English
Tale 18: The Dervish Who Held No Attachment
A robed dervish traveled with us in the caravan to Hejaz. One of the Arab chiefs had given him a hundred gold coins to buy an animal for sacrifice. Suddenly the bandits of Khafajeh struck the caravan and stripped it clean. The merchants broke into weeping and wailing, crying out in vain.
Whether you beg or whether you scream,
the thief will not hand your gold back.
Only that pious dervish stayed just as he was, untroubled. I said, 'Didn't the thieves take what was yours too?' He replied, 'Yes, they took it, but I had no such bond with it that parting would wound my heart.'
You shouldn't tie your heart to any thing or person,
for pulling your heart free again is hard work.
I said, 'What you say fits my own case. In my youth I once shared a close friendship with a young man, a true and sincere love, to the point that his beauty was the focus of my eyes and being with him was the whole profit of my life.'
Only the angels in heaven, if not, then no human being
with beauty like his will ever walk this earth.
I swear by that friend: after him all company is forbidden to me,
for no seed will ever bring forth a man like him.
Suddenly the foot of his life sank into the mud of death, and the smoke of separation rose from his household. For days I sat keeping watch over his grave, and among the things I said in my grief for him were these:
I wish that on the day death's thorn pierced your foot,
the hand of the world had struck the sword of ruin over my head,
so that on this day my eyes would never have seen the world without you.
Here I am at your graveside, with dust heaped on my head.
He who could find no rest and no sleep
until roses and jasmine were first scattered for him,
the turning of the world scattered the rose of his own face,
and thornbushes sprang up over his grave.
After parting from him I made a firm decision and a settled resolve: to fold up the carpet of desire for the rest of my life and to keep away from all company.
The gain from the sea would be fine, if not for the dread of its waves;
the company of the rose would be sweet, if not for the worry of the thorn.
Last night I preened like a peacock in the garden of union;
today I writhe like a snake in the pain of parting from my love.