(1) Another bird said to the Hoopoe: 'I am my own enemy; there is a thief in me. How can I make this journey hindered by bodily appetites and a dog of desire which wiU not submit? How can I save my soul? The prowling wolf I

know but this dog I do not know, and he is so attractive. I know not where I am with this unfaithful body. Will I ever understand it?'

The Hoopoe replied: 'You yourself are a stray dog, trampled underfoot. This "soul" of yours is one-eyed and squinting; vile, slothful and unfaithful. If a man is drawn to you it is because he is dazzled by the tinsel glitter of your "soul". It is not good for this dog of desire to be pampered and rubbed with oils. As a child, man is weak and heedless; as a youth he is engaged in struggle; and when old age takes possession desire languishes and the body is feeble. Existence being such, how will this dog acquire the ornament of spiritual qualities? From beginning to end we live heedlessly, and obtain nothing. Often a man comes to the end empty, with nothing in him except a desire for the things of exterior life. Thousands perish from grief, but this dog of desire never dies. Listen to the story of a gravedigger who had grown old in his trade. Someone asked him: "Will you answer a question for me since you have spent your whole life digging graves. Tell me if you have ever seen a marvel?" He said: "My dog of desire has seen the dead buried for seventy years, but he himself has not once died, nor for a single moment has he obeyed the laws of God. This is a marvel!"'

(1) When the birds had listened to this discourse of the Hoopoe their heads drooped down, and sorrow pierced their hearts. Now they understood how difficult it would be for a handful of dust like themselves to bend such a bow. So great was their agitation that numbers of them died then and there. But others, in spite of their distress, decided to set out on the long road. For years they travelled over mountains and

valleys, and a great part of their life flowed past on this journey. But how is it possible to relate all that happened to them? It would be necessary to go with them and see their difficulties for oneself, and to follow the wanderings of this long road. Only then could one realize what the birds suffered.

In the end, only a small number of all this great company arrived at that sublime place to which the Hoopoe had led them. Of the thousands of birds almost all had disappeared. Many had been lost in the ocean, others had perished on the summits of the high mountains, tortured by thirst; others had had their wings burnt and their hearts dried up by the fire of the sun; others were devoured by tigers and panthers; others died of fatigue in the deserts and in the wilderness, their lips parched and their bodies overcome by the heat; some went mad and killed each other for a grain of barley; others, enfeebled by suffering and weariness, dropped on the road unable to go further; others, bewildered by the things they saw, stopped where they were, stupefied; and many, who had started out from curiosity or pleasure, perished without an idea of what they had set out to find.

So then, out of all those thousands of birds, only thirty reached the end of the journey. And even these were bewildered, weary" and dejected, with neither feathers nor wings. But now they were at the door of this Majesty that cannot be described, whose essence is incomprehensible - that Being who is beyond human reason and knowledge. Then flashed the lightning of fulfilment, and a hundred worlds were consumed in a moment. They saw thousands of suns each more resplendent than the other, thousands of moons and stars all equally beautiful, and seeing all this they were amazed and agitated like a dancing atom of dust, and they cried out: 'O Thou who art more radiant than the sun! Thou, who hast reduced the sun to an atom, how can we appear before Thee? Ah, why have we so uselessly endured

(13 °)

all this suffering on the Way? Having renounced ourselves and all things, we now cannot obtain that for which we have striven. Here, it little matters whether we exist or not.'

Then the birds, who were so disheartened that they resembled a cock half-killed, sank into despair. A long time passed. When, at a propitious moment, the door suddenly opened, there stepped out a noble chamberlain, one of the courtiers of the Supreme Majesty. He looked them over and saw that out of thousands only these thirty birds were left.

He said: 'Now then, O Birds, where have you come from, and what are you doing here? What is your name? O you who are destitute of everything, where is your home? What do they call you in the world? What can be done with a feeble handful of dust like you?'

'We have come,' they said, 'to acknowledge the Simurgh as our king. Through love and desire for him we have lost our reason and our peace of mind. Very long ago, when we started on this journey, we were thousands, and now only thirty of us have arrived at this sublime court. We cannot believe that the King will scOrn us after all the sufferings we have gone through. Ah, no! He cannot but look on us with the eye of benevolence! '

The Chamberlain replied: 'O you whose minds and hearts are troubled, whether you exist or do not exist in the universe, the King has his being always and eternally. Thousands of worlds of creatures are no more than an ant at his gate. You bring nothing but moans and lamentations. Return then to whence you came, O vile handful of earth! ' At this, the birds were petrified with astonishment. Nevertheless, when they came to themselves a little, they said: 'Will this great king reject us so ignominiously? And if he really has this attitude to us may he not change it to one of honour? Remember Majnun who said, "If all the people who dwell on earth wished to sing my praises, I would not accept them; I would rather have the insults of Laila. One

of her insults is more to me than a hundred compliments from another woman! '' '

'The lightning of his glory manifests itself/ said the Chamberlain, 'and it lifts up the reason of all souls. What benefit is there if the soul be consumed by a hundred sorrows? What benefit is there at this moment in either greatness or littleness?'

The birds, on fire with love, said: 'How can the moth save itself from the flame when it wishes to be one with the flame? The friend we seek will content us by allowing us to be united to him. If now we are refused, what is there left for us to do? We are like the moth who wished for union with the flame of the candle. They bfegged him not to sacrifice himself so foolishly and for such an impossible aim, but he thanked them for their advice and told them that since his heart was given to the flame for ever, nothing else mattered.'

Then the Chamberlain, having tested them, opened the door; and as he drew aside a hundred curtains, one after the other, a new world beyond the veil was revealed. Now was the light of lights manifested, and all of them sat down on the masnad, the seat of the Majesty and Glor}' They were given a writing which they were told to read through; and reading this, and pondering, they were able to understand their state. When they were completely at peace and detached from all things they became aware that the Simurgh was there with them, and a new life began for them in the Simurgh. All that they had done previously was washed away. The sun of majesty sent forth his rays, and in the reflection of each other's faces these thirty birds (si-murgh) of the outer world, contemplated the face of the Simurgh of the inner world. This so astonished them that they did not know if they were still themselves or if they had become the Simurgh. At last, in a state of contemplation, they realized that they were the Simurgh and that the Simurgh was the thirty birds. W'hen they gazed at the Simurgh they

saw that it was truly the Simurgh who was there, and when they turned their eyes towards themselves they saw that they themselves were the Simurgh. And perceiving both at once, themselves and Him, they realized that they and the Simurgh were one and the same being. No one in the world has ever heard of anything to equal it.

Then they gave themselves up to meditation, and after a little they asked the Simurgh, without the use of tongues, to reveal to them the secret of the mystery of the unity and plurality of beings. The Simurgh, also without speaking, made this reply: ' The sun of my majesty is a mirror. He who sees himself therein sees his soul and his body, and sees them completely. Since you have come as thirty birds, si-murgh, you will see thirty birds in this mirror. If forty or fifty were to come, it would be the same. Although you are now completely changed you see yourselves as you were before.

'Can the sight of an ant reach to the far-off Pleiades? And can this insect lift an anvil? Have you ever seen a gnat seize an elephant in its teeth? All that you have known, all that you have seen, all that you have said or heard - all this is no longer that. When you crossed the valleys of the Spiritual Way and when you performed good tasks, you did aU this by my action; and you were able to see the valleys of my essence and my perfections. You, who are only thirty birds, did well to be astonished, impatient and wondering. But I am more than thirty birds. I am the very essence of the true Simurgh. Annihilate then yourselves gloriously and joyfully in me, and in me you shall find yourselves.'

Thereupon, the birds at last lost themselves for ever in the Simurgh - the shadow was lost in the sun, and that is all.

All that you have heard or seen or known is not even the beginning of what you must know, and since the ruined habitation of this world is not your place you must renounce it. Seek the trunk of the tree, and do not worry about whether the branches do or do not exist.

(2) And now begin the dolesome notes to grow Audible unto me; now am I come There where much lamentation strikes upon me. I came into a place mute of all light, Which bellows as the sea does in a tempest, If by opposing winds 't is combated. The infernal hurricane that never rests Hurtles the spirits onward in its rapine; Whirling them round, and smiting, it molests them. When they arrive before the precipice, There are the shrieks, the plaints, and the laments, There they blaspheme the puissance divine. I understood that unto such a torment The carnal malefactors were condemned, Who reason subjugate to appetite. And as the wings of starlings bear them on In the cold season in large band and full, So doth that blast the spirits maledict; It hither, thither, downward, upward, drives them; No hope doth comfort them for evermore, Not of repose, but even of lesser pain. And as the cranes go chanting forth their lays, Making in air a long line of themselves, So saw I coming, uttering lamentations,

(22) N. Breatheth the air for his nose and for his nostrils, he receiveth a thousand geese and sixty baskets of all things good and pure; thy enemies have been struck down; they are no more

(2) As unto those who are too reverential, Speaking in presence of superiors, Who drag no living utterance to their teeth, It me befell, that without perfect sound Began I: "My necessity, Madonna, You know, and that which thereunto is good." And she to me: "Of fear and bashfulness Henceforward I will have thee strip thyself, So that thou speak no more as one who dreams. Know that the vessel which the serpent broke Was, and is not; but let him who is guilty Think that God's vengeance does not fear a sop. Without an heir shall not for ever be The Eagle that left his plumes upon the car, Whence it became a monster, then a prey; For verily I see, and hence narrate it, The stars already near to bring the time, From every hindrance safe, and every bar, Within which a Five-hundred, Ten, and Five, One sent from God, shall slay the thievish woman And that same giant who is sinning with her. And peradventure my dark utterance, Like Themis and the Sphinx, may less persuade thee, Since, in their mode, it clouds the intellect;

(1) Descending, however, to particulars, the soul of animals, the dæmon who presides over them, the air, the motion of the air, and the circulation of the heavens, variously change the viscera, conformably to the will of the Gods. But an indication that they are so changed is this, that they are frequently found without a heart, or deprived of the most principal parts, without which it is not at all possible for animals to be supplied with life. With respect to birds, likewise, the impulse of their proper soul moves them, and also the dæmon who presides over animals; and, together with these, the revolution of the air, and the power of the heavens which descends into the air, accord with the will of the Gods, and consentaneously lead the birds to what the Gods ordained from the first. Of this the greatest indication is, that birds frequently precipitate themselves to the earth, and destroy themselves, which it is not natural for any thing to do; but this is something supernatural, so that it is some other thing which produces these effects through birds.

(1) Another bird said to the Hoopoe: 'I believe that I have acquired for myself all the perfection that is possible, and I have acquired it by painful austerities. Since I have obtained here the result that I wish, it is difficult for me to set out for this place you speak of. Have you ever known anyone leave a treasure to go painfully wandering over the mountains, in the wilderness, and across the plains?'

The Hoopoe replied: 'O diabolical creature, full of conceit and self-pride! You who are sunk in egoism! You who have such an aversion to doing! You have been seduced by your imagination and you are now far from divine things. The body of desire has the upper hand of your spirit; the devil has stolen your brain. Pride has taken possession of you. The light you think you have in the Spiritual Way is only a flickering flame. Your taste for heavenly things is

imaginary. Do not let yourself be seduced by the glimmer which you see. So long as your body of desire confronts you, be aware of yourself. You must fight this enemy, sword in hand. When a false light shows itself from your body of desire you must look on it as the sting of a scorpion, for which you must use parsley. Do not despair because of the obscurity of the way which I shall show you, and because the light that you will see there will give you no pretension to be a companion of the sun. So long as you continue to live, O my dear, in the pride of life, your readings of books and your puny efforts are not worth an obol. Only when you give up this pride and vanity will you be able to leave this exterior life without regret. So long as you hold on to conceit and self-pride and the things of outer life, a hundred arrows of vexation will pierce you from every side.'

(1) Silent, alone, and without company We went, the one in front, the other after, As go the Minor Friars along their way. Upon the fable of Aesop was directed My thought, by reason of the present quarrel, Where he has spoken of the frog and mouse; For 'mo' and 'issa' are not more alike Than this one is to that, if well we couple End and beginning with a steadfast mind. And even as one thought from another springs, So afterward from that was born another, Which the first fear within me double made. Thus did I ponder: "These on our account Are laughed to scorn, with injury and scoff So great, that much I think it must annoy them. If anger be engrafted on ill-will, They will come after us more merciless Than dog upon the leveret which he seizes," I felt my hair stand all on end already With terror, and stood backwardly intent, When said I: "Master, if thou hidest not Thyself and me forthwith, of Malebranche I am in dread; we have them now behind us; I so imagine them, I already feel them."

(3) It goes on falling, and the more it grows, The more it finds the dogs becoming wolves, This maledict and misadventurous ditch. Descended then through many a hollow gulf, It finds the foxes so replete with fraud, They fear no cunning that may master them. Nor will I cease because another hears me; And well 'twill be for him, if still he mind him Of what a truthful spirit to me unravels. Thy grandson I behold, who doth become A hunter of those wolves upon the bank Of the wild stream, and terrifies them all. He sells their flesh, it being yet alive; Thereafter slaughters them like ancient beeves; Many of life, himself of praise, deprives. Blood-stained he issues from the dismal forest; He leaves it such, a thousand years from now In its primeval state 'tis not re-wooded." As at the announcement of impending ills The face of him who listens is disturbed, From whate'er side the peril seize upon him; So I beheld that other soul, which stood Turned round to listen, grow disturbed and sad, When it had gathered to itself the word.

(3) I was as one who still retains the feeling Of a forgotten vision, and endeavours In vain to bring it back into his mind, When I this invitation heard, deserving Of so much gratitude, it never fades Out of the book that chronicles the past. If at this moment sounded all the tongues That Polyhymnia and her sisters made Most lubrical with their delicious milk, To aid me, to a thousandth of the truth It would not reach, singing the holy smile And how the holy aspect it illumed. And therefore, representing Paradise, The sacred poem must perforce leap over, Even as a man who finds his way cut off; But whoso thinketh of the ponderous theme, And of the mortal shoulder laden with it, Should blame it not, if under this it tremble. It is no passage for a little boat This which goes cleaving the audacious prow, Nor for a pilot who would spare himself. "Why doth my face so much enamour thee, That to the garden fair thou turnest not, Which under the rays of Christ is blossoming?

(1) Timidly the Duck came out of the water and went up to the assembly, dressed in his finest robe, ' No one has ever spoken to a creature prettier or purer than I,' he said. 'Every hour I perform the customary ablutions, and then spread upon the water the carpet of prayer. What bird can live and move in the water as I do? In this I have a marvellous power. Among birds I am a penitent of clear sight, of clean garments; and I live in a pure element. Nothing is more profitable to me than water, for in it I find my food and have my dwelling. If troubles vex me I wash them away in water. Clear water feeds the stream wherein I live, I love not the dry earth. So, since my concern is only with water, why should I leave it? All that lives, lives by water. How shall I be able to cross the valleys and fly to the Simurgh? How can one such as I, contented with the surface of the water, have any longing to see the Simurgh?'

The Hoopoe said: 'O you whose delight is in the water which occupies your whole life! Indolently you drowse there - but a wave comes and you are swept away. Water is good only for those who have a fair countenance and a clean face. If you are such, it is well! But how long will you stay clean and pure as the water?'

(1) Another bird said to the Hoopoe: 'Tell me, you who are celebrated throughout the world, what must I do to be contented on this journey? If you tell me, my mind will be easier, and I shall be willing to be led in this enterprise. In fact, direction is necessary, so that one does not become apprehensive. Since I only wish to accept the direction of the invisible world I repel, with good reason, the false direction of earthly creatures.'

'As long as you live,' replied the Hoopoe, 'be content to remember God, and be on the watch against indiscreet talk. If you can do this the cares and sorrows of your soul will vanish. Live in God in contentment; turn like the dome of heaven for love of him. If you know of anything better, tell it, O poor bird, so that you may be happy for at least a moment.'

(1) Another bird said to the Hoopoe: 'O most eminent bird, I am the slave of a charming being who has taken possession of me and deprived me of my reason. The image of her dear face is a thief of the great Path; she has put fire to the harvest of my life, and when I am absent from her I have not a moment's peace. Since my heart is on fire with passion I do not see how I can set out on this journey. I should have to cross the valleys and go through a hundred trials. Can I be expected to forsake this beauty to travel through scorching heat and bitter cold? I am too weak to go without her; and I am but the dust on her road. Such is my state. What can Ido?'

The Hoopoe replied: 'You are attached to visible things, and are head and foot in the suffering which follows from this. Sensual love is a game. Love which is inspired by passing beauty is itself fleeting. You are always comparing a body of blood and moods to the beauty of the moon. What is uglier than a body composed of flesh and bones? True beauty is hidden. Seek it then, in the invisible world. If the veil which hides the mysteries from our eyes should fall, nothing would be left in the world. AU visible forms would be reduced to nothing.'

(2) For if it so be, that they either read, or hear read or spoken, how that men should lift up their hearts unto God, as fast they stare in the stars as if they would be above the moon, and hearken when they shall hear any angel sing out of heaven. These men will sometime with the curiosity of their imagination pierce the planets, and make an hole in the firmament to look in thereat. These men will make a God as them list, and clothe Him full richly in clothes, and set Him in a throne far more curiously than ever was He depicted in this earth. These men will make angels in bodily likeness, and set them about each one with diverse minstrelsy, far more curious than ever was any seen or heard in this life. Some of these men the devil will deceive full wonderfully. For he will send a manner of dew, angels’ food they ween it be, as it were coming out of the air, and softly and sweetly falling in their mouths; and therefore they have it in custom to sit gaping as they would catch flies. Now truly all this is but deceit, seem it never so holy; for they have in this time full empty souls of any true devotion. Much vanity and falsehood is in their hearts, caused of their curious working. Insomuch, that ofttimes the devil feigneth quaint sounds in their ears, quaint lights and shining in their eyes, and wonderful smells in their noses: and all is but falsehood. And yet ween they not so, for them think that they have ensample of Saint Martin of this upward looking and working, that saw by revelation God clad in his mantle amongst His angels, and of Saint Stephen that saw our Lord stand in heaven, and of many other; and of Christ, that ascended bodily to heaven, seen of His disciples. And therefore they say that we should have our eyes up thither. I grant well that in our bodily observance we should lift up our eyes and our hands if we be stirred in spirit. But I say that the work of our spirit shall not be direct neither upwards nor downwards, nor on one side nor on other, nor forward nor backward, as it is of a bodily thing. For why, our work should be ghostly not bodily, nor on a bodily manner wrought.

(1) Then all the birds, one after another, began to make foolish excuses. If I do not repeat them, pardon me, reader, for it would take too long. But how can such birds hope to entangle the Simurgh in their claws? So the Hoopoe continued her discourse:

'He who prefers the Simurgh to his own life must struggle bravely with himself. If your gizzard will not digest a single grain how shall you share in the feasting of the Simurgh? When you hesitate over a sip of wine how will you drink a large cup, O paladin? If you have not the energy for an atom how shall you find the treasure of the sun? If you can drown in a drop of water, how will you go from the depths of the sea to the heavenly heights? This is not a simple perfume; and neither is it a task for him who has not a clean face,' When the birds had thought this over they again spoke to the Hoopoe: 'You have taken upon yourself the task of showing us the way, you, the best and most powerful of birds. But we are feeble, with neither down nor feathers, so how shall we be able at last to reach the Sublime Simurgh? If we should arrive it would be a miracle. Tell us something

about this marvellous Being by means of a similitude, or, blind as we are, we shall understand nothing of the mystery If there were some relation between this Being and ourselves it would be much easier for us to set out. But, as we see it, he may be compared to Solomon, and we to begging ants. How can an insect in the bottom of a pit mount up to the great Simurgh? Shall royalty be the portion of the beggar?'

(15) For He who prohibited the making of a graven image, would never Himself have made an image in the likeness of holy things. Nor is there at all any composite thing, and creature endowed with sensation, of the sort in heaven. But the face is a symbol of the rational soul, and the wings are the lofty ministers and energies of powers fight and left; and the voice is delightsome glory in ceaseless contemplation. Let it suffice that the mystic interpretation has advanced so far.

(5) Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head.

(2) Someone asked a man of understanding: 'What is the world? What can it be compared to?' He replied: 'This world, which is compounded of horrors and crime, is like a palm-tree of wax, adorned with a hundred colours. If you squee2e the tree it becomes a lump of wax; therefore the colours and shapes you admire are not worth an obol. If there is unity there cannot be duality; neither "I" nor "Thou" has significance.

' But what is the use of my words, though they come from the depth of my soul, if you do not ponder over them. If you have fallen into the ocean of exterior life, like a partridge whose wings and feathers cannot support it, then never cease to think about how to reach the shore. '

(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.

(3) A holy man who had found prosperity in God gave himself up to worship and adoration for forty years. He had fled from the world, but since God was intimately united to him he was satisfied. This dervish had enclosed a plot of ground in the desert; in the middle of it was a tree, and in the tree a bird had made its nest. The song of the bird was sweet to hear for in each of its notes were a hundred secrets. The servant of God was enchanted. But God told a seer about this state of things in these words: 'Tell this Sufi I am astonished that after so many years of devotion he has ended by selling me for a bird. It is true that this bird is admirable, but its song has caught him in a snare. I have bought him, and he has sold me.'