Tabriz. The Shrine of Poets
تبریز. مزارِ شاعران
هذا المقام وهذه أسراره
رفع الحجاب وأشرقت أنواره
This be the place,
And this be its secret;
Uplifted the veil, and shone its rays
Ibn 'Arabi
Ashen, sombre strokes on sky,
Whether shreds of fog, or riven thoughts? The light
Hath snatched and outlined the fringe
Of dim clouds which
Stream so low, laden with
Some obscure misty dreams...
Yet methinks, that air grasp'd by motion strange,
Shape of clouds, colours change...
Branches wave; the dancing trees
With the winds; But suddenly
Airy mount hung o'er me...
Steep, colossal; cast a shade,
Shadow fell, resolved in haze
Dense and wavering... Melted heart from awe,
Turned in water rippling on the floor...
Flock of seagulls soar at sky,
Crying, "Holy, holy is this site!"
Sounds cut through mist, repeat,
Loud, calmly echo speak...
Vision in a trice turned night; the mount
Airy blazed, in fire gown'd -
Giant conflagration 'mid the sky;
Voice inspired suddenly recites,
"We are lords of cope of heaven,
We are loving suns forever
Reeling 'round the Beloved, we are
Lords of the poetic sky..."
Yet then the hundreds mighty Seraphim
In the whirling fire seen
Become in cloud, as if far-off,
Tongues of flame as serpents coil;
Voices by a fire rhyme
Struck, the pond El-Gölü did ignite,
"We are guards and masters of Tabriz,
We are keepers of the mysteries; This
Shrine of Poets, thou see'st,
Go, put the roses there vermeil,
And thy heart shall light a ray..."
Dissipated vision as a fume;
Silent sky and drifting moon,
Dungeon-clouds as if asleep
Slowly float... Light steps of breeze
Broke the trance-amazement, yet
Dervish young before me, clad
In jet-black shabby cowl,
Smiling said, "Take these red flowers,
Ascend, step in the Shrine, and homage make,
Then ask, don't hesitate..."
On having done, a shine abrupt
Embraced and filled my heart,
Light drunkness like the senses sing
A very joyful song of Spring...
Me: What has it been, like merry tide
My heart o'whelmed... Please do reply...
Dervish:
'Twas light and blessing in return
From high-exalted lords...
For every deed, as shout 'mid rocks
Will echo back to you, as spoke
Our poet-master Shams¹...
Me: But tell me of these lords...
Dervish:
They... all are poets from this place,
They all are lords of lofty plane.
Their ranks vary according to
Th' aspiration, knowledge, deeds; endued
Each one with gifts unique...
The loftiness of angel seen in his poetic speech,
Or art which be the same engraved poetry.
Some have a rhythm fluent as a flow,
Some charm with rapid whirling blow;
Some strong in epic, ballad style;
Some sing love melodies, enchanting rhymes, -
Romantic genii of sky...
Some have imagery unique;
Some are the masters of the riddles symbolic;
Each takes from each, but in one's own way,
Compete before the Lord all they.
Nobility, respect, and love -
Is their essential mark...
Me: Yet tell me on the poetry...
Dervish:
با لبِ دمسازِ خود گر جُفْتَمی
همچو نی، من گُفتنی ها گُفتمی
The lips of Beloved when I taste,
I talk sugar talks as a cane.
Rumi, Masnavi 1:27
The one who been
On meadow of the roses, daffodils;
Who slept on flowery scented bed
In gardens of Beloved, who heard the lays
Of lunar birds... That one is changed for evermore,
Upon the shore of fleeting sands
He dreams of this mysterious land...
What can the words and phrases to describe?
Itself they do arrange in candy-rhymes...
This ray of moon, - unsteady, frail;
This magic beam replete with strains
When wakeful heart entranced, the soul
Besotted as a moth dissolves,
Becoming shivering ray of moon...
A rhyme by rhyme run as a brook,
Words whirl in rounds, saying, "Choose
Of us whatever want,
Create through us this rhythmic world..."
What be indeed a poetry?
Creating of the Word of Power it is,
Unfolding of the living myth...
A grace; the soul of instant; gate
To yon beautific plane...
Praise be to Lord of words! If thou
Aspire'st, seek, He will bestow...
July 2018
Ibn 'Arabi, The Abode of Stars
مواقع النُجوم ومطالع أهلة الأسرار والعلوم
1 Shams-e Tabrizī, Forty Principles of Love
Translations from Arabic and Farsi
by Denis Bezmelnitsin
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