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The Valley of Love |
Now is the traveler unaware of himself, and
of aught besides himself. He seeth neither ignorance
nor knowledge, neither doubt nor certitude;
he knoweth not the morn of guidance
from the night of error. He fleeth both from
unbelief and faith, and deadly poison is a balm
to him. Wherefore Aṭṭár
1
saith:
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The steed of this Valley is pain; and if there
be no pain this journey will never end. In this
station the lover hath no thought save the Beloved,
and seeketh no refuge save the Friend.
9
At every moment he offereth a hundred lives
in the path of the Loved One, at every step he
throweth a thousand heads at the feet of the
Beloved.
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O My Brother! Until thou enter the Egypt
of love, thou shalt never come to the Joseph of
the Beauty of the Friend; and until, like Jacob,
thou forsake thine outward eyes, thou shalt
never open the eye of thine inward being; and
until thou burn with the fire of love, thou shalt
never commune with the Lover of Longing.
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Love accepteth no existence and wisheth no
life: He seeth life in death, and in shame
seeketh glory. To merit the madness of love,
man must abound in sanity; to merit the bonds
of the Friend, he must be full of spirit. Blessed
the neck that is caught in His noose, happy
the head that falleth on the dust in the pathway
of His love. Wherefore, O friend, give up
thy self that thou mayest find the Peerless One,
pass by this mortal earth that thou mayest seek
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a home in the nest of heaven. Be as naught, if
thou wouldst kindle the fire of being and be
fit for the pathway of love.
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Love setteth a world aflame at every turn,
and he wasteth every land where he carrieth
his banner. Being hath no existence in his
kingdom; the wise wield no command within
his realm. The leviathan of love swalloweth the
master of reason and destroyeth the lord of
knowledge. He drinketh the seven seas, but his
heart’s thirst is still unquenched, and he saith,
“Is there yet any more?”
4
He shunneth himself
and draweth away from all on earth.
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He hath bound a myriad victims in his fetters,
wounded a myriad wise men with his arrow.
Know that every redness in the world is from
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his anger, and every paleness in men’s cheeks is
from his poison. He yieldeth no remedy but
death, he walketh not save in the valley of the
shadow; yet sweeter than honey is his venom
on the lover’s lips, and fairer his destruction in
the seeker’s eyes than a hundred thousand lives.
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1. | Faríḍu’d-Dín Aṭṭár (ca. 1150–1230 A.D.), the great Persian Súfí poet. [ Back To Reference] |
2. | Persian mystic poem. [ Back To Reference] |
3. | Persian mystic poem. Cf. The Hidden Words, No. 7, Arabic. [ Back To Reference] |
4. | Qur’án 50:29. [ Back To Reference] |
5. | Jalálu’d-Dín Rúmí (1207–1273 A.D.); The Mathnaví. Jalálu’d-Dín, called Mawláná (“our Master”), is the greatest of all Persian Súfí poets, and founder of the Mawlaví “whirling” dervish order. [ Back To Reference] |
6. | From an ode by Bahá’u’lláh. [ Back To Reference] |