XVI. Ali’s Forbearance.
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Jalal al-Din Rumi, Maulana and Redhouse, James W. (James William), Sir
Their anger rules e’en kings. My anger is my slave.
My wrath I’ve bridled;—bitted;—leave, it aye must crave.
My anger’s stifled by reflection’s strong embrace.
God’s wrath to me’s a message of His pardoning grace.
My roof’s a ruin, true; but light pours through the rent.
I’m dust. But from my soil flowers blow, and yield sweet scent.
“Just cause if I perceive, with foes when waging war,
I make no scruple, but my sword from blood debar.
For God’s sake do I love. Such is my fame with men.
My hate’s in Truth’s sole cause. I’m raging lion then.85
My generosity springs all from love of God.
For God’s sake, too, I’m parsimonious as clod.
I’m avarice, munificence, to one sole end.
I’m God’s in all things. To myself I ne’er attend.
That which I do, for God’s sake flows; not from schedule.
’Tis not a guess, an inference;—’tis sight’s safe rule.
I’ve no occasion to investigate, to seek.
God’s prompting’s what I follow, docile, meek.
“Is soaring my vocation? Heaven’s my pinions’ goal.
Do I revolve? My centre’s fixed in highest shoal.90
If load I carry, I well know where this is due.
I’m but a moon; a Sun before me gives the cue.
I’ve no desire for converse with material things.
An ocean flows not from a meadow brook’s scant springs.
I frame discourse to suit the feeble minds of men.
This system has no fault; it met our Prophet’s ken.
“I’m free from prejudice; accept a free man’s oath.
Against one free man, crowds of slaves possess no truth.
By law, in canon of Islām, the word of slaves
No value has, as evidence;—the chain depraves.95
Ten thousand slaves may witness bear in court of law;
Their testimony weighs not in the scales one straw.
The slave to passion bondsman is, in sight of God.
He’s lower than the captive ’neath taskmaster’s rod.
A slave may be enfranchised by his owner’s word;
Lust’s victim, though freeborn, dies bound with strongest cord.
The slave to passion cannot loose his heavy chain.
God’s mercy, special grace, can set him free again.
He’s fallen into a pit, unfathomed, bottomless.
His own sin this. Compulsion ’tis not, fate, nor cess.100