Souls on Fire - Spiritual Quotations for Lovers of Godkirpalsingh.org/Booklets/Souls_on_Fire.pdf ·...
Transcript of Souls on Fire - Spiritual Quotations for Lovers of Godkirpalsingh.org/Booklets/Souls_on_Fire.pdf ·...
Souls on Fire Selections from Eight Sufi Mystics
Happy are two wayfarers
who in this foreign land of trials
chance upon each other and relish a few moments
speaking of their longing for their Home. (Jami)
Dedicated to the Beloved Master
Sant Kirpal Singh Ji Maharaj
The Sufis are the mystics of Islam. Every upright Muslim expects to see God after death, but the
Sufis are the impatient ones. They want God now – moment by moment, day by day, in this very life.
And they are willing to undergo the disciplines that make that possible. (Huston Smith, Foreword Essential Sufism)
For thousands of years, Sufism has offered a path on which one can progress toward the “great end”
of Self-realization, or God-realization. Sufism is a way of love, a way of devotion, and a way of
knowledge.
Sufism is often described as a path, suggesting both an origin and a destination. The aim of Sufism is
the elimination of all veils between the individual and God. Traveling this path, one can acquire
knowledge of Reality. God is the ultimate reality, not this phenomenal world of multiplicity.
To understand Sufism, we must understand mysticism. The Greek root myein, “to close the eyes,” is
also the root of “mystery”; the mystic’s goal is not to be reached by the intellect or by ordinary
means. Fundamentally, mysticism is love of the Absolute, the One Reality, also called Truth, Love,
or God. (Introduction: Essential Sufism)
Contents
Rabia = 1-4
Shaikh Abu-Saeed Abil-Kheir = 5-9
Ansari of Herat = 10-12
Attar = 13-16
Rumi = 17-22
Sharafuddin Maneri = 23-26
Hafiz = 27-31
Jami = 32-34
-1-
Rabia Basri 717 – 801
Rābiʻa al-ʻAdawiyya al-Qaysiyya was a female Muslim saint and Sufi mystic. Much of her
early life is narrated by Farid ud-Din Attar, a later Sufi Saint and poet, who used earlier
sources. Rabia herself did not leave any written works about her life.
Although not born into slavery, her family was poor yet respected in the community. After the
death of her father a famine overtook Basra and Rabia parted from her sisters. Legend has it,
that she was accompanying a caravan, which fell into the hands of robbers. The chief of the
robbers took Rabia captive, and sold her in the market as a slave. The new master of Rabia
used to take hard service from her.
After she had finished her house jobs, she would pass the whole night in prayer. She spent
many of her days observing fast. Once the master of the house got up in the middle of the
night, and was attracted by the voice in which Rabia was praying to her Lord. She was
entreating in these terms:
“Lord! You know well that my keen desire is to carry out Your commandments and to serve
Thee with all my heart, O light of my eyes. If I were free I would pass the whole day and night
praying to You. But what should I do when you have made me a slave of a human being?”
At once the master felt that it was sacrilegious to keep such a saintly woman in his service. He
decided to serve her instead. In the morning he called her and told her his decision; he would
serve her and she should dwell there as the mistress of the house. If she insisted on leaving the
house he was willing to free her from bondage. She told him that she was willing to leave the
house to carry on her worship in solitude. This the master granted and she left the house.
Rabia went into the desert to pray and became an ascetic. She is often cited as being the queen
of saintly women, and was known for her complete devotion in the form of pure love of God.
As an exemplar among others devoted to God, she provided a model of mutual love between
God and His creation; her example is one in which the loving devotee on earth becomes one
with the Beloved.
She contributed a successful life of pure, selfless love as a supplement to the sometimes strict
ascetic practices of her predecessors. This perfect love she sought to promote shifted the
existence of the ascetic for her own person, now living for the Beloved in complete reverence
to God.
Her master was Ḥasan al-Baṣrī, himself a known saint elevated at the level of the seven sacred
souls. She did not possess much other than a broken jug, a rush mat and a brick, which she
used as a pillow. She spent all night in prayer and contemplation. As her fame grew she had
many disciples. She also had discussions with many of the renowned religious people of her
time. Though she had many offers of marriage, and (tradition has it) one even from the Amir
of Basra, she refused them as she had no time in her life for anything other than God. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rabi'a_al-'Adawiyya)
-2-
O God, the stars are shining, all eyes have closed in sleep; the kings have locked their doors.
Each lover is alone, in secret, with the one he loves. And I am here too: alone, hidden from all
of them – with You.
O God, another night is passing away, another day is rising. Tell me that I have spent the
night well so I can be at peace, or that I have wasted it, so I can mourn for what is lost.
I swear that ever since the first day You brought me back to life, the day You became my
Friend, I have not slept – and even if you drive me from Your door, I swear again that we will
never be separated, because you are alive in my heart.
Your hope in my heart is the rarest treasure. Your Name on my tongue is the sweetest word.
My choicest hours are the hours I spend with You. O Master, I can’t live in this world without
remembering You. How can I endure the next world without seeing Your face? I am a
stranger in Your country and lonely among Your worshippers: this is the substance of my
complaint.
Brethren, my rest is in my solitude, and my Beloved is ever in my presence. Nothing for me
will do but love of Him; by love of Him I am tested in this world. Wherever I am I
contemplate His beauty. O Thou, ever my joy, my life, from Thee is my existence and my
ecstasy. From all creation I have turned away, for union with Thee my desired end.
The source of my grief and loneliness is deep in my breast. This is a disease no doctor can
cure. Only union with the Friend can cure it.
You have infused my being through and through, as an intimate friend must always do.
So when I speak, I speak of only You, and when silent, I yearn for You.
Two loves I give Thee: Love that yearns and Love because Thy due is Love. In my yearning
my remembrance turns to Thee, nor lets it from Thee rove. Thou hast Thy due whenever it
pleases Thee to lift the veils for me to see Thee. Praise is not mine in this, nor yet in that, but
Thine in this and that.
O Lord, if I worship You because of fear of hell then burn me in hell. If I worship You
because I desire paradise then exclude me from paradise. But if I worship You for Yourself
alone then deny me not Your eternal beauty.
Without You – O my life, my love – I would never have wandered across these endless
countries. How many gifts and graces You have given me! How many favors You have fed
me from Your hand! I look for Your love in all directions then, suddenly, its blessing burns in
me. O Captain of my heart – Radiant Eye of longing in my breast – I will never be free of
You as long as I live. Only be satisfied with me, life of my heart, and I am satisfied.
How numerous Your favors bestowed upon me, favors of gifts and grace and assistance.
Your love is now my only desire and my ultimate bliss.
-3-
I am fully qualified to work as a doorkeeper for this reason: what is inside me, I don’t let out;
what is outside me, I don’t let in. If someone comes in, he goes right out again. He has
nothing to do with me at all. I am a Doorkeeper of the Heart, not a lump of wet clay.
Sometimes I take my dog for a walk and turn her loose in a field. When I can’t give her that
freedom I feel in debt. I hope God thinks like that and is keeping track of all the bliss He
owes me!
He is sweet that way, trying to coax the world to dance. Look how the wind holds the trees in
its hands helping them to sway. Look how the sky takes the fields and the oceans and our
bodies in its arms, and moves all beings toward His lips. God must get hungry for us; why is
He not also a lover who wants His lovers near. Beauty is my teacher helping me to know He
cares for me.
Your prayers were light and your worship peaceful, your sleep an enemy of prayer. Your life
was a test, but you let it go by without a thought. It’s ever-passing, slowly vanishes before
you know it.
Your prayers are your light; your devotion is your strength; sleep is the enemy of both. Your
life is the only opportunity that life can give you. If you ignore it, if you waste it, you will
only turn into dust.
Rabia was once asked, “How did you attain that which you have attained?” “By often praying,
‘I take refuge in You, O God, from everything that distracts me from You, and from every
obstacle that prevents me from reaching You.’ ”
On one occasion, Rabia sent three things to Hasan: a piece of wax, a needle, and a hair. “Light
up the world,” she told him, “although like wax you burn yourself. And, like a needle, be
always busy in spiritual work, while outwardly barren. When you acquire these virtues, make
your ego thin as a hair, so all your efforts are not wasted.”
One day Rabia was sick and her holy friends came to visit her, sat by her bedside, and began
complaining about the world. “You must be pretty interested in this world,” said Rabia,
“otherwise you wouldn’t talk about it so much. Whoever breaks the merchandise has to have
bought it first.”
“I am the murderer of joy, the widower of wives, the orphaner of children” said the Angel of
Death. “Why always run yourself down?” said Rabia. “Why not say instead, ‘I am he who
brings friend and Friend together?’ ”
On one occasion a Sufi said to Rabia when she was ill, “If you would utter a prayer, God
would relieve your suffering.” She turned her face to him and said, “O Sufyan, do you not
know who it is that wills this suffering for me? Is it not God who wills it?” “Yes”, he replied.
“When you know this, why do you ask for what is contrary to His will? It is not well to
oppose one's beloved,” replied Rabia.
-4-
The Compassion of Rabia Told by Sant Kirpal Singh
You may remember the life of Rabia Basri. One day she was accompanying some others on a
pilgrimage, and they stopped at a well to drink and gather water for their journey. When they
had finished, had packed away the rope, and were on their way again, Rabia noticed a dog by
the roadside who was nearly dying of thirst. She mentioned this to her companions, but they
refused to stop and help the dog.
Rabia herself went back to the well. The others had taken the rope, so she took her clothes and
tied them together; but they did not reach the water in the well. She tore out her hair and tied
this on the end, and she was thereby able to wet the clothes and take them back to the dog
who gratefully drank the water she wrung from them. As she tended the dog, she heard the
voice of the Lord saying, “Rabia, your pilgrimage has been accepted.” He for whom we
pilgrimage and He for whom we search resides in each and every being. Do we expect to be
accepted when we ignore Him?
-5-
Shaikh Abu-Saeed Abil-Kheir 967-1049
Referring to himself as “Nobody, Son of Nobody,” Shaikh Abu-Saeed Abil-Kheir [also
spelled Abū-Sa'īd Abul-Khayr] expressed the reality that his life had disappeared in the heart
of God. This renowned but lesser-known Sufi mystic of the 10th century preceded the great
poet Rumi by over two hundred years on the same path of annihilation in love. (Vraje Abramian)
Although Abil-Kheir spent much of his life in Iran, during his lifetime his fame spread
throughout the Islamic world, even to Spain. He was the first Sufi writer to widely use
ordinary love poems as a way to express and illuminate mysticism, and as such he played a
major role in the foundation of Persian Sufi poetry.
His system is based on a few themes that appear frequently in his words, generally in the form
of simple emotional poems. The main focus of his teachings is liberation from “I”, which he
considered the one and only cause of separation from God and to which he attributed all
personal and social misfortunes.
He believed that the full application of these teachings to one's life requires both divine grace
and the guidance of an experienced Sufi, and is impossible through personal efforts alone.
His picture as portrayed in various Sufi writings is a particularly joyful one of continuous
ecstasy.
Other famous Sufis made frequent references to him, a notable example being the Persian Sufi
poet Farid al-Din Attar, who mentions Abil-Kheir as his spiritual guide. Many miracles are
attributed to him in Sufi writings. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ab%C5%AB-Sa'%C4%ABd_Abul-Khayr)
-6-
I am the one You created from dust, a handful of dust moving at Your wish. You planted this
seed, this growth is obeying that command.
Rise early at dawn, when our storytelling begins. In the dead of the night, when all other
doors are locked, the door for the lovers to enter opens. Be wide awake in the dark when
lovers begin fluttering around the Beloved’s window, like homing pigeons arriving with
flaming bodies.
Be an early riser, seek the Beloved in your silence and solitude. Do not let go of the One who
receives you at the end. Avoid attachment to all and everyone else.
It is the dark of the early morning, Friend. All those thirsting after You have their foreheads
on the dust at Your gate. O Beloved source of the Water of Life, pray order Your wine bearer
to water this pile of dust!
Every dawn I bring my heart to You, my lamentations are to soften Your heart, so You grant
me the honor of being a beggar at Your gate, and no one else’s.
You play asleep these long nights and I am missing You. You play remote and distant. This
tossing and turning, these long hot dry spells and I am missing You.
Who am I? One fed up with his self, at war with sanity. One who burnt with jealousy last
night hearing the true lamentations of a truly broken one at the Beloved’s gate.
My Beloved, giver of all needs, and their satisfier too, pray see to it that I need none but You,
and knock on no door but Yours.
O’ Friend of the fallen, untie this knot! Only You can. Have pity on me and this bewildered
mind. O’ Bestower of grace, I have nowhere to go, do not send me away from Your gate,
O’ Merciful One.
Who am I? One with a fire burning within. One with all hopes severed, hoping to gain the
steadfastness of a rock and the sincerity of the flame. Perhaps then I will deserve to sit at the
feet of the Purified One.
Beloved, Show me the way out of this prison. Make me needless of both worlds. Pray, erase
from this mind all that is not You. Have mercy Beloved, though I am nothing but
forgetfulness. You are the essence of forgiveness. Make me needless of all but You.
My body and soul come together to seek You. It is You that I live and die for. I am here but a
fortnight and then – a handful of dust. You are here to see this love through.
-7-
Wining, dining and desiring I also seek spiritual closeness. This world of flesh and narrow
needs and that world of freedom in limitless expanses cannot tolerate each other. That’s why I
have neither.
One moment, You are all I know, Friend. Next moment, eat, drink and be merry! O’ Friend,
how will this scatteredness that is me find its way to You?
You are either involved with the highs and lows here, or are busy sweeping the refuse. How
about a real loss? A true gain? A complete chaos? An unbridled mayhem? How long will you
put up with this repetitive boredom?
If you taste every happiness here every moment of your life, if you spend all your days in the
milky arms of sweethearts, death awaits at the appointed corner. All of this is naught but a
dream from which you will wake up.
If you do not give up the crowds, you won’t find your way to Oneness. If you do not drop
your self, you won’t find your true worth. If you do not offer all you have to the Beloved,
you will live this life free of that pain which makes it worth living.
Beloved, make contentment my wealth, Your love, the joy of my heart. Let this creature of
Yours thrive on You, his Creator. Make me needless of other creatures. Make me needless of
both worlds. Grant me that poverty You gift Your friends. Guide this seeker in the direction
of the secret victory. My Love, accept me to the inner circle of Your lovers, so I can share the
secrets of their devotion. Beloved, I am tortured by this tyrant of a mind. Grant me the
glorious lunacy of love and release me from myself.
No one is sent away from Your door. Those on whom Your sweet gaze rests for a moment
become life’s eternal darlings. Any particle which receives the light of Your attention
becomes a thousand suns and more.
This corpse was given life, to find and fall in love with that Mystery, etched in sweet pain in
the living heart. Instead you trash around, sick and unfulfilled, seeking life from other
corpses.
The essence of happiness you will know when you discard all you hold dear! Two beloveds in
one heart won’t reside. If you want the True One, cross out all else.
To be in this imperfect existence for a moment and to dream of Your eternal perfection, to
have this heart full of wretched limitations and to harbor this infinite pain of separation and
longing in it, Your favors, Beloved. All Your favors.
The lover cannot live without sorrow. Lack or abundance hardly matter. Fortunate is the one
who offers his life at the first sight of the Beloved.
-8-
My tears would flood the Oxus River if my eyes didn’t forever behold Your vision, Friend.
Driven insane with the pain of separation, my heart would sink in its own blood if it did not
float in the river of Your remembrance. I would devise a thousand tricks to spring my soul
out of the cage of this body, if it did not insist on enduring this exile, to arrive in obedience at
her wedding with You, Beloved.
Beloved, if life itself abandons me, Your thought won’t. The reflection of the glory of Your
face has been etched onto my heart. This, neither life nor death can erase.
Find the secret of your great good fortune, and the priceless opportunity of this life will not
have gone to waste. No matter where, who with, or what, ever remember the Beloved in the
privacy of the love chamber of your heart.
Ups and downs in my life are nothing but messengers from You. Joy and sorrow remind me
of You only. I am so used to Your presence, Beloved, Your absence is nothing but a reminder
of the coming togetherness.
I look for no cure for this pain. With Your beauty in my heart I look for no beliefs, no faith.
When my time comes and I hear You call, I will worry not and turn in this wretched coin of a
body to my Beloved, the owner of all treasures.
Of all my infinite pains, and worse than this incessant burning in the chest, is the fact that You
are sitting inside my very eye, and I cannot see You.
How long will you worry about this vicious world? How long will you fret about your body?
The worst this world can do is to take away this cesspool of a prison your soul is trapped in.
Is that why you are worried?
If you are a lover, worry about none and own nothing. Rejoice in the promise of the Beloved
that in this world, and the next, you have naught but Him.
My hair has turned white, all these years I have gathered nothing but these dark deeds. I had
no perfumed incense to bring You. I have brought You these dry sticks. My boldness in
entertaining hopes of forgiveness and dreams of union comes from Your royal decree, my
love. “Despair is disobedience and shows lack of faith.”
O’ Friend of the fallen, have mercy on this poor one. Do not allow my shortcomings to sit in
my judgment, but Your grace and mercy. My existence is a mire of weakness and
helplessness, let Your pity and generosity pull me out of here.
My Beloved, don’t be heartless with me. Your Presence is my only cure. How can I be left
with neither a heart, nor my Beloved? Either return my heart, or do not deny me Your
presence.
-9-
A hundred time a day I implore You O Pure One, Absolute Creator. I am a handful of dust,
what may be expected of such as me? I know in Your infinite mercy one day You will allow
me to dissolve and join You. In Your infinite knowledge and mercy I rest, with no fear of the
world.
I have taken refuge in Your glorious court, a fallen beggar in tatters. You are all glory and
grace, I am all ignorance and resentment. Confused and bewitched I am fed up with myself.
With vows made and vows broken I have come. Trusting Your love and my wretchedness,
I have come. O’ knower of my sins made, and yet to be made, forsake me not. I am nothing,
You are the All. I am at the end of my rope, grant me the trust to let myself fall.
It is Him manifest in us, all our struggles and achievements, from that Source. Humility and
meekness are appropriate here. Before tasting the Presence, one rejects all that is manifest.
Be humble. Only fools take pride in their station here, trapped in a cage of dust, moisture, heat
and air. No need to complain of calamities, this illusion of a life lasts but a moment.
This frail body, bent under my heavy load of dark deeds, what if You hold my hand and walk
with me, Beloved? Though in my deeds You will find nothing deserving, in Your merciful
generosity there is everything I will ever need.
One day this self and all dear to it will be blown around in dust and dirt. While you still have
a chance, offer all you have here at this purifying flame, and be cleansed. Garments torn, heart
of fire, let your whole being burn away in this Love.
-10-
Ansari of Herat 1006-1088
Hazrat Shaikh Abu Ismaïl Abdullah al-Herawi al-Ansari was a famous Persian Sufi who lived
in the 11th century in Herat (Afghanistan).
Abdullah was the disciple of Shaikh Abul Hassan Kharaqani, for whom he had deep respect
and faith, as he has said: “Abdullah was a hidden treasure, and its key was in the hands of
Abul Hassan Kharaqani.”
He wrote several books on Islamic mysticism and philosophy in Persian and Arabic. His most
famous work is "Munajat Namah" (literally ‘Litanies or dialogues with God’), which is
considered a masterpiece of Persian literature. After his death, many of his sayings that had
been transmitted by his students along with others that were in his written works were
included in the Tafsir of Maybudi, “Kashf al-Asrar” (The Unveiling of Secrets). This is
among the earliest complete Sufi Tafsirs of Quran and has been published several times in 10
volumes.
He excelled in the knowledge of Hadith, history, and Ilm ul-Ansaab. He used to avoid the
company of the rich, powerful and the influential. His yearly majlis-e-wa'az was attended by
people from far and wide. Whatever his disciples and followers used to present to him was
handed over to the poor and the needy. He is said to have had a very impressive personality,
and used to dress gracefully. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Khwaja_Abdullah_Ansari)
-11-
O Lord, give me that right discrimination that the lure of the world may cheat me no more.
Urged by desire, I wandered in the streets of good and evil. I gained nothing except feeding
the fire of desire. As long as in me remains the breath of life, help me, for Thou alone can
hear my prayer.
O Lord, give me understanding that I stray not from the Path. Give me Light to avoid pitfalls.
O Lord, keep watch over me that I stray not. Keep me on the path of righteousness that I
escape from the pangs of repentance.
O Lord, other men are afraid of You, but I – I am afraid of myself. From You flows good
alone, from me flows evil. Others fear what tomorrow may bring; I am afraid of what
happened yesterday. If You hold me responsible for my sins I will cling to You for Your
grace. I with my sin am an insignificant atom. Your Grace is resplendent as the sun.
O Lord! I have squandered my life, wounded my soul, done everything in my power to
delight the Evil One. Whether I go on living or not does not matter. Accept my repentance,
forgive my sins, take me from misery to joy.
If words can establish a claim, I claim a crown. But if deeds are wanted, I am as helpless as an
ant.
My Lord, I have no key to open doors, nor the power for forgiveness; O Peerless One, our
Creator, what harm if You hear the cry of this afflicted one? Without Your will creation
would not be. Without Your guidance we would be powerless. If you overlook what I have
done or where I have failed, I would gain everything, and You lose nothing!
O Lord, I come to You as a slave, on my lips repentance, on my tongue the appeal for
forgiveness. If you wish, You bless me. If not, I am forlorn. I am full of shame. You are the
Lord all-powerful!
Please grant me a vision of Your beautiful form. The spark You have kindled, make it
everlasting. I think of no other and in Your Love care for none else. None has a place in my
heart but You. My heart has become Your abode; it has no place for another.
O Lord, I, a beggar, ask of You more than what a thousand kings may ask of You. Each one
has something he needs to ask of You; I have come to ask You to give me Yourself.
O Lord, intoxicate me with the wine of Your love. Place the chains of Your slavery on my
feet; make me empty of all but Your Love, and in it destroy me and bring me back to life.
The hunger You have awakened culminates in fulfillment.
-12-
O Lord, to find You is my desire, but to comprehend You is beyond my strength.
Remembering You is solace to my sorrowing heart; thoughts of You are my constant
companions. I call upon You night and day. The flame of Your Love glows in the darkness of
my night.
Life in my body pulses only for You. My heart beats in resignation to Your will. If on my
grave a clump of grass where to grow, every blade of it would tremble with my passion for
You.
He knows all our good and all our evil. Nothing is, or can be, hidden from Him. He knows too
what the best medicine is to cure our pain and rescue the destroyed. Be humble, for He exalts
the humble.
Fasting is a way to save on food. Vigil and prayer is a labor for old folks. Pilgrimage is an
occasion for tourism. To distribute bread in alms is something for philanthropists. Fall in love:
that is doing something!
He who knows three things is saved from three things: Who knows that the Creator made no
mistakes at creation is saved from petty fault finding. Who knows that He made no favoritism
in allotting fortune is saved from jealousy. Who knows of what he is created is saved from
pride.
God’s favor comes unexpectedly, but only to an alert heart. Put not your hope in people, for
you will be wounded. Put your hope in God that you may be delivered.
Be humble and cultivate silence. If you have received, rejoice and fill yourself with ecstasy.
And if not, continue the demand.
-13-
Attar 1119-1221
Sheikh Farideddin Attar Neyshaboori was a Persian Muslim mystic, poet, and theoretician of
Sufism who had an immense and lasting influence on Persian Poetry and Sufism.
“Attar” means perfumer/herbalist in Arabic. His father was an herbalist and Attar followed in
his profession. His relative financial independence gave him the possibility to avoid
entanglements with, and dependence on, rulers and courts. He married and had children, but
details about his life are sketchy.
Rumi uses more than a few pieces of Attar’s works as the basis of some of his poems in
Divan-e Shams-e Tabriz, and whenever Attar is mentioned he is given reverence reserved for
those with the highest spiritual attainment. (from the introduction Sweet Sorrows)
Attar's initiation into Sufi practices is subject to much speculation. Of all the famous Sufi
Shaykhs supposed to have been his teachers, only one - Majd ud-Din Baghdadi a disciple of
Najmuddin Kubra- comes within the bounds of possibility. The only certainty in this regard is
Attar's own statement that he once met him. In any case it can be taken for granted that from
childhood onward Attar, encouraged by his father, was interested in the Sufis and their
sayings and way of life, and regarded their saints as his spiritual guides.
The thoughts depicted in Attar's works reflects the whole evolution of the Sufi movement.
The starting point is the idea that the body-bound soul's awaited release and return to its
source in the other world can be experienced during the present life in mystic union attainable
through inward purification. In explaining his thoughts, Attar uses material not only from
specifically Sufi sources but also from older ascetic legacies. Although his heroes are for the
most part Sufis and ascetics, he also introduces stories from historical chronicles, collections
of anecdotes, and all types of high-esteemed literature. His talent for perception of deeper
meanings behind outward appearances enables him to turn details of everyday life into
illustrations of his thoughts. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Attar_of_Nishapur)
-14-
Whoever embarks on the search for a Friend must burn in this fire and wait; but each day he
burns, is his day to celebrate.
Other than the sweet sorrow of missing the Beloved nothing lasts in either world. If your
share from here and hereafter is a drop of this longing, rejoice, for no better cure exists for all
the ills in all the worlds.
Away from You, it is the perfumed memory of our union lingering in my heart that keeps me
alive. You are this perfume my love, without You, my very soul would cease to be.
I have traveled all and many roads, yet I have not taken the first step. Every moment I add to
my worthlessness, and though my hair has turned white, in my desires I am but yesterday’s
child.
O’ companions come, let’s speak about our secret about this ancient heartache. Like strings
on a harp every vein in my body sings of this love. I would say so much more but this pain
refuses to be spoken of.
Beloved, grant those who deny You their denial, and those who come to You for heaven, their
heaven, but pray, grace Attar’s heart with that pain that from You alone one may hope to gain.
This sweet sorrow granted at love’s door is the true treasure buried in our soul – a particle of
it will bestow upon you more than the two worlds could ever hope for. One bereft of this pain
can hope for no cure.
Since I received Your gift of love my task has become difficult, my Love. Water pours out of
my eyes; there is a fire in my heart, my Love.
At night when the sun of my soul rises and my Beloved arrives, I think of a thousand tricks to
stitch my night to eternity wishing the day would never arrive.
Destiny has put this longing for You in my heart, and yet You are thoroughly needless of me.
I have no one I can turn to, neither do I have the patience for this separation.
If being with You is not to be my lot then I’ll spend this life longing for You. As long as
there’s a single breath yet it’ll be spent in this remembrance.
A human is a handful of dirt with some air in it for breathing; the soul is the treasure buried
there deep with the dragon of the body guarding it.
To repent is to disregard all that’s offered here and to move our hopes from here to There.
There’s a mystery beyond all mysteries – a light brighter than all other lights. Remember,
while attending to all your affairs, there is a task above all other tasks.
-15-
Whoever came into being is like unto a dewdrop separated from the ocean; that which it used
to be is what it searches after.
Poverty of the soul is to want nothing in both worlds but the way out of this waywardness.
When a wayfarer mixes up the identities – his own and that of his donkey and makes his
purpose in life the comfort of his beast – he comes to know remorse and dies of grief.
A lunatic who made his home in a cemetery witnessed final prayers for one corpse too many.
Turning to the crowds he declared in his genuine wit, “Why not say a farewell prayer for this
entire world and all in it and get it over with?”
Whatever you collect here chains you. When that night arrives which does not contain
tomorrow’s promise, one who possesses the least and knows peace steps lightly and
welcomes the release.
To be content is to see blessings in all things and within them to behold the One who gives all
blessings.
How can one remember death and still cause torment and be unjust? Some days death
clutches at my heart, yet other times I take solace in its approach and find peace, for from this
dust bin it heralds my soul’s release.
When one dies one of two things happens: if he arrives filthy he is scrubbed, if he arrives pure
he is clothed in peace.
You are a heavenly bird stuck in this dark well where you die knowing neither heaven nor
earth. If you ignore the bones thrown to the dogs here you might discover your wings and
leave this dark cell.
Though a human here seems a handful of dirt, no dirt ever touches the Sun within. One who
doesn’t behold that Sun dies a blind bat. A life not offered to its Beloved is its own
punishment.
To be truly smart is to outsmart your clever mind.
Loghman the wise said, “I have regretted a great deal because of saying too much, but never
has silence brought any regrets or heartaches.”
Bou-Ali Toosi, the great mystic, asked a knower, “Is this journey from man to God or from
God to man?” “Neither,” said the knower, “for if He is all there is, and none other exists, then
this journey is from God to God!”
-16-
Cause no pain and be patient with your load. To your true home this is the shortest road.
Trust the Giver in steadfast patience for if He does not withhold from those who never
remember, why would He withhold from those who only in Him put their trust?
Why would the One who provides for those who deny him withhold from one who lives in his
remembrance?
A seeker went to a master in China, “Teach me about truth,” he said. “There are ten steps to
truth,” he replied. “The first is to speak less, the other nine are heard in silence.”
When the world is finally calm and asleep be awake, alone, distant from yourself, and let your
heart call your Beloved. That which one might receive on such a night is unlike the trinkets
we are here offered.
The breeze of dawn blows every particle of dust to ecstasy; whoever received a robe of honor
received it at this hour. Rise early and let your longing sigh, for nothing brings a human more
joy or may elevate one as high.
To have joy is to die to everything that will die tomorrow.
One who thirsts for inner meaning must take shelter at the Master’s feet. The least one thus
achieves in this world is that he is not waylaid by its bandits.
It is the soul’s restless longing that brings a human heart to life, and a single coquettish glance
from the Beloved grants a soul its dream after which a lifetime of wailing is the lover’s lot.
To live in your Beloved’s command is to find your soul in servanthood and to let every
particle of you be annihilated in the Beloved’s wish.
When the soul vanishes in Light it enters the heaven of the pure ones. One who is thus clad in
divinity is a message from God to himself. You who have been blessed within and without
step forward then and receive this gift of Light.
In the dead of night, a Sufi began to weep. He said, "This world is like a closed coffin, in
which we are shut and in which, through our ignorance, we spend our lives in folly and
desolation. When death comes to open the lid of the coffin, each one who has wings will fly
off to eternity, but those without will remain locked in the coffin. So, my friends, before the
lid of this coffin is taken off, do all you can to become a bird of the Way to God; do all you
can to develop your wings and your feathers.
-17-
Rumi 1207-1273
Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī was a 13th-century Persian poet, jurist, Islamic scholar,
theologian, and Sufi mystic. Rumi's influence transcends national borders and ethnic
divisions. His poems have been widely translated into many of the world's languages and
transposed into various formats. Rumi has been described as the most popular poet and the
best selling poet in the United States.
The general theme of Rumi's thought, like that of other mystic and Sufi poets of Persian
literature, is essentially that of the concept of union with his beloved (the primal root) from
which/whom he has been cut off and become aloof — and his longing and desire to restore it.
It was his meeting with the dervish Shams-e Tabrizi on 15 November 1244 that completely
changed his life. From an accomplished teacher and jurist, Rumi was transformed into an
ascetic.
Jalaludin Rumi is one of the greatest mystics and mystic poets known to history. His influence
throughout the Islamic world for over seven hundred years and more recently in Western
countries is astounding. Love is the essence of Rumi, love became his very being, love is the
impetus of all his poetry. Rumi was often quoted in the writings of Sant Kirpal Singh, who
referred to Rumi as a “great saint”. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rumi)
-18-
God has planted in your heart the desire to search for Him. Do not look at your weaknesses
but focus on the Search. Every seeker is worthy of this Search. Strive to redouble your efforts,
so that your soul may escape from this material prison.
Your task? To work with all the passion of your being to acquire an Inner Light, so you escape
and are safe from the fires of madness, illusion, and confusion that are, and always will be,
the world.
From my first breath I have longed for Him. This longing has become my life. This longing
has seen me grow old.
Weeping is like the clouds, and longing is like the heat of the sun. Just as the sun’s heat is the
cause of bringing rains from the clouds, by which this world remains in existence; similarly,
separation, longing for Him and restlessness - all these are like fires which make the currents
of grace and mercy of God burst out, as the rain does from the clouds, and pacify the hearts of
devotees. Tears in the eyes and pain in the heart are the two pillars between which we pass to
go within.
I will cry to Thee and cry to Thee and cry to Thee until the milk of Thy kindness boils up.
I once had a thousand desires, but in my one desire to know You all else melted away.
Oh, my Beloved, you will find us every night, on Your street, with our eyes glued to Your
window, waiting for a glimpse of Your radiant face.
It is the burn of the heart that I want. It is this burning which is everything - more precious
than a worldly empire - because it calls God secretly in the night.
I wish I could give you a taste of the burning fire of love. There is a fire blazing inside of me.
If I cry about it, or if I don’t, the fire is at work, night and day.
I wish that I had wept so much in my longing to meet the Lord that the tears from my eyes
had swelled into a river, and every tear drop had turned into a spiritual pearl. Then I would
have placed all those pearls before the altar of my Beloved.
As I waited, I paced back and forth, until the child of my heart became quiet. The child slept,
as if I were rocking his cradle. Oh Beloved, give milk to the infant of the heart, and don’t hold
us from our turning. You have cared for hundreds, don’t let it stop with me now. At the end,
the town of unity is the place for the heart. Why do you keep this bewildered heart in the town
of dissolution?
I’ve been dead to this world for a long time. Every day my body grows weaker and soon it
will return to the earth. It’s not difficult to renounce this life or this world, but to give up Your
love, that is difficult - no, impossible.
-19-
Tears in the eyes and pain in the heart are the two pillars between which we pass to go within.
Man’s work in this world is nothing but to cry in intense longing due to separation from the
Lord. Look at the infant. It cries as soon as it is born. It comes into the world crying.
Therefore, just as a light burns throughout the night, in the same manner you should shed tears
after midnight in longing for the Lord, and continue weeping and asking for His Light. Just as
the wick of a lamp is trimmed, similarly you should trim the wick of your head (ego) so that
the light in you increases. In other words, as soon as you learn to sigh while you are weeping,
there will be a flood of light inside. God values the tears of His lovers as He does the blood of
His martyrs.
O seeker! Cease your sleep at night and walk into the street of those who keep a vigil. You
will behold them happy and blissful in the Lord’s refulgence within, like lovers deep in
contemplation of their Beloveds.
Enter the tumultuous night and from its ocean gather gifts unnamed. The night hides the
beauty of the hidden; the day cannot compare with mysterious night. Sleep he will not want,
and sleep unsound He who has not seen the magical night. Many pure hearts and minds are
nothing but slaves to the night. The night is but an empty black pot if you want to discover the
mystery of the night. The way is long, God speed, O friends, if you want to discover the
mystery of the night. The trade of day is in commerce; i t’s quite another trade at night!
From the beginning of my life I have been looking for Your face, but today I have seen it!
Today I have seen the charm, the beauty, the unfathomable grace of the face I was looking
for. Today I have found You, and those who laughed and scorned me yesterday are sorry that
they were not looking as I did. I am bewildered by the magnificence of Your beauty and wish
to see You with a hundred eyes! My heart has burned with passion and has searched forever
for this wondrous beauty that I now behold! My arrow of love has arrived at the target. My
soul is screaming in ecstasy. Every fiber of my being is in love with You!
I was with Him last night, that one who raises my soul to the heavens. All I did was pray and
beg; all he did was turn his head and smile. It’s not the night’s fault, this thing’s been going
on a long time.
There is some kiss we want with our whole lives, the touch of spirit on the body. At night, I
open the window and ask the moon to come and press its face against mine. Breathe into me.
Close the language-door and open the love-window. The moon won't use the door, only the
window.
Love has come and it flows like blood beneath my skin, through my veins. It has emptied me
of my self and filled me with the Beloved. The Beloved has penetrated every cell of my
body. Of myself there remains only a name, everything else is Him.
My soul is mingled with Thee, dissolved in Thee, a soul to cherish as it has Thy perfume!
-20-
Love is here; it is the blood in my veins, my skin. I am destroyed; He has filled me with
Passion. His fire has flooded the nerves of my body. Who am I? Just my name; the rest is
Him.
The rewards of a life of faith and devotion to God are love and inner rapture, and the capacity
to receive the Light of God.
The Saints are the true devotees of God, always listening to the Divine Music within. That
infuses life into the lovers of God.
The sweetness and delights of the resting-place are in proportion to the pain endured on the
Journey. Only when you suffer the pangs and tribulations of exile will you truly enjoy your
homecoming.
Beware! Don’t despair if the Beloved turns you down. If He sends you away today, might He
not call you to Himself tomorrow? If He shuts the door on you, wait there and don’t go away.
After testing your patience, He will give you the seat of honor.
Everything, except love of the most beauteous God, even though outwardly it seems as
pleasant as eating sweets, is in reality an agony of spirit. What is meant by agony of spirit?
It is to advance toward physical death without drinking the Water of Life.
For the lovers of God, He alone is the source of all joy and sorrow. He alone is the true object
of desire; every other kind of love is idle infatuation. Love for God is that flame which, when
it blazes, burns away everything except God. Love for God is a sword which cuts down all
that is not of God. God alone is eternal; all else will vanish. (Rumi)
The spiritually enlightened choose freely to devote themselves to the work of the next world;
the foolish choose freely the work of this.
Your lower, hellish nature tries to lead you into temptation, but you have struggled hard and
now your soul is full of purity. You have quenched the fires of lust for God’s sake, and they
have been transformed into the light of guidance. The fire of anger has turned to forbearance,
the darkness of ignorance to knowledge, the fire of greed to unselfishness, and the thorns of
envy to the roses of love. You have extinguished these fires for the love of God, and
converted your fiery nature into a verdant orchard. The nightingales of the remembrance and
glorification of God sing sweetly in the garden of your heart. Answering the call of God, you
have brought the water of the spirit into the blazing hell of your soul.
Let yourself be silently drawn by the stronger pull of what you really love.
If destiny comes to help you, love will come to meet you. A life without love isn’t a life.
-21-
The dead regret not dying, but having lost opportunities in life. Well said that Leader of
mankind, that whosoever passes away from the world does not grieve and lament over his
death, but grieves ever over lost opportunities. He says, “Why did I not keep death always in
view, which is the treasury of wealth and sustenance? Why did I blindly all my life set my
affections on vain shadows which perish at death? My regret is not that I have died, but that I
rested on these vain shadows in life. I saw not that my body was a mere shadow or foam,
which foam rises out of and lives on the Ocean (God).
You imagined that you would accomplish this task through your own strength, activity, and
effort. This is the rule that has been established: expend everything you have in journeying on
the Way. Then the bounty will come to you. On this endless road, you are commanded to
travel with your own feeble hands and feet. God knows that you cannot traverse this Way
with feet so feeble. Indeed, in a hundred thousand years you will not arrive at the first way
station. However, when you travel this road until your legs are exhausted and you fall down
flat, until you have no more strength to move forward, then God’s grace will take you in its
arms.
In this dreamlike world, the human spirit is shrouded by a veil as clouds block out the stars,
so it can no longer see its former spiritual abode. The task of the human spirit on earth is to
purify its heart to enable it to see through the veil and focus on the spiritual realm. The heart
must pierce the mystery of this life and see the beginning and the end with unclouded vision.
Free will is the salt of our devotion to God, otherwise there would be no merit in it. The earth
revolves involuntarily, and its movement deserves neither reward nor punishment. Only
actions undertaken as a result of our free will may be weighed on the Day of Judgment.
If I die, don’t say that he died. Say he was dead, became alive, and was taken by the Beloved.
When I die and you wish to visit me, do not come to my grave without a drum, for at God’s
banquet mourners have no place.
Carry the bier when I die, and forget about my heart, for it’s gone from this world. Never cry
for me, for this is the Devil’s work. Don’t follow my hearse with your eyes or heart, for union
and meeting are mine in this hour. When you watch my coffin disappear, forget your
goodbyes to me. The grave simply hides Paradise. Don’t look down, look up at the sun and
moon, who set in joy for me.
Do not cry, “Alas, you are gone!” at my graveside: for me, this is a time of joyful meeting!
Do not bid me farewell when I am lowered into my grave: I have passed through the curtain to
eternal grace!
The body, like a mother, is pregnant with the spirit-child: death is the labor of birth. All the
spirits who have passed over are waiting to see how that proud spirit shall be born.
-22-
Death is in reality spiritual birth, the release of the spirit from the prison of the senses into the
freedom of God, just as physical birth is the release of the baby from the prison of the womb
into the freedom of the world. While childbirth causes pain and suffering to the mother, for
the baby it brings liberation.
Those to whom death seems as sweet as sugar, how can their sight be dazzled by the
temptations of this earthly realm? Physical death holds no bitterness for them; they see it as a
blessed refuge from a prison cell into a glorious garden. It will deliver them from a world of
torment: no one weeps for the loss of such nothingness!
Death is a change that will usher you into Light from darkness, and bestow eternal bliss upon
you. You need have no fear of death, for apart from the physical body you have other bodies.
Therefore, do not be afraid to come out of this body.
When you die, death will disclose the mystery – not the death that takes you to the dark grave,
but the death whereby you are transmuted and enter into the Light.
Die happily and look forward to taking up a new and better form. Like the sun, only when you
set in the west can you rise in the east.
I need more grace than I thought!
-23-
Sharafuddin Maneri 1263-1381
Sharafuddin Ahman ibn Yahya Maneri, known as “The Spiritual Teacher of the Realm,” is
venerated as one of the most famous Islamic saints. This Sufi master was born in Bengal in
Northeast India where he lived, taught, and founded the Firdausiya order of Bihar.
Sharafuddin attended a local mosque-school for his early education. He then went to
Bangladesh where he received a thorough education in all standard branches of Islamic
learning current at the time. He also married the daughter of his mentor and had one son with
whom he returned to Maner on receiving word of his father’s death. After his father’s funeral,
having entrusted his small son to the care of his mother, he set out for Delhi in search of a
spiritual guide, probably during the late 1280’s.
It was in Delhi that he met a number of Sufi masters, including the renowned exemplar of his
age, Sheikh Nizamuddin Awliya. But Sharafuddin did not become his disciple nor the disciple
of any other Sufi master. Finally, as he was about to return to Bihar disappointed, his brother
managed to persuade him to visit yet one more guide, the little-known Najibuddin Firdausi.
An immediate, overpowering attraction drew the two men to one another, and Sharafuddin
became the disciple of Najibuddin.
On his way back to Maner the Bihari saint disappeared into the forest of Bihia and from there
went to the Rajgir Hills, famous for their association with the Buddha and the countless
Buddhist and Hindu monks who reside there.
Many rears later he was coaxed to come to the Friday prayer in Bihar Sharif, about twelve
miles away, and after much coaxing, he was finally persuaded to take up residence there. The
reigning Sultan of Delhi gave him a land grant for his maintenance and ordered a center to be
constructed for him. The saint continued to live in Bihar until his death on Wednesday
evening, January 2, 1381. (from the introduction to The Hundred Letters)
-24-
Due to this good fortune, I have stumbled across You! God knows, I am bursting with joy on
account of You!
I am astonished at my good fortune! Take me by the hand, O You who grasp the hand of all
astonished by You!
If I saw You a thousand times a day, I would still want yet another glimpse!
As long as I live, my trade and my task is this: It is my rest, composure, and companion.
This is how I busy myself each day: I am on a chase and this is my prey!
If You welcome me, then I am Your accepted one: If You do not, I am still Your rejected
servant! I should not be worried whether You accept or reject me: My task, in either state, is
to remain preoccupied with You!
You saw my faults from head to toe, but still purchased me: How shoddy are the goods, how
gracious is the buyer!
I experience neither aversion to hell nor desire for heaven: Remove the veil from Your
countenance, for it is You I long to see!
God forbid that my heart should ever become separated from You, or that it should grow
intimate with anyone other than You. Diverted from love of You, whom would it love?
If it were to quit Your lane, where would it go?
May it never happen, O dearest “idol” of mine, that love of You should depart my heart, or
thought of You, my mind!
Grief for You has plundered my heart, and for You my heart has forsaken all. The secret
unknown even to holy people, Your love whispered in the ear of my heart.
How can a base person, by mere talk, reach this Way? One has to suffer, even be consumed,
and stride forth manfully! If there are two directions along the path to Unity, one loses the
Way: You must decide either to please the Friend or to indulge yourself.
Even what is not asked for He grants; if you ask, imagine what He will give. He is a king:
If He so wishes, He can bestow both worlds upon a beggar!
O generous one who, out of Your hidden treasure, give sustenance to all, how could You
possibly disappoint Your friends, You, a King, with eyes even for me?
-25-
Here am I accepting grief suffered for Your sake as happiness, crying out as I endure
oppression for Your sake. Despite all this, were I to become dust on Your path, I would still
not be worthy of being touched by Your feet!
My eyes desire only the sight of You - my ears long to hear nothing but Your speech!
Look upon the high aspirations of both, even though they be not worthy of Your splendor!
Sometimes I am plunged to the depths, at other times raised on high. Sometimes I experience
the scar of separation, at others, the garden of union! Your awesome majesty may threaten
many of us, yet no lips will part in even a sigh of complaint!
Even if I were to have nothing in this world or the next, by having You, I do have everything!
There is no need for anything else!
As long as you doubt that I am enamored of Your face, regard me as dust clinging to the paw
of Your alley dog.
You said, “Seek another!” I shall, O Peerless One – if You show me another like Yourself.
O God, how can those who seek You be content with heaven; how can Your lovers descend to
anyone else?
If You water, it is Your own plant that is nourished; if You crush, it is the work of Your own
hands that suffers! I am a servant of the type that You know well: Do not throw me away, for
it is You who have sustained me!
I do not lack hope in Your presence, even though my sins be many, since it is Your
forgiveness and mercy which now and in the world to come are my refuge!
O that I might become dust on the paw of Your dog! Since it is not my lot to be a dog in Your
lane!
Who am I along Your Way that in my abode flowers should sprout in my soil from Your
glance? And beyond even this, I have received, from Your bounty, the adornment of Your
love upon my heart!
One day I will have to go and leave this burden behind; except for Your name, nothing will be
found in my record. If my head is not in Your hands, O Ravisher of my heart, at least the dust
from under Your foot will form a crown upon my head.
Any labor undertaken for the sake of love has no trace of laziness about it: Although a
person’s body might grow tired, still his heart never flags.
-26-
There is a city in which the praise of that good Face resounds: The hearts of all peoples of the
world have been veiled from Him. We desire Him, along with others, each of whom eagerly
waits to see who’s favored, who will gain the Friend!
I write Your name on the palm of my hand; fixing my eyes on that Name, I shed tears of
blood. Yet I want nothing but to rivet my attention on You! No matter where my gaze alights,
it is of You that I think!
When your love proves to be true, then you will obey it, for the one who loves is obedient to
the One whom he loves!
Love does all that is necessary: be patient! Simply be a disciple! Let love be your master –
that is all!
Since the Beloved is a king, whatever He says, goes! Concerning His actions, who will be so
bold as to ask why? If He accepts, it is because of His mercy: If He spurns us, that is our
misfortune!
I walk along Your path. How is it that I do not see You? Would that I could be liberated from
the trials of life! You have not even sent me a greeting from where You have gone! O that but
once I might find some trace of Your whereabouts!
I experience a thousand frustrations in my desire for Your face. My whole life has passed in
grief over You: I have done nothing! Yet if I am helped and directed by You, this is wealth
enough for me.
The serpent of love has stung my heart; there is no physician, and none to administer a charm,
except that Beloved with whom I am enthralled. With Him is the charm and the antidote as
well!
Anyone who has taken shelter in the shade of a man of God will never be put to shame as he
travels toward Him. Until the glance of such a man falls upon you, how can you find out
anything about your own being?
The hearts of all are stirred in expectation of seeing Your face! Our bodies, out of fear of
separation, cry out in the midst of pleasure and comfort! Without Your beauty, flowers of
desire turn to thorns in my hope-enkindled eyes!
If You bestow Your grace, we shall certainly be liberated. But if You exercise Your justice –
alas, how humbled we shall be!
O Beloved, my name is inscribed in Your register! I am happy to be the least of Your
soldiers!
-27-
Hafiz 1320-1389
Hafiz’s given name was Shams-ud-din Muhammad. He chose the name Hafiz which means
“memorizer” as a pen name when he began to write poetry; it is a title given to someone who
knows the entire Quran by heart, as he apparently did. He was born about 1320 and died about
1389. He was born in Shiraz, a beautiful city in southern Persia.
Hafiz’s collected works are regarded as a pinnacle of Persian literature. His life and poems
have been the subject of much analysis, commentary and interpretation, influencing post-14th
century Persian writing more than any other author.
Hafiz did not have an easy or comfortable life. He was the youngest of three sons of poor
parents. His father was a coal merchant who died when Hafiz was in his teens. To help
support the family, Hafiz worked as a baker’s assistant by day and put himself through school
at night.
Hafiz had a natural poetic gift. Even as a child, he was able to improvise poems on any
subject in any form and style. When he was in his early twenties he won the patronage of a
succession of rulers and wealthy noblemen. One of his benefactors founded a religious
college and offered Hafiz a position as a teacher. Thus, during his middle years, he served as a
court poet and a college professor. He married and had at least one son.
Hafiz’s livelihood depended solely on patronage. Everyone admired his literary brilliance, but
his poetry boldly celebrated ideas that bordered on heresy, and he had enemies among the
rigorously orthodox who blacklisted him whenever they came to power. Periodically, he
would fall out of favor and lose his position both at court and in the college. He would
sometimes use his skills in calligraphy to support his family until his fortunes improved. At
least once, however, he was forced to leave Shiraz. For several years he lived as an exile,
often in dire poverty. Finally, a new, more tolerant regime allowed him to return home and
resume his career.
Hafiz’s poems expressed every nuance and stage of his growing understanding of love. He
wrote of the game of love, the beauty of the Beloved, the sweet pain of longing, the agony of
waiting, the ecstatic joy of union. He explored different forms and levels of love - his delight
in nature’s beauty, his sweet affection for his wife, his tender feelings for his child - and his
terrible grief and loneliness when both his wife and his son passed away. He wrote of his
relationship with his teacher and his adoration of God.
Hafiz shares his intoxication with the magic and beauty of divine life that pulsates everywhere
around us and within us. He urges us to rise on the wings of love. He challenges us to
confront and master the strongest forces of our own nature. He encourages us to celebrate
even the most ordinary experiences of life as precious divine gifts. He invites us to “awake
awhile” and listen to the delightful music of God’s laughter: “What is this precious love and
laughter budding in our hearts? It is the glorious sound of a soul waking up!” (from The Gift)
Sant Kirpal Singh called Hafiz “a great mystic poet” and “a great saint”.
-28-
My soul endures a magnificent longing.
O Master, You are so gracious. After all these years You still remember who I am: the one
who wears the dust of Your door like a crown. Tell me, who taught You to be so generous to
Your slaves? O Holy Bird, please bless this path I’m on, for I’m new to this traveling, and it’s
a long way I have to go. O morning breeze, take my prayers to the Master, and tell Him that
each day I am on my knees at dawn.
O King of Beauty, turn Your gaze upon this beggar of Yours. Have pity on this forlorn,
helpless devotee of Yours. The heart of this poor one yearns and longs for Your life-giving
glance. With Your dark mysterious eyes fulfill his desire, make him dance!
O Master, I’ve spent my whole life loving You and have no regrets. If I die in the dust of
Your doorway, dreaming of You, I will have lived a full life and will die smiling there.
O Master, I know You taught us that we couldn’t get to You without much effort and without
Your help, but all this silence is leading me astray.
I have been Your lover and been with You a thousand times; yet each time You see me, Your
question is always, “Who is he?”
O Master, since You went away, Your lovers are drinking poison and are dying off like flies.
Why have You abandoned us this way? Have our weeping and our prayers been too much for
Your ears? Are there not tears in Your eyes, too?
Beloved, I am waiting for You to free me into Your Mind and Infinite Being. I am pleading in
absolute helplessness to hear, finally, Your words of grace: Fly! Fly into Me!
O Friend, at this banquet You have set before us, how long must we sit here with an empty
plate?
O Beloved, please come back. My heart is broken and grief has conquered my bleeding heart;
only Your face will free me of this pain.
What have I done that was so bad that You won’t even accept my gifts or recognize my
name? This is Hafiz, and I am standing at Your door. Where else is there for me to go?
Where will I go, what will I do, what will I be, what will be my plan? I’m sick of all this
sorrow and deceit.
What else is there for me to do but to sit here and cry? I wouldn’t wish this sadness on even
my worst enemy. You are far away, and day and night I lie grieving. And why shouldn’t I,
when my heart says there is no hope?
-29-
O Beloved, where are You? Since You left, my heart has become a fountain, and blood is
pouring from my eyes. From the root of every eyelash trickles a hundred drops of blood, and
from my heart pours gallons more! Hafiz has become a slave to this grieving.
O Beloved, please allow us one look at Your face, for life is short and soon You will be gone.
Hafiz, when the way to the tower of the Beloved’s palace is blocked, then in the dust of this
door’s threshold let us put our head and stay.
There’s a limit to my patience, and I can feel the bitterness filling up my heart. O candyman,
bring me some sugar from the Beloved’s lip; my love-disease is tired of so much salt!
Yearning for a drop from my lover’s lips so sweet, I’ve waited at the door of the tavern, at His
feet. Perhaps He’s forgotten the friendship we once had; O morning breeze, remind Him of
the old days and make our hearts glad.
O Beloved, there is no room left in my heart for anything but You! Please show pity on poor
Hafiz. He is wounded and in pain. Even if he seems happy today, he is waiting for sunlight,
and all it ever seems to do is rain.
O Winebringer, bring me some wine, for I am surely mad and need Your cure if I am to give
up all feasting and happiness for You!
The heart is right to cry even when the smallest drop of Light, of love, is taken away. Perhaps
you may kick, moan, scream in a dignified silence, but you are so right to do so in any fashion
until God returns to you.
In the morning when I began to wake, it happened again - that feeling that You, Beloved, had
stood over me all night keeping watch, that feeling that as soon as I began to stir You put
Your lips on my forehead and lit a Holy Lamp inside my heart.
It used to be that when I would wake in the morning I could with confidence say, “What am
‘I’ going to do?” That was before the seed cracked open. Now Hafiz is certain: There are two
of us housed in this body, doing the shopping together in the market and tickling each other
while fixing the evening’s food. Now when I awake all the internal instruments play the same
music: “God, what love-mischief can ‘We’ do for the world today?”
It is my goal to raise my head high, like the cypress, above the clouds. From this height I can
hear the music on the other side of the world’s sad songs.
Sometimes love tastes like this: The pain so sweet I beg God, “May I never open my eyes
again and know another image than what I have just seen. May I never know another feeling
other than your inconceivable immaculate touch. Why not let Hafiz die in this blessed ruin?”
-30-
My heart sits on the arm of God like a tethered falcon suddenly unhooded. I am now blessedly
crazed because my Master’s astounding effulgence is in constant view. My piercing eyes,
which have searched every world for tenderness and love, now lock on the Royal Target - the
Wild Holy One whose beauty illuminates Existence!
Hafiz himself is singing tonight in resplendent glory, for the cup in my heart has revealed the
Beloved’s face, and I have His oath that He will never again depart.
My soul is like a young doe-eyed maid with lips still bruised from last night’s Divine Passion
but my Master makes me live like a humble servant when any king would trade his throne for
the splendor my eye can see.
I am happy even before I have a reason. I am full of Light even before the sky can greet the
sun or the moon. Dear companions, we have been in love with God for so very, very long.
What can Hafiz now do but forever dance!
Like a great starving beast my body is quivering fixed on the scent of Light.
Sitting here loving like this alone again in God’s valley after that magnificent storm of Your
Presence just passed, I am like an elegant cypress whose face and form your beauty ruined.
Why not accuse you of infidelity or much worse when every lover of God in this world would
gladly testify on my behalf.
I have awakened to find violin and cello, flute, harp and trumpet, cymbal, bell and drum - all
within me! From head to toe, every part of my body is chanting and clapping!
Pray to be humble so that God does not have to appear to be so stingy. O pray to be honest,
strong, kind, and pure, so that the Beloved is never miscast as a cruel great miser. I know you
have a hundred complex cases against God in court, but never mind, wayfarer, let’s just get
out of this mess and pray to be loving and humble so that the Friend will be forced to reveal
Himself so near.
You have not danced so badly, my dear, trying to hold hands with the Beautiful One. You
have waltzed with great style, my sweet, crushed angel, to have ever neared God’s heart at all.
Our Partner is notoriously difficult to follow, and even His best musicians are not always easy
to hear. So what if the music has stopped for a while. So what if the price of admission to the
Divine is out of reach tonight. So what, my sweetheart, if you lack the ante to gamble for real
love. The mind and the body are famous for holding the heart ransom, but Hafiz knows the
Beloved’s eternal habits. Have patience, for He will not be able to resist your longings and
charms for long. You have not danced so badly, my dear, trying to kiss the Magnificent One.
You have actually waltzed with tremendous style, my sweet, O my sweet, crushed angel.
-31-
No one can keep us from carrying God wherever we go. No one can rob His Name from our
hearts as we try to relinquish our fears and at last stand victorious. We do not have to leave
Him in the mosque or church alone at night; we do not have to be jealous of tales of saints,
those intoxicated souls who can make outrageous love with the Friend. Our yearning eyes, our
warm-needing bodies, can all be drenched in contentment and Light. No one anywhere can
keep us from carrying the Beloved wherever we go. No one can rob His precious Name from
the rhythm of my heart, steps and breath.
Your breath is a sacred clock, my dear - why not use it to keep time with God’s Name? And if
your feet are ever mobile upon this ancient drum, the earth, O do not let your precious
movements come to naught. Let your steps dance silently to the rhythm of the Beloved’s
Name!
When the mind is consumed with remembrance of Him something divine happens to the heart
that shapes the hand and tongue and eye into the word love.
Water gets poured through a cloth to become free of impurities. The Beloved’s Name is a
mystical weave and pattern - a hidden sieve of effulgence we need to pass through thousands
of times. From my constant remembrance of the Friend, all I now say is safe to drink.
We are not in pursuit of formalities or fake religious laws, for through the stairway of
existence we have come to God’s Door. We are people who need to love, because love is the
soul’s life; love is simply creation’s greatest joy. Through the stairway of existence, O,
through the stairway of existence, Hafiz, have you now come, have we all now come to the
Beloved’s Door.
I know the voice of depression still calls to you. I know those habits that can ruin your life still
send their invitations. But you are with the Friend now and look so much stronger. You can
stay that way and even bloom! Learn to recognize the counterfeit coins that may buy you just
a moment of pleasure, but then drag you for days behind a farting camel!
-32-
Jami 1414 - 1492.
Nureddin Abdorrahman Ibn-e Ahmad Jami was born in Iran in 1414 and died in 1492. When
he was five, Parsa Abdorrahman, the Naqshbandi master, was passing through Jam on his way
to Hejaz. Jami was taken to the master by his father to receive blessings. Sixty years later
Jami would write:
…my heart still feels the joy I experienced from that happy meeting. I firmly believe that that
bond of friendship…and love which subsequently bound the great body of pious spirits to this
humble creature, is wholly due to the fortunate influence of his glance…
Jami received his early education from his father and at age thirteen went to Herat (in present
day Afghanistan), which was one of the main cultural and educational centers of the Muslim
world, for further studies.
By his late thirties, Jami was respected in the vast Muslim lands of the mid-fifteenth century
as one of the most cultured and learned personalities of his time. It is said that in Samarqhand,
while nursing his broken heart after a romantic affair, Jami was visited in a dream by a
luminous figure who advised him thus: “…brother, go find a beloved who cannot abandon
you…”
Taking these words to heart, Jami returned to Herat and began frequenting Sufi places of
gathering. At age forty he was initiated into the brotherhood by the Naqshbandi master of
Khorasan, Saadeddin Kashqari, the luminous visitor in Jami’s dream!
Though he was sought after by many rulers in the Muslim lands of his time, Jami chose a
quiet life in Herat, where he lived until his death on November 9, 1492. (from the introduction This Heavenly Wine)
Jami is known for his achievements as a scholar, mystic, writer, composer, historian, and the
greatest Sufi poet of the 15th century.
-33-
I wish I could know who I am and what my wanderings here are for. If assured of the
Beloved’s approval, I would make merry and sing heartily. If not, I would borrow a thousand
eyes to weep with.
You were always sitting in my eye, and I saw you not. In my chest You were hiding, and I ran
around searching the whole world for You. The whole world was nothing but You, and I saw
You not.
The beauty of Your countenance no palaces can contain, but this ruin of a heart You have
blessed with Your love. Do not deny me the glory of Your face. Because of my earthly
existence I have become the veil between us. Be generous my Beloved, do away with this
veil. This mind is nothing but rust on the mirror of my heart. Be generous O Master, let the
wine You bestow do away with this rust.
I am the one crying tears of blood and offering his soul. The One who causes my tears and
won’t grant me a glance is You. You are the Soul of my soul, why should I fear if my soul is
leaving me for You? How can I complain if this sorrow ravages me and darkens my days?
For my nights filled with the radiance of Your presence are the envy of the brightest of days.
You say seek no other if I want You as my Friend. No one can be privy to this love story,
my wealth of longing and lack of patience are only known to You. Being companionless here
is a great delight if one’s Friend and Companion is You.
How can one behold You once and not cry tears of blood living in separation? Though
separated from You I exist. I am amazed at anyone who sees Your face once and separated
from You still exists.
My heart has gone to that Beloved who can’t be described, the One who granted my heart the
pain and sorrow which can’t be expressed. One who is snared by that glance can’t be helped
by bravery for that gorgeous gazelle is such a fierce lion that can’t be described.
In the land of devotion I built a palace made of contentment. Speaking less, sleeping less, and
eating less are the foundations.
The glory that is the Master’s presence is the alchemy that changes base existence into a
practice for perfection. May Master’s grace be bestowed upon all those whose hearts in truth
yearn for God’s perfection.
Glory to our Master in whose tavern of love the Holy Spirit empties blessings cup after cup.
Our perfect Friend has no one’s name in His book of judgment and crosses out no one’s name
in His book of mercy.
One who harbors no longing for his Origin of human heritage, he has received a form only,
the rest is missing. Life bestows a cure for every pain, but for painlessness no cure can be
found.
-34-
My devotion is to my Master, the Ancient One, whose grace undoes the deeds of the
condemned ones. I offer my head for the wine served in His tavern, the walls of which stand
taller than the heavens. All I can offer Him is this threadbare robe of dust, woe to me if He
should not accept. Whatever our wine-seller does is for our best. Judge Him not before you
fathom His secret. Do not for a moment leave the company of those endowed with Christ’s
breath, for your moments here are counted and they are your true wealth.
Beloved, no fear if You break my heart a thousand times, but do not abandon me in contempt
because of what I have here become, for in this garden every flower has its roots in dirt.
You are destined to fly across worlds, do not soil your royal wings in this mud pit. Trapped in
this body and pulled by its weight, soul from body you can’t tell and your essence you
neglect. You busy yourself looking for happiness in this dust bin and your true home in the
highest skies you can’t imagine. You seek refuge in wealth and glory in steadfast illusion –
what perfect ignorance, what baffling delusion.
If you are a wayfarer on this path, know that reining in your desires is wiser than sitting on
King Solomon’s throne and reigning in his domains. In your heart plant a sapling from the
tree of devotion, nourish it with watchful vigilance, for in time a tree will grow, the fruits of
which will keep you eternally content.
Before the dawn comes be of the early risers. During the day be of the mourners. Cling to the
One who cannot leave you, and from all else wash your hands.
To the wise this place and all in it is worth nothing, joys and sorrows here only enslave you.
Strengthen your will to find release from this prison, for your will is the ladder to help you
across the prison wall. Do not break anyone’s heart here, for that crystal bowl is easy to break
and impossible to mend. Do not do unto others what you wouldn’t like to be done unto you.
Alas, too many are the clever and so this advice is popular with too few.
How can the lover not cry tears of blood when the Beloved is distant, no road is in sight and
the Guide is so hard to find. No matter who the company and what the occasion, heart and
soul abandon the scene and run to You for consolation. Jami needs no musicians or bards for
in his chest’s cavity he hears the Celestial Song of love’s sweet captivity.
Last night my moans set the heavens on fire. Angels fluttered with burnt wings like moths set
aflame. How could sleep touch me in that agony, when my bedding was on fire and my pillow
flooded with tears. The ascetic’s lips are parched and the Sufi’s eyes are flooded, woe to those
caught in this love for it burns both the wet and the dry. Whoever is torched here by this fire
becomes luminous and attracts a hundred others and sets them too on fire.
It is futile to look for your true Friend elsewhere, empty your heart of all and you’ll find him
right there. Cut down on your sleep to bring your Beloved into your dreams, for this great
boon is granted in early dawn to the sleepless dreamer.
-37-
One night during prayers a vision of the Beloved appeared to me.
Lifting the veil from His face, He said,
“Take a good look at the one you always leave behind.”
(Awhad al-Din Kirmani)
Sant Kirpal Singh Ji Maharaj
1894-1974
He will live in the hearts of His devotees forever.
For more booklets go to: kirpalsingh.org
(Spiritual Quotations for Lovers of God)