Ch 02 The Morals Of Dervishes Story 34
A man, professing to be a hermit in the desert of Syria, attended for years to his devotions and subsisted on the leaves of trees. A padshah, who had gone in that direction by way of pilgrimage, approached him and said: ‘If thou thinkest proper, we shall prepare a place for thee in the town where thou wilt enjoy leisure for thy devotions and others may profit by thy spiritual advice as well as imitate thy good works.’ The hermit refused compliance but the pillars of the State were of opinion that, in order to please the king, he ought to spend a few days in town to ascertain the state of the place; so that if he feared that the purity of his precious time might become turbid by association with strangers, he would still have the option to refuse compliance. It is related that the hermit entered the town where a private garden-house of the king, which was a heart-expanding and soul refreshing locality, had been prepared to receive him.
Its red roses were like the cheeks of belles,
Its hyacinths like the ringlets of mistresses
Protected from the inclemency of mid-winter
Like sucklings who have not yet tasted the nurse’s milk.
And branches with pomegranates upon them:
Fire suspended from the green-trees.
The king immediately sent him a beautiful slave-girl:
After beholding this hermit-deceiving crescent-moon
Of the form of an angel and the beauty of a peacock,
After seeing her it would be impossible
To an anchorite’s nature to remain patient.
After her he sent likewise a slave-boy of wonderful beauty and graceful placidity:
People around him are dying with thirst
And he, who looks like a cupbearer, gives no drink.
The sight cannot be satisfied by seeing him
Like the dropsical man near the Euphrates.
The hermit began to eat delicious food, to wear nice clothes, to enjoy fruit and perfumed confectionery as well as to contemplate the beauty of the slave-boy and girl in conformity with the maxim of wise men, who have said that the curls of belles are fetters to the feet of the intellect and a snare to a sagacious bird.
In thy service I lost my heart and religion with all my learning,
I am indeed the sagacious bird and thou the snare.
In short, the happiness of his former time of contentedness had come to an end, as the saying is:
Any faqih, pir and murid
Or pure minded orator,
Descending into the base world,
Sticks in the honey like a fly.
Once the king desired to visit him but saw the hermit changed from his former state, as he had become red, white and corpulent. When the king entered, he beheld him reclining on a couch of gold brocade whilst the boy and the fairy stood near his head with a fan of peacocks’ feathers. He expressed pleasure to behold the hermit in so comfortable a position, conversed with him on many topics and said at the conclusion of the visit: ‘I am afraid of these two classes of men in the world: scholars and hermits.’ The vezier, who was a philosopher and experienced in the affairs of the world, being present, said: ‘O king, the conditions of friendship require thee to do good to both classes. Bestow gold upon scholars that they may read more but give nothing to hermits that they may remain hermits.’
A hermit requires neither dirhems nor dinars.
If he takes any, find another hermit.
Who has a good behaviour and a secret with God
Is an anchorite without the waqfbread or begged morsel.
With a handsome figure and heart-ravishing ear-tip
A girl is a belle without turquoise-ring or pendants.
A dervish of good behaviour and of happy disposition
Requires not the bread of the rebat nor the begged morsel.
A lady endowed with a beauteous form and chaste face
Requires no paint, adornment or turquoise-ring.
When I have and covet more
It will not be proper to call me an anchorite.
Related quotes
The Two Hermits
Upon a lonely mountain, there lived two hermits who worshipped God
and loved one another.
Now these two hermits had one earthen bowl, and this was their only
possession.
One day an evil spirit entered into the heart of the older hermit
and he came to the younger and said, 'It is long that we have
lived together. The time has come for us to part. Let us divide
our possessions.'
Then the younger hermit was saddened and he said, 'It grieves
me, Brother, that thou shouldst leave me. But if thou must needs
go, so be it,' and he brought the earthen bowl and gave it to him
saying, 'We cannot divide it, Brother, let it be thine.'
Then the older hermit said, 'Charity I will not accept. I will
take nothing but mine own. It must be divided.'
And the younger one said, 'If the bowl be broken, of what use would
it be to thee or to me? If it be thy pleasure let us rather cast
a lot.'
But the older hermit said again, 'I will have but justice and mine
own, and I will not trust justice and mine own to vain chance. The
bowl must be divided.'
Then the younger hermit could reason no further and he said, 'If
it be indeed thy will, and if even so thou wouldst have it let us
now break the bowl.'
But the face of the older hermit grew exceedingly dark, and he
cried, 'O thou cursed coward, thou wouldst not fight.'
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Chemin De Fer
Alone on the railroad track
I walked with pounding heart.
The ties were too close together
or maybe too far apart.
The scenery was impoverished:
scrub-pine and oak; beyond
its mingled gray-green foliage
I saw the little pond
where the dirty old hermit lives,
lie like an old tear
holding onto its injuries
lucidly year after year.
The hermit shot off his shot-gun
and the tree by his cabin shook.
Over the pond went a ripple
The pet hen went chook-chook.
"Love should be put into action!"
screamed the old hermit.
Across the pond an echo
tried and tried to confirm it.
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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Ch 01 Manner of Kings Story 13
I heard a king, who had changed night into day by pleasures, saying in his drunkenness:
"We have in the world no moment more delightful than this,
Because I care neither for good nor for bad nor for anyone."
A naked dervish, who was sleeping outside in the cold, then said:
'O thou like whom in happiness there is no one in the world,
I take it if thou carest not, we also do not care."
The king, being pleased with these words of unconcern, held out a bag of a thousand dinars from the window and said: "Dervish, spread out thy skirt." He replied: "Whence can I, who have no robe, bring a skirt?" The padshah took pity on his helpless condition, added a robe to his gift and sent it out to him but the dervish squandered the money in a short time and returned.
Property cannot abide in the hands of the free,
Neither patience in the heart of a lover nor water in a sieve.
The case of the dervish having been brought to the notice of the king when he was not in good humour, he became angry and turned his face away. Therefore it has been said that intelligent and experienced men ought to be on their guard against the violence and despotism of kings because their thoughts are generally occupied with important affairs of state so that they cannot bear to be importuned by the crowd of vulgar persons.
He will be excluded from the beneficence of the padshah
Who cannot watch for the proper opportunity.
Before thou seest the occasion for speaking at hand
Destroy not thy power by heedless talk.
The king said: "Drive away this impudent and prodigal mendicant who has in so short a time thrown away so much money. He does not know that the Beit-ulmal is intended to offer a morsel to the needy and not to feed the brothers of devils."
The fool who burns by day a camphor-light
Will soon not have an oil-lamp for the night.
One of councillor-veziers said: "My lord, it would seem proper to grant to such persons a sufficient allowance to be drawn from time to time so that they may not squander it. But anger and repulsion, as manifested by thee, are unworthy of a generous disposition as also to encourage a man by kindness and then again to distress him by disappointing his expectation."
The door ought not to be opened to applicants so
That, when it is ajar, it may not be shut again.
Nobody sees the thirsty pilgrims to Hejaz
Crowding at the bank of briny water.
Wherever a sweet spring happens to be
Men, birds and insects flock around it.
The Hermit
AN ATTACK ON BARBERCRAFT
[Dedicated to George Cecil Jones]
At last an end of all I hoped and feared!
Muttered the hermit through his elfin beard.
Then what art thou? the evil whisper whirred.
I doubt me soerly if the hermit heard.
To all God's questions never a word he said,
But simply shook his venerable head.
God sent all plagues; he laughed and heeded not,
Till people certified him insane.
But somehow all his fellow-luntaics
Began to imitate his silly ticks.
And stranger still, their prospects so enlarged
That one by one the patients were discharged.
God asked him by what right he interfered;
He only laughed and into his elfin beard.
When God revealed Himself to mortal prayer
He gave a fatal opening to Voltaire.
Our Hermi had dispensed with Sinai's thunder,
But on the other hand he made no blunder;
He knew ( no doubt) that any axiom
Would furnish bricks to build some Donkeydom.
But!-all who urged that hermit to confess
Caught the infection of his happiness.
I would it were my fate to dree his weird;
I think that I will grow an elfin beard.
poem by Aleister Crowley
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Ch 02 The Morals Of Dervishes Story 35
In conformity with the above sentiments an affair of importance emerged to a padshah, who thereon vowed that, if it terminated according to his wishes, he would present devotees with a certain sum of money. His wish having been fulfilled, it became necessary to keep his promise. Accordingly he gave a purse of dirhems to one of his confidential servants to distribute it among recluses. It is related that the slave was intelligent and shrewd. He walked about all day and returning at nightfall, kissed the dirhems and deposited them before the king with the remark that he had not found any devotees. The king rejoined: ‘What nonsense is this? As far as I know there are four hundred devotees in this town. He said: ‘Lord of the world, who is a devotee does not accept money and who accepts it is not a devotee.’ The king smiled and said to his courtiers: ‘Despite of my wishing to do good to this class of worshippers of God, this rogue bears them emnity and thwarts my wish but truth is on his side.’
If a devotee has taken dirhems and dinars
Find another who is more a devotee than he.
The Hermit Crab
The hermit crabs life is all but exciting live all alone
and in the sahdows in the bottom of the teary sea
feelings no comfort and no love this crab is all alone
no friends and allways hurting everyone
he use to have friends till the day he found him self this shell of dark sleeping alone
and being alone this crab used that bad to fell worse
we the other crabs of life the ones that live a full happy life
need to find him/her and bring this hermit out of it's shell
show to the hermit that talking isn't all bad
but being alone is talk about your problems dont hide in a shell
The Hermit of Thebaid
O strong, upwelling prayers of faith,
From inmost founts of life ye start,-
The spirit's pulse, the vital breath
Of soul and heart!
From pastoral toil, from traffic's din,
Alone, in crowds, at home, abroad,
Unheard of man, ye enter in
The ear of God.
Ye brook no forced and measured tasks,
Nor weary rote, nor formal chains;
The simple heart, that freely asks
In love, obtains.
For man the living temple is
The mercy-seat and cherubim,
And all the holy mysteries,
He bears with him.
And most avails the prayer of love,
Which, wordless, shapes itself in needs,
And wearies Heaven for naught above
Our common needs.
Which brings to God's all-perfect will
That trust of His undoubting child
Whereby all seeming good and ill
Are reconciled.
And, seeking not for special signs
Of favor, is content to fall
Within the providence which shines
And rains on all.
Alone, the Thebaid hermit leaned
At noontime o'er the sacred word.
Was it an angel or a fiend
Whose voice be heard?
It broke the desert's hush of awe,
A human utterance, sweet and mild;
And, looking up, the hermit saw
A little child.
A child, with wonder-widened eyes,
O'erawed and troubled by the sight
Of hot, red sands, and brazen skies,
And anchorite.
''What dost thou here, poor man? No shade
Of cool, green palms, nor grass, nor well,
Nor corn, nor vines.' The hermit said
'With God I dwell.
'Alone with Him in this great calm,
I live not by the outward sense;
My Nile his love, my sheltering palm
His providence.'
The child gazed round him. 'Does God live
Here only?-where the desert's rim
Is green with corn, at morn and eve,
We pray to Him.
'My brother tills beside the Nile
His little field; beneath the leaves
My sisters sit and spin, the while
My mother weaves.
'And when the millet's ripe heads fall,
And all the bean-field hangs in pod,
My mother smiles, and, says that all
Are gifts from God.'
Adown the hermit's wasted cheeks
Glistened the flow of human tears;
'Dear Lord!' he said, 'Thy angel speaks,
Thy servant hears.'
Within his arms the child he took,
And thought of home and life with men;
And all his pilgrim feet forsook
Returned again.
The palmy shadows cool and long,
The eyes that smiled through lavish locks,
Home's cradle-hymn and harvest-song,
And bleat of flocks.
'O child!' he said, 'thou teachest me
There is no place where God is not;
That love will make, where'er it be,
A holy spot.'
He rose from off the desert sand,
And, leaning on his staff of thorn,
Went with the young child hand in hand,
Like night with morn.
They crossed the desert's burning line,
And heard the palm-tree's rustling fan,
The Nile-bird's cry, the low of kine,
And voice of man.
Unquestioning, his childish guide
He followed, as the small hand led
To where a woman, gentle-eyed,
Her distaff fed.
She rose, she clasped her truant boy,
She thanked the stranger with her eyes;
The hermit gazed in doubt and joy
And dumb surprise.
And to!-with sudden warmth and light
A tender memory thrilled his frame;
New-born, the world-lost anchorite
A man became.
'O sister of El Zara's race,
Behold me!-had we not one mother?'
She gazed into the stranger's face
'Thou art my brother!'
'And when to share our evening meal,
She calls the stranger at the door,
She says God fills the hands that deal
Food to the poor.'
'O kin of blood! Thy life of use
And patient trust is more than mine;
And wiser than the gray recluse
This child of thine.
'For, taught of him whom God hath sent,
That toil is praise, and love is prayer,
I come, life's cares and pains content
With thee to share.'
Even as his foot the threshold crossed,
The hermit's better life began;
Its holiest saint the Thebaid lost,
And found a man!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Ch 01 Manner of Kings Story 28
A solitary dervish was sitting in a corner of the desert when a padshah happened to pass by but, ease having made him independent, he took no notice. The sultan, in conformity with his royal dignity, became angry and said: "This tribe of rag-wearers resembles beasts."’ The vezier said: "The padshah of the surface of the earth has passed near thee. Why hast thou not paid homage and shown good manners?" He replied: "Tell the king to look for homage from a man who expects benefits from him and also that kings exist for protecting subjects and subjects not for obeying kings."
The padshah is the guardian of the dervish
Although wealth is in the glory of his reign.
The sheep is not for the shepherd
But the shepherd for the service of it.
Today thou beholdest one man prosperous
And another whose heart is wounded by struggling.
Wait a few days till the earth consumes
The brain in the head of the visionary.
Distinction between king and slave has ceased
When the decree of fate overtakes them.
If a man were to open the tombs of the dead
He would not distinguish a rich from a poor man.
The king, who was pleased with the sentiments of the dervish, asked him to make a request but he answered that the only one he had to make was to be left alone. The king then asked for advice and the dervish said:
"Understand now while wealth is in thy hand
That fortune and kingdom will leave thy hand."
Ch 02 The Morals Of Dervishes Story 33
A padshah asked a hermit: ‘How spendest thou thy precious time?’ He replied: ‘I am all night engaged in prayer, during the morning in supplications and the rest of the day in restricting my expenses.’ Then the king ordered a sufficient allowance to be allotted to him so as to relieve him of the cares of his family.
O thou who art encumbered with a family,
Think no more of ever enjoying freedom.
Cares for children, raiment and food
Restrain thee from the heavenly kingdom.
Every day I renew my determination
To wait upon God until the night.
In the night, while tying the knot of prayer,
I think what my children will eat on the morrow.
Ch 02 The Morals Of Dervishes Story 06
A hermit, being the guest of a padshah, ate less than he wished when sitting at dinner and when he rose for prayers he prolonged them more than was his wont in order to enhance the opinion entertained by the padshah of his piety.
O Arab of the desert, I fear thou wilt not reach the Ka’bah
Because the road on which thou travellest leads to Turkestan.
When he returned to his own house, he desired the table to be laid out for eating. He had an intelligent son who said: ‘Father, hast thou not eaten anything at the repast of the sultan?’ He replied: ‘I have not eaten anything to serve a purpose.’ The boy said: ‘Then likewise say thy prayers again as thou hast not done anything to serve that purpose.’
O thou who showest virtues on the palms of the hand
But concealest thy errors under the armpit
What wilt thou purchase, O vain-glorious fool,
On the day of distress with counterfeit silver?
4. Distant Thoughts
In his splendid isolation
Sits a hermit near a cave
He doesn’t move a muscle
For his energy to save
He stares into the distance
Where he hopes to be enlightened
Not all his thoughts will bring him calm
Some often leave him frightened
He sits there nearly half asleep
As people leave him food
They mainly come in ones and two
But sometimes in a brood
The hermit sees but does not move
While little children peep
He sees for all the good and bad
In this vigil he must keep
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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Its Good To Be King
Its good to be king, if just for a while
To be there in velvet, yeah, to give em a smile
Its good to get high, and never come down
Its good to be king of your own little town
Yeah the world would swing if I were king
Can I help it if I still dream time to time
Its good to be king and have your own way
Get a feeling of peace at the end of the day
And when your bulldog barks and your canary sings
Youre out there with winners, its good to be king
Yeah, Ill be king when dogs have wings
Can I help it if I still dream time to time
Its good to be king and have your own world
It helps to make friends, its good to meet girls
A sweet little queen, who cant run away
Its good to be king, whatever it pays
Excuse me if I have some place in my mind
Where I go time to time
song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Irregular Verses to Truth
Written at Fourteen Years of Age.
Where, lovely Goddess, dost thou dwell?
In what remote and silent shade?
Within what cave or lonely cell?
With what old hermit, or unpractis'd maid?
In vain I've sought thee all around,
But thy unfashionable sound
In crowds was never heard,
Nor ever has thy form in town or court appear'd.
The sanctuary is not safe to thee,
Chas'd thence by endless mystery;
Thy own professors chase thee thence,
And wage eternal war with thee and sense;
Then in perplexing comments lost,
E'en when they would be thought to show the most.
Most beautiful when most distress'd,
Descend, O Goddess, to my breast;
There thou may'st reign, unrivall'd and alone,
My thoughts thy subject, and my heart thy throne.
poem by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
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The Hermit Thrush
O wonderful! How liquid clear
The molten gold of that ethereal tone,
Floating and falling through the wood alone,
A hermit-hymn poured out for God to hear!
0 holy, holy, holy! Hyaline,
Long light, low light, glory of eventide!
Love far away, far up. -- up, -- love divine!
Little love, too, for ever, ever, near,
Warm love, earth love, tender love of mine,
In the leafy dark where you hide,
You are mine, -- mine, -- mine!
Ah, my belovèd, do you feel with me
The hidden virtue of that melody,
The rapture and the purity of love,
The heavenly joy that can not find the word?
Then, while we wait again to hear the bird,
Come very near to me, and do not move, --
Now, hermit of the woodland, fill anew
The cool, green cup of air with harmony,
And we will drink the wine of love with you.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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The Roussalka
A LEGEND OF THE WATER-SPRITE
In forest depths, beside a mere,
A monk once made his habitation ;
Absorbed in penances severe,
In fast and prayer he sought salvation.
Already by his own poor spade
His grave was hollowed to receive him,
And every day the good saint prayed
That Heaven from earth would soon relieve him.
One summer's eve, the hermit poor,
At prayer within his narrow room,
Looked out beyond his humble door
And saw the forest wrapped in gloom ;
Night-mists were rising from the mere,
Between the clouds the moon 'gan peep;
The monk unto the pool drew near
And gazed into its waters deep.
He saw himself—drew back perturbed
By fears he ne'er had known before ;
For, lo, the waters were disturbed,
Then suddenly grew calm once more ;
'While fitful as a twilight shade,
Than virgin snow more purely white,
From out the pool appeared a maid
Approaching in the silver light.
She shook the bright drops from her hair
And gazed upon the anchorite ;
To look upon her form so fair
The good monk trembled with affright.
And he beheld her from afar
With head and hand strange signals make,
Then swifter than a shooting star
Dive back into the silent lake.
All night the hermit could not sleep,
All day in agony he prayed ;
But still he could not choose but keep
The image of that wondrous maid
Before him. So, when day did wane,
And overhead the moon was bright,
He watched, and saw her come again
In all her beauty, dazzling white.
She beckoned to him where he stood,
And gave him greeting glad and free.
She played and splashed about the flood,
She laughed and danced in childish glee,
As softly to the monk she cried :
' Come hither, monk, and join me here!'
Then suddenly she dipped to hide
Her beauty in the darkling mere.
The third day came—grown mad with love,
The hermit sought th' enchanted shore
Ere yet night's veil was drawn above,
And waited for the maid once more.
Dawn broke—the monk had disappeared . . .
And now the frightened children say
He haunts the pool: and lo! his beard
Floats on the water night and day.
poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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The Teacher Of Wisdom
From his childhood he had been as one filled with the perfect
knowledge of God, and even while he was yet but a lad many of the
saints, as well as certain holy women who dwelt in the free city of
his birth, had been stirred to much wonder by the grave wisdom of
his answers.
And when his parents had given him the robe and the ring of manhood
he kissed them, and left them and went out into the world, that he
might speak to the world about God. For there were at that time
many in the world who either knew not God at all, or had but an
incomplete knowledge of Him, or worshipped the false gods who dwell
in groves and have no care of their worshippers.
And he set his face to the sun and journeyed, walking without
sandals, as he had seen the saints walk, and carrying at his girdle
a leathern wallet and a little water-bottle of burnt clay.
And as he walked along the highway he was full of the joy that
comes from the perfect knowledge of God, and he sang praises unto
God without ceasing; and after a time he reached a strange land in
which there were many cities.
And he passed through eleven cities. And some of these cities were
in valleys, and others were by the banks of great rivers, and
others were set on hills. And in each city he found a disciple who
loved him and followed him, and a great multitude also of people
followed him from each city, and the knowledge of God spread in the
whole land, and many of the rulers were converted, and the priests
of the temples in which there were idols found that half of their
gain was gone, and when they beat upon their drums at noon none, or
but a few, came with peacocks and with offerings of flesh as had
been the custom of the land before his coming.
Yet the more the people followed him, and the greater the number of
his disciples, the greater became his sorrow. And he knew not why
his sorrow was so great. For he spake ever about God, and out of
the fulness of that perfect knowledge of God which God had Himself
given to him.
And one evening he passed out of the eleventh city, which was a
city of Armenia, and his disciples and a great crowd of people
followed after him; and he went up on to a mountain and sat down on
a rock that was on the mountain, and his disciples stood round him,
and the multitude knelt in the valley.
And he bowed his head on his hands and wept, and said to his Soul,
'Why is it that I am full of sorrow and fear, and that each of my
disciples is an enemy that walks in the noonday?' And his Soul
answered him and said, 'God filled thee with the perfect knowledge
of Himself, and thou hast given this knowledge away to others. The
pearl of great price thou hast divided, and the vesture without
seam thou hast parted asunder. He who giveth away wisdom robbeth
himself. He is as one who giveth his treasure to a robber. Is not
God wiser than thou art? Who art thou to give away the secret that
God hath told thee? I was rich once, and thou hast made me poor.
Once I saw God, and now thou hast hidden Him from me.'
And he wept again, for he knew that his Soul spake truth to him,
and that he had given to others the perfect knowledge of God, and
that he was as one clinging to the skirts of God, and that his
faith was leaving him by reason of the number of those who believed
in him.
And he said to himself, 'I will talk no more about God. He who
giveth away wisdom robbeth himself.'
And after the space of some hours his disciples came near him and
bowed themselves to the ground and said, 'Master, talk to us about
God, for thou hast the perfect knowledge of God, and no man save
thee hath this knowledge.'
And he answered them and said, 'I will talk to you about all other
things that are in heaven and on earth, but about God I will not
talk to you. Neither now, nor at any time, will I talk to you
about God.'
And they were wroth with him and said to him, 'Thou hast led us
into the desert that we might hearken to thee. Wilt thou send us
away hungry, and the great multitude that thou hast made to follow
thee?'
And he answered them and said, 'I will not talk to you about God.'
And the multitude murmured against him and said to him, 'Thou hast
led us into the desert, and hast given us no food to eat. Talk to
us about God and it will suffice us.'
But he answered them not a word. For he knew that if he spake to
them about God he would give away his treasure.
And his disciples went away sadly, and the multitude of people
returned to their own homes. And many died on the way.
And when he was alone he rose up and set his face to the moon, and
journeyed for seven moons, speaking to no man nor making any
answer. And when the seventh moon had waned he reached that desert
which is the desert of the Great River. And having found a cavern
in which a Centaur had once dwelt, he took it for his place of
dwelling, and made himself a mat of reeds on which to lie, and
became a hermit. And every hour the Hermit praised God that He had
suffered him to keep some knowledge of Him and of His wonderful
greatness.
Now, one evening, as the Hermit was seated before the cavern in
which he had made his place of dwelling, he beheld a young man of
evil and beautiful face who passed by in mean apparel and with
empty hands. Every evening with empty hands the young man passed
by, and every morning he returned with his hands full of purple and
pearls. For he was a Robber and robbed the caravans of the
merchants.
And the Hermit looked at him and pitied him. But he spake not a
word. For he knew that he who speaks a word loses his faith.
And one morning, as the young man returned with his hands full of
purple and pearls, he stopped and frowned and stamped his foot upon
the sand, and said to the Hermit: 'Why do you look at me ever in
this manner as I pass by? What is it that I see in your eyes? For
no man has looked at me before in this manner. And the thing is a
thorn and a trouble to me.'
And the Hermit answered him and said, 'What you see in my eyes is
pity. Pity is what looks out at you from my eyes.'
And the young man laughed with scorn, and cried to the Hermit in a
bitter voice, and said to him, 'I have purple and pearls in my
hands, and you have but a mat of reeds on which to lie. What pity
should you have for me? And for what reason have you this pity?'
'I have pity for you,' said the Hermit, 'because you have no
knowledge of God.'
'Is this knowledge of God a precious thing?' asked the young man,
and he came close to the mouth of the cavern.
'It is more precious than all the purple and the pearls of the
world,' answered the Hermit.
'And have you got it?' said the young Robber, and he came closer
still.
'Once, indeed,' answered the Hermit, 'I possessed the perfect
knowledge of God. But in my foolishness I parted with it, and
divided it amongst others. Yet even now is such knowledge as
remains to me more precious than purple or pearls.'
And when the young Robber heard this he threw away the purple and
the pearls that he was bearing in his hands, and drawing a sharp
sword of curved steel he said to the Hermit, 'Give me, forthwith
this knowledge of God that you possess, or I will surely slay you.
Wherefore should I not slay him who has a treasure greater than my
treasure?'
And the Hermit spread out his arms and said, 'Were it not better
for me to go unto the uttermost courts of God and praise Him, than
to live in the world and have no knowledge of Him? Slay me if that
be your desire. But I will not give away my knowledge of God.'
And the young Robber knelt down and besought him, but the Hermit
would not talk to him about God, nor give him his Treasure, and the
young Robber rose up and said to the Hermit, 'Be it as you will.
As for myself, I will go to the City of the Seven Sins, that is but
three days' journey from this place, and for my purple they will
give me pleasure, and for my pearls they will sell me joy.' And he
took up the purple and the pearls and went swiftly away.
And the Hermit cried out and followed him and besought him. For
the space of three days he followed the young Robber on the road
and entreated him to return, nor to enter into the City of the
Seven Sins.
And ever and anon the young Robber looked back at the Hermit and
called to him, and said, 'Will you give me this knowledge of God
which is more precious than purple and pearls? If you will give me
that, I will not enter the city.'
And ever did the Hermit answer, 'All things that I have I will give
thee, save that one thing only. For that thing it is not lawful
for me to give away.'
And in the twilight of the third day they came nigh to the great
scarlet gates of the City of the Seven Sins. And from the city
there came the sound of much laughter.
And the young Robber laughed in answer, and sought to knock at the
gate. And as he did so the Hermit ran forward and caught him by
the skirts of his raiment, and said to him: 'Stretch forth your
hands, and set your arms around my neck, and put your ear close to
my lips, and I will give you what remains to me of the knowledge of
God.' And the young Robber stopped.
And when the Hermit had given away his knowledge of God, he fell
upon the ground and wept, and a great darkness hid from him the
city and the young Robber, so that he saw them no more.
And as he lay there weeping he was ware of One who was standing
beside him; and He who was standing beside him had feet of brass
and hair like fine wool. And He raised the Hermit up, and said to
him: 'Before this time thou hadst the perfect knowledge of God.
Now thou shalt have the perfect love of God. Wherefore art thou
weeping?' And he kissed him.
poem by Oscar Wilde
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Comfort or discomfort, not lasting.
Walking is not painful to the peasant
But it is to the sedentary one.
A hut is as convenient to a hermit
But it is too unfit to the king.
Anything accustomed turns good.
Comfort or discomfort is felt
Only while in transitional stage.
28.04.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Ch 01 Manner of Kings Story 40
A Chinese slave-girl having been brought to a king, he desired to have connection with her whilst in a state of intoxication but, as she repelled him, he became angry and presented her to one of his negro-slaves whose upper lip was higher than his nostrils whilst the lower one hung down to his neck. His stature was such that the demon Sakhrah would have been put to flight and a fountain of pitch emitted stench from his armpits.
Thou wouldst say that, till the resurrection, ugliness
Is his stamp as that of Joseph was beauty.
His person was of so wretched an aspect
That his ugliness surpassed all description
And from his armpits we take refuge with Allah,
They were like a corpse in the month of Merdad.
At that time the desire of the negro was libidinous, his lust overcame him, his love leapt up and he took off the seal of her virginity. In the morning the king sought the girl but could not find her and, having obtained information of what had taken place, he became angry, ordered the negro and the girl to be firmly tied together by their hands and feet and to be thrown from the lofty building into a ditch. One of the veziers, placing the face of intercession upon the ground, pleaded that there was no guilt in the negro since all the servants of his majesty usually receive presents and benefits as he had received the girl. The king rejoined: "What would it have mattered if he had for one night delayed his enjoyment?" He said: "My lord, hast thou not heard that it was said:
When a man with a burning thirst reaches a limpid spring,
Think not that he will care for a mad elephant.
When a hungry infidel is in an empty house at table
Reason will not believe that he cares for the Ramazan."
The king, being pleased with this sally, exclaimed: "I make thee a present of the negro. What am I to do with the girl?" He replied: "Give the girl to the negro because that half is also due to a dog of which he has consumed the other half."
The thirsty heart does not wish for limpid water
Half of which was consumed by a fetid mouth.
How can the king’s hand again touch
An orange after it has fallen into dung?
A Charming Introduction
This was talking of a charming introduction to a vile life,
Impassable roads honoured this vile life of a hermit.
A scoundrel betraying his friends, he fetched the medicine,
Happy medicine was never happening to anybody.
The doctor collapsed forcefully by the drugs he ingested,
This drug poisoned the hermit as well, a wellness seemed able.
The marriage of these two inspired both leaders and citizens
As the hermit and doctor were at fierce odds with each other.
To make a fortune was significant to the brain and mind,
The mind contained light, and the brain consisted of darkness;
Cheerfully, the misery lasted, for the desires and lusts concentrated,
Later this meant misery was at an end, absent in the extreme.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Bird Has Flown
Oh the beggar on his cornerstone
Catches pity in his wrinkled hand
But the lover whose bird has flown
Catches nothing only grains of sand
All the children in the distant house
They have feelings only children know
But the lover whose bird has flown
Catches nothing only flakes of snow
The sensation is not new to you
Its something we all have known
You get it - it goes right through you
Yes its something we all have known
And the bird it has flown
To a place on its own
Somewhere all alone
Now the hermit in his lonely cave
Has himself to keep him company
But the lover whose bird has flown
He has heartaches same as you and me
The sensations not new to you
Its something we all have known
You get it - it goes right through you
Yes its something we all have known
And the bird it has flown
Now the hermit in his lonely cave
Has himself to keep him company
But the lover whose bird has flown
He has heartaches same as you and me
Oh its started snowing
song performed by by Deep Purple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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