Friday, January 11, 2008

the reed flute



Pay heed to the grievances of the reed

Of what divisive separations breed

From the reedbed cut away just like a weed

My music people curse, warn and heed

Sliced to pieces my bosom and heart bleed

While I tell this tale of desire and need.

Whoever who fell away from the source

Will seek and toil until returned to course

Of grievances I sang to every crowd

Befriended both the humble and the proud

Each formed conjecture in their own mind

As though to my secrets they were blind

My secrets are buried within my grief

Yet to the eye and ear, that’s no relief

Body and soul both unveiled in trust

Yet sight of soul for body is not a must

.The flowing air in this reed is fire

Extinct, if with passion won’t inspire

Fire of love is set upon the reed

Passion of love this wine will gladly feed

Reed is match for he who love denied

Our secrets unveiled, betrayed, defied

.Who has borne deadly opium like the reed?

Or lovingly to betterment guide and lead?

Of the bloody path, will tell many a tale

Of Lover’s love, even beyond the veil.

None but the fool can hold wisdom dear

Who will care for the tongue if not ear?

In this pain, of passing days we lost track

Each day carried the pain upon its back

If days pass, let them go without fear

You remain, near, clear, and so dear.

Only the fish will unquenchingly thirst,

Surely passing of time, the hungry curst

.State of the cooked is beyond the raw

The wise in silence gladly withdraw.

Cut the chain my son, and release the pain

Silver rope and golden thread, must refrain

If you try to fit the ocean in a jug

How small will be your drinking mug?

Never filled, ambitious boy, greedy girl,

Only if satisfied, oyster makes pearl

.Whoever lovingly lost shirt on his back

Was cleansed from greed and wanton attack

Rejoice in our love, which would trade

Ailments, of every shade and every grade

With the elixir of self-knowing, chaste

With Hippocratic and Galenic taste.

Body of dust from love ascends to the skies

The dancing mountain thus begins to rise

It was the love of the Soul of Mount Sinai

Drunken mountain, thundering at Moses, nigh.

If coupled with those lips that blow my reed

Like the reed in making music I succeed;

Whoever away from those lips himself found

Lost his music though made many a sound.

When the flower has withered, faded away

The canary in praise has nothing to say.

All is the beloved, the lover is the veil

Alive is the beloved, the lover in death wail

Fearless love will courageously dare

Like a bird that’s in flight without a care

How can I be aware, see what’s around,

If there is no showing light or telling sound?

Seek the love that cannot be confined

Reflection in the mirror is object defined.

Do you know why the mirror never lies?

Because keeping a clean face is its prize.

Friends, listen to the tale of this reed

For it is the story of our life, indeed!



mathnavi

translated by: Shahriar ShahriariVancouver, CanadaApril 27, 1998

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