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Showing that when the Sell is strengthened by Love its gains dominion over the outward and inward forces of the universe

 

 

WHEN the Self is made strong by Love
Its power rules the whole world.
The Heavenly Sage who adorned the sky with stars 485
Plucked these buds from the bough of the Self.
Its hand becomes God's hand,
The moon is split by its fingers54-
It is the arbitrator in all the quarrels of the world.
Its command is obeyed by Darius and Jamshid. 490
I will tell thee a story of Bu Ali,55
Whose name is renowned in India,
Him who sang of the ancient rose-garden
And discoursed to us about the lovely rose:
The air of his fluttering skirt 495
Made a Paradise of this fire-born country.
His young disciple went one day to the bazaar
The wine of Bu Ali's discourse had turned his head.
The governor of the city was coming along on horseback,
His servant and staff-bearer rode beside him. 500
The forerunner shouted, "O senseless one,
Do not get in the way of the governor's escort !"
But the dervish walked on with drooping head,
Sunk in the sea of his own thoughts.
The staff-bearer, drunken with pride, 505
Broken his staff on the head of the dervish.
Who stepped painfully out of the governor's way.
Sad and sorry, with a heavy heart.
He came to Bu Ali and complained
And released the tears from his eyes. 510
Like lightning that falls on mountains,
The Sheikh poured forth a fiery torrent of speech.
He let loose from his soul a strange fire,
He gave an order to his secretary:
"Take thy pen and write a letter 515
From a dervish to a sultan!
Say, 'Thy governor has broken my servant's head;
He has cast burning coals on his own life.
Arrest this wicked governor,
Or else I will bestow thy kingdom on another. 520
The letter of the saint's who had access to God
Caused the monarch to tremble in every limb.
His body was filled with aches,
He grew as pale as the evening sun.
He sought out a handcuff for the governor 525
And entreated Bu Ali to pardon this offence.
Khusrau, the sweet-voicedeloquent poet.56
Whose harmonies how from the mind
And whose genius hath the soft brilliance of moonlight,
Was chosen to the king's ambassador. 530
When he entered Bu Ali's presence and played his lute,
His song melted the fakir's soul like glass.
One strain of Poesy bought the grace
Of a kingdom that was frim as a mountain.
Do not wound the heart of dervishes, 535
Do not throw thyself into burning fire creative

 

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