . . .

suddenly, just as you anticipate . . . well

we wont go into that - suddenly like a lunatic

she whips out a dagger and stabs you in the throat.

In doing battle with this psychopath forge yourself

a sword of patience, a helmet of faith;

pluck gnostic buds from the branch of religion

and gaze upon devotional hyacinths in the

in the pasture of knowledge. The here-and-now

is no mansion for the wise but merely

a thoroughfare to be passed and left behind;

it is a twig whose yield is forbidden us to enjoy

- no matter then it bears fruit of not.

Compared to God, the partnerless judge, this world

cannot be counted even as an atom.

If He cared a whit for the worlds worth

do you suppose Hed allow an unbeliever

to take from it even a sip of water?

This is but a store where you can buy

road-provision for your trip to the Hereafter,

only a book wherein you must read

the mysterious calligraphy of your Lord.

Do not deny these hints from the PROOF

(truth can never be denied); you may learn

most readily to decipher the divine script

if you enter the Prophets house - then

in your footsteps tulips and lilies will spring up

and water-mint grow. But God will not permit

you to enter this house except behind ALI

the hero whose glory in the conquest of Khaybar

ha spread from Qayrawan to China,

whose sword has dumbfounded the lions;

Ocean before his great heart has shrunk

into a single drop; his words are a restingplace

a lamp of enlightenment for the heart

his sword a pit of fear and confusion to the foe -

Gods gift to Muhammad - his name Ali

his nickname Kawthar. If you yearn to see

to glaze upon that blessed countenance, that holy face

then hurry to the threshold of the IMAM MUSTANSIR

and do him the honour to approach, face in the dust,

towards that Kaaba of this world and the hereafter

that sacred temple of glory and majesty.

The sun dims before his shining face and the universe

before his doorstep appears but a heap of dirt.

By your sword, by your words, the battlefield

and pulpit have at last attained to grandeur;

without your blessed face the world itself

remains unknown, naked and unadorned.

Only by your knowledge has religion been known:

religion is the frankincense, your heart the pyx.

Hail, PROOF of the land of Khorasan, well done!

This propaganda, this eulogy of the Prophet and his House.

The point of your eloquent pen is a lancet

stuck in the eye of the enemies of true faith.

Such astonishing brocades you spin - tell me

are the famous looms of Shustar hid in your heart?

Spend your remaining years in weaving

these poems of piety, and in devotion.

7. God and the World.

Heres something for you to mull over:

He who made the world, what did He want of it?

The earth turns, day and night, sometimes more

sometimes less, sometimes even. Water

runs downhill, clouds scuttle across the sky

trees remain stuck in the mud, the beasts

move freely this way and that. And think of men:

how their works are boundless and uncountable.

Ewe, goat, cow, ass, elephant and lion

all suffer for this one beast alone;

seed, fruit, leaves of every plant

are either medicine for us, or food

(if it tastes good its food - the bitter

is perhaps some herbal remedy). Deer and game,

the browsing stag, all creatures that graze

are busy creating your steaks and kebabs

out of useless thorns and desert weeds -

the cows you feed on brambles and hay

you exploit for butter, cheese, yoghurt and milk.

Good, bad, right, wrong: the result of our actions.

The lion in his mountain, the bird in his sky

are not safe from our hands. Fire drudges

for us between the ovens stones, water

slaves for us in the mill, the wind

obeys us at sea, a good worker who keeps his place.

And what is all this to you? Look:

every human being is suffering because of some

other human being. This one says

I own the Roman Empire! Another one

China is mine! One raises a golden throne

over his treasures, another crouches starving in a corner.

X lies in a bed lid with silk and fine linen

Y wishes he had a tattered reed mat.

One stinks, armpits unwashed, never prays

another pure of heart, godfearing, pious.

How did one become bad, the other good?

Well? Whose fault is this mess?

And He Who made the world like this -

what can he fish out of such a kettle?

Good and bad, I repeat, more and less - wheres

the justice in such a set-up? If man

is good then obviously scorpions are bad.

No, really, tell me. This is no

rhetorical question. I really want to know.

I fear your opinions about Gods Justice

are not really sincere. Youre simply

trying to avoid being accused of heresy.

Ill tell you: to really understand Gods Justice

is the job of sages and prophets. Go

your lustful way - this is no business

for one infected with carnal passion.

Speech and action are attributes of man

- far removed is He from such human qualities.

Know God - perfectly - or all your panegyric

is nothing but satire. Do not speculate

about God as King of you and me - even though

the world and everything in it are fit to be

nothing but His slaves. What?

This tasteless and fleeting realm, how

could it be considered his domain?

The Kingdom of God (so you confess) knows

neither increase or decrease; but if the world

is His Kingdom - and the world is subject

at every moment to annihilation - then

His kingdom knows decrease! A contradiction!

In fact you do not know Him nd your words

bear witness to your ignorance. For me

what you profess is not religion but a cause

of wretched disbelief.

Now:

knowledge of Gods agents is the very foundation

of the Islamic Religion. The universe

is such an agent, without intelligence, knowledge or will.

And that Power which has dominion over the universe

is itself and agent - the beginning of all agents.

Agents everywhere: for example: the agent in plants

is sluggish, intractable. That by which the soil

makes raiment for your limbs, food for your stomach

that which produces wheat from dust -

that is not God, but thevegetative soul.

You object@God is pure of all this!

We will prove our point. According to your reasoning

the Lord of the Universe is without doubt inside

every grain of barley and every bean.

Surely you see how ugly, unjust and erroneous

such a belief must be!

Only when you know

the agents in all their reality is your soul

worthy of applause. You are an agent too.

Do your duty! and be rewarded with eternal bliss.

The duty of the tree is to bear leaves and fruit

and yours is glorifying God with prayer and invocation.

Follow the footsteps of that excellent guide

Muhammad the Chosen One of God.

Dont loll about in idleness. All this work

going on in the universe is all aimed at YOU -

the rest is dust. Follow the way of religion,

cure for the sickness of ignorance. You soul

in ignorance has grown thin as an old mule -

knowledge is its water, its pasture Divine Law.

Without knowledge your soul is lead - religion

is the alchemy to make it gold. Abstain

from dragonlike and sensual desires. Buy

true glory and eternal life, luminous

and beautiful as the light of Divine Law.

Intellect the gift of God has made religion

incumbent upon you, and he who refuses

to enter this path is an ass even if

(like you, to be sure) hes descended from Adam himself.

No - worse than and ass is man

satisfied with bestiality. Wisdom shows the way:

follow the track of faith, the blessed staff,

wearing the cloak of obedience, loveliest of mantles.

Devotion is the head of the body of blessings,

the seal of the epistle of good deeds -

but obedience without knowledge is not obedience,

only a puff of morning breeze. Know then:

obedience means two different things according

to whether we discuss the body or soul - for you

are two: body and soul. On the Day of Fire

man is saved by knowledge and action. Devote yourself

to these two, and prefer above all words the words

of the PROOF. Wisdom knows his sermons by heart.

Theyre the very head on the body of Wisdom

and his phrases are soothing balm for its eyes.

8. Hermeneutics (The Garden)

Windowless revolving turquoise dome: why

is it sometimes a garden, sometimes a wilderness?

First house Ive ever heard of half-desert

half-rosebed, blossoming when you turn your back

on the wasteland. And a black globe

hangs suspended in the middle of the livingroom -

look: no wires. Whos the magician?

A better trick than King Solomons Throne?

Earth - a great tablecloth spread with delicacies

out there on the veranda. When they ask you

to join the feast, think for a moment:

do you deserve it? What about it?

O you whose back is bent like an umbrella.

Look: that eye-in-the-sky, staring,

staring at the earth, looking for the

secret mine-full of jewels, reaching out

with four hands ( Spring, Summer, Winter, Fall).

The jewel is dug out and planted

in another mine: mans body. A pale germ.

Give it colour then - dont be a weakling.

A rubys valued by its >water, man

by his speech. Your body is precious

only because its the shell for this pearl,

this Wisdom, this divine Spirit.

Give spirit to your jewel, for the spiritless

have no mercy from God when the

shell is split open. Wake up! beware

lest you leave this world as you entered it,

hungry, thirsty, naked. Dont buy

before you look at the label. The Divine Law

is Gods grain-garden. His plantation of trees,

some tended by His hand - but others

by Satan. Traveller, if you hunger for

these rare fruits, ask the gardeners permission

(a great and virtuous man) before you come in:

choose the apple, the quince; avoid

the brambles, dont be deceived by tall trees

which bear no fruit. The parrot and owl

are both birds, but one graces the courts

of kings, the other perches in ruins.

Black smokes may rise high as clouds

but gives no rain, not every child

whose father calls him Noah owns an ark

to ride out the Flood. The Messenger

is Lord and master of this house,

commander of humankind, herald of God.

The Messengers child is the gardener,

who protects you from oppressors as the harden

is protected from noxious insects. Just because

apples have worms doesnt mean the farmer

turns the orchards over to pests, any more

than youd surrender your new house

to the mice. A mouse stays in its hole

and travels the wainscotting - what does it know

of the parlour and the porch? No more

than the fool knows of religion. The fool

can mount the pulpit but that doesnt

make him equal to the Sage: the crow

can kick the nightingale out of the garden

but that doesnt mean that it can sing.

Wisdom comes from man, not from a pulpit;

light comes from the sun, not from some

distant star. The Quran is Gods battlefield -

come you knights, ride forth to the lists;

its easy enough to read the Book -

the hard thing is its hermeneutic sense;

if youre not a cow, dont eat chaff with grain

(so said Salman); dont eat the shell with the nut.

It would be libel to say the Prophet didnt know

the meaning of Gods Word - and no one

but the Prophets Family has power

over it now. The rod turned into a snake

in the hands of Moses and Moses alone.

A parrot can talk, but not understand

what it says - so with your reading

of the Quran! Parrots gabble, profitless

absurd, unproven. . . noise. They say

the Prophet died without appointing

a successor. Fools! Prophethood is the

dominion of God, not Rome or China;

what king would turn his empire

over to a stranger? Go, read the

Book of Kings and see for yourself!

Would any Muslim leave his wealth

to a stranger when his daughter,

his son-in-law and his grandchildren were all

still alive? Do you think the Messenger

would act contrary to the Word of the Lord,

the Judge, the Glorious? What crudities!

What are you saying, you around whose brows

the fumes of rebellion smoulder|?

Youll realise its all babble on that Day

when you have to chew stones and weep.

Regret is no use tomorrow if you have not

repented today. Sorrow will not help

the old man who fled from school

as a child. He who spends the summer

drowsing in the shade will not sleep

from hunger through winters nights.

Grief is useless if the patient falls ill

in Iraq, when the remedy is in Badakhshan!

Do you think the Sultan will accept

>Im sorry from the convicted thief?

The Prophets descendant sits in the place

of his ancestor, and the tip of his crown

brushes against Saturns sphere

He is the Chosen one of God - why

do you rave on? There, there where

the Prohet sat at the Divine command

he sits today. Your choice is not

Gods choice - do you know better

than the Creator, the Judge Himself?

Old man, God will not accept

your sacrifice of a dog - even a fat one!

The Prophets son is a sacrifice for you -

find your way by his wisdom to the Garden.

He is the Solomon of the Age; flee

to his gate, escape from your demons.

O Lord of Adams children, your kingdom

like Solomons. Your wisdom like Luqmans,

in the Garden of the Divine Law, March

appears from your justice, April

from your generosity. Religion is

adorned by you, the world made beautiful,

wisdom refreshed, heresy defeated.

When I proclaim your name from

the pulpit on Friday, roses spring up

from your blessing. When your servant

speaks your name - MUSTANSIR BILLAH -

the vale of Yamgan fills with dancing stars.

Your enemies are consumed like foam

in the moonlight. O you title of the Book

of Happiness. Your humble servant

is hounded by enemies only because

he is a guest at your gate. O PROOF

of Yamgan, let your words pierce the hearts

and souls of these villains. If Khorasnas soil

rejected you, be of good cheer - Gods pleasure

is richer than the soil of Khorasan.

Compose your odes on praise of the Wisdom

of the Family, as did the eulogists of old.

9. The Two Jewels.

Somewhere above the seven heavens two jewels lie

by whose light Adam and the world are lit;

both formed and not formed, the foetus of nothingness

by the sperm of being - not sensible, nor

do we sense them, do not see them, for

they are neither dark nor luminous -

suckled by nurses of the holy land forever -

no - not jewels, though gemlike in quality:

on one side of creation, on the other side

of all things that exist, both inside and outside Time

they are settles; not in the world

- but they are the world; not in us

but in our bodies the nourishment of Spirit.

They say these two are the TWO WORLDS

both found and not found in all the seven Climes.

One the Holy Spirit, one the essence of Gabriel,

angels flying without wings, without wings

they spread their pinions over this lowly house,

without plumage they soar above their high nests.

With universal Hot and Cold, with the worlds Wet and Dry

like Earth and Wind they keep company with Water and Fire.

They are not - but are called - the Substances

of Eternitys treasure-house and the store of Permanenece.

Both Adam and the world, both Hell and Paradise

present and absent, poison and sugar,

stretching from light to darkness, from

apogee to perigee, from East to West, land to sea,

they are and are not, both hidden and revealed

far from you yet found int he same house.

In that Second World which is heir laboratory

they both destroy and build all things;

food of the five senses, nurses of the four natures,

stewards and cooks of the nine spheres and seven planets.

Ten spies stand around their house, five inside

and five by the gate. Heavens shopkeepers

wait to see what they will sell, and buy -

a ten-headed, six-faced, seven-eyed king

with his four sworn enemies lives in their house.

They are not substances, their substance is accident:

they both are and are not the axis of all accidents.

Illiterate, they read you the letter of the mysteries

and know your deeds without spying on you.

They are lost - and thus become manifest;

headless, bodiless - because they reside

in head and body. In attributes they are not contained

in the world, though hidden in our body and head.

They come from a place which is not a place;

there, they are angles; here, divine messengers.

In attribute they rank above the spiritual world,

neither elements not substances,

like the essence of God Himself.

Though they rule the two worlds they can if you like

conquer your soul as well. They speak

and act, bringing down revelations from on high.

Look at the vegabonds of the sky, an army

for the King of the Holy Throne: even if fools

deride them, they are the movers of the spheres.

Why so many thousand ears and eyes? No,

do not say so - they are blind and deaf.

01. Words of Wisdom.

Wisdom, gazing on my flesh and on my soul

wept sincerely for that pair of wretches.

Your soul s an alien stranger here it told me

Do it a favour, pay it some care, for after all

your body s quite at home and can fend for itself.

To help a stranger - that s the flower of virtue,

the root of noble disposition. It takes

an idol-worshipper to decorate an idol -

ignore your body lest you fall into idolatry.

Watch where you re going, take care not to stray.

Can you imagine a troll and a fairy embracing?

Wee, your body s is a demon, your soul an angel;

brother, why is your angel naked and cold

when your demon parades around in mink?

In philosophic terms the body s garb

is accidental but the soul s is essential ;

cleanse your soul with fine bleach, the soap of religion

then robe it in the robe of knowledge

(for ignorance is the cause of unbelief).

In religion - science and sciences, fruit of the garden

of Prophecy - avoid that asininity

which is synonymous with irreligion.

The wiseman - he is far from ignorance

as from a disease for which the knowledge is the cure.

Surely Reason is better than sugar

for it cures the pain of baseness. Reason

in the path of faith guides to felicity

with far more accuracy than the Zodiac.

Will a flower stay fresh without water?

Only the Rose of Intellect! Speak and act

in that virtue which for you is the root

of all good fortune. The purpose of creation

is Man - all the rest is but trash -Man

who holds dominion over heaven and earth,

lord of discernment and noble intellect,

deliberation and eloquence. Do not turn your head

O Man! From Him Who gave you

all this greatness and sovereignty, or

from His Command. Pay Him by the coin

of obedience in gratitude for His gifts.

Gratitude is an angel, blessings a fine

plump partridge - only gratitude

wins the reward of blessing.

Give thanks to Him alone who buys

your words in the bazar of Paradise.

Work here below to gain a kingdom far beyond

which will not vanish nor pass away with time.

If God created you to be a king

why do you debase yourself with slaves?

Beneath the dome of creation all things

are subject to generation and corruption.

Seek you for Eternity. But do not scorn

this world like an ignorant fool, for she

has over you the rights of motherhood;

contemplate Him in His works, give praise

to Him Whose handiwork is glorious.

The wise dispute: what is to be found

beyond the realm of the revolving spheres?

A vast and verdant world wherein our realm

is smaller than a finger-ring. To him

tomorrow belongs that world who today

has patience in obedience. There no one

will hunger or thirst (a foolish notion, worthy

of the exoterists!) So what will they need

with wine, however with celestially delicious?

Beware the chatter of the rabble

if you incline to the way of Ali

but listen instead to the proofs of the PROOF

whose words are not idle nor vain

02. A Parable of Jesus

The sword is in your hand

but do not slay

for God will recompense you

on that day;

the blade was no more forged

for the unjust

than grapes for outlawed wine

are pressed to must.

The Prophet Jesus, strolling

on a day,

found at his feet a man

slain on the way;

and in amazement, spoke thus

to the corpse;

Whom did you murder, that now

with such remorse,

yourself lie slaughtered in

the dusty lane?

By whom in turn shall he

who killed, be slain?

Don t spoil your knuckles knocking

at the gate

of strangers; and be spared

the blows of Fate.

03. On the Qur an

Look with inward eye

at earth s hiddenness

for the outer eye

cannot see it.

Was it?

you noble folk

do not know the esoteric

but only the exterior.

It is the world

and you must bind it

in chains of iron

shackles of wisdom;

even if this globe

seems too wide, too loose

to be bound, two things

will do: knowledge and obedience.

Your body s a mine

your spirit the buried jewel

of these two treasured qualities

so exert yourself, body and soul.

The days of youth

were fleeting as dreams

whims and fantasies which

never abide.

Do you expect stability

from the heavens

when the sky itself

is rootless?

This world s a ladder

towards that world

so climb

to the top rung.

In the whirling dome

and unmoving earth

behold the craft and wisdom

of Him Who made the Invisible;

see how He has made

(undriven by Necessity)

the luminous soul a mate

in corpulent flesh.

Who has suspended magically

beneath the green cupola

of heaven this colossal globe

of uncertain grey?

How can you say this twirling sphere

will run down

when countless centuries

have passed?

He has not made

earth to die

nor the flow of water

nor the blowing winds to cease.

He is wise and made all

in wisdom and art

so do not whisper these words

but to the People of Truth

for it is not meet

to reveal the secrets

to every astray

and unbridled scoundrel.

Time and Space are the play

of the Divine Artisan

and thus know

no limits or bounds.

If you protest There s nothing

of this in the Qur an

I reply that you have not

read it very well;

the Qur an s a treasure

guarded by one to whom

God has given the rule

of all men and jinn.

The Prophet appointed him

under divine command

shepherd to the endless

flock of believers -

but you!

against that Chosen One of God

and Muhammad have referred

who s-it, What s-his-name & So-and-so.

You do not know

the meaning of the Qur an

because you have disobeyed

the spirit of the Qur an.

The Book is a table laid

with a spiritual feast -

tell me, reciter of the Book:

who is the host?

for only he who knows

the kind giver of the feast

can eat at this good table

and be blessed.

If you re truly human

that food will be made human flesh;

haven t you noticed that dogs

turn bread and water to dogmeat?

The greatest of Man, the Prophet

for that reason has banished

from his table the enemies

of his Household;

like fallen angels

these foes must stand

drylipped before the Euphrates

for their evil thoughts.

If you would be

a lover of the Family

you must (like Nasir) abondon

to the enemy your wealth;

do not regret

your riches

for they will not remain

in any case with Sultan or Khan.

What you lose of this world

you gain in religion

as much as you scorn your worldly loss

for the sake of the Hereafter.

You are a guest in another s house;

behave yourself

and do not act as if

it belongs to you.

04. Ode to Night.

Night: shoreless shadowed stormwracked sea;

the sphere of Night: a desert of roses smeared with indigo.

Slopes, hillocks, high places stand still and silent

as terminal giants hunched in cureless melancholy.

Heaven has washed its face in tar and rests unmoving

as if God the Singular had never created it.

Wilderness, bewildered with sadness, grows no lighter

with the bilious dawn. Rays of light

cannot move from eyes to touch faces,

echoes cannot find their way to any ear

as if Earth the Sorcerer had taken existence away

from all things and left the whirling sky a lunatic.

The Empyrean grinds to a halt - one might think

in all the world no creature stirs or breathes.

Under the narrow ebon canopy of night I open my eye

- nothing. I close my eye upon no dream.

My physical eye looks upon night, the eye of my heart

looks upon the void, like a lonely sentinel

in the midst of the sleeping army. My physical eye

sees the stars as vigilant guards. The heart s eye

sees no one awake, no wiseman, no sage.

The stars: a paradise of black-eyed girls;

the clouds part and reveal their smiling eyes

like a bit of luck amidst the general bane -

Go, have a look: the Pleiades, cluster of white roses

shining in dark grass like lost gems of ancient kings;

Capella s bloodshot eye in the West, like a bersker

staring down in foe; Jupiter like Joseph

in the inky well, Venus pale and perplexed as Zulaikha;

the sky, Mary s jewel-encrusted tabernacle;

stars like monks, the Hyades a crucifix.

My eye, ear, heart, breathlessly wake, hoping

for a streak of dawn, a sound in that terrible stillness,

for if my soul forgets, my learned intellect recalls

that in all the Universe, nothing begins but comes to an end.

Night s raven crosses the boundary from Jabulsa to Jabulkqa,

dawn rises at last, a griffon from a ruby s heart,

legions of darkness flea before the ranks of morning

as error dissipated before Truth s face;

the stars blush like maidens in purdah

caught by their mothers without their veils,

and fall, fall headlong into the Sun, as in the end

all parts rejoin the Whole at last.

Ah, Nasir, you speak too much of stars and night;

look in your wisdom on the world s affairs;

the universe, a sea of eloquent pearls,

the Ocean of Time, men its frail ships.

Praise God, Who makes His ablutions and shakes

the water from His hands, which falls

into the heavens, each drop a star.

The constellations of good fortune are nothing

without the light of His face; the skies

have no breadth but in His Kingdom s expanse.

Such ranks He bestows on me in His generosity

no sage before me is wise, no prince sublime.

From this world I seek but fellowship in Faith,

companions such as never Heaven not earth have known.

I praise the peerless Lord, the Almighty Friend

from Whom all power flows. I have woven

a silk brocade and sewn it with Wisdom

such as never left the looms of Byzantium;

I have raised a tree, fresh and tall as the Ash of Paradise,

every leaf a gold word, every line sweet as a date.

05. The Way of the World.

That s its custom, the World: to vex and disturb us -

but whatever you do don t try to hit back!

It ll never leave off its swordplay, but the best

you can do is to make a shield of your intellect.

I see you wear the amulet of loyalty

to the world around your neck - take it off

quick, or your master will surely strangle you.

The generous man, accustomed to doing good

to people of faith and virtue, shins the mob

as if they were dogs, as if they were briny desert

where no wise farmer would think to sow a crop

or hope to fertilise it with irrigation.

Companionship with fools is but a thorn

to prick out the eye of faith and manliness -

don t give your heart to the world; no free

or noble man would sell himself to a tramp.

Never feel secure from the vicissitudes of Time

that serpent which devours even the elements;

if one day you manage to escape her tricks

tomorrow she ll back with something worse.

Mankind sees little mercy from this world

however much he begs and weeps and laments.

Look how she paints her face, the whore,

the husband-murderer, the witch who hides

away in her closet mixing poison with

his glass of wine - but worse, her lover, who takes

a cup of arsenic from this drab and thinks

it honey - how can he be reckoned a man

who falls in a woman s deceitful snare? Wisdom

is a magic potency bought with piety

and faith, which pours down its rain from the cloud

of language on the field of the intelligence.

He who makes Wisdom his master will see as clear

as day the banal machinations of

his foe, the World which mixes honey with gall -

he who has Wisdom in his head will never

dare to bed down with a demon of Hell !

06. The World Defends Itself.

O World, you may not have lasted more than

the usual fourscore and ten for anyone, but still

you are necessary. You may be as wretched as

a thorn on the eye, but essentially you are

as necessary as sight itself. You may have

broken, but you have mended as well.

Like a chameleon you take on the colour

of corruption from the corrupt, but to the pure

you are pure. To those who despise you

sayYou have not known me.

If you are modest and sedate you ll find me

modest and sedate as well. I gave you

righteousness but you sought from me

only ill. If you are wise you will be

saved from me. Why hate that from which

you ve been saved? God has given me

to you as a thoroughfare - why do you

loiter along the way? You are a branch

of the tree God planted for your sake -

if you grow up crooked, you will end up

in the fireplace - grow straight

and you will be saved. Yes, crookedness

will land you in the flames, and no one

will ask if you were almond or pistachio.

You are the arrow of God to His enemies -

why have cut yourself on your own point?

You yourself have gone astray from deliverance -

why complain to me that you have lost

and cannot find the way again?

07. Homo Ludens.

The World knows the GAME -

don t cut yourself in.

Even swiftflying hawks

will fall in its snare.

I build a palace

the world pulls it down:

what do you call this

but Play?

What is it; Ludus?,

that from which nothing

is gained. But you

are mad for it.

In the claws of the worldhawk

your hair goes piebald grey;

now turn back

from this pointless Play.

Youth was a downward slope

- easy breathing, head held high -

now the upward climb of old age

and you hang your head.

Youth a descent

you rushed unchecked;

but now before the hill of age

you gape and yawn.

>When I was young

I did so-and-so

but now you ve grown old

why boast over nothing?

When you were so rich

why didn t you stash something

to tide you over now

you re down and out?

Yourstates are like

fish in the sea:

in the sea who owns them

mon brave?

World s face embroidered

with playfulness:

turn away and sew up

your own affairs.

Unless you turn body and soul

to gnosis and devotion

those two uncaring frauds

will cheat you blind.

Circling . . . circling -

close the circle - die.

If you do not start NOW

when will you start?

Screwing around, ballgames

injustice, backbiting, theft

lying, conning, putting it on,

pride, impudence and slander:

demongames

set-ups for the Fire -

get out of them

heave them overboard.

At school they force knowledge

down your throat;

ignorance sings harmonies with you

when you harmonise withNature@.

Why aren t you greedy

for knowledge? You re usually

voracious, a glutton for

whatever you don t have.

I heard you boasting of

your eloquent Arabic.

Idiot! Arabic - its only value

is to read the Qur an

the Treasury of Knowledge

for those who read it passionless -

and what enticed you to poetry

if not your passions?

Mine of Divine Mysteries

you scorn it

intimate playfellow

of lying devils.

If I m to be called

your fellow-religionist

you ll have to cut yourself

off from such friends.

O Nasir ! Cut yourself off indeed

O PROOF! From braggrats

and seekers of fame, for you

are a man of truth and piety.

It s enough of you can

escape from their clutches -

cut the story short and leave off

talking about the Persians.

For in your heart are

ambergris-scented rose-tinted

brocades with you

the perfumer, the draper

will offer to

the wise.

08. The Eater of Dust

He will not spend the coin of his days on sleep and food

who knows the secrets of the Turquoise Wheel

- only the fool who s crushed beneath the disgrace of ignorance

will trust himself to the gourmandise of a drunken dragon.

Seduced by sweet repose and tasty victuals

you cannot feel the world gnawing away at your side;

eater of Dust, know in the end dust shall devour you.

The fruit of earth is mixed (by Nature s powers)

with salt, with fat or sugar to your taste -

without those herbs and spices do you think

the taste of dirt would please you half so well?

The earth is poison. Your enemy lurks in your stomach

and is fed up with your soul, no matter what

you feed him on - but if you neglect to pour

his ration of dirt down his throat, then how

he will howl and complain down there in your gut.

What magic furnace lies hid within a grain of wheat

that lets it alchemise dung and dirt into itself?

How does that headless toothless intestineless grain

devour dust, moistened by Spring rain?

He who does not marvel at such craftsmanship

must ne counted blind by those with wisdom.

Inside the grain the portions of the seed

have each their separate work and avocation

to carry on their labours for mankind -

but the sage, when he sees in each bit of corn

a creator, will not take it for his god,

and tiring of his scientific search among

these hidden artisans of Nature, will not raise

his sight in vain to higher things than intellect.

Let him sow seeds of gratitude in his eyes

who is lucky enough to receive from his Lord

such blessings as these, for if he should pay

for happiness with hurt, must he not be

hurt in return? The sage who s done a favour

will return it, for nothing flows from a jug

of vinegar but vinegar. Think and imagine

meditate and write of nothing but Good;

seek counsel from the wise, for they will pour

for you a beverage much to your liking,

pressing the heart s cluster with the hand

of the intellect. Are you sorrowful my brother

and find that religion brings you only grief?

Then read the poems of the PROOF, for they will scour

and polish this sorrow from your soul. But you

who are slain by ignorance, must come to him

if you desire the resurrection he provides

for your ignorance, he dare not come to you!

09. Ode to Spring

Winter flees, Spring returns new youth

to this aged world, the Azure pool

is filled with sparkling wine, the silver desert

set with emeralds, and the wind,

whipping the flags of February, now

in march takes on a hint of incense.

The poor naked willow now is clothed

in fine gray silk and ear-rings. The meadow

has washed its face, the flowers eyes

have opened, earth has regained awareness,

for the Morning Breeze has breathed upon it

the Messiah s revivifying incantations.

The garden grows fresh as the sky;

the narcissus sparks like the Pleiades.

The clouds - are they not Joseph s miracle?

For the desert has grown fair as the face

of Potiphar s wife. Tulips blush

like so many young girls, the narcissus

stares about like a frenzied lover.

Violets, released from the persecution

of winter snow, have donned the robes

of Christians. Crystal spools are shady,

the air clear, the raven slinks away,

the nightingale begins to practise his scales,

the garden is paradise, the tulip s cheeks

grow luminous as the skin of black-eyed

houris. The crow, like a conquered blackamoor

enslaves himself to the rose and nightingale -

a trellis of white rose-vines punctuates the air

like the silver mosaic of the heavens.

Winter bows to Spring like the enemies of Faith

before Ali; the raven cowers in fear

like the foes of the Imams - hypocrisy

is woven in its black robe, like the gowns

of the Abbasids. The Sun shines forth

like a Fatimid as it ascends the slope

from its winter exile, its rays as bright

as Zulfiqar, giving vigour to the rose

as to the pearl-white steed of Ali.

Reaching the battlefield of the Equinox, the Sun

declares war on the cold season - Day

increases like Faith, like the People of Friendship;

Night shrinks like unbelief and grows dark

with melancholy as the People of Hypocrisy.

The world like a heart which remembers

now swells with light, beneficence and virtue.

It was till now as gloomy as a forgetful soul,

but has grown bright as a wiseman,

now that the Lord of the Planets in the sign of the Ram

has grown powerful in justice, the principle

of all goodness (was not Chosroes known

throughout the world for his justice?)

Behold what marvels rise with the Sun

in the Vernal Equinox: how this rotten mire

has been transformed to rubies and ambergris.

He is saved who waxes eloquent of knowledge

and justice, wherein are all blessings; who fulfils

the intellect s desire (for the world was made

only for wisdom and equity). True beauty

is knowledge, not the world s false tinsel.

Be not deceived by noise: seek truth,

and not the world. Do not swell with pride

to hear you ve been appointed Judge

in Balkh or Bukhara - know that true knowledge

of religion is eclipsed when the affairs of Faith

are entrusted to the rabble. Close your ears

to the words of an ignoramus, even if

he s famous; seek the Why and How of things

lest the world constrict about you like

a shrinking ring. Try to convey your ideas

to your opponents, for unless it is tried

in the fire of debate, science cannot

be purified. (He who goes to a court

without judge, jury or counsel for the prosecution

will naturally bring back a verdict

pleasing to himself - but perhaps wrong!)

Imitate the truly great, and be humble

before those who have risen through knowledge:

look how the black earth, by obeying

the palmtree, is turned, bit by bit

into sweet dates. The truly rich have

gained their wealth through knowledge and patience -

imitate the noble, for a noble mind

is the alpha and omega of a lofty spirit.

10. Anti-Ode to Spring

How long have you praised the spring,when the dry stems

shall blossom and the almond bear fruit; when

the garden, like my beloved, shall blush

and its meadows grow fresh as her skin;

when dew shall polish the waxy petals

of the pomegranate, and the nightingale leave

his rose to fly and salute them. The songster

burns with love and haunts the garden

till the mournful raven comes to chase him away.

The rose rides upon its steed of ruby,

the tulip marches before, bearing its banner.

The garden was scattered with Winters white camphor

but now is strewn with Spring s pearls.

The moonfaced children of the rose,

with its uncles and cousins now join it for a picnic.

The willow signs a peace-treaty

with the boisterous wind, the tulip

embraces and kisses the narcissus. The garden

is a constellation from which Venus,

in the early dawn, peeps down upon earth . . .

Bah! Enough of such futile nonsense! Such blather

merely embarrasses me! Spring has returned

as my guest now sixty times - it will be the same

if I live to be six hundred. Those whom Fate

has stripped of all adornment can take no joy

in the garden s decorations; to me its loveliness,

this Spring of your, is but a daydream

concealing pain beneath its charming robes,

poison in its sugar, thorns in its roses.

The cheerful day will come after the sorrows

of stygian night - but when mad Winter

cannot drive away your bile, what use

are Spring and its blossoming meadows?

The changing seasons are but ravenous lions

which steal forth each night to stalk us -

whoever raises his head will have it

bitten off. These beasts are not filled even

with the blood of thousands of victims.

Yes, the world is a sweet place to fools

but to me disagreeable and hateful. Whatever

character of a man, the world offers him

the same portion. Everything s proper

in its proper place - wetness from water,

corrosion fro acid - and even the tasteless thorn

seem moist and toothsome to the mouth of

an ass. We must learn to compromise

with the habitual injustice of the world,

when evil always follows after good,

and (I suppose) good after evil - for they make

a pulpit and a gallows from the same tree.

Sometimes you need defences, a strong castle

with a dungeon and chains - but then again

you are blamed for being toosensitive !

One day the shrewd spheres raise an army

against you, the next they smile and pat you

on the back . .

Ah, now I have shocked you.

Go away you shout,you irreligious maniac

and just wait till Judgement Day!

But to me, my forelocks are blades of sweet basil

even if to you, coiled black rattlesnakes.

To the children of Fatimah I am a branch

laden with fruit, even if to you I seem

a sterile weeping willow. How can I take pride

in religion when you too claim to be a Muslim?

I choose the friendship of Ali, whose sword

brings dark night to his foes, bright day

to his Partisans. Light is far superior

to smoke, even if both come from fire.

A neighbour can never take the place

of a brother, even if he comes with you

to the mountains and caverns. Test gold and flint

with the same touchstone, they cannot posses

the same value. Islam is a palace built for all

to take rest therein, by the Prophet himself.

Ali and his children are its gates. Welcome, O you

who enter here, and hail to him who has rolled out

the red carpet of knowledge and action.

11. Encore

Eloquent PROOF, open your book of poems or from the point

of your pen shower forth your pearls of speech.

Your verses are perhaps too long, too many - but

since I find them

sweet and instructive, I cannot have enough of them!

I ll write a panegyric on a king whose gifts are precious

even if he gives me so many of them I can t stagger away

under their weight! So refresh those words growth hoary,

give new life to old saws, rain down a cloud of gems

and ancient earth in Springtime. This book

which at first looked too heavy, has become a joy

for me, just as an old shirt looks elegant again

when it comes back fresh from the laundry.

Poems from a heart-full of knowledge must be sweet

as spring-water poured from clean clay jug.

What is the spice of speech? Meaning and metaphor -

and yours is a cook s garden of poetic herbs.

Repetitive? Yes, but one need not fear repetition

in poetry which can only improve the more we read.

God seasons the pot of earth with tastes, smells, colours -

apples, oranges, walnuts, quince and pomegranate;

the grapes of the vine never clog your palate

even if they taste the same as last year s or

the year before. To the intelligent reader

wisdom and knowledge are the seeds of literature;

come, Sage, sow these seeds in my heart,

leave behind you a harvest of verse which will keep

your memory fresh (on its own level) as that

of the Prophet himself. Was it not eloquence

which spread his Faith to Earth s four corners,

was it not by his words he raised himself

on Seventh Heaven?

Earth s creatures may be

conquered by Wisdom only because the Almighty Lord,

the Subduer, is also the All-Wise. Contemplate

your body, see the soul that hides within it:

how can it be, when this too too solid flesh

sinks to sleep, that something remains awake,

seeing, speaking, aware? This dead carrion lives

only by a magic jewel, the amulet of gnosis:

shame and speech, praise and blame belong to it alone,

and when it departs, your body s no more than a corpse

why do you value skin and bones, and despise the true

and only Lord of your body? You consort with slaves

but have not met the master; know both

as they are in REALITY, for in this knowledge

(all wisemen agree) all wisdom resides.

Old fellow, if you neglect your better half,

don t complain if wisemen refuse you the

title of MAN. Body ad soul are comrades

in knowledge and action, but you have neglected

the affairs of the older and better of the two.

You treat your soul as if it were a stranger,

your body a suspicious and inhospitable

town-dweller; the wanders the streets unhoused,

unfed. Is this the custom of the noble host?

How can you train your soul if it remains

unknown to you? Make its acquaintance,

treat it well; your soul goes naked while

your body is cosseted in silks and furs. Shame!

What a state of affairs! Weave a cloak

with meaning as warp and words as weft,

for the soul must clothed in the texture

of Wisdom. Wisdom is a citadel, just as

the Prophet was acity of knowledge and Ali

its worthyGate (this is a sound tradition,

recorded by honest men). The knowledge and advice

which have issued forth from this Gate

are too exalted even to be calledknowledge andadvice ;

they bear the same relation to the ordinary sense

of these words as a rose to a thorn.

If you find Wisdom something mean and hateful, no wonder!

Even the camel (gourmet of thorns) refuses to eat

your wormy flower. I offer you a clue, a way

to that House of Wisdom; keep it secret, guard it

from the frivolous. If you find the Gate and

enter the palace, you escape forever this

caravan of demons, you will learn at least

why the cosmic dance was begun, and what

shall be the end of its monotonous revolutions.

The Architect of the galactic dome has brought you

here for a certain task - why do you shun it?

Feed your soul till it s fat on wisdom -

don t let it end its prison days lean

as a boneyard cur. Everything s found is its

proper place - to reach elsewhere is to make

unnecessary trouble. The world cotains only

fraud and deceit; if you want Wisdom, listen to me

and seek it in religion. This upturned bowl,

this sky under which you sit (as you imagine)

so safe and secure, is really as ocean, about

to fall on your head. Watch out! God has

chained you up in this cave only to protect you

from Satan s marauding band - you will never

realise how lucky you are till a day comes

which is a thousand times worse. The world

is a bazar where you must shop as if

for an endless journey, before you return

to your empty house - for perhaps you may

fall ill, and never find the market again.

O noble reader, act according to my words,

for in the great BALANCE, your deeds

must measure up to what you say.

12. A La Mode

Even if a life which lasts but one brief hour

must be lived in obedience to God.

Divine gifts are seeds, gratitude the fruit -

and these are not on permanent reduced sale.

If worship is the root of devotion, life

is the fountain of all nobility and blessings -

but if you don t think life is something

to be thankful for, you must think I m

a lunatic. A fellow with a pretty face

- the sages say - is an idol. Why?

Because he takes up space but isn t

worth a centavo. If you call himhuman

because he s rich, why then, the Emir s

horse is human too - it s draped in gold.

One really must pity, like a worn-out

beast of burden, the man who doesn t know

who Man is. His humanity hides so deep

within him, he appears to be a piece

of pottery. The wise identify the man with

his speech; the rest is a toy. Speech

is the only ticket, the only mode of transport

to the Kingdom. All men are equal - only

speech makes one more equal than the others.

The true man is God s Messenger - the rest

(the ones you call thereligious community )

are but pack-horses. The eloquent man

has a rapier, and the energy to use it.

Thetouche , theau point , the shield

and the due - these are his proof and demonstration,

his question and answer. A much more difficult

battle than your common warfare. After all

even a desert lion is the equal of a soldier;

it has its claws for a sword, its fangs

for arrows. But you, who desires theinner

Holy War , have words for arrows, your tongue

for a bow, and the wounds they make

are painful and incurable. In such conflict

the wiseman sees the unwise as naked.

No, do not turn away from speech and knowledge

- more precious than this world and the next.

The sage s greatest reward is to feed his soul

on good words. Don t despair; the star

of knowledge shall rise at last, even if now

it is dark and in decline. Don t worry if

the rabble strut their brief hour -

to the wiseman, an ass with a hundred

bags of gold is still a worthless ass.

Every finger may shine with diamonds like lamps -

he s still in darkness. Knowledge suffers no

deflation even in the land of fools. Why

should a lion repent of his lion-ness, even

when surrounded by a herd of lazy and undignified

camels? Good and evil, like day and night, follow

each other on the stage. One moment you rage

the next you smile - that s the way of the world.

One man s catastrophe is another s apotheosis.

Night follows in Day s wake, like bad luck.

Pigs arf repulsive, evil omens. Sheep are

nice and useful. The pig will never achieve

the status os a sheep - pigginess is written

in its horoscope. Fools think the devil

a capital fellow, a real fashion-plate -

stay away froma la mode like this!

Lawyers nowadays - the cleanest money they make

is from bribes. And as for the hermits

they slide about a mud like drunkards in April.

Love sings, farce and buffoonery are all the rage -

all the more reason for you to stay home

and pray. Vanity of vanities - cast it away!

The words of the PROOF should be proof enough

for the likes of you. And if you are not in need

of the PROOF, the PROOF is not in need of you

either.

1. A wasted Pilgrimage

The pilgrims had returned, reverenced and honoured,

giving thanks to God for His compassion and mercy,

from the dangers and hardships of the Arabian journey,

and saved - no doubt - from hell and painful chastisement,

having walked from Arafat to Mecca and answered

the pilgrim s call with joy, having performed

all the duties of the Hajj and retuned home

hale and hearty. I decided to go and welcome them back

but I m afraid I asked too many questions

and put my foot in it. Among the caravan, one

was a particular friend of mine, a dear man.

Tell me how you made it through this dangerous

journey I said.All the time you have been away

I ve had nothing but sorrow for companionship.

Congratulations, Haji! There s no one like you

in our whole province, I m sure. Tell me

how you visited that sacred place, with what

honour and dignity you beheld it. Tell me

about the donning the pilgrim s robe, and what

your inner intentions were at that moment.

Did you prohibit to yourself everything other

than the Eternal Lord?

Well . . . . no , he admitted.

Did you answer the call out of knowledge

and with due reverence? Did you hear the summons

of the Lord, and answer back, like Moses?

Well . . . . um . . .

At Arafat, when in the presence of God, did

you welcome His Knower, and the denyer of your self?

Did the breeze of Gnosis blow upon your you?

. . . uh . . . to tell the truth I . . .

When you sacrificed the obligatory sheep

did you see yourself in proximity to Him

and think of the sheep as your carnal soul?

My what? I say . . .

When you entered the Sacred Grounds were you safe

from the evil of your lower self and from the sorrow

of separation, the chastisement of Hell?

You see, actually . . . .

When you threw stones at the Accursed One

did you fling out of yourself all bad habits

and reprehensible acts?

Umm . . . um . . .

When you prayed at the Station of Abraham

did you, in truth, faith and certitude, submit

the very core of your being to the Absolute?

The what?

At the time of circumambulation, when you

were no doubt running around fast as an ostrich,

did you remind yourself of the circling cherubim

around the Celestial Throne?

Really, Nasir, what . . .?

Did you behold in your purity of heart the Two Worlds

and become inwardly free of both Paradise and Hell?

NO, NO, NO!

Now that you have come back, is your heart

pained by separation from the Kaaba?

Did you bury your selfish ego in the tomb

. . . or are you still no better than a

decaying bag of bones?

I must admit

he answered,that in all these matters

I seem not to have known the true from the false.

Then, my friend , I said,you have not made

a pilgrimage, and have not taken up residence

in the Abode of Annihilation. You have simply

visited Mecca and come back, having purchased

the toils of the desert with your silver.

If you ever go again, bear in mind

all that I have said.

2. To a Merchant

You've washed your face with Zam-Zam water,

made your pilgrimage like a man, escaped all sorrow,

worked hard for forty years - given away very little,

true, but taken very little - etc., etc. But

how many times have you sold plain linen

and charged the price of silk? If you wish

to purify yourself at last from sin, forget

the business world - does a slave of vinegar and salt

ease the pain of a wound? More and less of

measure and balance - these things are not washed away

by the water of Zam-Zam. You might hide

your connivance even from yourself, but not

from God. Your unlawful fortune came to you

as id on a breeze - a breeze will puff it away.

Wake up! Recite a chapter from the Qur an

and breathe it into your body and soul.

The devil s cheated you, sold you a felt rug

for the price of a silk carpet. You say

you re enjoying yourself, but from where I stand

your festivity looks like a funeral. Lost

in a salt desert, you imagine it an orchard.

Don t pay your way to Mecca with

a pickpocket s silver - don t mingle honey

with poison. You are human, my son,

and must repent of your sins, like Adam.

If the sun of your sins burns your eyes, take refuge

under the shady roof of repentance.

If you want to dwell in the pasture of mercy

graze today in the field of knowledge,

tomorrow in that of action. Moisten the seed

of action with knowledge - the seed

does not grow by itself. Look: a stout rope

hangs down from the Seventh Sphere -

you ll never see it with your darkened eyes

and shadowy heart. Go, take hold of it,

lift yourself up from this aimless caravan,

this shepherdless flock. The rope stands

for one who is the embodiment of wisdom

- no one sees knowledge except in him.

My heart knows - he is God s Trustee,

guardian of the Qur anic wisdom and the realm

of Jamshid. On Judgement Day only those

will be honoured who have been honoured by him.

He soars above all men in wisdom, and men

can raise themselves by his lofty precepts.

The world would be a fair price to pay

for him - he is the celebrated gem, the world

his bezel ring. As for me, he has appointed me

shepherd over a flock - and I shall not

wander away in search of another.

Do you thirst? Of you re sober enough

I ll show you a way to a sweet sea.

And if you listen to my advice, I ll see you

pulled out of the well, raised to the spheres.

3. Astrology and Poetry

. . . something in my horoscope . . . stars are against me . . .

Good heavens, drive these vapours away! It ill befits

the wise to rebuke the sublime and distant spheres.

If they make a profession of cruelty, in any case,

you make a habit of patience - and don t put off

till tomorrow what ought to be done today.

If you create an evil star for yourself

you can hardly expect a favourable horoscope.

He who acts like an angel acquires an angel s face.

Have not seen Spring come to the desert

giving each freshborn tulip the countenance of a star?

You, an intelligent being, ought to imitate

and accept for yourself the virtues of the wise.

Look, the narcissus, spun of silver and gold

like the crown of Alexander; the orange tree s

aureate fruits give it the grace of Caesar s pavilion.

The poplar is sterile because it has chosen fruitlessness;

if you turn away from Wisdom how will your head

be exalted? Trees which do not produce

are burned for fuel, which all they deserve.

If your tree bears the fruit of knowledge

you can govern the stars yourself. But beware

not to count among the sciences the arts

of penmanship and poetry, which are simply aimed

at acquiring worldly status and wealth - no,

that is something else entirely. One finds various words

in human speech, but after all, the magic spells

of a sorcerer and the revelations of a prophet

are by no means the same thing, any more

than a noble falcon can be compared

to a partridge. Prophets give the science of Truth

to those they deem worthy of such sovereignty;

Moses bestowed knowledge of Aaron - Samari

had no hand in the affair, just as you,

shackled, stumbling on your feet before the horseman

are not worthy of anything but slavery.

Admit it: you have sold yourself to the King of Shugnah

or the Emir of Mazandaran - aprofessional poet

or a minstrel (the only difference being that a poet

stands up to a declaim his flatteries, the minstrel

sits to pluck or toot). Bah! Someone ought to

slice out your insolent tongue before you write

another bloody poem about the box-tree or the tulip

or the bright moonface and curly ambergris-scented locks

of some insipid beloved, or produce yet another ode

in praise of the vast erudition of some nobleman

who in fact can only belch forth ignorance as a marsh

ferments illsmelling bubbles. You versify lies

out of greed, and falsehood is capital in the bank

of unbelief. Well, I am one who will reuse to cast,

beneath the feet of swine, this pearl - the Persian language.

I will show you how and when to bow and prostrate yourself

like a cypress in the morning breeze, the wiseman

humbles himself before the one whom God has chosen

among all creatures for a Guide, the whose works

of justice have erased from the world s face

every smudge of oppression: the Imam of the Time.

What sorcerer could make a magic to compare

with that of his lovers, the Partisans of the Imam?

So wise one might think him more than human,

so much more generous than his station demands,

justly seated in the place of highest honour,

the planet Mars set as a jewel in his bezel ring.

God to him, in whose Father s hand is written

the talisman of the bold feats of Khaybar, to him

in whose outward form one might discern the

the character of Ali, whose bright light of knowledge

binds the exoterist s eye. If he (this exoterist)

were truly seeking to become human he would drive

the donkeylike qualities from his head - how can he

reckon me a stupid as himself? How can counterfeit

be compared with genuine gold? Shouldn t it be obvious

that compared to his, my prose and verse so adorn

plain white paper that it gains the beauty of brocade?

Read my two books of poetry and discover how

the eloquence of Persian, the precision of Arabic verse

have combined in me.

4. The Shark

Ah the busynessman, engage des affaires

what have you to pride yourself in this passing show?

You are theprophet of a world which

- consider ! - has made you a boob.

Run, run after it! now to the Spring

now to the Autumn of its ends.

If you have not sold your life to demonologies

why must you scuttle after a demon?

It strides hugely before you swollen with rancour -

why, why do you follow it in joy?

D you not fear some day this shark

may kiss you between its teeth?

If you ve a shred of brain

turn your face from the Big Lie of the Time.

Every today avarice lulls you with promises

which tomorrow will not fulfil

your youth has grown grey with grief,

hardships and suffering in hopes of future bliss -

and moment by moment in utopian dreams

the clock of earth ticks off the flow of years.

My son the world is your adversary

and in you covets nothing but your soul.

For you it wears a silk brocade

which swarms beneath the sleeve with scorpions.

Arrogant fool, feel free - for you

yourself are not safe from such disgrace.

You sought refuge at its gate but it

sharpens its razors on the strop of your throat.

The dragon has chewed on many

and clever as you - watch out for its fangs.

Here, take this volume, dusty with tales

of the kings of Persia, carry it home and read:

where is Feraydun, Kaykubad

where the August banner of Kaviyan?

Where is Sam the son of Nariman, Rustam

the generalissimo of Mazandaran?

Where now is Babal the son of Sasan, Ardashir

where? Wehre? Bahram and Nushirvan?

All of them have gone away with their herds and treasures

the shepherd departed, the sheep vanished.

This world is a dark and vacant haaway

not a true house. Detach your heart, free your soul.

God summons you, - now -

Ah sweetheart of heaven and earth

how will you wander to left and right

nor follow straight the caravan;

how long will pirate and go on pirating

your neighbour s provisions for the road?

Do you not blush to set up your roadside stall

and sell straw and call it fine saffron?

Tomorrow when you rise fro sleep

your cries and lamentations will buy you nothing.

Does that not frighten you, that Gathering Day

where old and young alike will come

and where no one will take your hand,

neither your son nor your loving father?

Sacks of guilt and chests of sin

weigh your neck and turn your back to water

but still you will face the Kaaba

till they lay you out on a bier

nor will your tongue will touch the Testimony of Faith

till the last breath rattles in your throat.

Why? Why? A grain of godfearing repentance

would lift the burden from your shoulders.

You build yourself a fine new house and suddenly

your neighbour s out on the street without a straw.

O ancient raider of the army of ignorance

now just once tighten your bridle.

Why are you running away with Satan himself

if you heart harbours no suspicions of the Qur an?

Your misgivings about the Book

will be punished, rest assured,

and on the day they surface, believe me,

your signs of regret will get you nowhere.

The soul is only webbed in this House of Bone

that you may bow to God;

the body s a quarry, your devotion a gem

which you must dig from the tenebrous veins of earth;

your spirit s a cavalier, the flesh its horse -

do not ride it except toward the Good.

Don t go running after the pleasures of the flesh

like a mangy cock after a hen.

Your world s an ocean, your body a ship

your life a fair tradewind and you the merchant:

my words are money in the bank -

why are your wasting your dividends?

O Nasir-i Khushraw you should say

give us words of wisdom as long as you can.

O you who are hidden in Khorasan like a Simurgh

your name is everywhere, your body concealed.

In the legions of the sciences of the Truth

your tongue is a bow, your speech a feathered shaft.

Day and night as always dive in the ocean of words

fetch back pearls and hand them around

so that something survives for posterity

when you leave on the eternal journey.

Arise at the command of the IMAM OF THE WORLD

and set sail upon the sea of speech.

5. Excuses

O nitwit body, how could you ever have lost

(as one might drop something in the street) your strength,

your paradisal face? When you had them

you acted ugly enough - now you ve grown ugly

better make at least your actions beautiful.

Your back is pale as winter. Once a peacock,

now a porcupine. If that beauty had really

meant something, it would never change, would it?

It only came on loan, it s been repossessed.

Ah corpus indelectable, don t weep, don t moan,

frail scallop on life s plumbless sea, brief breeze,

thin sail. Like a slick perfume salesman

(snotty and sexy) for a while you drenched your hair

in hyacinth and ambergris. Those hyacinthine locks

look now like frayed ropes, which you weave

upon Death s spindle. Yesterday fell

through a hole in your pocket, long before

you managed to get hold of tomorrow.

Tomorrow you ll pluck the bitter roses sown

- was it only yesterday? Fifty years from

cradle to grave along this ghoulhaunted highway:

the poor travel no worse than the rich -

no first-class compartment for Muslim or Jew.

However, there does come a fork in the road

- one way to heaven, one to hell. Fire

burnt in your gut and singed your heart

and offered you an excuse to tear up

the scroll of religion. Slave of instinct,

worshipper of fire (like a Magi) you whine

I don t know nothin , I didn t do it . . .

and really how could you be considered guilty

of your own murder? The ignoramus, devoid

of worship and devotion, expects to find in paradise

only good huntin and good fishin. You yourself

are fit - ugly devil - only to be bagged

gutted, hunted and roasted. O PROOF OF KHORASAN

the noise you make reaches every corner

of the earth, as if a boulder dropped

from heaven and shattered this great bowl

to splinters.

6. Storm Warnings

CLOCK, what do you want from me?

Go somewhere else to peddle your fakes.

I know your game - go and bother

someone else - anyone you like.

Only yesterday I was ambling along

ignorant of your tricks,

bumbling, grinning idiot,

handsome as a tailor s dummy.

You joined me - all at once

youth and delight drained away,

picked out of my pocket -

thief! Callous highwayman!

Friends, let me warn you:

a whale, once it s decided

to eat you, may take its time,

but sooner or later - GULP

- down the hatch - and so it is

with the world. Innocenti,

sooner or later you re going

to have to climb up out of

that well, that smoky

gravity-laden pit you call

your body - source of all grief and perversion.

Mon vieux, you ve started

to shrink alarmingly. Stretch

out the hand of worship,

quick, quick . . . dear me,

what an unsightly hump

you seem to have acquired.

Can t you straighten up?

Speak sense? get hold

of yourself? Pray more?

The soul is whole-wheat

and the body is chaff. Have you

ever considered that? All

those sweet temptations of the

flesh - nothing but empty

husks? You re like a fly

who boasts about his tailor -

the Spider. Or a goldfish

set free in the Atlantic

just before hurricane season.

And let me tell you:

you re thinking of leaving

and making it to dry land

you d better learn how to

grow yourself a pair of

feet. Because fish don t

make much progress on

sandy beaches.

Your Majesty, cast an eye

on these poor dervishes

and learn how to be grateful

for your good luck and power.

Because the moon may shine

at the bottom of a well,

but it never loses any of its

silvery sheen. Because the stars

have robbed many a monarch

of is throne like Attila the Hun.

Listen to the PROOF:

he s nor selling any

professional flattery.

7. The Aging Rake

you can count, old man. Figure up

how many Springs and Summers you ve lost

remembering how your hair before was black

as pitchy raven s wing, spine fletched like an arrow -

was it June that rained and spilled

milk upon your tarblack head?

Then your fancy was to while away your time

eating or in idle talk, aimless strolling

till from such good works as these your body

grew to that of a senile beast.

Elegance - no penury - awake or asleep

smothered in silk - sweet songs in your ear

while round you swarmed mate-hungry friends

with ebony muskblown swaths of curls.

Gone to the meadow like an ass in Spring,

in Fall sprawl beneath the twisting vine

with a jug of red beside your elbow -

you would admitThere was no one

in the world like me: clever, comme il faut,

poet and penman, deep emotions, and on my lips

le mot juste held as lightly as the

inktipped reed in my fingers. I stretched

my hand to the moon; never was the Emir

seen with goblet and vase if I

were not present. He used to call me

AYour Grace@ - you can imagine how that

sat with the ministers and whatnot.

And always your eyes strayed to the hands

of the rich, looking who brought sweetmeats,

who brought a new robe. A year went by

and no one made his way past your door

- certainly not that orphan brat of your

distant cousin or that neighbour of yours

fallen on evil times. Tongue long for a jest,

fingers short, too short for the bottom

of the purse of charity. An eleganttongue

indeed - for a jest; a luminous heart -

for verse.

If you called all this to mind

mightn t your face and your heart go black

as once your pomated locks? Tick tock

the cruel months counted off your

Junes and Julys while you slept pleasantly

as a donkey in the manger. Time s

Walpurgis Nacht, whirling, swirling

each moment a backnosed witch to blunt

the edges of your youth. The cypress

of your stature s a languid hunchback,

that moonlike visage pale and pocked.

Where are they now, yesterday s sponges,

the hopeful hangers-on? They spit

when you walk by. What s left?

What survives of your days but a sigh?

You never cared for religion -

and you missed the world - like wet bran

which is neither dough nor bread. The world

exiled you from an innocent faith, and for the rest

The Quest (it s your last quip) for barley

kept from Parnassus . The world

and its works are devil s fare - but faith

is pure. And one kept you

from attaining the other. Bit by bit

the days will gnaw you away like cheese

in the mousetrap of Time.

Time . . . .

perhaps there s still time to stuff your ears

against these songs and grow sober.

The milk of time soon fills the gut -

have you not drunk enough? Get hold of yourself.

Hire Wisdom as your Vazier. Meditate:

Why did they make the Macrocosm?

O Microcosm, ask yourself. The elephant

the lion, the camel are mightier than man -

why did God not send a prophet to the camels?

The Galactic Craftsman, why did he call me?

What does he want with an old rake like me?

Of all the animals he summons me -

he must have some business with me, his poor slave.

If knowledge of Him is obligatory

how and why? No, without the How and Why

the task is beyond me. He has neither

body nor weight (unlike us) but He does have

hearing and seeing . . .?

Your body is your grave.

Now don t go apoplectic on me -

gouty old fools like you find it hard

to take advice. Listen: in this grave,

this mausoleum of yours, do you think

your soul and intellect will suffice

for those Recording Angels who visit

the freshly buried? This tomb (I quote

the Messenger of God) is either Hell

or the Garden of Paradise - choose.

Yes choose - it s up to you -. but if you d follow

the better path, find yourself a guide.

And beware of false gurus, those

who call themselves men of sight but in fact

are blind as yourself. Remember

what the Prophet himself said on the day

he delivered his sermon by the Ditch,

whom did he name trustee? What did he say?

He tookAli by the hand and gave him his seat.

If the Prophet took his hand, shouldn t you?

Old man, if you confess, I m right

then Ali is your Imam and after him

Hassan and Husayn. Don t deny it, don t tell me

that after the Prophet you need no mediator.

The Gnosis of Ali is nopersonal opinion

of the eminent So-and-So - it s priceless

as some rare and mythical gem. Acknowledge him,

larn from him, strengthen the sinews of faith

and delight the heart s inner eye. The Water of Life

flows beneath his sweet words - drink

and die no more forever. The PROOF

gives you advice, the PROOF makes allusions -

my son, take the blessed counsel

of your sire.

1. Autobiography

Almighty God, my Creator,

I thank Thee for Thy favours

for in my dotage I have no cure for grief

but such gratitude to Thee.

A hundred thanks that I have no work

but to compose these pious and devotional poems.

Help me not to sow in my heart

any seed but that of Thy good pleasure.

Thou knowest the secret of all souls

and that my hart ails within me

that here in Yamgan I am alone

weak, abandoned and afflicted.

The world venerates a happy drunkard, but I

a teetotaller, am sad and despised.

In fear of my oppressors I am helpless

and hide within my mountainous fort

condemned by them as a sinner

for my love of Thy Messenger;

in love of him and his Household

I remain in misery and trouble.

On the Day of Reckoning judge between me

and that herd of stray cows

with which I can never wander -

for I am not a donkey.

Even though for my sweet and virtuous words

I deserve to be compared

with the delicious fruit of the datepalm

the blind eyes of the rabble

see me as a despicable thorn.

O my God, I take refuge with Thee

from this herd of ravenous wolves.

I dare not be your friend

O friend of the Grape,

the harp and the jug,

for I do not love, I do not share your taste

for these three evil companions.

Drunkards need drunkards - why do you

quarrel with me because I am sober?

Go, follow your own caravan, for I

am not of your breed of camel.

Ride forth and seek the world, leave me

to canter on the steed of Reason.

You may be a king, but I

have the precious pearl of my words;

you may rule the realm of Balkh, but I

am a monarch in my own domain.

I shall never accept the burden of your rule

just for an ass-portion of hay.

My inner and outer natures are equally manifest:

sometimes I am soft, sometimes

sharp as a thorn - yes, to the ignorant and unwise

sharp as brambles; to the wise

soft and forbearing. I do not want you

any more than you want me.

I am unacquainted with perfidy: my warp and weft

are of the same thread.

If you re ready to apologise

I m ready to forgive and forget.

My tongue is clean of obscenity,

my trousers unstained by fornication;

I pay no attention to evil and cunning,

I do not churn the cream of falsehood.

I do not need to boast of my virtues -

others will point them out

while I, living as I do,

discharge my duties towards the virtuous.

In my past, I slept in ignorance

and the world seized me in its talons,

plundered me while it embraced me

and coo d in my ear.

One moment it promised the harvests of Autumn,

next the green pains of Spring,

and seeing that I was an easy prey to love

perfumed my face with roses and musk.

Today you see me enfeebled and bent

but in those times you would have thought me

straight as a pine. Ah, the stars

tugged gently at my bridle

like a camel to pasture. Robust and happy . . .

and today I tremble and lament,

my ruby red cheeks gone bilious

my jetblack hair grown white as a milk.

I drank so much wine those days

I m still breathing out fumes!

But when I learned the ways of the world

I grew grey and downcast;

I awoke from my slumber . . . .no -

it was my Lord Who woke me.

I soon polished the intelligence-rust

from my eyes, blew the mist from my brain,

washed the dust of wantonnes

from my face and cheeks,

uprooted the tree of ignorance and aberration

from my riverbank garden.

Many the battle I fought with the world

till I was saved,

till I became the chosen one of the

Imam of the Time

(since I had chosen faith and devotion

for myself).

Now, ask me a difficult question

and I will not scratch my head;

my ear is sharp, for knowledge

hangs from it like a ear-ring;

my eye is clear because I have gazed

on Truth and Certainty.

I will no more be prey in the hunt

of the falcons and panthers of this world.

In the old days I boasted of my ancestors

but today my ancestors, and indeed

all the world s inhabitants, boast of me.

Then I was worth no more

than a chamber-pot - today

I am gold.

You don t believe me?

Try it yourself

and test the worth of my poem -

read it and memorise it!

2. A Warning to Missionaries

Seeking wisdom? Imitate the wise

who know how to make things easy for themselves:

their conversation, their economy is geared

to those same laws which the elements obey today,

the elements of the Cosmos, harmonised

with spheres and stars, and by their powers

moulded into to living things. The stars are fingers

which the artisan spheres use to animate

the unborn earth - hands of Heaven

which as willing slaves run errands

for galactic lords - eyes of the universe

who cast a glance at earth and spark to life

delicate corals and pearls. Behold the Throne,

the bearers of the Throne, and how they turn

rotating constantly; your Throne is Earth

and round it in celestial minuet

the stars in orbit dance. King of beasts

and green things are you and to your order

all life in obedience revolves,

genuflecting, prostrating to their lord.

Study their ways and do likewise. Contemplate

the creaturely signs of Truth and learn

the meaning of their allusions to the Divine.

Habituate yourself to benevolence

towards those beneath you, that in time

superior forces will treat well of you.

All moral creatures are as if intoxicated

with the wine of ignorance; you who are sober

take heed and follow a different path.

Meat is hung in salt to keep it fresh

but when the salt itself goes bad, what can be done?

Speak not to fools of holy truths

or the Household of the Prophet, for fools

are like sterile rain, like owls who flee

the City of Knowledge for their ruined haunts.

From pulpit-steps they sermonise the rabble

whetting appetites with talk of paradise

and its mountains of food. Go if you dare,

speak eloquently to such as these of Ali

if you do not fear my fate, to be enchained

in the mountains of Yamgan. Of course they crey

and clamour in hope of heavenly victuals! When

you mention barely, do not the asses bray?

Take care not to tell them their paradise

is no place of banquets and coition, lest in rage

they slay you with arrows of their eyes.

Take refuge in the Citadel of the Household

that its inhabitants may scatter on your head

pearls from the treasury of their holy sire.

Proofs of the Hands of Mercy, Imams of the Time,

when they desire Qu ranic hermeneutics

stretch their hands to Saturn. They weigh

in their scales your science and religion

for only the undiscerning do the work of faith

without the BALANCE. True religion is Man,

its spirit gnosis, its body right action -

this is the founding stone on which is raised

the roof of Sages. Do not disdain to act

simply because the philosophers have called

work the punishment of the weak. No,

the multitude are in error - do not follow

their path, lest you fall in the same way.

Drunkards are many; be silent and let them pass.

When have you ever seen a horde of sots

obey a sober man?

3. Dissimulation

Weak as we are - and alone - and dangerous the way -

how can we tread the Prophet s path?

If the road is plagued by day with highwaymen

my son, perhaps we d do better to travel by night,

hidden like stars against the noontide from all eyes

but after sunset, vigilant guides, awake;

corporeally concealed from the ignorant but

to the wise openly visible as sunlight.

Physically all are equal: rank depends on intellect,

dignity on wisdom alone. Again, everyone speaks,

but some speak with knowledge, others not -

judge the speech and you have judged the man:

I and thou in silence are but paintings on a wall.

The Cosmos to its Lord is a garden in which we

are so many trees; come, judge this harvest-tide:

which of us drops the more succulent fruit?

But cease your wrangling - strife such as you concoct

long since exiled me from home. Muhuammad and Ali

are surely supreme amongst all men - should we

not honour them more than any So-and-So?

God s treasures, they reveal His Mysteries

to us, the People of Secrets, Companions of the Cave

(not just any hole in the ground, but the Cavern

of True Religion), pure hearts, friends of the Messenger.

Our portion is wheat - yours but chaff;

never believe we share your bovine taste for straw.

The wine of religion goes to your head; we,

who remain sober, find no satisfaction

in your company; yet day and night we work

for your salvation, knowing that in your madness

you have flung yourself to perdition. We know,

we understand that you are drunk and foolish;

we turn the other cheek; we know that you

cannot abide our words of wisdom;

in your presence we nail shut our mouths.

You could seek from us the cure

for snakebite - but you fancy us the snakes?

What is the purpose of the intellect with which

we sometimes turn to sin, sometimes to the

worship of God? Why should He bid us Do good,

shun evil if we had not been endowed

with free will? The ravenous wolf is not held

responsible for his acts - but we are. Why?

Why blame man for spouting noise, but not

condemn the pickaxe for its thwack! Thwack! ?

Why are you and I weighed down with such tasks

as prayer, but not the deer or the game-birds?

What is the one thing God gave us which makes us

lords over the beasts of the field? Intellect!

And the same faculty which sets us higher

than a donkey, makes us the slaves of the Almighty.

With it may investigate all hows and whys,

without it we are no more than tress without fruit.

It will tell us why we should - for example -

fast all day from morning to night in Ramadan.

If God knows we are murderers and tyrants

why doesn t He simply wipe us all out at once?

He commands us not to sin - and we sin;

does that make us omnipotent ? On the other hand

if we sin only because He wills us to sin,

why should we be blamed? Untie this Gordian knot

and I ll offer you my humblest respect!

But if problems like this scare you, away with you!

Because WE dare to search for answers.

With glowing hearts we raise to the skies

the complex, gold-leafed palace of our thought;

we are warriors, Quranic and Shariite, Partisans

of Ali, the warrior-knight. Invalids

find the taste of sugar disgusting - no wonder

you think us unbelievers. Five hundred snakes,

a thousand ants, ranged against one MAN

scarcely constitutes a threat. Is it

any marvel we ve never reckoned you an army?

4. The Decline of Khorasan

Let us closely observe

what the devil s happening tot he world -

how Virtue and Rectitude seem

to have flown - not that the fleeting world

itself has changed its nature

but that people s temperaments have undergone

some transformation.

Your body

in the Child of Nature, babe of the Spheres,

its state forever shifting under Heaven -

one can only imagine therefore that you

- who were so subtle - have fallen

into such a carnal and inferior state

because the spheres themselves have somehow

gone awry.

Humanity (by way of simile)

was like an ALEEF

Arabic alphabet -ALEEF- placed here

Erect and straight -

how could the letter of humankind

have been itself to the hump

Arabic alphabet - NUN - placed here

Of a NUN?

Virtue and learning have become the slaves of Bread

the dough of knowledge cut with fraud and deceit.

Piety and justice are broken pots and pebbles,

ignorance and stupidity taken for gold and the precious Pearl.

You!

Chameleon World!

Woe to him

who falls for your seductive routines -

he who cannot see the way round you

with the candle of REASON

trips and falls. There s nothing left

for you here: humanity has absconded

from the last human being.

All deeds are but cruelty, con and cant

all words but fraud, perfidy and crime.

I swear one would scarcely know the difference

if the world had already fallen to the rule

of all the devils of the Inferno.

Stupidity has reared itself into the heavens,

humanity and nobility hidden themselves in some cave.

The sirocco of petty meanness blows hot across earth,

everything good wilts and decays.

As for the province of Khorasan, once

the Abode of Learning, it has become

a cavern of sordid and effeminate demons.

Balkh!

The House of Wisdom -

And now

fit for the axe, its fortune topsyturvy

turned upon its head. Khorasan

once the kingdom of Solomon - how

has it become the domain of Satan?

One might think the land had become a maw

which gobbled Religion, or that Religion

in Khorasan has become the companion of Qarun

(that miser whom earth swallowed

with all his wealth). Aye, Khorasan

serves a fit example for the house

of the sinister Qarun.

Tatars

were their slaves, but they have become

the Tartars valet - is not the star

of Khorasan afflicted by some evil conjunction?

The Kipchak lout has proclaimed himself

a nobleman, while the Duke has become

the Tartar s girlfriend s butler.

The talentless have made themselves the Emirs

virtue shrinks and mediocrity swells itself.

You

may mortgage your soul

But I

shall not pawn myself to the world;

you may trust the wolf, but the wise

will keep his distance.

Your miserable mind

has become a fetid slime in a corpse

of ignorance, tyranny and evil;

in your greed you prefer the wicked Zahhak

to Feraydun the Just. So much the slave

of desire: my hart chokes with bood

in pity of you who sold yourself

like 100,000 others for a taste of lust.

Try to reform yourself. Think of great men

like Aaron the Alexandrian. Aaron

was made Aaron by knowledge. Garments

are cleaned with soap; wisdom

is the best detergent for the Spirit.

He who makes wisdom his prop

is saved from the fire of ignorance.

Listen

my son

to a father s advice

for my own days have been made auspicious

because I heeded helpful words

and my subtle spirit soars above the spheres

through knowledge

even

If my body

lies chained

imprisoned

beneath the earth.

5. In Yamgan

You cannot - O wiseman -

on the Worldtree

see other fruit than

the man of Wisdom;

to a gnostic like you

the sage is a plum

and the ignorant

are thorns

- the good are hidden

among the bad

as a lonely datepalm

in a desert of brambles.

But you object: Nasir!

If you re such a noble spirit

why do you vegetate here in Yamgan

lowly and alone?

For me Yamgan

is God s refuge.

Look well! Don t imagine me

some sort of prisoner.

No one claims

that silver, diamonds, rubies

are base or held captive

in the mine;

Yamgan itself may be

base and worthless

but here I am held

in high esteem.

After all if the serpent

is abject and vile

the snakestone in its head

is treasured and praised

and a perfect pearl s worth

is none the less to the buyer

for having been born

in a scabby shell;

the fragrant bloom

is unstained

even if it roots itself

in furrows of dung.

And you, my visitor

- to return to my first simile -

are a sublime tree

whose fruit is speech.

It s up to you: choose

whether to be fruit without thorns

(choose now!)

Or thorns without fruit.

The apple of wisdom

can be yours -

otherwise you re are nothing but

a sterile poplar -

for the wiseman s branches

yield a produce

of precious gems

and leaves of gold dinars;

but knowledge and wisdom

are better than gold and gems

to him whose heart is illumined,

eyes open and awake.

Then come,

speak,

pour down your

yield of words

and as much as this fruit

is rich and sweet

so will your deeds be judged

as virtuous as your talk -

but if you re a man of

words without action

you re no better than

counterfeit coin.

Utter the right word

in the right place -

a fine stallion s at its best

in the battlefield

- and utter it only

to one who knows its worth,

for what use is turban

without a head to wear it?

Only the heat of battle

can tell

a coward deserter

from a fierce brave.

Know what you want to say

then say it:

fix the compass point

before drawing the line.

If your words are not free

of stain and rust

how will they polish

the hearts of others?

Keep silence

when you do not know:

don t be the type who flashes

his genitalia in the bazzar!

How dare you ride an ass

before noble arab steeds?

You re roped

in ignorance s bonds

led astray by demons -

you deny it?

Why then have you bulled

through the rosebed?

You? A doctor of souls???

Never!

How can one sick man

treat another?

Please - don t rasp my soul

like some wretched file

with words like

jagged bits of steel.

Are you not ashamed

of your ignorance?

Do you not blush

before true learning?

Bow your head,

submit - or else

on the Final Day you will not snatch

your soul from the bonfire.

Mortify your flesh

with pious deeds

that tomorrow your soul

may go un-singed.

You claim to be

free of guilt - what!

When your back s bent double

with burden of sin!

If future bliss

is what you want

cease now to work so hard

for the world -

for the world

couldn t care less.

Don t let it agonise you

with fleshly cares:

it s an evil-tempered leviathan;

beware!

Furious, merciless

greedy.

How often do you need

to try and taste again -

it s the same world you ve seen

a hundred times before.

Hold fast to Faith;

religion conquers the world

and sews up its maw

with spikes.

If you become

a prince in religion

the surely the world

must become your slave.

You! Look well

into your own affairs:

if you want justice

do justice.

If you want

to be upright

don t bow your neck to earthly kings

as the hoopoe to Solomon.

Shun the eagle of Greed

for its beak

and vicious claws drip

with venom

and if you d like

avoid a quarrelling with dogs

give up your taste

for carrion meat;

otherwise - admit it -

your aching face, weary hands:

the cause of suffering

is yourself.

Take this advice from the PROOF

for he is awake

to the habits of this tyrant,

the revolving sphere.

Of all the people in Khorasan

no one has battled

as much as he with the

vicissitudes of Fate

and was saved at last

from the claws through Faith,

the decree of God

the One, the Almighty.

If the world causes you pain

follow in his wake.

Other than this there is no

better Way.

6. Retirement

Have I changed? Or is it the world that s changed?

I think it must be me; the world seems the same as ever.

It would bound away when I used to chase after it

but now things are different - it s me who turns away;

or perhaps we ve both changed: I have become

more like the world and the world more like me.

I used to be precious ore in its mine, but now

I myself am a mine of golden speech in the rational soul.

What could have happened to everyone, that they seem

so severely frightened just at the mention of my name?

I never spilled the cup of anyone s reputation

or snatched bread from a hand by force;

I never worried any young men into greybeards

so why am I so hated by young men and old alike?

I never asked for sermons to be read in my name

neither in Kashgar nor in Baghdad - so why

do the Ruler and the Emir now revile and abuse me?

I feel no greed for blood or carrion. I wonder

why so many dogs have become my enemies?

I won t write any eulogies for you, Emir,

so don t send me any dinner invitations;

if you do invite me, I won t call you Emir

and if I do praise you, please don t call me

a human being! The Creator of heart and soul

has set the Book of Freedom in a secret place

in my breast; slavery s chains has been struck

from my ankles - that s why I never bow down my head.

Before I received this boon, I was a slave to anyone

and suffered a great deal of pain in this world,

much as I kicked against it. You who know it not

can run after it - I who know it,

know too much. Unless you toss him out with a

sound beating, the born rascal will never

become obedient - that s why I drive away from my door

the rapscallion world. O seeker of that world

don t bother to seek me out as if I were (like you)

lost on the way. As hastily as you dash

after the world I run horrorstruck from its gates.

Your autumn winds do not agree with my sighs of sorrow -

unlike you I do not praise the sad season s beauties.

The world s kiss moistens your lips but

dries my mouth with terror. By day Repentance

is my bosom companion, by night the Quran

my confidante. O you who reel in hilarity

around the wine-jug, I do not circumambulate

the amphora nor stagger upon a drunk s pilgrimage;

I am intoxicated with pain and sorrow by the blood of Husayn -

how can the vine s blood make me gleeful again?

My hand and tongue do not imitate your deeds;

my subtle soul is saved even though dense

and heavy under the burden of Time. Sages see

my angelic essence, even if to your eyes I am still

merely human. My body s the banner of angels

even if hidden in Yamgan from devil s spite.

If the whole kingdom of Solomon couldn t wipe out

a single demon, what can I do against a horde?

I am a shepherd hired by the Moses of Time,

to a flock which grazes on knowledge in the dark night

of the world. No shepherd is without crook or bowl -

my bowl is the Book, my staff my tongue.

Come to me and eat the bread of Divine Law

softened in the milk of my eloquence. O you

who think me ugly, I am ugly; if you are beautiful

then beautiful too is my face. Learn wisdom

and you will find me wise; become a jewelled sword

and I will be your whetstone. The hand of the Lord,

the Imam of the Time, has sown the seed of humanity

in my speech. Come, climb my tree, and I will seat you

on humanity s branch. I am flowing water

to freshen the tillage of Wisdom in religion s fields

by my speech, to wash away demon dust

with counsel precious as pearl; I am vigilant,

tempered spearhead pointed always towards

the devil, who can never disgrace me. Speech

is my arrow head, my pen is the arrow, my fingers the bow.

If my enemy comes from the East I will easily

slay him with my speeding shafts.

7. The Exile s Lament

Pass by, food of his heart, sweet breeze of Khorasan

Here to a dim prison in the vale of Yamgan

Where he sits narrowed by poverty, comfortless, cold,

His fortune gone, possessions lost, landless and old.

Unjust Fate has stripped from his soul in its tyranny

All repose, and from his body all luxury;

He knows more sorrows than a pomergranate has seeds,

His limbs possess less power than the winter reeds;

That elegant frame, that once too-handsome face

Have decayed now to ugliness, distraction and disgrace -

That face, once luminous as Spring anemones,

Now withered like autumn leaves in exile s miseries.

His kinsmen turn their back on him and cut him dead;

No sustenance now but God s mercy, the Divine bread.

I committed no sin but somehow the Turk

the Arab, the Iraqi and the Khorasani all alike

have been my foes. Always looking for some pretext

to hate me, calling me unorthodox , an enemy

of the Companions. What can I say to this army

of demons? God has not given me Solomon s

magic spell. They come from far away

barking and howling like dogs in the barn.

A million like them still wouldn t bother me,

for on Judgement Day . . . Thou knowest, O Lord,

Thou knowest well! But still it s only reasonable

to take certain precautions against demons -

even the greatest and most eloquent sage,

attacked by desert ghouls, wouldn t be able

to talk his way out! The ignoramus

recognises no proof - there s no point reciting

the Quran to a calf. The wiseman wastes no words

on a horde of idiots - who would season

coarse barley bread with expensive spices?

They call me unorhodox - bah! - what do they know

of Islam except the name? O you who wear

upon your head the hat of false claims and hide

your soul beneath the garments of stupidity,

tell me: to whom should one pay allegiance

after Muhammad? - and how do you prove your claims?

After whose mule are you driving your crippled ass?

Whose silk brocades are you boasting about when you

yourself are still dressed in tatters and dirty rags?

After all, isn t it better to have a clean and simple

linen shirt for yourself, than for your uncle

to go about decked out in all the latest fashions?

The virtues of friends (if they exist) will

avail you naught on that morrow when the

HIDDEN POWER is revealed. Anyway, your patrons

seem not to have seen fit to bestow upon you

any of that virtue and excellence of theirs -

why, if they are such a renowned ascetics, do you

lead the life and display the character of an imp?

Yes, you look like a stick-up man or a mugger to me -

so where s your take? You know - the booty?

All day you fast and moan and twiddle your beads -

come nightfall you re down at the tavern,

jiving and enjoying a glass of sweet wine. Ah,

you ve memorised the Book of Con - that s why

(no doubt) you ve been appointed Grand Mufti

of Balkh, Nishapur and Herat. Your words

are heavy with fruit as a date palm, but

when it comes to action, your thorns appear.

I hate your master the devil, that s all

I have to say, I have turned my face away

to the door of the Prophet s Household, where

I expect the blessings of the Two Worlds.

I may be exiled, far away from the family and hearth,

but I ve gained the wisdom of Luqman.

I ve tattoo d the name of Mustansir on my

breast and forehead - that king whom Caesar

would humbly thank for a job as doorman.

The stone of his stoop is more precious

than Badakshan rubies, just as the sky

is higher than dusty earth. In is courtyard

the sons of Emirs and Vaziers from Tehran, and

people of all clans and tribes are waiting to serve

just as their ancestors came before them.

O Imam, in whose noble essence God s purpose

in making the world has been fulfilled,

know that to me, the slave of devotion,

the flinty stones of Yamgan valley are worth

more than the pearls of the Gulf.

When you have bestowed upon me all Eternity

why should I bother with this insipid world?

8. Letter from an Acquaintance

Fifty years in Yamgan . . . why am I in jail?

Two sets of chains: Reason for my spirit,

and devil s shackles for my body. No wonder

the demons don t obey me: am I Solomon?

In fact I am more like Salman.

My words shine like the sun, even if

you haven t seen me in the flesh

for . . . how many years? Your heart:

a moon to the wisdom of my

pearl-scattering sun. Yamgan:

the gold-mine of knowledge and sagacity

(aren t I buried in Yamgan?)

I ve changed a lot since we met -

at least that part of that s

bound to the material realm. But

I have not turned away from the

Path of Faith. For unlike my flesh

my spirit soars. You write

Why don t you leave, come back?

Don t you realise -I m escaping

from demos? Don t blame me!

Don t aks me to make my home

amongst asses and cows - you know

I m not a herdsman. Comedians!

What do you have in common with

comics and their audiences? I m not

interested in laughing or cracking jokes.

Yesterday I laughed; today I weep.

Fools laugh; wisdom s got me by

the neck. Fools eat and enjoy themselves;

je regret, je regret . . . .all that.

The pink tulips of cheeks have

rotted like straw; if I thrash my wheat

with your breezes, I ll have nothing

tomorrow but a bag of wind.

Why has God made me this way?

Yesterday I was a rolling stone;

today I m a moss-grown ruin.

Yesterday tuxedo and tails

today rags. If I leave my hovel

whee should I go. I fear -

or rather I don t fear - I ll never

leave; I will stick to present evil.

I could try to hang on to the world

by the skin of my teeth - but

they d soon have my teeth out

by the roots. No, now that I

am aware of this secret I shall

rise and brush the mould

off my lapels. Before they come to

cart me away, I ll read over

the record once agin. Tomorrow

they ll strip me bare - why should I

bother to conceal anything today?

Repentance turns evil to good

- do God promise us in the Book -

I shall stick to good and stay away

from what doesn t concern me.

Do unto other . . . . that s what it means

to be a Muslim. If I am the servant

of the All-merciful, shouldn t I follow

His Messenger? At least I m

sensible enough to not to think that

two opposites can both be true.

Once again, off again . . .that s a

drunkard s act. I d never expect

you to summons me to join

the inebriates - and if anyone

does call me . . .sorry. No. I ll stay.

1. In Praise of Ali (1)

The heartspring of Ali s lover reflects and is full

with the image of him - so is my heart his spring

and his knowledge my shield. O lovers, pluck his blossoms

but save the thorns for his enemies.

No one of the Community is worthy of greatness

but his lover, for the Shiite rests immune

from the wiles of Satan in his citadel.

He is the Prophet s kinsman, but no one

belongs to Ali s tribe but the lover of Truth.

A thousand years of praise will not exhaust

a thousandth of his qualities; I take pride

in his Four Virtues, his manliness, knowledge

piety and munificence, and my back is bent

with gratitude, the burden of Ali.

I imitate his way of dress, robed in faith and gnosis.

Nasibi, be silent - you have not learned

of his warp and weft, or you would

think more of him. Act not the snake with me

lest you think you can bear the sting

of the serpent of Ali. Why do you rank

every lowly weed with him?

He was a lion, the battlefield his veldt,

the unbelievers his prey, his sword,

his Zulfiqar like a dragon

in is claws, slayer of three armies,

his right hand, armour-piercer that

cast to the ground the severed heads

of great commanders. Gabriel called his spear

at the battle of Hunayn, and his heart

was steady as a mountain in the sin

of war. Lions shrink away like foxes

at the sight of his blade.

If you fear the devil will plunder you

hide yourself in his cavern

where no one enters but by the command

of his deputy, and which is made not of stone

but of knowledge (for how could the pride

of Ali descend to stone?), and where are stored

his house, his estate, his chattels.

On the trees and meadows of Ali the rain

falls as hermeneautic exegesis, for he

chose no silver and gold, but knowledge and faith.

How but by his sword-wielding hand

could the Divine Law find protection?

How should the unbelievers of Mecca

not feel him as an inward affliction?

Free from taint, his tongue, hands and loins -

where was the best woman of the world

but by his side? Hasan and Husayn, those

mirrors of the Prophet, were his mirrors.

Satan s hands and feet were amputated

in the uproar he caused, and no one

will be safe from fire but in his refuge.

His sword ruined the good name

of countless warriors in the battles

of Badr, Uhud and Khaybar, which were his work.

Send him my challenge, the boastful knight,

for I am the chevalier of Ali.

Even his enemies I shall convert

if they lend me their ears, and in spite

of all they do, I shall bind them fast

with the bridle of Ali; but if they

turn their heads away from this knowledge

sweet and boundless, they will come

on Resurrection Day, disgraced,

heads dragged in the dust before

ALI.

2. In Praise of Ali (2)

my back - by the grace of God and in devotion of Him -

is strong enough perhaps that I might attain

tot he Messenger and his intercession; I ask for no other

to plead for me with God but His Prophet, and to plead

for me with the Prophet none but his blessed Family,

with whom I shall go to him; no fear of taint

or contagion from hypocrites. The Religion of Allah

is the Prophet s kingdom and today all creatures

are his subjects, his Community. Your slave

does not owe you even half the obedience

that the Prophet s Community owes him.

He has ordered you not to kill your slave for disobedience

nor will he slay you for your rebellion;

do not sever yourself from his all-encompassing protection,

for he is the Guide of all creation, his message

has reached from one end of the world to the other.

After him, his Family are the Guides - reverence him

and turn not from his Family. If you know him not

then you must know his children - how else

in your bewilderment can you hope for his mercy?

Have you not heard to whom the Prophet entrusted

his dominion on the day of his Sermon by the ditch?

the one to whom allusion is made in the Book?

the one before whose courage the boldness of the unbelievers

faded like a lantern his up to the sun?

Who gave his ring to a beggar? to whom

all the descendants of the Prophet trace their family tree?

who slept in the Prophet s bed, while the Messenger

fled from his enemies in the Migration? to whom

the Prophet gave the banner in the battle of Badr

when all others quailed? the lion, the warrior

whom God has made all heroes to love?

On the field of battle our Prophet had no miracle

more potent than that man s might. It is he

who will distribute paradise and hell to the faithful

and unfaithful. He is the Gate of the City of Knowledge

which is the Prophet; no one but him

is worthy of that trust. If you seek the City

go to its gate, that felicity s light may brighten your heart.

Yes, he was the Prophet s miracle in battle

and Zulfiqar, his two-tongued sword, was his own miracle.

The Prophet was God s treasure, but he -

his mind and heart - were the Prophet s treasure.

The enemies of God s lion are beset with the disease of ill omen

and cannot be accused of anything but stupidity,

or the horror of an ass when it sees a lion.

Turn away, flee those infected with such prestige,

but if they show you honour, do not (for the sake

of dignity of Islam) refuse their reverence.

In disputation with them do not expect more

than dullness, for they have no other tool to use

but the gelid intellects, nothing to talk

but nonesense. When the chain of stupidity rusts shut

there s no escape. All their proof is simply abuse -

but who will listen to it on Resurrection Day?

Satan is powerful, yes, but his power lies

only in falsehood and cunning. God values

one above another for his faith - if you expect

succour from Him, give succour to His True Religion.

Put no stock in the moment s good luck

for fortune always hides destruction within it.

I find the world a faithless bawd -

do not mourn her loss. The only positive thing

one can say about her is that she s living proof

of the ephemerality of material good.

Her boon is bane - for no one shall escape death

who has drunk fro her cup - and therefore

do not cover her flawed and sickly benediction.

I ought not strive to gain her company

while she strives for nothing but y discomfort.

She gave me robe after rich robe of honour

then stole them all back, one by one.

Now that I lean for support on God and Islam

I grow weary o the world and of men

and by God s Grace I am freed of need

of anyone who does not need me. The blessed Quran

reposes in my heart, which is filled with peace.

Praise the Lord, that nothing burdens my back

but His favour and Grace, that thanks to the generosity

of the true Imam I have come to know his truth,

his certainty and the justice of his cause -

that matchless king whose domain, of all the earth,

is free of deviltry; who has robed Jupiter

in its constellation of Fortune of all auspiciousness

and joy. Lord, help me to spend my days and nights

in devotion to him, to string together from time to time

a few pious verses based on his knowledge and wisdom.

3. In Praise of the Prophet

I choose

the Quran

and the Faith of Muhammad

for those

where the choices

of Muhammad himself;

I know

if I practise the two

my Certainty

will become

as the Certitude

of the Prophet.

My key

to Paradise - my guide

to Felicity

the fortified Citadel:

what are they but

the Religion of Muhammad:

For us

he is the Messenger

of God - such

was the carving

on the seal-ring

of the Prophet.

Rooted in my heart:

the Faith

and the Book

as firmly

as in the heart

of Muhammad.

By God s Grace

my hope, my prayer

is to be

the least

of servants in the Community

of Muhammad.

My brother,

in the sea-depths

of religion

the Quran

is the pearl beyond price

of the Prophet;

every king

owns a treasure

of Mohammad.

Now look

to these riches,

this pearl:

who now

is custodian

of Muhammad s legacy?

You yourself

would bequeath your wealth

to your children;

just so are his children

the guardians

the heirs of the Prophet.

Ponder well:

you Muslims

will not fine

the jewels

but in keeping

of Muhammad s progeny.

Surely he handed

all down to him

who was

worthiest

of all Companions

of the Prophet.

Who was he,

the Companion?

his Wife

was the delight

of the eye

of Muhammad

and from this delight

and this Companion

were born

Hasan

and Husayn, the darlings

of Muhammad.

I have seen

in both worlds

the reality

of Husayn

and Hasan: the rose

and jasmine of the Prophet;

where

in heavcn and earth

could such blossoms spring

but in the garden

from the soil

of Muhammad?

I dare not

I tremble

lest I prefer

any creature

above these beloved ones

of God s Prophet.

The Book,

and the Sword

of the Lion of God:

these are bulwarks

beneath the firm Faith

of Muhammad.

Who stood

sword drawn

in every battle

who stood

at the right hand

of the Prophet?

The Sword of Ali

lent its aid

to the Quran

and Ali no doubt

was the Help

of Muhammad.

Ali:

in Islam

as Aaron to Mosses:

partner

companion

of the Prophet;

on the Last Day

Aaron and Moses

shall kiss

the Mantle of Ali,

the sleeve

of Muhammad.

Seek knowledge

he bid us

even in China :

Ah! What praise are mine

in the China

of Muhammad.

I heard

from the heir

of the Prophet

the honeysweet

words, the Sayings

of Muhammad;

my heart beheld

a mystery revealed

from the Origin

to Ali s heart

through the Prophecy

of Muhammad

and learned

from the babes of Fatimah

and her husband

the true

nature

of the Prophet.

Surely

I could have gained

no more than I gained

from that

illustrious child

of the Rank of Muhammad

surely

I could have gained

no more

had I lived

myself in the time

of Muhammad.

The Creator

of the Universe Himself

praise me

for my love

of Ali, my blessings

on the Prophet

and with the Blessing

of the Lord

of the Worlds

I dwell

in the Stronghold

of Muhammad.

1. I INTRODUCTION

The Diwan ; MM. CLXXVII

Line 5: Diwan (The Diwan); a collection of poetry. Elsewhere NK refers to his two divans ; they have been combined into one.

Line 62: Solomon is famous for his magical control over the jinn, psychic being or fire elements, some of who are good, or at least neutral, while others are demonic.

Line 66: Luqman; a wise man, said to have been a son of Job s sister or aunt, a disciple of David, or a judge of Israel, or a freed Ethiopian slave.

Line 68: The Threshold of the Compassionate; i.e., the Divine Presence

Line 69: The Guide of Truth; the Prophet Muhammad. Salman-i Farsi, the first Persian Muslim, a Companion of the Prophet, revered as one of the first partisans of Ali, and also considered by Islamic esoterists - both Sufi and Shi ite - as an important figure.

Line 70: Household of the Messenger; in other words, the blood descendants of the Prophet through his daughter Fatimah and his son-in-law Ali ibn Abi Talib; especially the Panj-tan or Five Holy Ones : the Prophet, Fatimah, Ali and their children Hassan and Husayn; more generally for Ismailis this term includes Imams (see introduction) and by extension their relatives as well.

Line 72: Imam; the ruler of the Ismailis (see introduction).

Line 79: Emir; NK probably does not have any particular Emir (ruler) in mind; he means wordly rulers in genral, as opposed to the Imams.

Line 99: The Prophet s Family; see note on line 70 above.

Line 100: Rudaki the Persian, Hasan the Arab; NK mentions two famous poets, one Persian, the other Arab; Rudaki was known for his court poetry, Hasan for his eulogies on the Prophet.

Line 106: The Pilgrim s Provision; the Zad al-musafarin, one of NK s prose treatises on Ismaili philosophical thought; see introduction.

Line 109: Yamgan the remote region, now part of Afghanistan, where NK sought refuge after the failure of his mission in Khorasan (see introduction).

Line 110: Day of Reckoning; the Last Judgement.

Line 112: Holy Household; se note to line 70 above.

2. II PHILOSOPHY

The First Poem ; MM.I

Line 74: Harut; and Marut, two evil demons who taught sorcery to the Babylonians.

Line 122: the elements, Earth, Air, Fire and Water can be considered as [airs of opposites, yet all exists together in harmony on the material plane.

Speech ; MM.II

Line 18: Darius; the name of several Persian kings, especially Darius the Great, the Achaemenian (d. 486 B.C.)

Line 45: Sanaa (San a ); the capital of Yemen, used as a figure of a far-away place.

Line 57: Jesus; his most famous miracle from the Islamic point of view is his rising the dead to life which he was able to accomplish with a word or a breath because he was the Spirit or Word of God.

Line 85: The Night of Power; the night on which the Qur an was revealed; believed to fall in the latter part of the month of Ramadan.

Line 106: the martyrs of God; could refer both to the Muslims of the time of the Prophet who fell in the cause of Islam, and the Ismailis who had suffered for their religion.

Line 107: the daughter of Muhammad; Fatimah, wife of Ali, mother of the Imams and particularly revered by the Ismailis of the period who called themselves (and by extension their rule in Egypt) Fatimid .

The Angelic Presence ; MM.CXIII

Line 15: Gabriel; as in Christianity an Archangel; in Islam he is the angel of Revelation, who dictated the Qur an to Muhammad

Line 22: treasure of Qarun; the Korah of OT, son of Moses paternal uncle, proverbial for his wealth and avarice. According to Islamic tradition, Divine Wrath overtook him and the earth swallowed him and his treasures.

Line 33: the Active Intellect; The Tenth Intellect, guardian of the sublunary world; Demiurge; interpreted by some as the angel Gabriel of Holy Spirit.

Line 50: When God had created Adam, He called on all angels to bow before him and worship him. Only Satan (Iblis) refused, saying that he refused to bow before anyone but God Himself; for his rebellion he was banished from heaven and became the Adversary.

Line 59: For the Qur anic version of the story of Khizr, see Chapter 18, the Cave. In some version of this story, Khizr is integrated into the Alexander legend and is said to be Alexander s cook, or general. Alexander sets out with Khizr on a search for a Fountain of Life. Khizr finds it, and becomes immortal, but Alexander fails Khizr, the Hidden of Green Prophet , representing the ever-living presence of esoterism, is a figure of much importance in esoteric Islam.

Freewill and Predestination ; MM.X

Line 112: The Proof; hujjat, the title given to NK as a leader of missionaries, and used by him as his pen-name. It is considered good form (though not obligatory) for a Persian poet to work his pen-name somewhere into the last few lines of a poem, often with a pun.

Being and Becoming , Etc. ; MM.XXII

Line 124: Ali, the first Imam, son-in-law of the Prophet, recognised by the Sunnis (the majority of Muslims) as the fourth Caliph, the transmitter of esoteric sciences and knowledge of the spiritual Path.

Line 125: Khaybar; a fortress near Madinah, stronghold of Jews hostile to the Prophet. Ali conquered it, opening its gates with his bare hands during the famous battle of Khaybar.

Line 126: Qayrawan; an important city now in Tunisia; used a figure for the far western reaches of the Islamic world, which stretched in the East to China

Line 133: Kawthar; a river of Paradise said to be in the control of Ali, hence his nickname.

Line 135: Imam al-Mutansir; the Ismaili Imam of NK s period; lived in Cairo (see introduction).

Line 137: Kaaba (Ka bah); the cube -shaped structure in Mecca towards which all Muslims mast face when saying their daily prayers.

Line 147: Khorasan; the vast eastern province of Iran, including what are now parts of Afghanistan and the USSR. NK had been appointed Proof, or leader of missionaries, for this whole region, one of the most important in the world of Islam at that time.

God and the World ; MM.XLV

Line 105: Divine Law; the Shari ah, or revealed Laws as contained in the Qur an and interpreted by the Prophet and - in the case of Ismailism - the Imams. Esoteric Muslims divide the tradition into three diemsions; the Shari ah, the Tariqah (the Path proper, the Spiritual Way), and the Haqiqah or Truth, the Goal of the Path.

Hermeneautics (The Garden) ; MM.CCXXXII

Line 8: Solomon s Throne; carried by demons wherever he commanded them.

Line 101: Iraq and Badakhshan; in other words; at opposite ends of the world ; Badakhshan is the region of present-day Afghanistan where NK himself (the remedy ) lived

The Two Jewels ; MM.CXII

Line 14: the Two Worlds; i.e. heaven and earth.

Line 15: the seven climes; traditional geography divided the world into seven regions or climes .

Line 16: The Holy Spirit; Gabriel, angel of revelation.

Line 20: Hot, Cold, Wet, Dry. Each of the four elements is characterised by a pair of these natures: Earth is cold and dry; Air is hot and wet; Fire is hot and dry; Water is cold and wet. These terms were considered not in their material sense alone, but as principles or archetypal qualities. Their importance in traditional medicine (the theory of the four humours) is but one of their applications.

Line 32: four natures; the four humours or temperaments; see note to line 20 above.

Line 33: nine spheres and seven planets; each of the seven traditional planets had its own sphere; besides these, there were the sphere of the Fixed Stars, and the Empyrean itself.

3. III WORDS OF WISDOM

Words of Wisdom ; MM.XLIX

A Parable of Jesus ; MM.CCL

On the Qur an ; MM.V

Line 108: drylipped before the Euphrates; a reference to the fate of the Third Imam, Husayn, who was killed along with may of his followers in Karbala - now a city in Iraq - by the army of the Umayad Caliph Yazid after having suffered extreme thirst, kept by his enemies from obtaining water from the nearby river Euphrates. The foes of the Household are punished by being refused the esoteric knowledge of the Imams.

Line 117: Sultan of khan; worldly rulers.

Ode to Night ; MM.CCXXX

Line 30: Zulaykha; in the Islamic version of the story of the prophet Joseph, Potiphar s wife is replaced by the Pharaoh s wife, Zulaykha. She is dumbfounded by Joseph s beauty, hence pale and perplexed . See Qur. XII.

Line 37: Jabulsa and Jabulqa; two legendary cities of the Far East and Far West, inhabited by Gog and Magog; localities in Imaginal World .

Line 41: purdah; the custom of keeping women in veil.

The Way of the World ; MM.CXVII

The World Defends Itself ; MM.CXVIII

Homo Ludens ; MM.LVII

The Eater of Dust ; MM.XCIII

Line 2: turquoise wheel; i.e. the sky or the heavens . NK uses many metaphors for the heavens based on the image of the sky as it appears to the earthly observer; whirling sphere, upturned bowl, etc.

Ode to Spring ; MM.CLXI

Line 12: the Messiah s revivifying incantations; see note on speech , line 57.

Line 15: Joseph s miracle; i.e. his beauty. See note on Ode to Night . Line 30.

Line 22: robes of Christians; apparently Christians in the Persia of NK s period wore violet-coloured robes; or it may refer to the liturgical vestments of the priests. A cliche in Persian poetry.

Line 35: the Abbasids; the Caliphs in Baghdad. The Ismailis considered them enemies and usurpers of the rightful title of calip, which belonged to the Fatimid caliph, the Ismaili Imam. The colour of the Abbasids was black.

Line 38: Zulfikar; (Dhu l-fiqar) the famous doubled-tipped sword of Ali.

Line 51: Chosroes; The Just, 21st Sassanid king of Persian (d.A.D. 579). The Prophet was born in the eighth year of his reign.

Line 64: Balkh and Bukhara; the two major cities in Khorasan, the former now in Afghanistan, the latter in USSR.

Anti-Ode to Spring ; MM.LXXIV

Encore ; MM.CLXXX

Line 64: city of knowledge ; the Prophet is reported to have said, I am the city of knowledge and Ali is its gate .

Line 101: Balance; the souls of the dead are judged in a scale.

A La Mode ; MM.CXXIV

Line 34: the inner Holy War; The Prophet once told his warriors as they retuned from battle, You are coming back from the lesser to the greater Holy War (al-jihad al-akbar) . Islamic esoterists have taken this to refer to the spiritual battle upon the Path of God.

4. IV SATIRE

a Wasted Pilgrimage , MM.CXLI

Line 5: Arafat; a plain near Mecca where pilgrims must spend one day of the Hajj in prayer and invocation.

Line 7: the Hajj; the Pilgrimage to Mecca, incumbent on all Muslims at least once in their lifes for those who can afford it.

Line 15: Haji; one who has completed the Pilgrimage, a title of great respect.

Line 19: pilgrim s robe; on the Pilgrimage, everyone wears two simple pieces of white cloth, similar to the shroud.

Line 33: the obligatory sheep; pilgrims on the hajj must sacrifice a sheep in commemoration of Abraham s sacrifice.

Line 37" Sacred Grounds; the immediate precincts of the Ka bah.

Line 41: stoning the Accursed one; one of the rites of the Pilgrimage consists of throwing stones at a pillar said to represent the Devil.

Line 45: station of Abraham; the Prophet Abraham is said to have built the Ka bah. The place where he prayed is marked.

Line 49: circumambulation; the rites include circling the Ka bah.

To a Merchant ; MM.CXXX

Line 1: Zam-Zam; the sacred well of Mecca, near the Ka bah.

Line 42: Jamshid; the legendary first king of Persia.

Astrology and Poetry ; MM.LXIV

Line 33: Moses, Aaron and Samarri; Aaron is viewed in Islam as a prophet in his own right; in esoteric Islam, he is considered to have represented the esoteric side of Judaism. As Moses represents the exoteric side. Samarri is the Samaritan who persuaded the Jews to worship the golden calf.

Line 38: Mazandaran; the Caspian littoral region of Iran.

The Shark ; MM.VII

Line 33: et seq.; Feraydun, Kayqubad, etc., etc. Ancient kings and heroes of Persian, described in Firdawsi s Shah-namah.

Line 59: face the Ka bah; the dead are buried lying on their sides, facing the Ka bah.

Line 61: Testimony of Faith; There is no god but God; and Muhammad is the Messenger of God . Muslims should die with this formula on their lips. In this and in the preceding two lines NK means that the reader will pay no attention to religion until he s faced with death, whereas he ought to be occupied with it always.

Line 89: the Simurgh; the legendary king of the birds. In Attar s famous Conference of the Birds, the Simurgh symbolises God. Only thirty reach him; si-murgh means literally thirty birds ; in other words, the seekers are inwardly identified with the Sought.

Excuses ; MM.CLXIV

Line 29: Magi; in popular belief the Zoroastrians or Magi were thought to worship fire.

Storm Warnings ; MM.XLVII

The Aging Rake ; MM.XLVI

Line 100: Sermon bythe Ditch; see introduction.

5. V AUTOBIOGRAPHY

Autobiography ; MM.LXXIX

A Warning to Missionaries ; MM.LXVIII

Dissimulation ; MM XXXIII

title: Dissimulation (taqiyyah); Shi ites are allowed, in case of danger, to disguise their adherence to the minority faith in order to escape persecution. Ismailis made particular use od this.

Line 55: Ramadan; the month during which fasting from dawn to sun-down is obligatory for all Muslims.

Line 67: Shari ite; i.e. followers of the Shari ah, the Sacred Law.

In Yamgan ; MM.IX

Line 163: the hoopoe; Solomnon understood the language of the birds. The hoopoe was his messenger.

The Decline od Khorasan ; MM.XXXVII

Line 17: alif; the first letter of the Arabic alphabet; symbolic of uprightness and good stature.

Line 21: nun; this letter of the alphabet is often contrasted with alif, and compared with a hunchback or an old man.

Line 65: Kipchak; a Tartar Tribe.

Line 79: Zahhak; in the Shah-namah, the evil enemy of Feraydun.

Line 85: Aaron the Alexandrian; Hellenistic philosopher famous for his erudition.

Retirement ; MM.XCVII

Line 16: Kashghar; city in Turkestan, central Asia.

The Exile s Lament ; MM.CCVIII

Line 19: the Companion; i.e. of the Prophet. NK means he is accused of being the enemy of such of the Companions as Abu Bakr, Umar and Uthman, the first three caliphs, recognised by the Sunnis but not by the Shi ites, who believe, Ali should have been the first caliph.

Line 59: Grand Mufti; chief religious authority.

Line 60: Nayshapur and Herat; two important cities of Khorasan, the former now in Iran, the latter in Afghanistan.

Line 73: Badakhshan is still famous for its rubies.

Line 75: Viziers; Prime Minsters. Teheran; actually Rayy, which is now a suburb of Tehran but was for many centuries the metropolis.

Line 82: the Gulf; i.e. the Persian Gulf, still famous for its pearls.

Letter from an Acquaintance ; MM.XC

6. VI DEVOTION

In Praise of Ali (1) ; MM.LXXXV

Line 16: Nasibi; an enemy of Ali; NK uses him for the type of an anti-Shi ite.

Line 29: Hunayn; one of the famous battles of the Prophet of Islam against the unbelievers.

Line 45: the unbelievers of Mecca; i.e., those Arabs who did not accept the Prophet and forced him to emigrate to Medina.

Line 48: the best woman in the world; Fatimah.

Line56: Badr, Uhud and Khaybar; three battles waged by the Prophet against the ubelievers.

In Praise of Ali (2) ; MM.LXXXII

Line 7: the religion of Allah; i.e. of God; i.e. Islam.

Line 23: allusion is made in the book; several verses in the Qur an are interpreted by Shi ites to refer to Ali pre-eminence among the companions.

Line 28: slept in the Prophet s bed; when the Prophet s life was threatened, Ali slept in his bed to deceive the assassin while the Prophet made his migration from Mecca to Median.

Line 29: the Migration (from Mecca to Medina); see note to In Praise of Ali (1) , Line 45. The Islamic calendar begins with the year of the Migration (hijrah).

In Praise of the Prophet ; MM.LVIII

(Note: Further information can be found in works cited in the Bibliography.)