(20) Nor yet dead so as to feel the power of 'Isa's breath. His blind soul wanders in every direction, And at last makes a spring, but springs not upwards. A man captured a bird by wiles and snares; The bird said to him, "O noble sir, In your time you have eaten many oxen and sheep, And likewise sacrificed many camels; You have never become satisfied with their meat, Let me go, that I may give you three counsels,

(21) Through grief my days are as labor and sorrow, My days move on, hand in hand with anguish. Yet,, though my days vanish thus, 'tis no matter, Do thou abide, O Incomparable Pure One! But all who are not fishes are soon tired of water; And they who lack daily bread find the day very long; So the "Raw" comprehend not the state of the "Ripe;" Arise, O son! burst thy bonds and be free! How long wilt thou be captive to silver and gold? Though thou pour the ocean into thy pitcher,

(38) He continued, "Hidden inside this body of mine Is a precious pearl, ten drachms in weight. That jewel of right, belonged to you, You have lost it, as it, was not fated you should get it, That pearl whose like can nowhere be found." Thereupon the man, like a woman in her travail, The bird said to him, "Did I not counsel you, saying, 'Beware of grieving over what is past and gone?' When 'tis past and gone, why sorrow for it?

(131) O heart haste thither, for God will shine upon you, He will infuse into your soul a new soul, So as to fill you, like a goblet, with wine. Take up your abode in His soul! Take up your abode in heaven, O bright full moon! Like the heavenly Scribe, He will open your heart's book Abide with your Friend, since you have gone astray, Strive to be a full moon; you are now a fragment thereof. Wherefore this shrinking of the part from its whole? Why this association with its foes?

(1) The bird's cries to God for aid. When he had eaten the grain he was caught in the trap, And began to recite the chapters "Yasin" and "An'am." Then he began to wail and cry loudly, He said, "My back is broken by the conflict of my thoughts; O Beloved One, come and stroke my head in mercy! The palm of Thy hand on my head gives me rest, Remove not Thy shadow from my head, I am afflicted, afflicted, afflicted!

(3) Never to thee presented art or nature Pleasure so great as the fair limbs wherein I was enclosed, which scattered are in earth. And if the highest pleasure thus did fail thee By reason of my death, what mortal thing Should then have drawn thee into its desire? Thou oughtest verily at the first shaft Of things fallacious to have risen up To follow me, who was no longer such. Thou oughtest not to have stooped thy pinions downward To wait for further blows, or little girl, Or other vanity of such brief use. The callow birdlet waits for two or three, But to the eyes of those already fledged, In vain the net is spread or shaft is shot." Even as children silent in their shame Stand listening with their eyes upon the ground, And conscious of their fault, and penitent; So was I standing; and she said: "If thou In hearing sufferest pain, lift up thy beard And thou shalt feel a greater pain in seeing." With less resistance is a robust holm Uprooted, either by a native wind Or else by that from regions of Iarbas,

(12) What need has He to wheedle a worm like Moses?" O babbler, while thy soul is drunk with mere date wine, For the token of thy having seen that divine light Is this, to withdraw thyself from the house of pride. When a fowl flies to the salt water, It has never beheld the blessing of sweet water; But its faith is mere imitation of other fowl, Wherefore the blind imitator encounters great perils, Perils of the road, of robbers, of cursed Satans. But when he has seen the light of God, he is safe

(57) Behold, thou poor Soul in thy Bath of Thorns, where is thy Home? Art thou at Home in this World? Why then dost thou not seek the Favour and Friendship of the World? Why dost thou not hunt after the temporal Honour, after Pleasure and Riches, that it may go well with thee in this World? Why dost thou make thyself a Fool to the World, and art every one's Owl and Footstool? Why dost thou suffer thyself to be despised and abused by those that are inferior to thee, and know less than thou? Why shouldst thou not be stately and brave with those seeming holy Hypocrites? And then thou wouldst be beloved, and no Body would abuse thee; and thou wouldst be more safe and secure in thy Body and Goods, than in this Way, wherein thou art but the World's Owl and Fool.

(64) But thou mad World, what shall the Spirit say [of thee?] art thou not my Brother? The Essences of my Spirit stir thee, go forth out of thy Beast, and then I go with my Companions into the Garden of Roses, into the Lily of God. Why keepest thou back, and sufferest thyself to be held by the Devil? Is he not thy Enemy, he does but hunt after thy Pearl; and if he gets it, then thy Spirit becomes a Worm and Beast in its Figure. Why sufferest thou thy angelical Image to be taken away, for temporal Pleasure Sake? Thy Pleasure is only in the corruptible Beast. But what does that avail the Soul? If thou dost not go out from it, thou wilt get eternal Woe and Sorrow by it.

(1) Who art a duckling, under her wing and nurtured thee, Thy nurse was earthy, and her wing dry land. The longing for the ocean which fills thy heart, Thy longing for dry land comes to thee from thy nurse; Quit thy nurse, for she will lead thee astray. Leave thy nurse on the dry land and push on, Enter the ocean of real Being, like the ducks! Though thy nurse may frighten thee away from water, Do thou fear not, but haste on into the ocean!

(1) Lamenting its banishment from its home: "Ever since they tore me from my osier bed, I burst my breast, striving to give vent to sighs, He who abides far away from his home My wailing is heard in every throng, Each interprets my notes in harmony with his own feelings, My secrets are not alien from my plaintive notes, Body is not veiled from soul, neither soul from body, Yet no man hath ever seen a soul." This plaint of the flute is fire, not mere air.

(63) Then thou has great Honour for thy Shame. And therefore why art thou so sad? Lift up thyself out of thy wild Beast, Hunter, or Persecutor, as a fair Flower springs out of the Earth. O dost thou suppose, thou wild Beast, that my Spirit is mad, that it so little esteemed thee? Thou sayest I am indeed thy Beast, yet thou art born out of me; if I had not grown forth, thou hadst not been neither. Hearken thou my Beast, I am greater than thou; when thou wast to be, there I was thy Master- framer; my Essences are out of the Root of the Eternity, but thou art from this World, and thou breakest [or corruptest,] but I live in my Source [or Quality] eternally; therefore am I much nobler than thou; thou livest in the fierce [wrathful] Source, but I will put strong fierce Property into the Light, into the eternal Joy; my Works stand in Power, and thine remain in the Figure; when I shall once be released from thee, then I shall take thee no more to be my Beast again, but [I will take] my new Body which I brought forth in thee, in thy deepest Root of the holy Element. I will no more have thy rough Productions of the four Elements, Death swallows thee up. But I spring and grow out of thee, with my new Body, as a Flower out of the Root; I will forget thee. For the Glory of God (which cursed thee together with the Earth) has grafted my Root again in his Son, and my Body grows in the holy Element before God. Therefore thou art but my wild Beast, which dost plague me, and make me sick here, upon which the Devil rides, as upon his accursed Horse; and although the World scorn thee, I regard not that, it does that for my Sake; and yet it cannot see me, neither can it know me. And why then is it so mad? It cannot murder me, for I am not in it.

(42) Sings to me in organ tones, 'To him shall we return.' Like a water-lily seek life there! Yea, like that drawer of water, at the risk of life, Water will be his death, yet he still seeks water, And still drinks on, and God knows what is right. O lover, cold-hearted and void of loyalty, Who from fear for your life shun the beloved! O base one, behold a hundred thousand souls Dancing towards the deadly sword of his love: Behold water in a pitcher; pour it out;

(22) When you pluck up your foot you escape from the mire, When you obtain salvation at God's hands, O wanderer, You are free from the mire, and go your way. When the suckling is weaned from its nurse, You are bound to the bosom of earth like seeds, Eat the words of wisdom, for veiled light When you have accepted the light, O beloved, When you behold what is veiled without a veil, Like a star you will walk upon the heavens; Nay, though not in heaven, you will walk on high.

(2) Even thus, relieved from the delay of waiting, That murmuring of the eagle mounted up Along its neck, as if it had been hollow. There it became a voice, and issued thence From out its beak, in such a form of words As the heart waited for wherein I wrote them. "The part in me which sees and bears the sun In mortal eagles," it began to me, "Now fixedly must needs be looked upon; For of the fires of which I make my figure, Those whence the eye doth sparkle in my head Of all their orders the supremest are. He who is shining in the midst as pupil Was once the singer of the Holy Spirit, Who bore the ark from city unto city; Now knoweth he the merit of his song, In so far as effect of his own counsel, By the reward which is commensurate. Of five, that make a circle for my brow, He that approacheth nearest to my beak Did the poor widow for her son console; Now knoweth he how dearly it doth cost Not following Christ, by the experience Of this sweet life and of its opposite.

(41) Saying, "What ye sow will yield only thorns; If ye fly that way, ye will fly astray. Take seed of us to yield you a good harvest, Now ye know not the truth and nature of the 'Truth,' But at the last ye will cry, 'That was the "Truth."' The Truth is yourself, but not your mere bodily self, Your real self is higher than 'you' and 'me.' This visible 'you' which you fancy to be yourself Is limited in place, the real 'you' is not limited. Why, O pearl, linger you trembling in your shell?

(2) It is well for thee to think fearfully of thyself here as of a living fish, much more so for the sinner to dread the fierce anguish of hell. Thou art burnt if warm water touch thee, tender creature that thou art; and when thou doest damnable sins, how canst thou sit thus comfortably? 0 wretched soul, that longest for reward unearned by striving, thou that art so tender and much afflicted, thou immortal, thou art devoured by Death, and undone! Thou hast found the ship of manhood; then sail in it across the broad river of sorrow. Fool, this is no time for slumber; it will be hard to find the ship again. How canst thou forsake the noble delight in the Law, which brings an endless course of comforts, and find pleasure in wantonness, mirth, and other like sources of sorrow?

(2) A cicada laughed, and said to a young dove, "Now, when I fly with all my might, 'tis as much as I can do to get from tree to tree. And sometimes I do not reach, but fall to the ground midway. What then can be the use of going up ninety thousand li in order to start for the south?" He who goes to Mang-ts'ang, taking three meals with him, comes back with his stomach as full as when he started. But he who travels a hundred li must grind flour enough for a night's halt. And he who travels a thousand li must supply himself with provisions for three months. Those two little creatures,—what should they know? Small knowledge has not the compass of great knowledge any more than a short year has the length of a long year. How can we tell that this is so? The mushroom of a morning knows not the alternation of day and night. The chrysalis knows not the alternation of spring and autumn. Theirs are short years. But in the State of Ch'u there is a tortoise whose spring and autumn are each of five hundred years' duration. And in former days there was a large tree which had a spring and autumn each of eight thousand years' duration. Yet, P'êng Tsu is still, alas! an object of envy to all. It was on this very subject that the Emperor T'ang spoke to Chi, as follows:—"At the barren north there is a great sea, the Celestial Lake. In it there is a fish, several thousand li in breadth, and I know not how many in length. It is called the Leviathan. There is also a bird, called the Rukh, with a back like Mount T'ai,

(164) O noble guest! O, why didst thou depart from us! O fierceness, wrath and astringency or severity, thou art the cause of it! O fierce wrathful devil! O, what hast thou done, who hast sunk down thyself and thy beautiful bright angels into darkness? Woe, woe for ever!

(13) "What manner of bird is this?" cried Chuang Tzŭ. "With strong wings it does not fly away. With large eyes it does not see." So he picked up his skirts and strode towards it with his cross-bow, anxious to get a shot. Just then he saw a cicada enjoying itself in the shade, forgetful of all else. And he saw a mantis spring and seize it, forgetting in the act its own body, which the strange bird immediately pounced upon and made its prey. And this it was which had caused the bird to forget its own nature. "Alas!" cried Chuang Tzŭ with a sigh, "how creatures injure one another. Loss follows the pursuit of gain." So he laid aside his bow and went home, driven away by the park-keeper who wanted to know what business he had there. For three months after this, Chuang Tzŭ did not leave the house; and at length Lin Chü asked him, saying, "Master, how is it that you have not been out for so long?" "While keeping my physical frame," replied Chuang Tzŭ, "I lost sight of my real self. Gazing at muddy water, I lost sight of the clear abyss. Besides, I have learnt from the Master as follows:—"When you go into the world, follow its customs." Now when I strolled into the park at Tiao-ling, I forgot my real self. That strange bird which flew close past me to the chestnut grove, forgot its nature. The keeper of the chestnut grove took me for a thief. Consequently I have not been out." When Yang Tzŭ went to the Sung State, he passed a night at an inn.