"ISMAILI-SUFI-DARWISH-MYSTIC"ESOTERIC" POETRY

[From_Alamut]

"Whoever loves Al-Hassan and Al-Hussein loves me; and whoever hates them hates me.

Hadith of Prophet Mohammad (Peace be upon him and his Ahl al-Bayt)

[From_Alamut]

Come, come,
The roses are in bloom!
Come, come,
The Beloved has arrived!
Now is the time to unite
the soul and the world.
Now is the time to see the sunlight
dancing as one with the shadows.

What a day!
What a day!
A day of upheaval!
A day of revolt!
Perhaps the scroll
that records every deed
is falling from the sky!
Beat the drum,
Speak no more –
The heart has gone,
The mind has gone,
The soul, too, has gone
to the Beloved.

By: Divan-i Shams-i Tabriz (r.a)

[From_Alamut]

Seek knowledge, make yourself known by it; practise it - you will so become learned man.

Mowlana Ali (Peace be upon him and his Ahl al-Bayt)

[From_Alamut]

You are ordained to recognize the Imams (the right successors of the Holy Prophet) and to obey them.

Mowlana Ali (Peace be upon him and his Ahl al-Bayt)

[From_Alamut]

The worst man is the one who sees himself as the best.

Mowlana Ali (Peace be upon him and his Ahl al-Bayt)

[From_Alamut]

The Ismaili-Sufi Sage of Pamir: Mubarak-i Wakhani and the Esoteric Tradition of the Pamiri Muslims

Book Description:
The name of Mubarak-i Wakhani (1839-1903), a Persian (Tajik) mystic poet, musician, astronomer, and Ismaili religious scholar from Badakhshan, is hardly known in modern academic circles related to Persian and Ismaili studies. Despite his importance to Ismaili esoteric thought in general and the Ismaili tradition of the peoples of the Pamir Mountains in particular, Mubarak has received only scant attention from modern scholars. One of the major reasons for Mubarak’s relative obscurity is probably the geographic location of his homeland and its socio-economic, political, and intellectual environment. There has been no serious scholarly research conducted on Mubarak’s life and works. This book is the first introductory study on the subject, and provides the first systematic presentation of the seminal Islamic figure. In the desire to establish an accurate biography of Mubarak and to render his often confused Ismaili-Sufi ideas as lucidly and coherently as possible, this book, by Dr. Abdulmamad Iloliev (PhD, Cambridge University) of the Institute of Ismaili Studies, concentrates on assessing his life and thoughts in their historical and religious context. It explores how far Mubarak’s works represent the indigenous Pamiri perception of Ismailism and where he stands in relation to general Ismaili thought. Likewise, through the study of the works of Mubarak, it seeks to explore the distinctive elements of Pamiri Ismailism, which itself is an interesting, but relatively neglected area in religio-cultural studies of the minor nations within the diverse civilization of Islam in general and the former Soviet Union in particular. This is a must-have resource for all scholars in Islamic Studies.

Reference
http://ismailimail.wordpress.com/2008/0 ... i-muslims/

http://www.cambriapress.com/camber/camb ... 974&page=i

http://www.amazon.com/Ismaili-Sufi-Sage ... 90&sr=8-12

[From_Alamut]

The poet’s dream/ die before you die.


Rising, dancing melodiously as the wind,

Are the flowers that bloom from only within,

I feel this spring that’s being born,

And by the light, the darkness is torn,

Etched into my soul, into existence it blooms,

Glowing brighter than a thousand moons,

And bursting into life, paradise

As I am taken through these havens,

Endlessly enticed,

By the golden beams that lure me in,

That of the sun that cannot dim,

As it is radiating, resplendent with Nur,

Running with rivers, flowing most pure

The blessed water, streams bona-fide,

Waterfalls cascading, side by side,

And in the distance, I see my guide,

Then the earth beneath me opens wide.

And the bed of roses that before me lay,

All of a sudden begin to sway,

And from the breaking ground,

This light rises to the sky,

Ascending to the heavens;

Calling “die before you die”

And here I was with the master of the world,

I was once an oyster, now I am the pearl,

As I am soaring within,

My search begins;

I see into this garden,

With my mind’s eye,

On these wings of paradise;

I die before I die.

Then my Imam; my guide,

He’s almost by my side,

Walking towards me,

Like a dove he glides,

Smiling with open arms,

As waterfalls begin to calm,

The rivers make a gradual halt,

And the moment then, begins to exalt,

So close to the sea,

I can almost taste the salt.

I feel the river within,

As I am now one with all,

Immersed in the mountains,

Between the divine walls,

And there he is, his hand in mine,

Blessed I am by the Imam of the time,

As he smiles and speaks, the clouds above me whirl,

He tells me his dream, his visions of this world,

We walk through the gardens, he notions to a lake,

Think of this he says, when you dream awake,

Reflect on this water; think it is the Lord,

And that your entire being, into it you have poured.

He clasps his hands, the water spilling in,

Smiling he says, “now let me begin;

I will show you your origin.”

He looks to the skies, as a snowflake descends,

So intricate, delicate, perfection it transcends,

Catching the snowflake in the water he clasped,

This glistening snowflake that water then grasps,

And gradually the sparkle of this diamond-like ice;

Shows me a glimpse of paradise,

As it melts into the water he holds,

The solid and liquid, together they mould,

The ice and the water, as one become whole,

“This,” he explains “is the journey of your soul”.

With a hand on my shoulder, he turns to take his leave,

“Remember this always, you must forever believe..”

The earth then sealed the opening, from which the Nur shone,

I blinked for a moment, and in that moment he was gone.

The waterfalls again began to pour on,

I heard sweet song from a nearby swan,

The trickling of water, the chirping of birds,

All the same harmony, that earlier I’d heard,

But this time, though the garden sang on,

My Imam who was near, has physically gone,

Now this small garden, will never suffice,

As with him he took, the ultimate paradise.

Yet when I close my eyes and dream the same,

I am in heaven with Mowla again,

When this elated state, I once more attain,

I know God is closer, than my jugular vein.

I recall on the example that my imam showed me,

“Now share this” he smiled “let the world see!”

“And if they cannot comprehend, this endless sky,

Tell them they must; die before they die…”


~*~Shaqiera Ladhu~*~

[From_Alamut]

On the Night of Power, when you kindle the lamp,
the mosque is filled with light, but your heart
remains pitch-dark. Whether you kindle the lamp or
not, understand that it will not dispel the darkness
of ignorance in your heart. - Nasir Khusraw


By: The Great Ismaili Dia, Hujjat and Pir Seyyendena Nasir-i Khusraw (Pbuh)

[From_Alamut]

Do not hate what you do not know; for the greater part of knowledge consists of what you do not know.

-- Hazrat Ali

Mowlana Ali (Peace be upon him and his Ahl al-Bayt)

[From_Alamut]

O, just one word from Shams, and I’d gladly give my life

O whispering breeze,
bring the news of my beloved Shams.
It would be worth more
than all the amber and musk
from China to Constantinople.

Please tell me if you’ve heard a word
from his sweet lips,
or a beat of his pounding heart.

O, just one word from Shams,
and I’d gladly give my life.

His love is before me and behind me;
Through his love
my heart has become pure,
my breast has imbibed every virtue.

One smell of his perfume
and I walk light-headed on this path.
O Saaqi, enough with your wine –
I am drunk on the wine from his cup!
My nose is so full of his fragrance
that I have no need for incense, musk,
or the fine amber of Mongolia.

Shamsuddin is forever alive in my heart.
Shamsuddin is the generosity of every soul.
Shamsuddin is poverty,
Shamsuddin is the purest of all wealth.

I am not the only one
singing, Shamsuddin, Shamsuddin –
The nightingales sing from the garden,
And the partridge from the mountainside.

The beauty of a starry night is Shamsuddin.
The Garden of Paradise is Shamsuddin.
Love, compassion, and gratitude are Shamsuddin.

Shamsuddin is the brightness of day,
Shamsuddin is the turning sky,
Shamsuddin is time everlasting,
Shamsuddin is the endless treasure.

Shamsuddin is the King of Cups,
Shamsuddin is the ocean of nectar.
Shamsuddin is the breath of Jesus,
Shamsuddin is the face of Joseph.

O God, show me that inner place,
where we can sit together,
Shams in the middle, my soul by his side.

Shamsuddin is sweeter than life,
Shamsuddin is an earth full of sugar,
Shamsuddin is the towering cypress,
Shamsuddin is the flowering Spring.

Shamsuddin is the well of clear water,
Shamsuddin is the harp and rubaab,
Shamsuddin is the barrel of wine,
Shamsuddin is the bliss of my soul.

O Shams, you are the hope of every heart,
the one every lover longs to hear.
O Shams, come back, alas,
Don’t leave my soul in ruins.

– Ode 1081
Version by Jonathan Star from translation by Shahram Shiva
“A Garden Beyond Paradise: The Mystical Poetry of Rumi”
Bantam Books, 1992

[From_Alamut]

The Ismailsm and Sufism


The word batin is derived from batan means hidden, concealed, covert, inward, inner or esoteric. Ibn Taymiyya quotes Hasan Basari as related that, "Verily, each Koranic verse has an outer meaning and the inner meaning" (Majmu Fatwa, Riyad, 1382 AH, 13:231). Abu Na'im related from Ibn Masud in his Kitab al-Huliya as quoted by Suyuti in al-Itaqan that, "The Koran indeed revealed in seven words, and there is not a single word which does not possess its outer and inner meanings. No doubt, Ali bin Abu Talib completely commanded the knowledge of both outer and inner meanings." Yusuf al-Bahrani (d. 1772) quotes the Prophet as saying in Kitab al-Burhan fi tafsir al-Koran (1:17) that, "Among you is one who will fight for the tawil of the Koran as I have fought for its tanzil. That one is Ali bin Abu Talib." In another tradition, the Prophet said, "I am the Lord of revelation (sahib al-tanzil) and Ali is the Lord of interpretation (shib al-tawil)." J.K. Birge writes in The Bektashi Order of Dervishes (London, 1937, p. 106) that, "This is understood to mean that Muhammad taught the external facts about what Muslims should believe and what they should do, but it is only through Ali that one can enter into an understanding of their deeper meaning." Abdullah bin Masud said, "The Koran was revealed in seven letters. There is not a single letter but it has an exterior and an interior meaning and with Ali is the knowledge of these." (Kitab al-Burhan fi tafsir al-Koran (1:21). The Ismailis are also called the Batiniyya (esotericists or interiorists) because of professing the inner aspects of Islam, and as such the Ismailism is the batini tariqah.

Ismaili:
The word sufi is derived from safa means purity, because the foremost need in Sufism is to purify the heart. The Ismaili da'is during the 8th century formed a fraternal organization in Basra, known as Ikhwan as-Safa (Brethren Purity) due to advocating Sufic tariqah. Another view suggests that the Sufis are in the first rank (saff'i awwal); others say that the Sufis claim to belong to the ashab'i suffa (the Companions of the Prophet). Some assert its derivation from suf (wool) because of wearing woolen garment (jama'i suf). The phrase labisa'l suf means he clad himself in wool occurred frequently in early Islamic literature. When the ascetism passed into mysticism, the above words generally reduced to mean he became a sufi. Fariduddin Attar writes in Mantiq-ut-Tahir (London, 1924, p. icon_cool.gif that, "The doctrines of the Sufi is ancient in Islam, and is much spread, especially among the partisans of Ali." The Ismaili batini tariqah is the Sufi tariqah. Sufism is a form of tasawwuf in Islam. It is the code of heart (fiqh'l batin), the purification of the soul (tazkiyat'l nafs) or the feeling of God's presence (al-ihsan).

Ismaili:
The Persian word darwish is from the Pahlavi driyosh is most likely derived from darviza meaning poverty. According to another view, the word darwish is composed o two syllables, dar (in) and vish (thought) means in thought. The ultimate goal of the Sufi tariqah of darwish is self-realization, and for remaining in such state (in thought), they are also called darwish. The Sufis mostly in Turkey and Persia adopted the term darwish for them, thus there is no difference between them. Spencer Trimingham writes in The Sufi Orders in Islam (London, 1971, p. 264) that, "Of course, one is darwish and a Sufi at the same time and there is no essential distinction in theory. The Sufi is a darwish and the darwish is a Sufi since neither can be in isolation from the other." The Ismaili tariqah is thus the darwishi tariqah in Islam.

Ismaili:
The Sufis in Damascus and some Arabian lands also became known as the faqir. The word faqir (pl. fuqara) is derived from faqar means poverty. The term serves to designate the Muslim mystic. The Koran says, "O men, you are the poor (al-fuqara) before God; He is the Rich" (35:15). It affirms the infinity of divine plentitude and, in the light of this richness, the state of man's dependence and his utter indigence. The Prophet also said, "Poverty (faqiri) is my pride (fakhri)." Abu Sa'id Fazalullah bin Muhammad al-Mayhani said, "al-faqr huwa'l-ghina billah means the faqiri is a wealth in God (cf. Kash al-Mahjub, London, 1911, p. 22). One of the Sufis defines the term faqir that, "The faqir is not be whose hand is empty of provisions, but he whose nature is empty of desires" (Ibid. p. 25). In sum, the tariqah of the faqir is the tariqah of the Sufis and darwish. "Hence, the term darwish referring to a person who possesses this "poverty" is the same as the Arabic term faqir used in Sufism for Muhammadan poverty" (The Encyclopaedia of Religion, 4:240).

It is therefore evident that the Shi'ite Ismaili is a Batini tariqah, the Sufis tariqah, the Darwishi tariqah or the Faqiri tariqah in Islam. It is an intellectual tariqah. The cornerstone of the Ismaili tariqah is the concept of the Imamate. The Imam is a spiritual Guide and exhorts his followers the interpretation in accordance with the time for their worldly and spiritual progress. It must be noted that Ismaili tariqah is not a random offshoot of Islam, nor is it a hotchpotch of other faiths. Ismaili tariqah is the kernel of Islam that the Prophet himself very carefully separated from the common injunctions of the Shariah. This kernel was kept reserved for the privileged few, and kept on the other hand the Shariah for the mass of ummah. There is much more in Islam than performing salat and saum.

By: Dr. D.S. Merchant

Article Directory: http://www.articledashboard.com

Reference:
http://www.articledashboard.com/Article/Ismaili/516575

[From_Alamut]

The authentic hadiths spoke of their distinctions and qualifications as permanent allies of justice and truth. Zeid Ibn Arqam reported that the Messenger of God said to Ali, Fatimah, Al-Hassan and Al-Hussein:

"I am at peace with whomever you are at peace; and I am at war with whomever you are at war."

Hadith of Prophet Mohammad (Peace be upon him and his Ahl al-Bayt)

[From_Alamut]

The Messenger did not intend to distinguish Ali simply because he was related to him. Al-Abbas (his uncle) and the rest of the Hashimites, including Jaafar (the brother of Ali) are all related to the Messenger. All of them would have been qualifed to represent him. But he said, "No one represents me but Ali."

Reference
Book of NahjulBalaghah

[From_Alamut]

At one time Muaweyah was criticizing Ali in the presence of Saad Ibn Abu Waqass. Saad said to him: "I heard the Messenger of God saying to Ali: You are to me like Aaron to Moses. But there shall be no Prophet (of God) after me. 6 "Thus, the Messenger gave Ali a position next to his own, for the position of Aaron was next to that of Moses

Reference
Book of NahjulBalaghah

[From_Alamut]

Al-Hakim recorded in his Mustadrak, that Abu Than (a famous companion of Mohammad whose truthfulness is known to the Muslims) said that the Messenger said:

"The example of the members of my House is like that of Noah's ark. Whoever embarked on it was safe, and whoever failed to embark was drowned. 8

Reference
Book of NahjulBalaghah

[From_Alamut]

This is to be found in a famous poem in the Diwan by Dia, Hujjat and Pir Seyyendena Nasir-i Khusraw (Pbuh), known as the Confessional Ode (Qasidah iitirafiyyah), The Qasidah is the longest in the Diwan (over 130 lines).


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 I'll use my pen and ink,

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


Reference
Forty Poems from the `Diwan' of Nasir Khusraw. Transl. by P. L. Wilson and Gholam R. Aavani. Tehran: Imperial Iranian Academy of Philosophy, 1977

[From_Alamut]

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.


Reference
Forty Poems from the `Diwan' of Nasir Khusraw. Transl. by P. L. Wilson and Gholam R. Aavani. Tehran: Imperial Iranian Academy of Philosophy, 1977

[From_Alamut]

The Divan

I shall turn over a new leaf, and whatever

is better, that shall I make my minds aim.

The world of April - for instance -is an emblem of delight:

shall I not by contemplation make my heart fresh as Spring?

On the green lawns and beds of this my poetic Divan

I shall weave lines and feet into hyacinths and sweet basil,

meanings and allusions into ripe fruit and plum roses,

and grow great trees from tiny seeds of precise words.

Clouds make a deserts jaundiced face a garden -

thus shall I too rain gently on my books face

and in the assembly of debate, favour the wise

with fine subtle points like scattering of petals;

if dusty error greys one of my blooms Ill sprinkle

from a clear sky upon it my commentary.

My odes will raise a castle; in its vast court Ill build

a rose-garden surrounded by a veranda of couplets.

A landscape gardener, here Ill raise a scenic panorama,

there spread out a peaceful meadow, broad and smooth.

The gate (inlaid with all the rarest metres of prosody)

shall be guarded by a trustworthy poet -

and the foundation of this blessed edifice shall be

Virtuous and learned guests from every clime of earth

shall gather at my place, leaving no place

for the ignorant (did I build my home and garden

for idiots?!) And the table I spread for these sages

will groan and leave them in a poet-prandial stupor.



Poetry, or speech, is like a body for which

(following the example of Wisdom) one must weave

from precious conceits an inner soul.

Have you ever witnessed such vivification? Watch,

I shall create for you in words the human image.

From subtle metaphors and limpid narrative

I shall fashion curling locks and smiling lips;

significance shall be its face, which then Ill hide

beneath the veil or masquerade of simile.

Ill take up the word like a polo stick

and make it crack; and if in some line I find

my hearts grown dull, Ill polish it with

the sandpaper of meditation; if ignorance-rust

appears on my soul Ill rub it till it shines

with verses from the Quran. The worlds woes

shall vanish before my piety and obedience;

Ill wash my hands clean of Greeds grease

and raise my fingers from my vest-pocket

to the sphere of Saturn. Does my heart sleep

in the nightgown of ignorance? Then let me go nude

and let the alarm of devotion rouse this

sluggish and melancholic body of mine to the pitch

of self-sacrifice. If all my faults

originate within me, to whom should I complain?

No, I shall rise in Gods grace and mercy

and make earths rough ways smooth to my soul;

the good and evil within me I shall judge as if

my heart were a jewellers balance, each moment

adding to the scale of good grain, and from

the pan of evil subtracting a gramme, till

I have shifted the chains and yokes which Satan

forged for me, to the devils own limbs and shoulders!

My personal demon will not repent his viciousness;

its up to me to make amends - and even - if

Ill never be a Solomon in the caravan of devils

at least I can convert (by the threat of intellects sword)

my private imp to Islam. I shall fashion

my saddle and reins from words and deeds, a halter

from the wisdom of Luqman. You may take

your vacation wherever you wish - Ill head

for the Threshold of the Compassionate, turning my head

towards the Guide of Truth, like Salman,

to the Household of the Messenger, to become

there a humble slave, there where in the glory

of the Imam I shall make my name the frontispiece

of the Book of Fame. That Sun of gnosis

will brighten my heart like the moon in Cancer,

that ocean of grace will fill my heart

as a casket of pearls, sunken treasure and corals.

Now now, Nasir, let me give you some advice;

A talented fellow like you could go far - even

to the Emirs court. All you have to do is

give up these crackpot notions and listen to me . .

Avaunt thee! The vapours of asininity curl

round your brows. What can I do to cure you?

How could I ever toady to you in the hope

of filling my saddlebag with crusts? Ive had

Tartars for slaves in my time - how could I ever

enslave myself to a Tartar? You advise me

to be more like X the Miser or Y the pander -

I know your world is like a sick cat

which devours its own litter - why should I

bow before it? Whom could I consider lower

than myself if I were to mortgage my body

like a dog for a bit of bread? Where

could I leave my faith, virtue and knowledge

if I took up the profession you offer me:

Ghoul-in-Waiting?

I have honour enough in this:

that in two tongues I have ordered Wisdom

and transformed it into verse, for the single purpose

of praising the Prophets Family, following in spirit

now Rudaki the Persian, now Hasan the Arab,

weaving my Divan of figures and images better than all

the lost books of China, Rome and Isfahan,

logical, clear as sunlight, furnished with

sensible solution to all thorny problems, which

I have made the guards and shepherds of my verse.

The Pilgrims Position is one of my treasures in prose

and the book you are reading now, one in poetry.

This world is a prison for the believer - why else

should I take up residence in Yamgan

if I werent sure that on the Day of Reckoning

the raging fire will make the prison for those

who have set themselves against the Holy Household?


Reference
Forty Poems from the `Diwan' of Nasir Khusraw. Transl. by P. L. Wilson and Gholam R. Aavani. Tehran: Imperial Iranian Academy of Philosophy, 1977

[From_Alamut]

Philosophy

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.


Reference
Forty Poems from the `Diwan' of Nasir Khusraw. Transl. by P. L. Wilson and Gholam R. Aavani. Tehran: Imperial Iranian Academy of Philosophy, 1977

[From_Alamut]

[I have found a beautiful video clip song with introduction of Hujjat Seyyendena Nasir-i Khusraw (Pbuh) on [Youtube].......
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8WtTKlDi ... annel_page

Here, another wonderful video clip of Pamir Ismaili Muslim with a beautiful song on praise of Mowla Ali with Present Imam of the TIME <3
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=msePawnd ... annel_page

Another video clip, a beautiful recitation of Poem on the Praise of Mowlana Hazar Imam's Deedar by our Pamir Jamat.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wOU7o28O ... annel_page

Please, check this last video clip of my favorite on Golden Jubilee Visits of Mowlana Hazar Imam.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VLEvQc7t ... annel_page

[From_Alamut]

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.


Reference
Forty Poems from the `Diwan' of Nasir Khusraw. Transl. by P. L. Wilson and Gholam R. Aavani. Tehran: Imperial Iranian Academy of Philosophy, 1977

[From_Alamut]

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.


Reference
Forty Poems from the `Diwan' of Nasir Khusraw. Transl. by P. L. Wilson and Gholam R. Aavani. Tehran: Imperial Iranian Academy of Philosophy, 1977

[From_Alamut]

In the path of the hereafter, one should not walk on foot but with the soul and the intellect, and for provisions, you must fill the tablecloth of your heart with obedience and knowledge.


By: The Great Ismaili Dia, Hujjat and Pir Seyyendena Nasir-i Khusraw (Pbuh)

[From_Alamut]

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.


Reference
Forty Poems from the `Diwan' of Nasir Khusraw. Transl. by P. L. Wilson and Gholam R. Aavani. Tehran: Imperial Iranian Academy of Philosophy, 1977

[From_Alamut]

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!



Reference
Forty Poems from the `Diwan' of Nasir Khusraw. Transl. by P. L. Wilson and Gholam R. Aavani. Tehran: Imperial Iranian Academy of Philosophy, 1977

[From_Alamut]

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.



Reference
Forty Poems from the `Diwan' of Nasir Khusraw. Transl. by P. L. Wilson and Gholam R. Aavani. Tehran: Imperial Iranian Academy of Philosophy, 1977

[From_Alamut]

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.



Reference
Forty Poems from the `Diwan' of Nasir Khusraw. Transl. by P. L. Wilson and Gholam R. Aavani. Tehran: Imperial Iranian Academy of Philosophy, 1977

[From_Alamut]

On the praise of Mowlana Imam Shamsud-Din Muhammad(Peace be Upon Him and His Family)

"HE IS THE KING OF THE WORLD,

THE CROWN OF RELIGION,

HE IS THE SON OF ALI, WHO IS THE LIGHT

OF THE EYES OF THE KING OF THE WORLD,

HE IS THE FATHER OF SPIRITUALISM

AND THE SWEETEST FRUIT OF THE ETERNAL

GARDEN OF CREATION."

By : The Great Dia, Hazrat Hakim Nizari Quhistan (Pbuh)

http://www.ismaili.net/hero/hero21.html

[From_Alamut]

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.



Reference
Forty Poems from the `Diwan' of Nasir Khusraw. Transl. by P. L. Wilson and Gholam R. Aavani. Tehran: Imperial Iranian Academy of Philosophy, 1977

[From_Alamut]

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.



Reference
Forty Poems from the `Diwan' of Nasir Khusraw. Transl. by P. L. Wilson and Gholam R. Aavani. Tehran: Imperial Iranian Academy of Philosophy, 1977