Part 2

‘Do not grieve, he will not be lost to thee; Nay, the whole world will be lost in him.’

The true individual cannot be lost in the world; it is the world that is lost in him. I go a step further and say, prefixing a new half-verse to a hemistich of Rúmí (Transl. l. 1325):

In his will that which God wills becomes lost: ‘How shall a man believe this saying?’”

[8] Transl. l. 289 foll.

[9] According to the Tradition, “The true Faith is between predestination and freewill.”

[10] Transl. l. 673 foll. In a note on “Our Prophet’s criticism of contemporary Arabian poetry” (_The New Era_, 1916, p. 251) Iqbal writes: “The ultimate end of all human activity is Life--glorious, powerful, exuberant. All human art must be subordinated to this final purpose, and the value of everything must be determined in reference to its life-yielding capacity. The highest art is that which awakens our dormant will-force and nerves us to face the trials of life manfully. All that brings drowsiness and makes us shut our eyes to Reality around, on the mastery of which alone Life depends, is a message of decay and death. There should be no opium-eating in Art. The dogma of Art for the sake of Art is a clever invention of decadence to cheat us out of life and power.”

[11] _Ibid._ l. 537 foll.

[12] _Ibid._ l. 631 foll.

[13] _Ibid._ l. 1531 foll.

[14] Kor. ch. 23, v. 102.

[15] Transl. l. 1549 foll.

[16] _Ibid._ l. 323 foll.

[17] _Ibid._ l. 435 foll.

[18] _Ibid._ l. 815 foll.

[19] _Ibid._ l. 849 foll.

[20] _Ibid._ l. 893 foll.

[21] Man already possesses the germ of vicegerency, as God says in the Koran (ch. 2, v. 28): “Lo, I will appoint a _khalifa_ (vicegerent) on the earth.” Cf. Transl. l. 434.

[22] Writing of “Muslim Democracy” in _The New Era_, 1916, p. 251, Iqbal says: “The Democracy of Europe--overshadowed by socialistic agitation and anarchical fear--originated mainly in the economic regeneration of European societies. Nietzsche, however, abhors this ‘rule of the herd’ and, hopeless of the plebeian, he bases all higher culture on the cultivation and growth of an Aristocracy of Supermen. But is the plebeian so absolutely hopeless? The Democracy of Islam did not grow out of the extension of economic opportunity; it is a spiritual principle based on the assumption that every human being is a centre of latent power, the possibilities of which can be developed by cultivating a certain type of character. Out of the plebeian material Islam has formed men of the noblest type of life and power. Is not, then, the Democracy of early Islam an experimental refutation of the ideas of Nietzsche?”

PROLOGUE

When the world-illuming sun rushed upon Night like a brigand, My weeping bedewed the face of the rose. My tears washed away sleep from the eye of the narcissus, My passion wakened the grass and made it grow. The Gardener taught me to sing with power, 5 He sowed a verse and reaped a sword. In the soil he planted only the seed of my tears And wove my lament with the garden, as warp and woof. Tho’ I am but a mote, the radiant sun is mine: Within my bosom are a hundred dawns. 10 My dust is brighter than Jamshíd’s cup,[23] It knows things that are yet unborn in the world. My thought hunted down and slung from the saddle a deer That has not yet leaped forth from the covert of non-existence. Fair is my garden ere yet the leaves are green: 15 Full-blown roses are hidden in the skirt of my garment. I struck dumb the musicians where they were gathered together, I smote the heartstrings of all that heard me, Because the lute of my genius hath a rare melody: Even to comrades my song is strange. 20 I am born in the world as a new sun, I have not learned the ways and fashions of the sky: Not yet have the stars fled before my splendour, Not yet is my quicksilver astir; Untouched is the sea by my dancing rays, 25 Untouched are the mountains by my crimson hue. The eye of existence is not familiar with me; I rise trembling, afraid to show myself. From the East my dawn arrived and routed Night, A fresh dew settled on the rose of the world. 30 I am waiting for the votaries that rise at dawn: Oh, happy they who shall worship my fire! I have no need of the ear of To-day, I am the voice of the poet of To-morrow. My own age does not understand my deep meanings, 35 My Joseph is not for this market. I despair of my old companions, My Sinai burns for sake of the Moses who is coming. Their sea is silent, like dew, But my dew is storm-ridden, like the ocean. 40 My song is of another world than theirs: This bell calls other travellers to take the road. How many a poet after his death Opened our eyes when his own were closed, And journeyed forth again from nothingness 45 When roses blossomed o’er the earth of his grave! Albeit caravans have passed through this desert, They passed, as a camel steps, with little sound. But I am a lover: loud crying is my faith: The clamour of Judgement Day is one of my minions. 50 My song exceeds the range of the chord, Yet I do not fear that my lute will break. ‘Twere better for the waterdrop not to know my torrent, Whose fury should rather madden the sea. No river will contain my Omán:[24] 55 My flood requires whole seas to hold it. Unless the bud expand into a bed of roses, It is unworthy of my spring-cloud’s bounty. Lightnings slumber within my soul, I sweep over mountain and plain. 60 Wrestle with my sea, if thou art a plain; Receive my lightning, if thou art a Sinai. The Fountain of Life hath been given me to drink, I have been made an adept of the mystery of Life. The speck of dust was vitalised by my burning song: 65 It unfolded wings and became a firefly. No one hath told the secret which I will tell Or threaded a pearl of thought like mine. Come, if thou would’st know the secret of everlasting life! Come, if thou would’st win both earth and heaven! 70 The old Guru of the Sky taught me this lore, I cannot hide it from my comrades.

O Saki! arise and pour wine into the cup, Clear the vexation of Time from my heart! The sparkling liquor that flows from Zemzem--[25] 75 Were it a beggar, a king would pay homage to it. It makes thought more sober and wise, It makes the keen eye keener, It gives to a straw the weight of a mountain, And to foxes the strength of lions. 80 It causes dust to soar to the Pleiades And a drop of water swell to the breadth of the sea. It turns silence into the din of Judgement Day, It makes the foot of the partridge red with blood of the hawk. Arise and pour pure wine into my cup, 85 Pour moonbeams into the dark night of my thought, That I may lead home the wanderer And imbue the idle looker-on with restless impatience; And advance hotly on a new quest And become known as the champion of a new spirit; 90 And be to people of insight as the pupil to the eye, And sink into the ear of the world, like a voice; And exalt the worth of Poesy And sprinkle the dry herbs with my tears. Inspired by the genius of the Master of Rúm,[26] 95 I rehearse the sealed book of secret lore. His soul is the source of the flames, I am but as the spark that gleams for a moment. His burning candle consumed me, the moth; His wine overwhelmed my goblet. 100 The Master of Rúm transmuted my earth to gold And clothed my barren dust with beauty. The grain of sand set forth from the desert, That it might win the radiance of the sun. I am a wave and I will come to rest in his sea, 105 That I may make the glistening pearl mine own. I who am drunken with the wine of his song Will draw life from the breath of his words.

‘Twas night: my heart would fain lament, The silence was filled with my cries to God. 110 I was complaining of the sorrows of the world And bewailing the emptiness of my cup. At last mine eye could endure no more, Broken with fatigue it went to sleep. There appeared the Master, formed in the mould of Truth, 115 Who wrote the Koran of Persia.[27] He said, “O frenzied lover, Take a draught of love’s pure wine. Strike the chords of thine heart and rouse a tumultuous strain, Dash thine head against the cupping-glass and thine eye against the lancet! 120 Make thy laughter the source of a hundred sighs, Make the hearts of men bleed with thy tears! How long wilt thou be silent, like a bud? Sell thy fragrance cheap, like the rose! Tongue-tied, thou art in pain: 125 Cast thyself upon the fire, like rue![28] Like the bell, break silence at last, and from every limb Utter forth a lamentation! Thou art fire: fill the world with thy glow! Make others burn with thy burning! 130 Proclaim the secrets of the old wine-seller;[29] Be thou a surge of wine, and the crystal cup thy robe! Shatter the mirror of fear, Break the bottles in the bazaar! Like the reed-flute, bring a message from the reeds; 135 Give to Majnún a message from Lailá![30] Create a new style for thy song, Enrich the feast with thy piercing strains! Up, and re-inspire every living soul! Say ‘Arise!’ and by that word quicken the living! 140 Up, and set thy feet on another path; Put aside the passionate melancholy of old! Become familiar with the delight of singing; O bell of the caravan, awake!”

At these words my bosom was enkindled 145 And swelled with emotion like the flute; I rose like music from the string To prepare a Paradise for the ear. I unveiled the mystery of the Self And disclosed its wondrous secret. 150

My being was as an unfinished statue, Uncomely, worthless, good for nothing. Love chiselled me: I became a man And gained knowledge of the nature of the universe. I have seen the movement of the sinews of the sky, 155 And the blood coursing in the veins of the moon. Many a night I wept for Man’s sake That I might tear the veil from Life’s mysteries, And extract the secret of Life’s constitution From the laboratory of phenomena. 160 I who give beauty to this night, like the moon, Am as dust in devotion to the pure Faith (Islam)-- A Faith renowned in hill and dale, Which kindles in men’s hearts a flame of undying song: It sowed an atom and reaped a sun, 165 It harvested a hundred poets like Rúmí and Attár. I am a sigh: I will mount to the heavens; I am a breath, yet am I sprung of fire. Driven onward by high thoughts, my pen Cast abroad the secret of this veil, 170 That the drop may become co-equal with the sea And the grain of sand grow into a Sahara. Poetising is not the aim of this _masnaví_, Beauty-worshipping and love-making is not its aim. I am of India: Persian is not my native tongue; 175 I am like the crescent moon: my cup is not full. Do not seek from me charm of style in exposition, Do not seek from me Khánsár and Isfahan.[31] Although the language of Hind is sweet as sugar, Yet sweeter is the fashion of Persian speech. 180 My mind was enchanted by its loveliness, My pen became as a twig of the Burning Bush. Because of the loftiness of my thoughts, Persian alone is suitable to them. O Reader, do not find fault with the wine-cup, 185 But consider attentively the taste of the wine.

FOOTNOTES:

[23] Jamshíd, one of the mythical Persian kings, is said to have possessed a marvellous cup in which the whole world was displayed to him.

[24] The Sea of Omán is a name given by the Arabs to the Persian Gulf.

[25] The holy well at Mecca.

[26] Jalálu´ddín Rúmí, the greatest mystical poet of Persia (A.D. 1207-1273). Most of his life was passed at Iconium in Galatia, for which reason he is generally known as “Rúmí,” _i.e._ “the Anatolian.”

[27] This refers to the famous _Masnaví_ of Jalálu´ddín Rúmí.

[28] Rue-seed, which is burned for the purpose of fumigation, crackles in the fire.

[29] “Wine” signifies the mysteries of divine love.

[30] Majnún is the Orlando Furioso of Arabia.

[31] Khánsár, which lies about a hundred miles northwest of Isfahan, was the birth-place of several Persian poets.

I

_Showing that the system of the universe originates in the Self and that the continuation of the life of all individuals depends on strengthening the Self._

The form of existence is an effect of the Self, Whatsoever thou seest is a secret of the Self. When the Self awoke to consciousness, It revealed the universe of Thought. 190 A hundred worlds are hidden in its essence: Self-affirmation brings Not-self to light. By the Self the seed of hostility is sown in the world: It imagines itself to be other than itself. It makes from itself the forms of others 195 In order to multiply the pleasure of strife. It is slaying by the strength of its arm That it may become conscious of its own strength. Its self-deceptions are the essence of Life; Like the rose, it lives by bathing itself in blood. 200 For the sake of a single rose it destroys a hundred rose-gardens And makes a hundred lamentations in quest of a single melody. For one sky it produces a hundred new moons, And for one word a hundred discourses. The excuse for this wastefulness and cruelty 205 Is the shaping and perfecting of spiritual beauty. The loveliness of Shírín justifies the anguish of Farhád,[32] The fragrant navel justifies a hundred musk-deer. ‘Tis the fate of moths to consume in flame: The suffering of moths is justified by the candle. 210 The pencil of the Self limned a hundred to-days In order to achieve the dawn of a single morrow. Its flames burned a hundred Abrahams[33] That the lamp of one Mohammed might be lighted. Subject, object, means, and causes-- 215 They all exist for the purpose of action. The Self rises, kindles, falls, glows, breathes, Burns, shines, walks, and flies. The spaciousness of Time is its arena, Heaven is a billow of the dust on its road. 220 From its rose-planting the world abounds in roses; Night is born of its sleep, day springs from its waking. It divided its flame into sparks And taught the understanding to worship particulars. It dissolved itself and created the atoms, 225 It was scattered for a little while and created the sands. Then it wearied of dispersion And by re-uniting itself it became the mountains. ‘Tis the nature of the Self to manifest itself: In every atom slumbers the might of the Self. 230 Power that is unexpressed and inert Chains the faculties which lead to action. Inasmuch as the life of the universe comes from the strength of the Self, Life is in proportion to this strength. When a drop of water gets the Self’s lesson by heart, 235 It makes its worthless existence a pearl. Wine is formless because its self is weak; It receives a form by favour of the cup. Although the cup of wine assumes a form, It is indebted to us for its motion. 240 When the mountain loses its self, it turns into sands And complains that the sea surges over it; But the wave, so long as it remains a wave in the sea’s bosom, Makes itself a rider on the sea’s back. Light has been a beggar since the eye first rolled 245 And moved to and fro in search of beauty; But forasmuch as the grass found a means of growth in its self, Its aspiration clove the breast of the garden. The candle too concatenated itself And built itself out of atoms; 250 Then it made a practice of melting itself away and fled from its self Until at last it trickled down from its own eye, like tears. If the bezel had been more self-secure by nature, It would not have suffered wounds, But since it derives its value from the superscription, 255 Its shoulder is galled by the burden of another’s name. Because the earth is firmly based on self-existence, The captive moon goes round it perpetually. The being of the sun is stronger than that of the earth: Therefore is the earth bewitched by the sun’s eye. 260 The glory of the plane fixes our gaze, The mountains are enriched by its majesty: Its raiment is woven of fire, Its origin is one self-assertive seed. When Life gathers strength from the Self, 265 The river of Life expands into an ocean.

FOOTNOTES:

[32] Shírín was loved by the Persian emperor Khusrau Parwíz. Farhád fell in love with her and cast himself down a precipice on hearing a false rumour of her death.

[33] Abraham is said to have been cast on a burning pile by order of Nimrod and miraculously preserved from harm.

II

_Showing that the life of the Self comes from forming desires and bringing them to birth._

Life is preserved by purpose: Because of the goal its caravan-bell tinkles. Life is latent in seeking, Its origin is hidden in desire. 270 Keep desire alive in thy heart, Lest thy little dust become a tomb. Desire is the soul of this world of hue and scent, The nature of every thing is faithful to desire. Desire sets the heart dancing in the breast, 275 And by its glow the breast is made bright as a mirror. It gives to earth the power of soaring, It is a Khizr to the Moses of perception.[34] From the flame of desire the heart takes life, And when it takes life, all dies that is not true. 280 When it refrains from forming wishes, Its pinion breaks and it cannot soar. Desire is an emotion of the Self: It is a restless wave of the Self’s sea. Desire is a noose for hunting ideals, 285 A binder of the book of deeds. Negation of desire is death to the living, Even as absence of burning extinguishes the flame. What is the source of our wakeful eye? Our delight in seeing hath taken visible shape. 290 The partridge’s leg is derived from the elegance of its gait, The nightingale’s beak from its endeavour to sing. Away from the reed-bed, the reed became happy: The music was released from its prison.[35] Why does the mind strive after new discoveries and scale the heavens? 295 Knowest thou what works this miracle? ‘Tis desire that enriches Life, And the intellect is a child of its womb. What are social organisation, customs, and laws? What is the secret of the novelties of science? 300 A desire which broke through by its own strength And burst forth from the heart and took shape. Nose, hand, brain, eye, and ear, Thought, imagination, feeling, memory, and understanding-- All these are weapons devised for self-preservation 305 By him that rides into the battle of Life. The object of science and art is not knowledge, The object of the garden is not the bud and the flower. Science is an instrument for the preservation of Life, Science is a means of establishing the Self. 310 Science and art are servants of Life, Slaves born and bred in its house. Rise, O thou who art strange to Life’s mystery, Rise intoxicated with the wine of an ideal! If thou art an ideal, thou wilt shine as the dawn 315 And be to all else as a blazing fire. If thou art an ideal, thou art higher than Heaven-- Winning, captivating, enchanting men’s hearts; A destroyer of ancient falsehood, Fraught with turmoil, an embodiment of the Last Day. 320 We live by forming ideals, We glow with the sunbeams of desire!

FOOTNOTES:

[34] Cf. Koran, ch. 18, vv. 64-80. Khizr represents the mystic seer whose actions are misjudged by persons of less insight.

[35] _I.e._ the reed was made into a flute.

III

_Showing that the Self is strengthened by Love._[36]