V. The Lion and the Beasts.
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Jalal al-Din Rumi, Maulana and Redhouse, James W. (James William), Sir
Thanks for thy powers the power of thanks tenfold expands.
Take favour for compulsion. Power will leave thy hands.
Compulsion dost affirm? That’s sleeping by the way.
Go not to sleep until thou’st fairly won the day.
Sleep not, Compulsionist! Thou man, with folly rife!
Until thou reach the goal, the fruitful Tree of Life.
The cool breeze there will rustle through its leaves profuse,
Each moment scattering fruits for food and future use.
Compulsion’s creed is sleep among the highwaymen;
Unseasonable bird is mercilessly slain.14245
If thou at God’s signs carp and peck, so finding fault,
Though man thou count thyself, ’tis womanlike assault.
The little sense thou hadst has really taken flight;
A head that has no brains is tail turn’d round to sight.
Ungrateful men are ever cursed of God on earth;
And after death are flung to hell-fire’s vengeful hearth.
If thou repose thy trust in God’s almighty pow’r,
Sow first thy seed; and then, await the harvest hour.”
The beasts a clamour raised; they would not be repressed:
“They who on means depend, are urged by greed confessed.50
The millions upon millions, man and womankind,
Are pinched by want; they suffer need; they food scarce find.
By millions and by millions, since creation’s day,—
Insatiate dragons,—they their gaping jaws display.
A crowd of would-be wise men stratagems invent,
Enough to upset mountains, could they give them vent.
So God himself described in His most holy book
Their arts: ‘By which they’d tear away the hills.’143 Just look.
Except the lot decreed by Providence of yore,
By hunting or by toiling none can swell his store.55
Device of man, his plans, shall all be brought to naught.
God’s dispensations sole will stand, with wisdom fraught.
Strive not then, man of sense; except good name to leave.
Exertion’s a delusion. Out! Thou sottish knave!”
A simpleton one morning rushing came in haste,
Where Solomon his court of justice then had placed.
His cheeks were blanched, his lips were blue; effects of fright.
Said Solomon to him: “What ails thee? Say aright.”
Him answer’d that poor wretch: “The angel, Lord, of death,144
Upon me fixed, just now, a look that stopped my breath.”60