VII. The Merchant and the Parrot.

Project Gutenberg EPUB edition Jalal al-Din Rumi, Maulana and Redhouse, James W. (James William), Sir
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Long, long shalt thou feel the deep wound it inflicts.
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It stimulates pride; all the soul it infects.
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Man shows not how sweet flattery is to his soul.
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The instant he’s lampooned, he’s lost self-control.
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Thus, pill or draught taken to combat disease,
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A long time, indeed, you’re thence robbed of all ease.
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And if you eat sweetmeats, their tastes are soon lost.
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Nor one, nor the other, is worth half the cost.
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Duration they have not; effects they produce.
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By contraries, contraries all we deduce.325
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As hidden effect of a diet of sweets,
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By long incubation, boils break out, or gleets.
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The flesh, with praise pampered, a Pharaoh becomes.
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The flesh, mortified, due submission assumes.
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A servant to all be; princely power be forgot.
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Submit to cuffs, ball-like; like bat, batter not.
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So soon, otherwise, as thee fortune forsakes,
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Thy flatterers will turn. ’Tis greed only, them makes.
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The throngs of gross flatterers, who sang loud thy praise.
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Will shake their heads, shout out: “Poor de’il! What a craze!”330
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On seeing thee, then, as thou wanderest about,
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They cry: “Cursed hobgoblin! From grave he’s come out!”
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Like beardless, vain boy they’ve addressed as “My Lord,”
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To work on his vanity, fair fame defraud,
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In vice when he’s nurtured, his beard thickly grown,
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E’en Satan would blush a pact with him to own.
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’Tis men Satan seeks out, to work them mischief.
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Thee he’ll never seek; worse than him, thou, a thief.
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So long as thou’rt man, Satan follows thy track.
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He tempts thee to drain manhood’s lees, still, and wrack.335
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When thou’rt become devil, just like to himself,
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He flees thee in fright; leaves thee quite to thyself.
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All they who before refuge took in thy power,
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With horror fly from thee, in this thy fallen hour.
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Our words are mere lies, all tergiversations.236
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Without the divine grace, they’re sheer delusions.
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Without grace of God, holy aid from His saints,
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Best “record” of man must be blots and complaints.237
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O God! Thy grace, sole, ’tis sustains us as men.
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Another to name with Thee suits not a pen.340

Source attribution

The Mesnevi, Project Gutenberg eBook #61724

VI. The Greater (Spiritual) Warfare. VIII. The Harper.