Mu¦sin Ar¡k¢
Love in ‘Irfān

‘Irfān (Islamic mysticism) as a discipline is a commitment and mystical intuition, and not merely a theory. In his endeavour, the ‘¡rif annihilates himself in his beloved. This annihilation, which is the manifestation of true commitment, is the reality of cognition in ‘irfān. The fusing of total commitment with absolute annihilation is known as ‘love’.¹ Accordingly, ‘irfān becomes the ‘science of love’ or the ‘art of loving’, but a very special love for a very special beloved, the most beautiful and the most complete. As Shaykh Bah¡’¢ (d. 1621) says:

Whatsoever I say in exposition of love
When I come to love it, I am ashamed of that explanation.
Although verbal commentaries are more precise and eloquent
Yet love detached from any commentary is clearer.
Whilst the pen was making haste in writing,
It split upon itself as soon as it came to love.
Intellect lay down helplessly from describing love.
It was Love that gave the true account of love and loving.
The proof of the sun is the sun.
And if you require the proof, then do not turn away from it. ²

Let us explain this mutual relationship. The creator of the world, who is, the most Perfect Beloved, showered all his creatures, with His bounties. This type of all embracing bounties from the Almighty Allah is expressed as divine compassion (ra¦mat-i ra¦m¡n¢) within the language of revelation, within ‘irfān, however, they have been called great self-disclosures (tajall¢-yi a’¨am).³ The reciprocal response given to these blessing by the creatures or beings establishes their position within the hierarchy of existence. The quality of an entity’s response will qualify it for a particular statue within the path of perfection. Divine love also has a bearing on these reactions, each being, depending on its particular position within the hierarchy of existence, benefits accordingly from this mutual attraction and divine love, which, in turn, generates excitement and ecstasy within the nature of that being.

The first stage within human love is the sense of need (niy¡z) that motivates man to struggle. This realisation is the first flame of love and that once kindled, could take man up to immortality. The source for the realisation of needs is nothing but the general all encompassing Divine Mercy (fay¤-i il¡h¢) that everything and everyone was showered with them. Man’s advance within the hierarchy of divine love depends on his response to the realisation of needs. This realisation in turn makes it necessary for man to surrender himself to the beloved. Some are able to do that selflessly and, before the beloved, they see nothing of their own self. They have no desires and no self. Their only wish is to see Him and seek nothing but Him. His Love and His remembrance is the only thing they value. In the Holy Qur’¡n, these groups of people are indicated in the verse ‘and those foremost in faith will be foremost in the Hereafter’.⁴

Say: (O Mu¦ammad) truly my prayers and my service of sacrifice, my life and my death are all for Allah the Cherisher of the worlds. No partner has He: This I am commanded and I am the first of those who bow to His Will. ⁵

Almighty God, when creating human beings, flamed the fire of love in his being and this was the starting point of love. The love of God for his own Essential Perfection and Beauty was the cause of the creation of this world, which mirrors God’s Beauty, Perfection and Glory.⁶ Man was the highest manifestation of God’s Glory and Perfection. Man, the inexperienced lover, endowed with sparks of love sought to find God fervently, but the distance between him and God was more than he had thought. Adam’s fault that led to his expulsion from heaven, taught him to have a solid and strong will and be more persevering in the way to reach God. To attain absolute perfection and to reach the final destination, man needs to have a present fervour, which is always fresh. Therefore, God has put man to test in every stage of the way so that he recognises his deficiencies and realises the long distance he needs to go. In this way, at every stage a new fire is inspired in man’s being so that he keeps going on the way to absolute perfection. °¡fi¨ says:

Do men think that they will be left alone on saying, ‘we believe’, and that they will not be tested? ⁷

O ye who believe! Remember Allah with much remembrance. And glorify Him early and late. He it is Who blesseth you, and His angels (bless you), that He may bring you forth from darkness unto light; and He is ever Merciful to the believers. Their salutation on the day when they shall meet Him will be: Peace. And He hath prepared for them a goodly recompense. ⁸

Lo! My Lord is on a straight path. ⁹

I swear by the Quran full of wisdom,
Most surely you are one of the messengers. ¹⁰

Keep us on the right path.
The path of those upon whom Thou hast bestowed favours. ¹¹

And whoever obeys Allah and the Messenger, these are with those upon whom Allah has bestowed favours from among the prophets and the truthful and the martyrs and the good, and a goodly company are they! ¹²

I swear by the time, most surely man is in loss, except those who believe and do good, and enjoin on each other truth, and enjoin on each other patience. ¹³

On R£m¢’s didactic poetry

Gustav Richter (1906-39) ¹

Abstract

This article, a translation of a venerable German lecture on the Mathnaw¢, analyses some aspects of story-telling and didactic style in the poetry of the famed Persian Sufi poet, Jal¡l al-D¢n Balkh¢, better known as R£m¢ in the West and Mawl¡n¡ in the East. The major claim in the article is that the didactic style of the Mathnaw¢ imitates and follows the paradigm of Qur’¡nic story-telling. The structure and style of the poem is thus deliberate, intentional and organised and not haphazard.

A stylistic analysis of the didactic poetry of Jal¡l al-D¢n R£m¢ (d. 1273) ² is particularly difficult. Following the initial historic excursion, we have gathered the impression that the messages of a piece of art of this genre do not serve to illustrate the background for a stylistic analysis with respect to their logical representationalism, being generally very bound to their aesthetic picture. This is why the very mode of expression is important. It makes use of a form that is also possible outside of the genre of poetry. Thus, the composition itself speaks more clearly to us, even in its most outward appearance. The didactic poetry, called Mathnaw¢ (meaning distich), includes more than 20,000 couplets. It is divided up into six books, which do not necessarily have an inner coherence. ³ This is odd, if we imagine it to be an epic. But it is not an epic. And neither is it lyric poetry. We have chosen the German term Lehrgedicht (didactic poetry), which is indeed the most useful if we try to apply occidental terms of comparison. We have in mind a particular form of poetry in which, or with which, one is being taught. With the indication towards the didactic claim we have not yet pronounced the last crucial point that would prevent us from misunderstandings. The form of expression, in order to be valid and in order to suppress the content as mentioned above, has to impose on the metric-didactic flow certain structuring features. A look into this organisation serves as the best approach to the rich arrangement of stylistic developments.

A part of the first book recounts the story of a harp player who lived at the time of the second caliph, ‘Umar (Mathnaw¢, vol. I, verses 1913-2243). In his old age, he loses his voice, becomes ill and poor. In the torments of his soul, he heads to the graveyard, falls down to pray, but falls asleep soon due to exhaustion. Allah reveals himself at the same time to ‘Umar in a dream and demands that he be merciful and provide for the one sleeping at the graves. ‘Umar follows the voice and wakes him up. Embarrassed and shattered by God’s mercy, the old man sheds tears over his past and the sins he committed. But ‘Umar commands him to stop his selfish tears and devote himself to God.

The events of the plot, the story of the harp player, remain the main picture for our analysis despite its small size. The historic research should investigate here, whether the simultaneity of plots is seen to be characteristic for the style of didactic poetry, or whether this is the composer’s creation. I deem the latter more possible. San¡’¢ (d. 1131) ⁴ prefers terms as topics, not as plots. But this is just a remark on the side. The main characteristic is mirrored in the relation of the plot to the remaining parts: the one of the primary to the secondary style; primary style being the uninterrupted continuation of the plot, secondary style are the interrupted, poetic meditations as intensification of new events. Here, a new perspective is opened up: the primary style is general and unique, in as much as the happenings are determined – the story of this harp-player - they are unique and cannot be repeated. The event is general and determines the genre of literature. The secondary style on the other hand is general in that it goes with the meditations not bound by time, beyond the didactic poem. But is at the same time increasingly unique in that it is related to the main plot and the emerging subplots.

Hast thou heard that in the time of ‘Umar, there was a harp player, a fine and glorious minstrel?

The nightingale would be made beside herself by his voice; by his beautiful voice one rapture would be turned into a hundred.

His breath was an ornament to assembly and congregation, and at his song the dead would arise.

He was like Isr¡f¢l (Seraphiel) whose voice will cunningly bring the souls of the dead into their bodies.

Or he was like an accompanist to Isr¡f¢l, for his music would make the elephant grow wings.

One day Isr¡f¢l will make a shrill sound and will give life to him that has been rotten for a hundred years.

The prophets also have (spiritual) notes within, whence there comes life beyond price to them that seek (God).

The sensual ear does not hear these notes, for the sensual ear is defiled by iniquities.

The note of the peri is not heard by man, for he is unable to apprehend the mysteries of the peris,

Although the note of the peri too belongs to this world. The note of the heart is higher than both breaths (notes).

For peri and man alike are prisoners: both are (captive) in the prison of this ignorance.

Recite, O community of jinn and men in s£rat al-Ra¦m¡n; recognise the meaning of ‘if ye be able to pass forth’.

The inward notes of the saints say, at first, "O ye particles of l¡ (non-being)

Take heed, lift up your heads from the l¡ of negation, put forth your heads from this fury and vain imagining.

O ye who all are rotten (in the world of) generation and corruption, your everlasting soul neither grand nor came to birth".

If I tell (even) a little of those (saintly) notes, the souls will lift their heads from the tombs.

Put thine ear close, for that (melody) is not far off, but ‘tis not permitted to convey it to thee.

Hark! For the saints are the Isr¡f¢ls of the (present) time: from them to the dead comes life and freshness. ⁵

The reference to Isr¡f¢l clearly initiates a reflective period. The parable changes the subject (harp player) to a new one and evaluates the main picture with a new picture. The poet achieves thereby an effective increase of the symbolic strength in the main picture: Harp player = highest invigorating principle; the hyperbole of the nightingale – one of the favourite figure of style in Persian poetry – seems almost to pale in comparison with the picture of Isr¡f¢l. One doubt remains. Does not the juxtaposition of Isr¡f¢l diminish the effect of the main picture (harp player = God)? Not at all. Yet, initially the poet does pose a limit. All of a sudden the harp player is only similar to Isr¡f¢l, one of God’s angels, but not to Allah himself. But the poetic effect runs counter to it: if Isr¡f¢l must be thought of a beautiful and mighty, how would God himself be? And again the comparison is being diminished; even an emissary of Isr¡f¢l can be compared to the harp player.

We return to the above part of the story of the harp player. With the picture of Isr¡f¢l, naturally the secondary style begins. It is not a comparison in passing. The poet elaborates and embellishes it. In connection with the main picture of the harp player, the poet creates variations into several groups of pictures. And with what an uncommon creation of meaning he does this! Linked to the picture of Isr¡f¢l is a reflection on the term ‘naghm’. Naghm means the secret, sweet voice. It cannot be heard with the outer, the ear of the senses (g£sh-i ¦iss), but with the heart (dil). He does not give a connection to the main picture. But who would not see immediately in the structure the unexpressed relation with the harp player and his symbolic meaning: the voice of God that man can only hear with his soul! The continuation of the reflection is much more convoluted and permeated with new similes. Central to this reflection is the Qur’¡nic verse (S£rat al-Ra¦m¡n 55: 33) that reads: "O you jinn and humans, if you can pass through the outer limits of the heavens and the earth, go ahead and pass. (But) You cannot pass without authorization". The material incentive for this quotation can be explained with the material connection to the previous part of the text, in which the heart and its secret relation with the voice is juxtaposed to the state of physical limitations. But with respect to the style, the verse is much more: The Qur’¡n is the word of God. Here the secret voice speaks uncovered and explicitly, of which the reflections and pictures have been telling. The technique of using Qur’¡nic verses or legends of the Prophet must not be underestimated. With their sensible usage, their deepest interrelations are being illuminated without an addition of content or any speculative allegories that would corrupt the simplicity of the revealed Islam.

But this is only the backdrop to this episode. Its aesthetic vitality goes beyond that. The charm lies in the development of the yearning of the senses that the subject awakens. This is being carried out in similarities that initially are connected to the material-mental incentive, in order to then formulate the meanings of the terms in such a way as to change their meaning. The aim is to experience the effect of the singing, or the voice. The singer Isr¡f¢l is facing the Prophets who participate as onlooker. The distance between these two seems to mirror the distance between ourselves and the characters, we are far and we are looking far in space. This space is filled with characters: will they mediate? How can our mind be presented with the necessary approach to unite the imagined without violating their aesthetic distance, being confronted with so many appearances? Human being, peri, Prophet, Isr¡f¢l, this in order of value, with every single one of it is imbued with life in our imagination, not without their own function, though. But this ‘secret voice of the heart’ is higher than man and peri. This is the change of meaning. How does man make himself superior to peri? For our heart is fellow man, as are the prophets. How rapidly the notions of real man and prophet are merging into one, having been so unimaginably far just a short time ago. Not the heart it imprisoned, but the forms surrounding it are imprisoned in their attachment to this world. This is the ear of the soul, the refined echo of the divine voice. There is the vocation to the prophets. Prepared in this manner, we hear the word of God itself. Then, of how little importance is Isr¡f¢l, the singer! Silently the concepts are merging into each other. The circle of imagination conveys in this case of abundance of pictures an indivisible experience of the sense that does not stick to one subject or character, but to all at the same time. As the initial tension, created by the rich contrasts, starts to decrease, into undifferentiating reflection, so does imagination impose on the other hand the reflecting useful application, the quintessence of wisdom that faces the vision of the soul as if on a different level. "Come closer with your ear, because the voice is not far". In this way the change in style is being introduced, after it has been prepare by the sentence of the ‘holy’ (the voice), as a secret simile to the voice of God. The first picture of the picture group ends with this turn, evaluating the beginning of the events around the harp player.

We shall not follow this picture group until the end of the chapter. Already, with the short sketch of the main points, which are most relevant for the style analysis, an important demand for methodology emerges considering the interpretation in terminology and system. We have seen that it cannot be permitted to choose terms or conceptions, that are known from the theological or philosophical literature of Islam, in order to picture a speculative system of R£m¢’s mysticism. The terms are too undefined and are not usually posed for the sake of their terminological function. I even believe, that they intentionally have to do without their fixed, logical consensus. They get their value from the composition itself instead, but not in such a way as that they could be read then in a new terminology. At the most, one could make a terminological statement on a complete episode of meaning. In order to obtain a philosophical system, the compositions of the whole poem would have to be interpreted stylistically. Even then the terminological result would probably remain pale and worthless. I will take as a short example R£m¢’s statements on love. He says that love is useful, the doctor for all troubles (Mathnaw¢, vol. I, verse 23), then love is compared with a rose or a nightingale (Mathnaw¢, vol. I, verse 27), then it is the source of illness (Mathnaw¢, vol. I, verse 110). Love can also become shame (Mathnaw¢, vol. I, verse 205), and is then comparable to a peacock (Mathnaw¢, vol. I, verse 208) or a fox (Mathnaw¢, vol. I, verse 210) and so on. Just try to come to a specific terminology of love for R£m¢, with these statements. ⁶

The Prophet said, "In these days the breathings of God prevail:

Keep ear and mind (attentive) to these (spiritual) influences, catch up such-like breathings."

The (Divine) breathing came, beheld you, and departed: it gave life to whom it would, and departed.

Another breathing has arrived. Be thou heedful, that thou mayst not miss this one too, O comrade.

The soul of fire gained there from an extinguisher of (its) fire, the dead soul felt within itself a movement (of life).

This is the freshness and movement of the ±£b¡-tree, this is not like the movements of animals.

If it falls on earth and heaven, their galls will turn to water at once (they will be consumed with terror).

Truly, from fear of this infinite breath (they were filled with dismay): recite (the words of the Qur’¡n) but they refused to bear it (the trust offered to them).

Else, how should (the words) they shrank from it have been (in the Qur’¡n), unless from fear of it the heart of the mountain had become blood?

Yesternight this (breath) presented itself (to me) in a different guise (but) some morsels (of food) came in and barred the way.

For a morsel’s sake a Luqm¡n has become (held in custody as) a pledge: 'tis the time for Luqm¡n: begone, O morsel!

These pricks (of the flesh) for the sake of a morsel! Pluck ye forth the thorn from the sole of Luqm¡n.

In his sole there is (really) no thorn or even the shadow of it, but because of concupiscence ye have not that discernment.

Know that the thorn is that which thou, because thou art very greedy and very blind, hast deemed to be a date.

Inasmuch as Luqm¡n’s spirit is the rose-garden of God, why is the foot of his spirit wounded by a thorn?

This thorn-eating existence is (like) a camel, and upon this camel one born of Mu¥§af¡ (Mu¦ammad) is mounted.

O camel, on thy back is a bale of roses, from the perfume of which a hundred rose-garden grew within thee.

Thy inclination is towards thorn-bushes and sand: I wonder what roses thou wilt gather from worthless thorns.

O thou who in this search hast roamed from one quarter to another, how long wilt thou say, "Where, where is this rose-garden?"

Until thou extract this thorn in thy foot, thine eye is dark (blind): how wilt thou go about?

Man, who is not contained in the world, becomes hidden in the point of a thorn!

Mu¥§af¡ (Mu¦ammad) came (into the world) to make harmony: (he would say) "Speak to me, O °umayra, speak!"

O °umayra, put the horseshoe in the fire, that by means of thy horse-shoe this mountain may become (glowing with love, like) rubies.

This ‘°umay’ is a feminine word, and the Arabs call the (word for) ‘spirit’ feminine;

But there is no fear (harm) to the Spirit from being feminine: the Spirit has no association (nothing in common) with man and woman.

It is higher than feminine and masculine: this is not that spirit which is composed of dryness and moisture.

This is not that spirit which is increased by (eating) bread, or which is sometimes like this and sometimes like that.

It is a doer of (what is) sweet, and (it is) sweet, and the essence of sweetness. Without (inward) sweetness there is no sweetness, O taker of bribes!

When thou art (made) sweet by sugar, it may be that at some time that sugar will vanish from thee;

(But) when thou becomest sugar from abundance of faithful-ness, then how should sugar be parted from sugar?

When the lover (of God) is fed from (within) himself with pure wine, there reason will remain lost and companionless.

Partial (discursive) reason is a denier of Love, though it may give out that it is a confidant.

It is clever and knowing, but it is not naught (devoid of self-existence): until the angel has become naught, he is an Ahriman (Devil).

It (partial reason) is our friend in word and deed, (but) when you come to the case of inward feeling (ecstasy), it is naught (of no account).

It is naught because it did not (pass away) from existence and become non-existent: since it did not become naught willingly, (it must become naught nevertheless, for) there is many a one (who became naught, i.e. died) unwillingly.

The Spirit is perfection and its call is perfection: Mu¥§af¡ (Mu¦ammad) used to say, "Refresh us, O Bil¡l!

O Bil¡l, lift up thy mellifluous voice (drawn) from that breath which I breathed into thy heart,

From that breath by which Adam was dumbfounded and the wits of the people of Heaven were made witless".

Mu¥§af¡ became beside himself at that beautiful voice: his prayer escaped him (was left unperformed) on the night of the ta’rsk.

He did not raise his head from that blessed sleep until the (time of the) dawn-prayer had advanced to (the time of) forenoon.

On the night of the wedding, his holy spirit pined (the privilege of) kissing hands in the presence of the Bride.

Love and the Spirit are, both of them, hidden and veiled: if I have called Him (God) the Bride, do not find fault.

I would have been silent from (fear of) the Beloved’s displeasure, if He had granted me a respite for one moment

But He keeps saying, "Say on! Come, ‘tis no fault, ‘tis but the requirement of the (Divine) destiny in the World Unseen."

The fault is (in him) who sees nothing but fault: how should the Pure Spirit of the Invisible see fault?

Fault arises (only) in relation to the ignorant creature, not in relation to the Lord of favour (clemency).

Infidelity, too, is wisdom in relation to the Creator, (but) when you impute it to us, infidelity is a noxious thing.

And if there be one fault together with a hundred advantages (excellences), it resembles the wood (woody stalk) in the sugar cane.

Both (sugar and stalk) alike are put into the scales, because they both are sweet like body and soul.

Not idly, therefore, the great (mystics) said this: "The body of the holy ones (the saints) is essentially pure as (their) spirit."

Their speech and soul and form, all (this) is absolute spirit without (external) trace.

The spirit that regards them with enmity is a mere body; like the plus in (the game called) nard, it is a mere name.

That one (the body of the enemy of the saints) went into the earth (grave) and became earth entirely; this (holy body) went into the salt and became entirely pure

The (spiritual) salt through which Mu¦ammad is more refined (than all others): he is more eloquent than that salt-seasoned (elegantly expressed) ¦ad¢th.

His salt is surviving in his heritage: those heirs of his are with thee. Seek them! He (the spiritual heir of Mu¦ammad) is seated in front of thee, (but) where indeed is thy ‘front’? He is before thee, (but) where is the soul that thinks ‘before’?

If thou fancy thou hast a "before" and "behind", thou art tied to body and deprived of spirit.

"Below" and "above", "before" and "behind" are attributes of the body: the essence of the bright spirit is without direction (not limited by relations of place).

Open thy (inward) vision with the pure light of the King. Beware of fancying, like one who is short-sighted,

That thou art only this very (body living) in grief and joy. O (thou who art really) non-existence, where (are) ‘before’ and ‘behind’ (appertaining) to non-existence?

‘Tis a day of rain: journey on until night, not (sped) by this (earthly) rain but by the rain of the Lord. ⁷

Also in the course of this chapter, the poet has placed his theme. It is an explanation of the ¦ad¢th: ‘Indeed, your God lets out his breathing during your days. Be prepared to receive it’. It is not a verse of the Qur’¡n, but since it is sunna, it is of the same obliging importance. The religious approach does not change fundamentally. It still lures rich motion from the soul and embellishes the moment with truly majestic pictures. These groups of pictures continue the content of the time sequence. They are not comprehensible without the background of the harp player, yet tie on only to a small part of the already introduced event. The happening continues with the same approach. But it remains fruitful. The poet achieved this by connection it with the secondary style that we have been looking at above. From this structure he creates new forms. An abundance of perceptions that almost cannot be disentangled is being brought into the new chapter. But he does not connect them with the first interpretation tiresomely or without a transition, but brings them into a new chapter of a strict and equal kind of composition.

We did not finish reading the first group of the previous chapter. The embracing two styles have already been evident at the beginning. They merged into a circle of imaginations whose subjects allowed never ending variations of relations. This richness is being consolidated in the pictorial or terminological symbols. According to the highest religious intention they always incorporate a characteristic pointing to the highest things inherent in the Islamic faith. We hear of the Prophet and the word of the Qur’¡n. Yes, we saw in it the centre, which all the other reflections had to lead to. In this new chapter now, the reflections goes out directly from the centre, as if it wanted to flow like a wave over the level of vision backwards to its inception. The previous parts end with a picture that carries this centre in it:

When a lamp has derived (its) light from a candle, every one that sees it (the lamp) certainly sees the candle.

If transmission (of the light) occurs in this way till a hundred lamps (are lighted), the seeing of the last (lamp) becomes a meeting with the original (light). ⁸

One has to explain the theme of the new chapter from this point of view. The picture of the candle is just an adequate transition. The phrase of the breathing of God does awaken the memories of the stylistic forms around the term naghm (of the sweet secret voice). Do we not fundamentally remain at the same level of our devotion with the first sounds of this part? The utter centre is the highest richness of the senses of the notion of the harp player! This is why the further expression of the poet does not move upwards but is a more distanced looking around that allows due to the deeply felt experiences for surprising changes. This standstill is also produced by being set into the picture. The imaginative level depending on the main picture of the harp player becomes autonomous in a way due to the entelechy of the ¦ad¢th permeating all the other stylistic complexes. There is no further tie with the main picture itself. Through the only indirect similarity, that is almost inexhaustibly rich in itself by creating a new circle, the poet achieves finally the real detaching effect of the secondary style. This principle is crucial, from it springs the broad horizon of the poem, the unlimited possibility to create und finally the creation itself. It is not odd, that with such an artistry of style and form, the illogical method becomes enriched. The aesthetic production makes use, even in the smallest parts of this chapter, of these idiosyncratic means that are in no way on the same value level. A stroll in the gallery of these pictures might give further instruction.

The poet contrasts the God’s spiritual breathing of deliverance with another, deadly breath that makes the soul deviate and even extinguishes fire. Breathing it is, in both cases, a contrast with the same comparative view. The poets conjure up the notion of a thing and its effect with a means that seemed to be preserved for the first, unique counterpart (and what else could be meant here then the sin, the devil and his debauched way?). The breath that had just been God’s spirit is now evil. Thereby, we sublimate the inner form of the word and enjoy its great dignity. But we see ourselves falling on our knees before this tabernacle, shattered by the might of death. And also here we find back to the beginning. God’s voice is now speaking to us with the voice of the Qur’¡n (S£rat al-A¦z¡b 33: 72): "We have offered the responsibility (freedom of choice) to the heavens and the earth, and the mountains, but they refused to bear it, and were afraid of it. But the human being accepted it; he was transgressing, ignorant". The holy consolidation lies in the imagination of a powerful comparison. Also, the mountains could not resist the inclination of the created to sin, they were weak, when their hearts were bleeding. Thus spoke God, the most compassionate. And he forces this comparison upon us that does away with the tension and liberates us. God creates this redeeming comparison. And thereby he intervenes again in our poetic consciousness: he creates with the lever of the poet, he prepares for the listener the way to receive and conclude with the highest interpretation: Does not the divine mercy protect us from the corrupting breath of the sinful death, and do we not remain turned towards the other breath? This verse of the Qur’¡n does contain a necessary tectonic categorisation of the sub-picture that at the same time determines the value of the inception of the first picture.

The poet continues easily with a next picture: "yesterday this breath reached me, but bread crumbs blocked its way". Again a contrasting pair, that corresponds with the previous. A biteful of human desire prevents the entrance of the divine voice into the human heart. "Because of one bite, become a Luqm¡n!" This is a word play, bite means luqma, and Luqm¡n is a wise man of old. But the word play means more than we can expect. It does not simply pass by but becomes important for the continuation of the text. We associate with the sound of the word a completely new group of things that now has to express their inner symmetry. This unusual tension of terms with respect to the subjects covered and the broadness of reflection transmits easily to the Persian the necessary context, that cannot be portrayed by the outer intention of a wordplay. The wordplay is not mere embellishment, or poignant background music. It is a carrier, of adequate nature, of the change in perception. We are bound to be led to a new meaning by the correspondence of sound. The Persian does not fall victim to the subject and its logic content. The logic demand of this relation, that remains linked to the causal consciousness of the listener, has to fulfil a unique task in this mystic act of speech: to implement the change of content in the conceptions of things to the utmost extent. The language creates the thing and endows it with meaning. Poetic reason demands from us in any case that we connect and analyse- therefore even the boldest word constructions are given a correspondence of meaning. The sub-meaning can become the main meaning, dominating and underlining perceptions are changing order amongst each other. With Luqm¡n the poet then connects the legend of the thorns, we could be reminded of Achilles, his heel and the arrow. But now the thorn is centre and symbol itself. An uncovering of its meaning requires a contrasting correspondence, however. Thorns and roses belong together and at the same time they are strangers just like the desiring sinner and Luqm¡n. Luqm¡n’s soul is God’s rose-garden, but the one who looks for thorns, is a camel. In a completely different picture now, we look at the ‘bite’ and the desired object. The similarity of the sounds luqma and luqm¡n is juxtaposed with the most contrasting meaning. The metaphor is interchanged with the reflection on the spontaneous effect of this picture in a very lively way. Why does man search in the sand and in the thorns, where he will never find roses? Obviously the identification of the sensual man with the instincts of the thorn-eating animal is taken up again. This Luqm¡n of the roses is above the thorns, he is riding a new camel of pleasure. That is why he can see a new result: the one who searches for thorns is blind; for in reality he is not looking for thorns, but for the roses he is not able to discern. And in this way he is human again, tragic and full of unresolved tensions. But here again, the Prophet knows the redeeming word, the world of the Qur’¡n re-emerges in front of us and reveals the richness of the mystic experience. In this way we have returned to the starting point of the picture. The direction to the revelation can eventually turn all process towards an aesthetic ending: do we not foresee the miraculous power of live of the religious subject that appears pure and forever young in its continuous change? Cold terms would not have been able to breath life into the things, but this is done through the poetic infinity with its relentless variability concerning the way it transforms the motives into pictures. Generally, the reappearance of the motif of Mu¦ammad imbues our chapter with a tectonic structure. So lies in the flow backwards the saving of energy for a new process.

Thereby, we are entering a new circle of ideas that is a cupola for the motif of Mu¦ammad. The reflective exegesis of the word ‘¦umayra’ in the ¦ad¢th, constitutes, similarly to the word play in the previous part, an almost accidental incentive. Informing us about the feminine character of the word, the poet pulls away from us the symbolic and pictorial richness of the ¦umayra quotation, whilst directing our eye towards a form that without diverting attention from the subject brings about a new poetic feeling. This antithesis is very characteristic. Through the term of the biological contrast, the poet finds back to the interpretation of the meaning, however in a different direction than before. °umayra stands for the spirit imbued with God’s soul. This increase in value is compared with a parallel: what is good, is as if full of sugar, but not from the outside, rather, it is so independently and carrying the source of sweetness inside. Immediately next to it we find a second parallel, not in direct connection with the first but corresponding in meaning: the picture of love and the lover who has to face reason as its rival. How doctrinal and diligently the reflections are structured! But they are not a continuum of meaning. They hinder stylistically the flow of the change in perception, and force our mind into the structure of the episodes. They are then the aesthetic equivalent to the exchange of question, wish and exclamation, leading to tension in our capacity to understand. Prepared in this way we enter again into the halls of revelation. Again, Mu¦ammad sanctions with a remark to Bil¡l the reflections of the sub-pictures with the main thought of the whole chapter. His exclamation and prayer are example and apperception of the mystical meaning. Strictly the imagination of the listener is bound to this phenomenon; here it is placed into the centre of the overflowing poetic life; for these characters are beautiful and perfect since they are eternally connected with the pictorial motives. We learn again about the secret effect of the loving soul, endowed with the perfect voice. Adam listened to it and was consequently overwhelmed, and Mu¥§af¡ rejoiced. The poet remains carefully with this picture, being in the harbour of his poetic intentions. The main meaning of the chapter turns again and seals the ring of the reflections starting with the °umayra quotation.

From this peak we are led down again, in order to return to the same place on a different route. The vision of the praying poet is compared to the bridal unification. The poet does not even shy away from this enthusiastic comparison: with a characteristic gesture, he leads the listener to an aspired level of antithetical movement of his mind. The poet apologises: ‘If I mentioned the bridegroom, do not take this as a sin!’ He similarly is moved like Adam. But what is allowed in the holy event of prophecy, the uncalled sinner will not be able to grasp. The poet increases the importance of the main picture exponentially through the widening of the gap between the two. And he gains a new opportunity to broaden the meaning also. Mercy and sin are facing each other, in a dialectical process the effects of the motives are shifting and the contradictions become reconciled through the new evaluations of the motives. The method of expression corresponds with the one of the previous circle. In a sensible way, the pictures re emerge. Like sugar cane and sugar, sin and virtue belong together just like body and soul. Therefore the body of the Prophets is beautiful for their soul’s sake. They possess the salt to purify the whole human being. With this variation, we find ourselves again on the initial level and utilise before the picture of Mu¦ammad all our feelings of religious yearning and mystic view. Looking at the end of the chapter at all the interrelations, the picture of the revelation has come to exchange throughout all the sub-groups, this evade all terminological interpretations. It gives birth to all aesthetic tension and resolves them again. The incommensurable position of the listener becomes void of space and time. ‘The pure soul is void of categories’. Also, the final composition of the figures of the revelation becomes blurred and immersed in the richness of divine entrance. A direct analysis of this content is juxtaposed poetically with the indirect result of the forms of question and exhortation.

It is self-evident that we cannot investigate all the poetic modi of the chapter in their every usage of word and sentence structure. Each usage of a linguistic expression requires a meticulous investigation our topic would only benefit from if compared to the material of the surrounding chapters. The evolution of the meaning we can analyse from the pieces of art themselves, because it will always give testimony of the poet’s fundamental stylistic intention. The technical means have only a poetic task to fulfil with respect to the quantity of the respective poetic performance, but do not determine their quality. However, their effect cannot be demonstrated without a great variety of examples. Apart from the fact that they are only instructive for the Persian speaker, their general description would not add a fundamentally new dimension to our investigation. We have tried to prove with an example the whole structure of the didactic poem. Let us add the most general linguistic bond as main type of the applied technique of style to our investigation, the meter. Thus the modesty of the lower levels becomes evident, as opposed to the creative will, that reveal itself on a higher level to the ‘inner’ form. R£m¢ applies here the Mathnaw¢ or distich, two verses (rather half-verses) that rhyme. The meter is the same in both parts of the poem. It is the ramal, a metre consisting of three feet. 9 The first two have one length and one short syllable, then two lengths and in third foot the last length is omitted. (-v--/-v--/-v-). In the continuous beginning of the first length, lies a characteristic delaying factor, limiting the movement, beginning with the short. In the reduction of the feet into three (in poems they can be four) this imitation is illustrated marvellously. Before the rhythmical tempo can develop, it is already hindered from doing so:

─     v    ─ ─     ─   v   ─ ─      ─   v   ─
Bishan£ az nay │ chun ¦ik¡yat │ mi kunad ║

─    v   ─ ─   ─   v   ─      ─  v   ─
Az jud¡’¢- │ h¡ shik¡yat │ mi kunad ║

Thus run the famous introductory verses of the didactic poem. A quietly proceeding, sober metre, whose monotony does not influence the composition with its own movements. Only the continuous rhyme at the end of the verse, which the Persian tends to emphasise when reciting, needs some attention as an extraordinary form of metre. How much more speedy and lively is the real epic metre with Firdaws¢! Indeed, the ramal is very adequate for the mystic style. It is a stable background for the forward moving time sequences as well as the reflections. And without consideration of the basic principle of the primary and secondary conduction of style, each verse, each part of the piece, each aesthetic method, escapes our evaluation. The secret of the mystic dimension of this kind of poetry lies in its structure. The logical process of time of the meta-events is turned, after the first encounter, into its opposite. The poetic progressiveness is now conducted with the allocation of meaning, which is beneficial for the qualitative character of the things that are appearing and gets rid of the quantifiable consciousness of time. The development of meaning is here everything. Every new meaning finds its first impression in the communication of the language. But this passable communication is lost with the new constructions of language in order to change the meaning. The meaning of words becomes unfathomable and the words lack conception. But within the complex of meaning not all the parts are stripped off their conception in the same way. This leads to a characteristic tension, to a continuous aesthetic stimulation and highest pleasure of modulation of the poetic feeling. Language become imbued with meaning, meaning creates language in turn with such passion, that it almost denies itself. It appears as if the Persian could strip off the language of its created form and can reveal its spirit almost unconcealed. Thereby all value-relations and categories escape him. Strange accidents become important and get an eternal meaning. Where the logic structure becomes resolved, this is now and again replaced with a paradox. When he violently forces meaning into wordplays, when he understands associations, similarities of signs and other sometimes flippantly accompanying terms as carriers of meaning, this insults our occidental poetic reason quite often. What makes the Persian rejoice seems to us tasteless and hopelessly unpoetic. But the parts of the composition are also evident to us. The changing effect of the sub-pictures in the secondary style must again and again be related back to the main picture of the primary style. For the highest sequence of events must become something else than a mere sequence and process of events. It becomes a picture and pauses, colours and characters can change infinitely, but the space is now fixed and immobile, time comes to a standstill. The dramatic act takes place on a different level of values. What has been achieved? It can only be described with a paradox: an infinity that is perfect at all times. That the secondary style reaches further than the primary is only consequent. In the richness of its evaluation, the rational for this genre of literature becomes evident.

With the ahistorical poetic view, R£m¢ also turns the religious intention into a-historicity. The result of a literary investigation in terms of religious history should be pointing into this direction. The central, style-creating usage of ¦ad¢th and Qur’¡n renders the religious intention necessarily ahistorical. The revelation and its carriers are omnipresent. They are floating around us, rarely distinguished from each other, like pictures of the divine spirit and the one of the creation. With this attitude, Islam is experienced. The didactic aim of the poetry is to achieve this.

Finally, I have to add a comment concerning the translation. I did not deal with the episode of the harp player unintentionally. Just a short time ago, this part of R£m¢’s didactic poetry has been rendered into German by Walter von der Porten (b. 1880). ¹⁰ Also a person who is not an Orientalist can access this material now. One has to remark though that a poetic equivalent for the Persian cannot be found in any occidental language. ¹¹ The aesthetic composition of our poetry is so fundamentally different, the stylistic change of meaning with the infinite possibilities of usage in a Persian way so impossible, that one should ask, whether this poetry should be translated literally, into prose or at the expense of philological exactitude into free poetry? In the first case the direct effect on the uneducated will be inadequate; for the poetic effect is missing. For reasons of methodology we had to render it into prose here. But the translation in verses has to be preferred, if its poetic expression, its passion is strong enough to feel like an original text. Through analysis and scientific guidance, the narrowness of the emotional reception could be broadened and endowed with the distance that is necessary to make this literature a contribution to occidental experience. The translation of von der Porten is a free imitation in stanza. In this way, it is extraordinarily beautiful. A person, who has access to research, can in this way come closest to the original.