Farid ud-Din AttarTimeline (1120? - 1220?)

 

Poems by Farid ud-Din AttarBooks - Links

Farid ud-Din Attar was born in Nishapur, in north-east Iran. There is disagreement over the exact dates of his birth and death but several sources confirm that he lived about 100 years. He is traditionally said to have been killed by Mongol invaders. His tomb can be seen today in Nishapur.As a younger man, Attar went on pilgrimage to Mecca and traveled extensively throughout the region, seeking wisdom in Egypt, Damascus, India, and other areas, before finally returning to his home city of Nishapur.The name Attar means herbalist or druggist, which was his profession. It is said that he saw as many as 500 patients a day in his shop, prescribing herbal remedies which he prepared himself, and he wrote his poetry while attending to his patients.About thirty works by Attar survive, but his masterpiece is the Mantic at-Tayr (The Conference of the Birds). In this collection, he describes a group of birds (individual human souls) under the leadership of a hoopoe (spiritual master) who determine to search for the legendary Simurgh bird (God). The birds must confront their own individual limitations and fears while journeying through seven valleys before they ultimately find the Simurgh and complete their quest. The 30 birds who ultimately complete the quest discover that they themselves are the Simurgh they sought, playing on a pun in Persian (si and murgh can translate as 30 birds) while giving us an esoteric teaching on the presence of the Divine within us.Attar's poetry inspired Rumi and many other Sufi poets. It is said that Rumi actually met Attar when Attar was an old man and Rumi was a boy, though some scholars dispute this possibility.

Farid ud-Din Attar was apparently tried at one point for heresy and exiled from Nishapur, but he eventually returned to his home city and that is where he died.

A traditional story is told about Attar's death. He was taken prisoner by a Mongol during the invasion of Nishapur. Someone soon came and tried to ransom Attar with a thousand pieces of silver. Attar advised the Mongol not to sell him for that price. The Mongol, thinking to gain an even greater sum of money, refused the silver. Later, another person

came, this time offering only a sack of straw to free Attar. Attar then told the Mongol to sell him for that was all he was worth. Outraged at being made a fool, the Mongol cut off Attar's head.

Whether or not this is literally true isn't the point. This story is used to teach the mystical insight that the personal self isn't of much real worth. What is valuable is the Beloved's presence within us -- and that presence isn't threatened by the death of the body.

Poems by Farid ud-Din Attar  A slave's freedom

  The Dullard Sage

  The moths and the flame

  The Valley of the Quest

  The pilgrim sees no form but His and knows (from Bou Ali and the Old Woman)

  Invocation

  The Simurgh

  God Speaks to Moses

  God Speaks to David

  The Pupil asks; the Master answers

  The Nightingale

  A dervish in ecstasy

  How long then will you seek for beauty here?

  Look -- I do nothing; He performs all deeds

  The Hawk

  The Lover

  The peacock's excuse

  The Vain Bird

  All who, reflecting as reflected see

  I shall grasp the soul's skirt with my hand

  Looking for your own face

  Mysticism

  The angels have bowed down to you and drowned

  The Birds Find Their King

  The Eternal Mirror

A dervish in ecstasy by Farid ud-Din Attar(1120? - 1220?) Timeline

English version byAfkham Darbandi and Dick Davis

Original LanguagePersian/Farsi Muslim / Sufi

12th Century

A frenzied dervish, mad with love for God,Sought out bare hills where none had ever trod.Wild leopards kept this madman company --His heart was plunged in restless ecstasy;He lived within this state for twenty days,Dancing and singing in exultant praise:"There's no division; we two are alone --The world is happiness and grief has flown."Die to yourself -- no longer stay apart,But give to Him who asks for it your heart;The man whose happiness derives from HimEscapes existence, and the world grows dim;Rejoice for ever in the Friend, rejoiceTill you are nothing, but a praising voice.

The angels have bowed down to you and drowned by Farid ud-Din Attar(1120? - 1220?) TimelineEnglish version by Afkham Darbandi and Dick Davis

Original Language Persian/Farsi Muslim / Sufi12th Century

The angels have bowed down to you and drownedYour soul in Being, past all plummet's sound --Do not despise yourself, for there is noneWho could with you sustain comparison;Do not torment yourself -- your soul is All,Your body but a fleeting particle.This All will clarify, and in its lightEach particle will shine, distinctly bright --As flesh remains an agent of the soul,You soul's an agent of the sacred Whole.But "part" and "whole" must disappear at last;The Way is one, and number is surpassed.A hundred thousand clouds above you press;Their rain is pure, unending happiness;And when the desert blooms with flowers, their scentAnd beauty minister to your content;The prayers of all the angels, all they do,All their obedience, God bestows on you.

Commentary by Ivan M. GrangerIsn't that a striking opening couplet?

The angels have bowed down to you and drownedYour soul in Being, past all plummet's sound --

We are drowned, but in Being, in the Real. We are past sound, in a place of soundlessness. And we find ourselves dropping through great depths, measuring like a plummet weight. Perhaps we are even going beyond our ability to measure.

When we are finally confronted with the vision of Being, when the soul is "drowned" so that the Eternal utterly surrounds and fills us, we are brought to a place of utter stillness and silence. This is not so much an absence of sound as it is a pristine quietness of the awareness. You may still be conscious and coherent, but there is no vibration in the mind. It is as if the entire audience of a concert hall has fully settled down, no whispers, no coughs, no shuffling in the seats, complete silence and attention, finally ready to hear the symphony in all its subtlety and beauty.

But "part" and "whole" must disappear at last;The Way is one, and number is surpassed.The Birds Find Their King by Farid ud-Din Attar(1120? - 1220?) Timeline

English version byEdward Fitzgerald

Original LanguagePersian/Farsi Muslim / Sufi

12th Century

Once more they ventured from the Dust to raiseTheir Eyes -- up to the Throne -- into the Blaze,And in the Centre of the Glory thereBeheld the Figure of -- Themselves -- as 'twereTransfigured -- looking to Themselves, beheldThe Figure on the Throne en-miracled,Until their Eyes themselves and That betweenDid hesitate which Seer was, which Seen;They That, That They: Another, yet the Same;Dividual, yet One: from whom there cameA Voice of awful Answer, scarce discern'd,From which to Aspiration whose return'dThey scarcely knew; as when some Man apartAnswers aloud the Question in his Heart:'The Sun of my Perfection is a GlassWherein from Seeing into Being pass.'

God Speaks to Davidby Farid ud-Din Attar(1120? - 1220?) Timeline

English version byRaficq Abdulla

Original LanguagePersian/Farsi Muslim / Sufi

12th Century

David was an open vessel, the lightPoured into him. God's words took flightIn him and through him God said:'To all humankind, who are wedTo hubris and sin, I say: "If heaven and hellDid not exist to catch you and break you,Would you, though a speck of dust, tellTruth from falsehood, would your eye find trueCentre in my words? If there was nothing but darkWould you think of me, still less markYour place with the leaf of prayer? YetYou are bound to my will, your soul is setIn the direction of my breath, with hopeAnd fear which cracks the dawn of your heart,So you will worship me with all your mindWords and inclination. Make a start:Burn to ashes all that is not I, bindThe ashes to the fidelity of the wind,Extract the ore of your being,Then you shall start seeing."'

The Hawk by Farid ud-Din Attar(1120? - 1220?) Timeline

English version byRaficq Abdulla

Original LanguagePersian/Farsi Muslim / Sufi

12th Century

He was a soldier with a soldier's pride,This hawk, whose home was by a king's side.He was haughty as his master, all other birdsThought him a disaster, his beak was fearedAs much as his talons. With hooded eyes(His place on the royal roster was his prize)He stands sentinel on the king's arm, politeAnd trained meticulously to do what is rightAnd proper with courtly grace. He has no needTo see the Simurgh even in a dream, his deedsAre sufficient for him, and no journey could replaceThe royal command, royal morsel food no disgraceTo his way of thinking, he easily satisfies the king.He flies with cutting grace on sinister wingThrough valleys and upward into the sky,He has no other wish but so to live and then to die.The hoopoe says: 'You have no sense with your soldier's pride.Do you think that supping with kings, doing their willIs enough to keep you in favour, always at their side?An earthly king may be just but you must beware stillFor a king's justice is whim pretending to be good.Once there was a king who prized his slave for his beauty.His body's silver sheen fascinated the prince who wouldDress him in fine clothes so his looks alone were his duty.The king amused himself by placing on his favourite's headAn apple for a bullseye, the poor silver slave would growYellow with fear because he knew too well blood is red.His silver hue would be tarnished if the king's bowWas not true; an injured slave would his silver loseTo be discarded because the king would not be amused.'

Invocation by Farid ud-Din Attar(1120? - 1220?) TimelineEnglish version by Raficq Abdulla

Original Language Persian/Farsi Muslim / Sufi12th Century

We are busy with the luxury of things.Their number and multiple faces bringTo us confusion we call knowledge. Say:God created the world, pinned night to day,Made mountains to weigh it down, seasTo wash its face, living creatures with pleas(The ancestors of prayers) seeking a placeIn this mystery that floats in endless space.God set the earth on the back of a bull,The bull on a fish dancing on a spoolOf silver light so fine it is like air;That in turn rests on nothing thereBut nothing that nothing can share.All things are but masks at God's beck and call,They are symbols that instruct us that God is all. -- from The Conference of the Birds: The Selected Sufi Poetry of Farid ud-Din Attar, Translated by Raficq Abdulla

Commentary by Ivan M. Granger

Notice the way Attar, in this selection from the beginning of the Conference of the Birds, describes "this mystery that floats in endless space" and how it ultimately "rests on nothing there." This could just as easily be a Buddhist statement or from the Hindu nondualist tradition. Many deep mystics describe an awareness of the emptiness or ghost-like nature of the manifest world. This isn't a philosophical conceptualization, but a direct experience. There is only a seeming reality. In deep communion, the universe experienced by the senses is finally recognized as empty, void, "nothing there."

But this is not as bleak as it might at first sound. Within that nothingness (or no-thing-ness) is a radiant, formless, fullness. This is the true Reality that underlies the seeming reality of surface experience. "All things are but masks at God's beck and call, / They are symbols that instruct us that God is all." The apparently tangible reality, though ultimately recognized as being empty, is a mask; it still reveals something to us of the Reality beneath. Surface experiences can still offer hints or "symbols" of the deeper Reality that underlies and is the true Self of all existence.

When you see the mask for what it is, the illusion is broken and the game is over. The mask falls and the Face reveals itself. And what a smile awaits you!Look -- I do nothing; He performs all deeds by Farid ud-Din Attar(1120? - 1220?) Timeline

English version byAfkham Darbandi and Dick Davis

Original LanguagePersian/Farsi Muslim / Sufi

12th Century

Look -- I do nothing; He performs all deedsAnd He endures the pain when my heart bleeds.When He draws near and grants you an audienceShould you hang back in tongue-tied diffidence?When will your cautious heart consent to goBeyond the homely boundaries you know?O slave, if He should show His love to you,Love which His deeds perpetually renew,You will be nothing, you will disappear --Leave all to Him who acts, and have no fear.If there is any "you", if any wraithOf self persists, you've strayed outside our faith.

The Lover by Farid ud-Din Attar(1120? - 1220?) Timeline

English version byAfkham Darbandi and Dick Davis

Original LanguagePersian/Farsi Muslim / Sufi

12th Century

'A lover', said the hoopoe, now their guide,'Is one in whom all thoughts of self have died;Those who renounce the self deserve that name;Righteous or sinful, they are all the same!Your heart is thwarted by the self's control;Destroy its hold on you and reach your goal.Give up this hindrance, give up mortal sight,For only then can you approach the light.If you are told: "Renounce our Faith," obey!The self and Faith must both be tossed away;Blasphemers call such action blasphemy --Tell them that love exceeds mere piety.Love has no time for blasphemy or faith,Nor lovers for the self, that feeble wraith.

-- from The Conference of the Birds, Translated by Afkham Darbandi / Translated by Dick Davis

Commentary by Ivan M. Granger

Here Attar's spiritual guide, the hoopoe, tells us how to become a true lover of God, that we may successfully journey along the spiritual path.

"A lover," he tells us, "Is one in whom all thoughts of self have died." Often statements like this by spiritual teachers are interpreted as meaning that we should think of the well-being of others before our own. That can be a profound approach to life, one that awakens both compassion and lessens the stranglehold of the little self, but there is more to be understood...

The start is to challenge the small self's hold upon the awareness ("Your heart is thwarted by the self's control; / Destroy its hold on you and reach your goal."), but the end is when we see there has never been anything there to struggle against ("Give up this hindrance, give up mortal sight, / For only then can you approach the light.")

When we can truly say that "all thoughts of self have died," it is not that we work hard to control the self, it is when the very notion of a self is seen to be illusory (a "feeble wraith") and not a real or lasting thing at all.

Attar's hoopoe proclaims something even more shocking: "If you are told: 'Renounce our Faith,' obey!" For traditionalist societies, this sounds like blasphemy. How then can Attar throw the accusation back in his critics' faces by stating, "Blasphemers call such action blasphemy"?

For Attar and most deep mystics, "love exceeds mere piety." In other words, when, naked, free from self, we truly encounter Love, that is the heart of all religion. Theologies, rituals, and traditions are meant to lead us to that foundational ground, that encounter with Love. Having attained it, would you then abandon it in order to follow prescribed behaviors? Would you give up the destination for the map? Nonsense! People who do so, imagining themselves pious, are the true blasphemers.

Love simply is. And It is everywhere, encompassing all opposites. It is not concerned with the religious dualities of "blasphemy or faith," "righteous or sinful." These are human distinctions. When we carefully examine them, we discover that at a certain point in spiritual development these distinctions can reinforce the ego-self. Don't misunderstand me: They help along the way, by strengthening those essential aspects of the self required for the journey. But they too eventually become traps for the ego, allowing you to assert, "I am righteous and others are not." It becomes a form of pride, a way to reinforce the little self that blocks us from all-embracing Love.

Having shed dualities and the very notion of self, surrounded on all sides by Love, filled by Love, we can truly say we have become lovers.

Mysticism by Farid ud-Din Attar(1120? - 1220?) Timeline

English version byColeman Barks

Original LanguagePersian/Farsi Muslim / Sufi

12th Century

The sun can only be seen by the lightof the sun. The more a man or woman knows,the greater the bewilderment, the closerto the sun the more dazzled, until a pointis reached where one no longer is.

A mystic knows without knowledge, withoutintuition or information, without contemplationor description or revelation. Mysticsare not themselves. They do not existin selves. They move as they are moved,talk as words come, see with sightthat enters their eyes. I met a womanonce and asked her where love had led her."Fool, there's no destination to arrive at.Loved one and lover and love are infinite."

-- from The Hand of Poetry: Five Mystic Poets of Persia, with Lectures by Inayat Khan, Translated by Coleman Barks

Commentary by Ivan M. Granger

"The sun can only be seen by the light / of the sun." The sun here is, of course, a reference to God. But then, what does it mean to say that God can only be seen by the light of God?

One doesn't perceive God as a separate, objectified reality. There is no place 'outside' of God to stand in order to observe God as something exterior. In fact, there is no eye in the common sense that can view God.

The only way to see God is by the "light" of God. That is, instead of looking, looking everywhere, we must stop looking and notice the divine radiance already present, right here, right now. We are drawn to that radiant presence, growing closer to it until we are "dazzled" -- confounded by the scintillating wholeness that is beyond the mind's ability to conceptualize.

Entering the radiance more deeply, we are finally swallowed by it "until a point / is reached where one no longer is." "Mystics / are not themselves. They do not exist / in selves." The little self that imagines itself as a being separate from others and the world around it no longer exists in the fluid unity of this radiance that fills and connects everything.

At that point there is only the "light of the sun", only divine radiance, within and without -- everywhere! When the light is recognized as being all-pervading, nothing separate or left out, that is when the Divine is truly witnessed in wholeness and unity.

But have we gotten anywhere? No, that implies we have left one place or state of awareness and entered another, which is still a sense of separation. Instead, we have recognized the unlimited nature of Reality. And we are individual (but not separate) points of awareness within that wholeness. "There's no destination to arrive at. / Loved one and lover and love are infinite."

The Nightingale by Farid ud-Din Attar(1120? - 1220?) TimelineEnglish version by Raficq Abdulla

Original LanguagePersian/Farsi Muslim / Sufi

12th Century

The nightingale raises his head, drugged with passion,Pouring the oil of earthly love in such a fashionThat the other birds shaded with his song, grow mute.The leaping mysteries of his melodies are acute.'I know the secrets of Love, I am their piper,'He sings, 'I seek a David with broken heart to decipherTheir plaintive barbs, I inspire the yearning flute,The daemon of the plucked conversation of the lute.The roses are dissolved into fragrance by my song,Hearts are torn with its sobbing tone, broken alongThe fault lines of longing filled with desire's wrong.My music is like the sky's black ocean, I stealThe listener's reason, the world becomes the sealOf dreams for chosen lovers, where only the roseIs certain. I cannot go further, I am lame, and exposeMy anchored soul to the divine Way.My love for the rose is sufficient, I shall stayIn the vicinity of its petalled image, I needNo more, it blooms for me the rose, my seed.The hoopoe replies: 'You love the rose without thought.Nightingale, your foolish song is caughtBy the rose's thorns, it is a passing thing.Velvet petal, perfume's repose bringYou pleasure, yes, but sorrow tooFor the rose's beauty is shallow: fewEscape winter's frost. To seek the WayRelease yourself from this love that lasts a day.The bud nurtures its own demise as day nurtures night.Groom yourself, pluck the deadly rose from your sight.

from The Conference of the Birds: The Selected Sufi Poetry of Farid ud-Din Attar, Translated by Raficq Abdulla

Commentary by Ivan M. Granger

Throughout the Middle East and India the nightingale is associated with lovers and with longing. The bird's song is plaintive, longing, yet beautifully entrancing. And it sings at

twilight, the meeting time of secret lovers. Yet, like the Mediterranean tradition of Eros, the nightingale can symbolize both mundane romantic desire and also the sacred yearning of the soul for the Divine Beloved.

In Attar's masterpiece, The Conference of the Birds, each bird represents a soul or soul-quality that aspires to journey toward God (the Simurgh), yet the birds must overcome their weaknesses and limitations. Here, the nightingale, longing, is at first so attached to worldly beauty and love that it hesitates, saying, "I cannot go further, I am lame, and expose / My anchored soul to the divine Way. / My love for the rose is sufficient, I shall stay..." The purity of its longing, even for worldly experiences of beauty, has granted it a sort of limited mystical realization, and it is on the verge giving up its quest for deeper realization.

But the hoopoe (the spiritual guide) chides the nightingale, saying that such worldly attraction "is a passing thing," that it brings "pleasure, yes, but sorrow too / For the rose's beauty is shallow... To seek the Way / Release yourself from this love that lasts a day." Attar (through the words of the hoopoe) is reminding us to not become attached to outer forms, to not fall in love with "shallow" experiences of beauty. Instead, one must seek the eternal source of beauty, not its shifting surface shimmerings.

The pilgrim sees no form but His and knows (from Bou Ali and the Old Woman)by Farid ud-Din Attar

(1120? - 1220?) TimelineEnglish version by Afkham Darbandi and Dick DavisOriginal Language Persian/Farsi Muslim / Sufi12th CenturyThe pilgrim sees no form but His and knowsThat He subsists beneath all passing shows --The pilgrim comes from Him whom he can see,Lives in Him, with Him, and beyond all three.Be lost in Unity's inclusive span,Or you are human but not yet a man.Whoever lives, the wicked and the blessed,Contains a hidden sun within his breast --Its light must dawn though dogged by long delay;The clouds that veil it must be torn away --Whoever reaches to his hidden sunSurpasses good and bad and knows the One.The good and bad are here while you are here;Surpass yourself and they will disappear. -- from The Conference of the Birds, Translated by Afkham Darbandi / Translated by Dick DavisThe Simurgh by Farid ud-Din Attar(1120? - 1220?) TimelineEnglish version by Raficq Abdulla

Original LanguagePersian/Farsi Muslim / Sufi12th Century

Ah, the Simurgh, who is this wondrous beingWho, one fated night, when time stood still,Flew over China, not a single soul seeing?A feather fell from this King, his beauty and his will,And all hearts touched by it were in tumult thrown.Everyone who could, traced from it a liminal form;All who saw the still glowing lines were blownBy longing like trees on a shore bent by storm.The feather is lodged in China's sacred places,Hence the Prophet's exhortation for knowledge to seekEven unto China where the feather's shadow gracesAll who shelter under it -- to know of this is not to speak.But unless the feather's image is felt and seenNone knows the heart's obscure, shifting statesThat replace the fat of inaction with decision's lean.His grace enters the world and molds our fatesThough without the limit of form or definite shape,For all definitions are frozen contradictions not fitFor knowing; therefore, if you wish to travel on the Way,Set out on it now to find the Simurgh, don't prattle and sitOn your haunches till into stiffening death you stray.All the birds who were by this agitation shook,Aspired to a meeting place to prepare for the Shah,To release in themselves the revelations of the Book;They yearned so deeply for Him who is both near and far,They were drawn to this sun and burned to an ember;But the road was long and perilous that was open to offer.Hooked by terror, though each was asked to rememberThe truth, each an excuse to stay behind was keen to proffer.

-- from The Conference of the Birds: The Selected Sufi Poetry of Farid ud-Din Attar, Translated by Raficq Abdulla

Commentary by Ivan M. Granger

In this spiritual allegory of the Conference of the Birds, Attar tells the story a group of birds (individual human souls) under the leadership of a hoopoe bird (spiritual master)

who determine to search for the legendary Simurgh (God). The birds must confront their own individual limitations and fears while journeying through seven valleys before they ultimately find the Simurgh and complete their quest.

In this excerpt the birds are determined "To release in themselves the revelations of the Book." It is not enough to memorize or recite or intellectually comprehend sacred scriptures and traditions. Theological debate and mental curiosity won't get you there: "...don't prattle and sit / On your haunches till into stiffening death you stray." Books, even the most sacred books, won't get you there. They are maps, but you must actually make the journey to truly understand.

Here Attar urges us to "replace the fat of inaction with decision's lean," to forge a sacred determination to seek direct experience of the Divine and to not be content with passive descriptions.

But the soul quickly grows fearful of the journey, for it leads to distant, unknown lands (symbolized by China). And the individual identity doesn't know what to expect when it completely merges with the Divine in that blazing union -- "They were drawn to this sun and burned to an ember."

Finally, the soul has to muster its determination any way it can, by joining a "conference" of like-minded seekers, by trusting the guidance of one who has made the journey already (the hoopoe), and through sheer stubborn will power. For, ultimately, the soul has no choice: it must make the journey, whether slowly or swiftly, courageously or cowardly. It is the nature of the soul to seek its eternal home. It is the nature of each bird to seek "this wondrous being," the Simurgh.

So... are you all packed?

All who, reflecting as reflected see by Farid ud-Din Attar(1120? - 1220?) Timeline

English version by

Edward Fitzgerald

Original LanguagePersian/Farsi Muslim / Sufi

12th Century

All who, reflecting as reflected seeThemselves in Me, and Me in them; not Me,But all of Me that of contracted EyeIs comprehensive of Infinity;Nor yet Themselves: no Selves, but of The AllFractions, from which they split and wither fall.As Water lifted from the Deep, againFalls back in individual Drops of Rain,Then melts into the Universal Main.All you have been, and seen, and done, and thought,Not You but I, have seen and been and wrought:I was the Sin that from Myself rebell'd;I the Remorse that tow'rd Myself compell'd;I was the Tajidar who led the Track;I was the little Briar that pull'd you back:Sin and Contrition -- Retribution owed,And cancell'd -- Pilgrim, Pilgrimage, and Road,Was but Myself toward Myself; and YourArrival but Myself at my own Door; Who in your Fraction of Myself behold Myself within the Mirror Myself hold To see Myself in, and each part of Me That sees himself, though drown'd, shall ever see. Come you lost Atoms to your Centre draw, And be the Eternal Mirror that you saw: Rays that have wander'd into Darkness wide Return, and back into your Sun subside.'

A slave's freedom by Farid ud-Din Attar(1120? - 1220?) Timeline

English version by

Afkham Darbandi and Dick DavisOriginal LanguagePersian/Farsi Muslim / Sufi12th Century

Loghman of Sarrakhs cried: "Dear God, beholdYour faithful servant, poor, bewildered, old--An old slave is permitted to go free;I've spent my life in patient loyalty,I'm bent with grief, my black hair's turned to snow;Grant manumission, Lord, and let me go."A voice replied: "When you have gained releasefrom mind and thought, your slavery will cease;You will be free when these two disappear."He said: "Lord, it is You whom I revere;What are the mind and all its ways to me?"And left them there and then -- in ecstasyHe danced and clapped his hands and boldly cried:"Who am I now? The slave I was has died;What's freedom, servitude, and where are they?Both happiness and grief have fled away;I neither own nor lack all qualities;My blindness looks on secret mysteries --I know not whether You are I, I You;I lose myself in You, there is no two."

The Eternal Mirror by Farid ud-Din Attar(1120? - 1220?) Timeline English version byEdward Fitzgerald Original LanguagePersian/Farsi Muslim / Sufi 12th Century

Not You but I, have seen and been and wrought. . . .Who in your Fraction of Myself beholdMyself within the Mirror Myself holdTo see Myself in, and each part of MeThat sees himself, though drown'd, shall ever see.Come you lost Atoms to your Centre draw,And be the Eternal Mirror that you saw:Rays that have wander'd into Darkness wideReturn, and back into your Sun subsiGod Speaks to Moses by Farid ud-Din Attar(1120? - 1220?) TimelineEnglish version by Raficq AbdullaOriginal Language Persian/Farsi Muslim / Sufi

12th Century

One day God spoke to Moses and said:'Visit Satan, question him, use your head.'So Moses descended to Hell's burning halls;Satan saw him coming, a smile did he installOn his fiery face. Moses proudly asked himFor advice, waiting for Satan's crafty whim;Satan spoke through his coal-black teeth:'Remember this rule which sense bequeathsNever say "I" so that you become like me.'So long as you live for yourself you'll beA drum booming pride a cymbal of infidelity.Vanity, resentment, envy and anger shall be cementedInto your inner state; you shall be like a dementedDog with lolling tongue, infected with indolence of sin.You shall become your own tracked prisoner within.

How long then will you seek for beauty here? by Farid ud-Din Attar(1120? - 1220?) TimelineEnglish version by Afkham Darbandi and Dick Davis

Original LanguagePersian/Farsi Muslim / Sufi12th Century

How long then will you seek for beauty here?Seek the unseen, and beauty will appear.When the last veil is lifted neither menNor all their glory will be seen again,The universe will fade -- this mighty showIn all its majesty and pomp will go,And those who loved appearances will proveEach other's enemies and forfeit love,While those who loved the absent, unseen FriendWill enter that pure love which knows no end.

I shall grasp the soul's skirt with my handby Farid ud-Din Attar(1120? - 1220?) TimelineEnglish version by Bernard LewisOriginal Language Persian/Farsi Muslim / Sufi

12th Century

I shall grasp the soul's skirt with my handand stamp on the world's head with my foot.I shall trample Matter and Space with my horse,beyond all Being I shall utter a great shout,and in that moment when I shall be alone with Him,I shall whisper secrets to all mankind.Since I shall have neither sign nor nameI shall speak only of things unnamed and without sign.Do not delude yourself that from a burned heartI will discourse with palette and tongue.The body is impure, I shall cast it awayand utter these pure words with soul alone.

Looking for your own face by Farid ud-Din Attar(1120? - 1220?) TimelineEnglish version by Coleman BarksOriginal LanguagePersian/Farsi Muslim / Sufi

12th Century

Your face is neither infinite nor ephemeral.You can never see your own face,only a reflection, not the face itself.

So you sigh in front of mirrorsand cloud the surface.

It's better to keep your breath cold.Hold it, like a diver does in the ocean.One slight movement, the mirror-image goes.

Don't be dead or asleep or awake.Don't be anything.

What you most want,what you travel around wishing to find,lose yourself as lovers lose themselves,and you'll be that.The moths and the flame by Farid ud-Din Attar(1120? - 1220?) TimelineEnglish version byAfkham Darbandi and Dick Davis Original Language

Persian/Farsi Muslim / Sufi

12th Century

Moths gathered in a fluttering throng one nightTo learn the truth about the candle light,And they decided one of them should goTo gather news of the elusive glow.One flew till in the distance he discernedA palace window where a candle burned --And went no nearer: back again he flewTo tell the others what he thought he knew.The mentor of the moths dismissed his claim,Remarking: "He knows nothing of the flame."A moth more eager than the one beforeSet out and passed beyond the palace door.He hovered in the aura of the fire,A trembling blur of timorous desire,Then headed back to say how far he'd been,And how much he had undergone and seen.The mentor said: "You do not bear the signsOf one who's fathomed how the candle shines."Another moth flew out -- his dizzy flightTurned to an ardent wooing of the light;He dipped and soared, and in his frenzied tranceBoth self and fire were mingled by his dance --The flame engulfed his wing-tips, body, head,His being glowed a fierce translucent red;And when the mentor saw that sudden blaze,The moth's form lost within the glowing rays,He said: "He knows, he knows the truth we seek,That hidden truth of which we cannot speak."To go beyond all knowledge is to findThat comprehension which eludes the mind,And you can never gain the longed-for goalUntil you first outsoar both flesh and soul;But should one part remain, a single hairWill drag you back and plunge you in despair --No creature's self can be admitted here,Where all identity must disappear.

The peacock's excuse by Farid ud-Din Attar(1120? - 1220?) TimelineEnglish version byAfkham Darbandi and Dick Davis

Original LanguagePersian/Farsi Muslim / Sufi

12th Century

Next came the peacock, splendidly arrayedIn many-coloured pomp; this he displayedAs if he were some proud, self-conscious brideTurning with haughty looks from side to side.'The Painter of the world created me,'He shrieked, 'but this celestial wealth you seeShould not excite your hearts to jealousy.I was a dweller once in paradise;There the insinuating snake's adviceDeceived me -- I became his friend, disgraceWas swift and I was banished from that place.My dearest hope is that some blessed dayA guide will come to indicate the wayBack to my paradise. The king you praiseIs too unknown a goal; my inward gazeIs fixed for ever on that lovely land --There is the goal which I can understand.How could I seek the Simorgh out when IRemember paradise?' And in replyThe hoopoe said: 'These thoughts have made you strayFurther and further from the proper Way;You think your monarch's palace of more worthThan Him who fashioned it and all the earth.The home we seek is in eternity;The Truth we seek is like a shoreless sea,Of which your paradise is but a drop.This ocean can be yours; why should you stopBeguiled by dreams of evanescent dew?The secrets of the sun are yours, but youContent yourself with motes trapped in its beams.Turn to what truly lives, reject what seems --Which matters more, the body or the soul?Be whole: desire and journey to the Whole.

The Pupil asks; the Master answers by Farid ud-Din Attar(1120? - 1220?) Timeline English version by Raficq AbdullaOriginal Language Persian/Farsi Muslim / Sufi12th Century

'Why was Adam driven from the garden?'The pupil asked his master. 'His heart was hardenedWith images, a hundred bonds that clutter the earthChained Adam to the cycle of death following birth.He was blind to this equation, living for something otherThan God and so out of paradise he was drivenWith his mortal body's cover his soul was shriven.Noblest of God's creatures, Adam fell with blame,Like a moth shrivelled by the candle's flame,Into history which taught mankind shame.Since Adam had not given up his heartTo God's attachment, there was no partFor Adam in paradise where the only friendIs God; His will is not for Adam to imagine and bend.'

The Vain Bird by Farid ud-Din Attar(1120? - 1220?) TimelineEnglish version by Raficq AbdullaOriginal Language Persian/Farsi Muslim / Sufi12th Century

'You see I am vanity personified,Iblis watches over me night and dayThus I'm prescribed by him without a guide.I am torn self from self, I can't find the Way.I'm a finger of the Devil's pride.I cannot resist, I am the Devil tried.'The hoopoe hears the sixth bird outand says: 'You're meat for the dog of desire.The Devil's fool you are, no matter how you shoutYour avowals to start again. The devil you acquiresWith vain conceits that steadily eat your soulAs worms quilt the body's fodder which is your end.Unless you realize in heart and mind that as you areYou're the Devil's coal ready to burn to ash. No friendIs he who seems to satisfy your whims, you're farFrom the Way you wish to travel or so you say;Reject the world's blandishments that spin you astray.'

The Valley of the Quest by Farid ud-Din Attar(1120? - 1220?) Timeline

English version by

Afkham Darbandi and Dick Davis

Original LanguagePersian/Farsi Muslim / Sufi

12th Century

When you begin the Valley of the QuestMisfortunes will deprive you of all rest,Each moment some new trouble terrifies,And parrots there are panic-stricken flies.There years must vanish while you strive and grieve;There is the heart of all you will achieve --Renounce the world, your power and all you own,And in your heart's blood journey on alone.When once your hands are empty, then your heartMust purify itself and move apartFrom everything that is -- when this is done,The Lord's light blazes brighter than the sun,Your heart is bathed in splendour and the questExpands a thousandfold within your breast.Though fire flares up across the path, and thoughA hundred monsters peer out from its glow,The pilgrim driven on by his desireWill like a moth rush gladly on the fire.When love inspires his heart he begs for win,One drop to be vouchsafed him as a sign --And when he drinks this drop both worlds are gone;Dry-lipped he founders in oblivion.His zeal to know faith's mysteries will makeHim fight with dragons for salvation's sake --Though blasphemy and curses crowd the gate,Until it opens he will calmly wait,And then where is this faith? this blasphemy?Both vanish into strenghless vacancy.