To the effect that Plato, whose thought has deeply influenced the mysticism and literature of Islam, followed the sheep's doctrine, and that we must be on our guard against his theories
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PLATO, the prime ascetic and sage. | |
Was one of that ancient flock of sheep. | |
His Pegasus went astray in the darkness of idealism | |
And dropped its shoe amidst the rocks of actuality. | |
He was so fascinated by the invisible | 635 |
That he made hand, eye, and ear of no account. | |
"To die," said he, "is the secret of Life: | |
The candle is glorified by being put out." | |
He dominates our thinking, | |
His cup sends us to sleep and takes the sensible world away from us. | 640 |
He is a sheep in man's clothing, | |
The soul of the Sufi bows to his authority. | |
He soared with his intellect to the highest heaven | |
And called the world of phenomena a myth. | |
'Twas his -work to dissolve the structure of Life' | 645 |
And cut the bough of Life's fair tree asunder. | |
The thought of Plato regarded loss as profit, | |
His philosophy declared that being is not-being. | |
He natures drowsed and created a dream | |
His mind's eye created a mirage. | 650 |
Since he was without any taste for action, | |
His soul was enraptured by the nonexistent. | |
He disbelieved in the material universe | |
And became the creator of invisible Ideas. | |
Sweet is the world of phenomena to be living spirit, | 655 |
Dear is the world of Ideas to the dead spirit: | |
Its gazelles have no grave of movement, | |
Its partridges are denied the pleasure of walking daintily. | |
Its dewdrops are unable to quiver, | |
Its birds have no breath in their breasts, | 660 |
Its seed does not desire to grow, | |
Its moths do not know how to flutter. | |
Our recluse had no remedy but flight: | |
He could not endure the noise of this world. | |
He set his heart on the glow of a quenched flame | 665 |
And depicted a word steeped in opium. | |
He spread his wings towards the sky | |
And never came down to his nest again. | |
His fantasy is sunk in the jar of heaven: | |
I know not whether it is the dregs or brick of the wine-jar.60 | 670 |
The peoples were poisoned by his intoxication: | |
He slumbered and took no delight in deeds. |