The Conference of the Birds
Manteq at-Tair · La conferencia de los pájaros
Source entries are currently shown in Spanish; English-first entries arrive with the next cataloguing pass.
Poema narrativo persa de Farid ud-Din Attar en la traducción inglesa de Afkham Darbandi y Dick Davis para Penguin Books; la portada imprime el nombre del poeta sobre la línea «Translated with an Introduction by Afkham Darbandi and Dick Davis» y el pie de Penguin Books, y la misma plana fecha la traducción en 1984 «Attar — The Conference of the Birds (tr. Darbandi y Davis, 1984) · p. 4». La página de derechos, que el troceo imprime al comienzo de la plana siguiente, registra el copyright de los dos traductores y el ISBN del volumen electrónico «Attar — The Conference of the Birds (tr. Darbandi y Davis, 1984) · p. 5».
La introducción presenta el poema como la obra más conocida de Attar y lo define como un poema sobre el sufismo, la doctrina que propugnan los místicos del islam «Attar — The Conference of the Birds (tr. Darbandi y Davis, 1984) · p. 7». El marco alegórico es el de los pájaros del mundo que se reúnen para buscar rey: la abubilla les dice que ya lo tienen —el Simorgh—, que vive lejos y que el viaje es peligroso; cada ave pone su excusa, la abubilla responde con anécdotas, y al final del camino solo quedan treinta pájaros que descubren que el Simorgh que buscaban son ellos mismos, en un juego de palabras entre *si morgh*, treinta pájaros, y *Simorgh* «Attar — The Conference of the Birds (tr. Darbandi y Davis, 1984) · p. 11». La respuesta a la última pregunta de las aves es la descripción de los siete valles del Camino «Attar — The Conference of the Birds (tr. Darbandi y Davis, 1984) · p. 11».
El poema se recorre con los nombres que el volumen trae de la tradición sufí, y se citan con la grafía que imprime esta traducción: Hallaj, ejecutado en Bagdad en 922, cuya sentencia sobre la Verdad vertebra varias secciones, y Bayazid —Bistami— del sufismo extático, son los dos por los que la introducción dice que Attar muestra un interés particular; Junaid de Bagdad queda del lado sobrio «Attar — The Conference of the Birds (tr. Darbandi y Davis, 1984) · p. 9». En el cuerpo del poema aparecen además Rabe'eh, Shebli, Ibrahim Adham, y Salomón como el rey que conoce la lengua de los pájaros «Attar — The Conference of the Birds (tr. Darbandi y Davis, 1984) · pp. 81, 88, 21». La senda a la que el poema llama Camino se nombra dentro del propio poema, en el peregrino harapiento de los sufíes que se cruza con un rey «Attar — The Conference of the Birds (tr. Darbandi y Davis, 1984) · p. 93».
El volumen declara su propia base textual y su límite: la traducción se hizo desde la edición de Sadegh Gouharin del *Manteq at-Tair* publicada en Teherán en 1978 «Attar — The Conference of the Birds (tr. Darbandi y Davis, 1984) · p. 20», y vierte el poema entero salvo la invocación y el epílogo «Attar — The Conference of the Birds (tr. Darbandi y Davis, 1984) · p. 19». Cierran el libro un índice biográfico de los personajes que Attar nombra «Attar — The Conference of the Birds (tr. Darbandi y Davis, 1984) · p. 232» y el pliego de notas del traductor «Attar — The Conference of the Birds (tr. Darbandi y Davis, 1984) · p. 238».
852 claims · 2 sources · 1 attribution
Attribution
recorded, never asserted«Attar — The Conference of the Birds (tr. Darbandi y Davis, 1984) · p. 4»
The chain of the work
the processed witness, in emeraldClaims
852 entries — the work's own voice, with its passage«Dear hoopoe, welcome! You will be our guide; It was on you King Solomon relied To carry secret messages between His court and distant Sheba’s lovely queen.» — la salutación con que abre esta traducción: la voz del poema nombra guía a la abubilla y funda su autoridad en el servicio a Salomón como mensajera ante la reina de Saba.
«He knew your language and you knew his heart – As his close confidant you learnt the art Of holding demons captive underground, And for these valiant exploits you were crowned.» — y el arte que esa intimidad con Salomón le enseñó, según la misma salutación: tener cautivos bajo tierra a los demonios, por lo que fue coronada.
«And you are welcome, finch! Rise up and play Those liquid notes that steal men’s hearts away; Like Moses you have seen the flames burn high On Sinai’s slopes and there you long to fly, Like him avoid cruel Pharaoh’s hand, and seek Your promised home on Sinai’s mountain peak. There you will understand unspoken words Too subtle for the ears of mortal birds.» — la salutación al pinzón, que fija el procedimiento del pasaje entero: a cada ave le corresponde un profeta —aquí Moisés, el Sinaí y la huida de Faraón— y una tarea del alma.
«And welcome, parrot, perched in paradise! Your splendid plumage bears a strange device, A necklace of bright fire about the throat;» — la salutación al loro, cuyo collar de fuego el poema lee como signo doble.
«Though heaven’s bliss is promised by your coat, This circle stands for hell; if you can flee Like Abraham from Nimrod’s enmity, Despise these flames – uninjured you will tread Through fire if first you cut off Nimrod’s head,» — y la lectura que hace de ese collar: promete el cielo y significa el infierno, y solo se atraviesa el fuego a la manera de Abraham, cortándole la cabeza a Nimrod.
«Welcome, dear partridge – how you strut with pride Along the slopes of wisdom’s mountain-side; Let laughter ring out where your feet have trod, Then strike with all your strength the door of God; Destroy the mountain of the Self, and here From ruined rocks a camel will appear; Beside its new-born noble hooves, a stream Of honey mingled with white milk will gleam – Drive on this beast and at your journey’s end Saleh will greet you as a long-lost friend.» — la salutación a la perdiz, donde el mandato es destruir la montaña del Yo para que de la roca salga la camella de Saleh.
«Rare falcon, welcome! How long will you be lines 637–52 So fiercely jealous of your liberty? Your lure is love, and when the jess is tied, Submit, and be for ever satisfied.» — la salutación al halcón, con la marca de numeración del texto persa que el troceo intercala a media frase y que aquí queda dentro de la cita: el señuelo es el amor y la pihuela pide sometimiento.
«And welcome, francolin! Since once you heard And answered God’s first all-commanding word, Since love has spoken in your soul, reject The Self, that whirlpool where our lives are wrecked;» — la salutación al francolín, en que el Yo aparece como remolino donde naufragan las vidas.
«As Jesus rode his donkey, ride on it; Your stubborn Self must bear you and submit – Then burn this Self and purify your soul; Let Jesus’ spotless spirit be your goal. Destroy this burden, and before your eyes The Holy Ghost in glory will arise.» — y la imagen con que ordena tratar al Yo, por Jesús: montarlo como a un asno, quemarlo después y ver surgir el Espíritu Santo.
«Welcome, dear nightingale – from your sweet throat Pour out the pain of lovers note by note. Like David in love’s garden gently sigh; There sing the songs that make men long to die,» — la salutación al ruiseñor, emparejado con David y con un canto que hace desear la muerte.
«The Self is like a mail coat – melt this steel To pliant wax with David’s holy zeal, And when its metal melts, like David you Will melt with love and bid the Self adieu.» — la figura del Yo como cota de malla que el celo de David ablanda hasta volverla cera.
«And welcome, peacock – once of paradise, Who let the venomous, smooth snake entice Your instincts to its master’s evil way, And suffered exile for that fateful day; lines 653–72 He blackened your untutored heart and made A tangled darkness of the orchard’s shade – Until you crush this snake, how can you be A pilgrim worthy of our mystery? Destroy its ugly charm and Adam then Will welcome you to paradise again.» — la salutación al pavorreal, que carga con la serpiente del Edén: el poema le pide aplastarla para que Adán vuelva a recibirlo.
«Cock pheasant, welcome! With your piercing sight, Look up and see the heart’s source drowned in light; You are imprisoned in your filthy well, A dark and noisome, unremitting hell – Rise from this well as Joseph did and gain The throne of Egypt’s fabulous domain, Where you and Joseph will together reign.» — la salutación al faisán, con el pozo de José como figura del encierro y el trono de Egipto como salida.
«Welcome, sweet turtle-dove, and softly coo Until the heavens scatter jewels on you – But what ingratitude you show! Around Your neck a ring of loyalty is bound, But while you live you blithely acquiesce From head to claw in smug ungratefulness; Abandon such self-love and you will see The Way that leads us to Reality. There knowledge is your guide, and Khezr will bring Clear water drawn from life’s eternal spring.» — la salutación a la tórtola, a quien el poema reprocha la ingratitud del anillo que lleva al cuello y ofrece a cambio el agua de Khezr.
«And welcome, hawk! Your flight is high and proud, But you return with head politely bowed – In blood and in affliction you must drown, And I suggest you keep your head bent down! lines 673–92 What are you here? Mere carrion, rotten flesh, Withheld from Truth by this world’s clumsy mesh; Outsoar both this world and the next, and there, Released from both, take off the hood you wear – When you have turned from both worlds you will land On Zulgharnin’s outstretched and welcome hand.» — la salutación al azor, donde el poema exige salir de los dos mundos —éste y el otro— para posarse en la mano de Zulgharnin.
«And little goldfinch, welcome! May your fire Be an external sign of fierce desire. Whatever happens, burn in those bright flames, And shut your eyes and soul to earthly claims. Then, as you burn, whatever pain you feel, Remember God will recompense your zeal; When you perceive His hidden secrets, give Your life to God’s affairs and truly live – At last, made perfect in Reality, You will be gone, and only God will be.» — la última salutación, al jilguero, que cierra la serie con el término al que todo el poema apunta: perfeccionado en la Realidad, el peregrino habrá desaparecido y solo Dios será.
«The world’s birds gathered for their conference And said: ‘Our constitution makes no sense. All nations in the world require a king; How is it we alone have no such thing? Only a kingdom can be justly run; We need a king and must inquire for one.’» — el arranque de la fábula, en boca de los pájaros del mundo reunidos: todas las naciones tienen rey y ellos no, y un reino solo se gobierna con justicia.
«There shone the symbol of the Spirit’s Way And on his head Truth’s crown, a feathered spray.» — los dos emblemas con que el poema presenta a la abubilla al adelantarse: el signo del Camino del Espíritu en el pecho y la corona de la Verdad en la cabeza.
«I keep God’s secrets, mundane and divine, In proof of which behold the holy sign Bismillah* etched for ever on my beak.» — la primera credencial que la abubilla alega de sí misma: el Bismillah grabado en el pico, con la llamada de nota que el troceo imprime pegada a la palabra.
«I come as Solomon’s close friend and claim The matchless wisdom of that mighty name (He never asked for those who quit his court, But when I left him once alone he sought With anxious vigilance for my return – Measure my worth by this great king’s concern!).» — la segunda credencial, y el paréntesis con que la abubilla pide que se mida su valía: Salomón no reclamaba a quien dejaba su corte, y a ella la buscó.
«Join me, and when at last we end our quest Our king will greet you as His honoured guest.» — la invitación con que la abubilla convierte su saber en viaje colectivo.
«Whoever can evade the Self transcends This world and as a lover he ascends.» — y la tesis que el poema repite a lo largo de todo el libro, aquí en su primera formulación: quien esquiva el Yo trasciende este mundo y asciende como amante.
«We have a king; beyond Kaf’s mountain peak The Simorgh lives, the sovereign whom you seek,» — la revelación de la abubilla: el rey existe y vive más allá del monte Kaf.
«And He is always near to us, though we Live far from His transcendent majesty.» — y la paradoja con que la acompaña en el mismo pareado: está siempre cerca y son ellos los que viven lejos.
«A hundred thousand veils of dark and light Withdraw His presence from our mortal sight,» — lo que media entre unos y otro: cien mil velos de oscuridad y de luz, no la distancia.
«No mind, no intellect can penetrate The mystery of His unending state:» — la incognoscibilidad que la abubilla afirma del Simorgh, y que el poema no retira en ningún momento.
«No sage could understand His perfect grace, Nor seer discern the beauty of His face.» — la misma afirmación en su forma más tajante: ni el sabio ni el vidente alcanzan.
«Do not imagine that the Way is short; Vast seas and deserts lie before His court. Consider carefully before you start; The journey asks of you a lion’s heart.» — la advertencia previa al viaje, con la medida que pide: corazón de león.
«First wash your hands of life if you would say: “I am a pilgrim of our sovereign’s Way”; Renounce your soul for love; He you pursue Will sacrifice His inmost soul for you.» — la condición de entrada al Camino, y la reciprocidad que la abubilla promete a cambio.
«It was in China, late one moonless night, The Simorgh first appeared to mortal sight» — el relato de origen del conocimiento del Simorgh: una sola aparición, en China, una noche sin luna.
«He let a feather float down through the air, And rumours of its fame spread everywhere;» — y la única prueba que dejó, la pluma caída, de la que se difundió su fama.
«Throughout the world men separately conceived An image of its shape, and all believed Their private fantasies uniquely true!» — lo que los hombres hicieron con esa prueba, según el poema: cada uno concibió por su cuenta una figura y todos tuvieron por única verdadera su propia fantasía.
«It is a sign of Him, and in each heart There lies this feather’s hidden counterpart.» — y el desplazamiento que anuncia el desenlace: la contraparte oculta de esa pluma está en cada corazón.
«But since no words suffice, what use are mine To represent or to describe this sign?» — la abubilla declara insuficiente su propio decir y corta ahí la descripción.
«But when they pondered on the journey’s length, They hesitated; their ambitious strength Dissolved: each bird, according to his kind, Felt flattered but reluctantly declined.» — el giro que organiza toda la primera mitad del poema: medida la distancia, cada ave declina según su especie.
«The secrets of all love are known to me,’ He crooned. ‘Throughout the darkest night my song Resounds, and to my retinue belong The sweet notes of the melancholy lute, lines 755–75 The plaintive wailing of the love-sick flute; When love speaks in the soul my voice replies» — la primera excusa, del ruiseñor, que reclama para sí el conocimiento de todos los secretos del amor.
«The man who hears this song spurns reason’s rule; Grey wisdom is content to be love’s fool.» — y el argumento con que el ruiseñor pone su canto por encima de la razón.
«My love is for the rose; I bow to her; From her dear presence I could never stir.» — el fondo de su excusa: un amor particular que lo fija en un lugar, que es justo lo contrario del viaje.
«Dear pigeon, welcome – with what joy you yearn To fly away, how sadly you return! Your heart is wrung with grief, you share the gaol That Jonah knew, the belly of a whale – The Self has swallowed you for its delight; How long will you endure its mindless spite? Cut off its head, seek out the moon, and fly Beyond the utmost limits of the sky; Escape this monster and become the friend» — la salutación a la paloma, con el vientre de la ballena de Jonás como figura de la cárcel del Yo; el tramo se corta en el cambio de plana y el pareado se cierra en la 24 con el mar sin fin.
«I bore his letters – back again I flew – Whatever secrets he divined I knew; A prophet loved me; God has trusted me; What other bird has won such dignity?» — el remate de las credenciales de la abubilla, en pregunta retórica: llevó las cartas de Salomón, supo sus secretos, un profeta la amó y Dios la tuvo por digna de confianza.
«The hoopoe answered him: ‘Dear nightingale, This superficial love which makes you quail Is only for the outward show of things. Renounce delusion and prepare your wings For our great quest; sharp thorns defend the rose And beauty such as hers too quickly goes.» — la respuesta de la abubilla al ruiseñor, que instala el criterio con que el poema juzgará todas las excusas: es amor de la apariencia, y la rosa se defiende con espinas y dura poco.
«Each spring she laughs, not for you, as you say, But at you – and has faded in a day.» — y el remate del reproche, que da vuelta la escena de amor del ruiseñor: la rosa no ríe para él sino de él.
«A dervish saw her, by the will of Fate. From his arrested hand the crust he ate Dropped unregarded, and the princess smiled. This glance lived in his heart – the man grew wild With ardent love, with restless misery; For seven years he wept continually And was content to live alone and wait, Abject, among stray dogs, outside her gate.» — la historia del derviche y la princesa, primera de las anécdotas intercaladas: siete años de llanto por una sonrisa.
«She trilled: ‘I have been caged by heartless men, But my desire is to be free again;» — la excusa del loro, que pide libertad y no viaje.
«If I could reassert my liberty I’d find the stream of immortality Guarded by Khezr – his cloak is green like mine, And this shared colour is an open sign I am his equal or equivalent. Only the stream Khezr watches could content My thirsting soul – I have no wish to seek This Simorgh’s throne of which you love to speak.» — y el fondo de esa excusa: el loro quiere el agua de la inmortalidad que guarda Khezr, y alega el verde compartido de sus plumas como signo de ser su igual.
«The hoopoe said: ‘You are a cringing slave– This is not noble, generous or brave, To think your being has no other end Than finding water and a loyal friend.» — la respuesta de la abubilla, que objeta el fin y no el medio: hacer del hallar agua y un amigo leal el término de la propia existencia.
«Act as a lover and renounce your soul; With love’s defiance seek the lover’s goal.» — y lo que le propone en su lugar, en el pareado que cierra la respuesta.
«Khezr sought companionship with one whose mind Was set on God alone. The man declined And said to Khezr: “We two could not be friends,» — la anécdota de Khezr, contada por la abubilla: el hombre entregado a Dios rechaza la compañía del inmortal.
«‘The Painter of the world created me,’ He shrieked, ‘but this celestial wealth you see Should not excite your hearts to jealousy. I was a dweller once in paradise; There the insinuating snake’s advice Deceived me –I became his friend, disgrace Was swift and I was banished from that place.» — la excusa del pavorreal, que se nombra obra del Pintor del mundo y cuenta su destierro del paraíso por consejo de la serpiente.
«My dearest hope is that some blessed day A guide will come to indicate the way Back to my paradise. The king you praise Is too unknown a goal; my inward gaze Is fixed for ever on that lovely land – There is the goal which I can understand. How could I seek the Simorgh out when I Remember paradise?» — y lo que pone en lugar del viaje: volver al paraíso, meta que entiende, frente a un rey que le resulta demasiado desconocido.
«The secrets of the sun are yours, but you Content 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.» — el cierre de esa respuesta, que reduce la elección a una sola: el cuerpo o el alma, la mota o el sol.
«A novice asked his master to explain Why Adam was forbidden to remain In his first undivided happiness.» — la anécdota de Adán, que la abubilla usa para explicar por qué el paraíso no es el fin: la pregunta del novicio a su maestro.
«‘The man whose mind and vision are ensnared By heaven’s grace must forfeit that same grace, For only then can he direct his face To his true Lord’.” The lover’s life and soul Are firmly focused on a single goal; The saints in paradise teach that the start Of drawing near is to renounce the heart.» — y la respuesta del maestro, en boca de la voz que despierta a Adán: quien queda preso de la gracia del cielo pierde esa gracia, y el comienzo del acercamiento es renunciar al corazón.
«The coy duck waddled from her stream and quacked: ‘Now none of you can argue with the fact That both in this world and the next I am The purest bird that ever flew or swam; I spread my prayer-mat out, and all the time I clean myself of every bit of grime As God commands. There’s no doubt in my mind That purity like mine is hard to find;» — la excusa del pato, que alega pureza ritual: extiende su alfombra de oración y se limpia sin cesar, como Dios manda.
«I live in water and I cannot go To places where no streams or rivers flow; They wash away a world of discontent – Why should I leave this perfect element? Fresh water is my home, my sanctuary; What use would arid deserts be to me? I can’t leave water – think what water gives; It is the source of everything that lives. Water’s the only home I’ve ever known; Why should I care about this Simorgh’s throne?» — y el fondo de esa excusa: el agua es su elemento y la fuente de todo lo que vive, y por eso el trono del Simorgh no le importa.
«The hoopoe answered her: ‘Your life is passed In vague, aquatic dreams which cannot last – A sudden wave and they are swept away. You value water’s purity, you say, But is your life as pure as you declare?» — la respuesta de la abubilla, que le devuelve su propio argumento: si tanto valora la pureza del agua, que mida por ahí su vida.
«Besides, the journey to the Simorgh’s throne Is hard. I cannot tear myself away; My feet refuse as if caught fast in clay. My life is here; I have no wish to fly; I must discover precious stones or die.» — y la forma que toma la negativa: los pies como pegados en barro.
«Yet those hard gems from which you cannot part Have only helped you to a hardened heart; Without their colours they are nothing more Than stones – and to the wise not worth a straw.» — la respuesta de la abubilla a la perdiz, que invierte el valor de la gema: le endureció el corazón, y sin el color no es más que piedra.
«No jewel surpasses that which Solomon Wore on his finger. It was just a stone, A mere half-dang in weight, but as a seal Set in his ring it brought the world to heel.» — la anécdota del anillo de Salomón, que la abubilla cuenta contra la perdiz: una piedra de medio *dang* que sometió al mundo por ser sello.
«Although the power it brought the king was real, Possession of this gem meant that delay Dogged his advance along the spirit’s Way –» — y el precio que el poema le adjudica a esa posesión: la joya demoró al rey en el Camino del espíritu.
«The other prophets entered paradise Five hundred years before the king. This price A jewel extracted from great Solomon, How would it hinder such a dizzy one As you, dear partridge? Rise above this greed; The Simorgh is the only jewel you need.’» — la cifra en que la anécdota mide ese retraso, y el remate con que la abubilla lo vuelve contra la perdiz.
«Because his shadow heralds majesty, This wandering portent of the royal state Is known as Homayun, The Fortunate’.» — la presentación del homa, el ave cuya sombra anuncia la realeza, con la nota al pie marcada con asterisco que el troceo imprime pegada al nombre.
«I have subdued the dog desire; great kings Like Feridoun and Jamshid† owe their place To my dark shadow’s influence.» — la excusa del homa, que se atribuye el trono de Feridoun y de Jamshid y dice haber sometido al perro del deseo.
«The world should bask in my magnificence – Let Khosroe’s glory stand in my defence. What should this haughty Simorgh mean to me?» — y el desdén con que cierra: si la gloria de Khosroe lo defiende, el Simorgh no significa nada para él.
«Though it is true that you confer on men This majesty, kings must sink down again And bear the punishments of Judgement Day.» — la respuesta de la abubilla al homa, que le concede el hecho y le objeta la consecuencia: los reyes que su sombra corona responderán en el Juicio.
«True majesty belongs to God alone – How could a heap of dust deserve the throne ?» — y la sentencia con que zurce la respuesta, en la puntuación tal como la imprime el troceo: la majestad verdadera es solo de Dios.
«Poor fool, I smiled from pity, almost ridicule – ‘Your ignorance provoked that smile.” She spoke, And vanished like a wisp of strengthless smoke.» — el desenlace en boca de la princesa, que retira el sentido que el derviche le había dado a la sonrisa: fue lástima, casi burla de su ignorancia, y dicho eso se desvanece.
«For our existences have different ends. The waters of immortal life are yours, And you must always live; life is your cause As death is mine – you wish to live, whilst I Impatiently prepare myself to die; I leave you as quick birds avoid a snare, To soar up in the free, untrammelled air» — la razón que el hombre le da a Khezr, en boca suya: la causa del uno es vivir y la del otro morir, y por eso se aparta como el pájaro que esquiva la trampa.
«A fool described the nature both worlds share: “The unseen world and that which we can see Are like a water-drop which instantly Is and is not. A water-drop was formed When time began, and on its surface swarmed The world’s appearances. If they were made Of all-resisting iron they would fade; Hard iron is mere water, after all – Dispersing like a dream, impalpable» — la anécdota del necio con que la abubilla remata su respuesta al pato: los dos mundos son una gota que a la vez es y no es, y aun el hierro, que a todo resiste, se dispersa como un sueño.
«Is jewels; I pick through quarries for their fire. They kindle in my heart an answering blaze Which satisfies me – though my wretchèd days Are one long turmoil of anxiety. Consider how I live, and let me be; You cannot fight with one who sleeps and feeds On precious stones, who is convinced he needs No other goal in life. My heart is tied By bonds of love to this fair mountain-side. To yearn for something other than a jewel Is to desire what dies – to be a fool;» — la excusa de la perdiz, que arranca a media frase porque el troceo corta la plana justo tras la marca de numeración del texto persa: vive entre piedras preciosas y tiene por necio a quien desee otra cosa.
«Than 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.» — la respuesta de la abubilla al pavorreal, que empieza en la plana anterior con el reproche de poner el palacio por encima de quien lo hizo, y da aquí la proporción entre las dos metas: el paraíso es una gota del mar sin orillas que es la Verdad.
«There was a man, advanced along the Way, Who one night spoke to Mahmoud in a dream. He said: “Great king, how does existence seem To one beyond the grave?» — la anécdota del rey Mahmoud después de muerto, que la abubilla trae contra el homa: un hombre adelantado en el Camino lo interroga en sueños.
«I wish to God the earth beneath my feet Had swallowed me before I heard the beat» — y la maldición con que el rey muerto cierra la anécdota contra el ave misma que alegaba coronarlo; la frase sigue en la plana 38 con la sombra del homa y el infierno.
«What is this Simorgh? I should be a fool If I so much as dreamt of him. A seed From my great sovereign’s hand is all I need; The eminence I have suffices me.» — y la forma exacta de su negativa: un grano de la mano de su soberano le basta.
«The hoopoe said: ‘Dear hawk, you set great store By superficial graces, and ignore The all-important fact of purity. A king with rivals in his dignity Is no true king; the Simorgh rules alone And entertains no rivals to his throne.» — la respuesta de la abubilla al azor, que opone dos clases de rey: el que tiene rivales en su dignidad no es rey verdadero, y el Simorgh no admite ninguno.
«A king is not one of those common fools Who snatches at a crown and thinks he rules. The true king reigns in mild humility,’ lines 959–76 Unrivalled in his firm fidelity.» — y la definición de rey que propone en su lugar: reina en mansa humildad, no en el arrebato de la corona.
«A courtier risks destruction every hour – Distance yourself from kings and worldly power. A king is like a raging fire, men say; The wisest conduct is to keep away.» — el consejo político que la abubilla saca de ahí, y que la introducción del volumen señala como opinión de Attar sobre los reyes terrenales: el rey es como un fuego y lo prudente es apartarse.
«There was a monarch once who loved a slave. The youth’s pale beauty haunted him; he gave This favourite the rarest ornaments, Watched over him with jealous reverence – But when the king expressed a wish to shoot, His loved one shook with fear from head to foot.» — la anécdota del rey y su esclavo, con que la abubilla ilustra el riesgo del favorito.
«The heron whimpered next: ‘My misery Prefers the empty shoreline of the sea.» — la excusa de la garza, que prefiere la orilla vacía.
«My love is for the ocean, but since I – A bird – must be excluded from the deep, I haunt the solitary shore and weep.» — y el fondo de esa excusa: ama el mar y, por ser ave, no puede entrar en él, de modo que se queda llorando en la orilla.
«The hoopoe answered him: ‘You do not know The nature of this sea you love: below Its surface linger sharks; tempests appear, Then sudden calms – its course is never clear, But turbid, varying, in constant stress; Its water’s taste is salty bitterness.» — la respuesta de la abubilla a la garza, que le desarma el objeto amado describiéndolo: tiburones, tempestades, calmas repentinas y sabor amargo.
«Who trusts the sea? Lawlessness is her law; You will be drowned if you cannot decide To turn away from her inconstant tide.» — y la sentencia con que lo resume: la ley del mar es no tener ley.
«She seethes with love herself – that turbulence Of tumbling waves, that yearning violence, Are for her Lord, and since she cannot rest, What peace could you discover in her breast? She lives for Him – yet you are satisfied To hear His invitation and to hide.» — el giro final de la respuesta, que devuelve el mar a su propio anhelo: la turbulencia del oleaje es amor de su Señor, y la garza se conforma con oír la invitación y esconderse.
«The owl approached with his distracted air, Hooting: ‘Abandoned ruins are my lair, Because, wherever mortals congregate, Strife flourishes and unforgiving hate; A tranquil mind is only to be found Away from men, in wild, deserted ground.» — la excusa del búho, que argumenta primero por misantropía: la mente tranquila solo se halla lejos de los hombres.
«These ruins are my melancholy pleasure, Not least because they harbour buried treasure. Love for such treasure has directed me To desolate, waste sites; in secrecy I hide my hopes that one fine day my foot Will stumble over unprotected loot. Love for the Simorgh is a childish story; My love is solely for gold’s buried glory.» — y el motivo verdadero que confiesa enseguida, y que él mismo opone al del viaje: el tesoro enterrado en las ruinas.
«The hoopoe answered him: ‘Besotted fool, Suppose you get this gold for which you drool – What could you do but guard it night and day While life itself – unnoticed – slips away?» — la respuesta de la abubilla al búho, que le objeta el uso y no la posesión: hallado el oro, no le quedaría más que custodiarlo mientras la vida se va.
«The love of gold and jewels is blasphemy; Our faith is wrecked by such idolatry. To love gold is to be an infidel, An idol-worshipper who merits hell.» — y la calificación religiosa con que la remata: amar el oro es idolatría.
«A miser died, leaving a cache of gold; And in a dream what should the son behold But his dead father, shaped now like a mouse» — la anécdota del avaro vuelto ratón, con que la abubilla cierra la respuesta al búho.
«She chirped: ‘I am less sturdy than a hair And lack the courage that my betters share; My feathers are too weak to carry me The distance to the Simorgh’s sanctuary.» — la excusa del pinzón, que alega debilidad.
«The world is full of those who seek His grace, But I do not deserve to see His face And cannot join in this delusive race – Exhaustion would cut short my foolish days, Or I should turn to ashes in His gaze.» — y el segundo argumento, que es de indignidad y no de fuerza: no merece ver ese rostro y la mirada lo volvería ceniza.
«The hoopoe said: ‘You teasing little bird, This humble ostentation is absurd! If all of us are destined for the fire, Then you too must ascend the burning pyre. Get ready for the road, you can’t fool me – Sew up your beak, I loathe hypocrisy!» — la respuesta de la abubilla al pinzón, que lee la humildad como ostentación e hipocresía.
«When Jacob lost his son his eyes grew blind; Tears flooded for the child he could not find.» — la anécdota del sueño de Jacob, que la abubilla trae contra el pinzón por haberse comparado con José.
«To his despair the angel Gabriel came And said: “Renounce this word; if you persist, Your own name will be cancelled from the list Of prophets close to God.” Since this command Came from his God, dear Joseph’s name was banned Henceforth from Jacob’s lips; deep in his soul He hid the passions he could not control.» — y la prohibición que Gabriel le trae: si sigue nombrando a José, su nombre queda borrado de la lista de los profetas.
«Forgive me, reader, if I do not say All these excuses to avoid the Way; But in an incoherent rush they came, And all were inappropriate and lame.» — la irrupción del poeta en primera persona, que corta la serie de excusas dirigiéndose al lector y no a las aves.
«How could they gain the Simorgh? Such a goal Belongs to those who discipline the soul.» — y el criterio con que el poema despacha todas las excusas juntas: esa meta es de quien disciplina el alma.
«The hoopoe counselled them: ‘The world holds few As worthy of the Simorgh’s throne as you, But you must empty this first glass; the wine That follows it is love’s devoted sign. If petty problems keep you back – or none – How will you seek the treasures of the sun?» — la exhortación con que la abubilla reanuda el viaje, en la imagen del primer vaso que hay que vaciar antes del vino.
«This is no journey for the indolent – Our quest is Truth itself, not just its scent!» — y la distinción con que la cierra: la búsqueda es de la Verdad misma, no de su rastro.
«Although we recognize you as our guide, You must accept – it cannot be denied – We are a wretched, flimsy crew at best, And lack the bare essentials for this quest. lines 1069–88 Our feathers and our wings, our bodies’ strength Are quite unequal to the journey’s length; For one of us to reach the Simorgh’s throne Would be miraculous, a thing unknown.» — la objeción colectiva de las aves, que aceptan la guía y alegan desproporción entre sus fuerzas y el viaje.
«Mahmoud replied: “I have no majesty since I have died; Your greetings pierce my soul. That majesty Was only ignorance and vanity;» — la respuesta del rey muerto, en voz suya: la majestad era ignorancia y vanidad, y los saludos le atraviesan el alma.
«Call me ‘unfortunate’, not ‘king’. I should Have been a wanderer who begged for food, A crossing-sweeper, any lowly thing That drags its way through life, but not a king.» — lo que Mahmoud dice que habría preferido ser, en la enumeración de oficios bajos con que remata.
«He bragged: The ecstasy my sovereign brings Has turned my gaze from vulgar company. My eyes are hooded and I cannot see, But I perch proudly on my sovereign’s wrist.» — la excusa del azor, que hace virtud de su capucha: el éxtasis del rey terrenal le ha apartado la mirada de la compañía vulgar.
«A hermit asked the ocean: “Why are you Clothed in these mourning robes of darkest blue?* You seem to boil, and yet I see no fire!» — la anécdota del ermitaño y el océano, con la llamada de nota marcada con asterisco que el troceo imprime dentro del verso: la pregunta por el luto azul.
«The ocean said: “My feverish desire Is for the absent Friend. I am too base For Him; my dark robes indicate disgrace And lonely pain. Love makes my billows rage; Love is the fire which nothing can assuage.» — y la respuesta del océano, en voz suya: el luto es por el Amigo ausente y el amor es el fuego que nada apaga.
«The angel Gabriel came to him, and spoke: “Though you did not pronounce your lost son’s name, You sighed – the exhalation meant the same As if you had renounced your vow; a sigh Reveals the heart as clearly as a cry» — el desenlace de la anécdota de Jacob, en boca de Gabriel: el suspiro vale por el nombre no pronunciado, porque revela el corazón igual que un grito.
«The slave replied: “If I were hit instead Of that round apple balanced on my head, I would be then quite worthless to the king – Injured or dead, lower than anything The court can show; but when the arrow hits The trembling target and the apple splits, That is his skill. The king is highly skilled If he succeeds – if not, the slave is killed» — la explicación del esclavo, que es la moraleja de la anécdota: si la flecha acierta, la destreza es del rey; si falla, el muerto es él.
«And heard his father say: “Learn from my state; Whoever worships gold, this is his fate – To haunt the hidden cache for evermore, An anxious mouse that darts across the floor» — la moraleja de la anécdota del avaro, en boca del padre muerto: quien adora el oro ronda para siempre su escondite.
«He seems like Solomon, and we like ants; How can mere ants climb from their darkened pit Up to the Simorgh’s realm? And is it fit That beggars try the glory of a king?» — la desproporción que las aves alegan, en la imagen de las hormigas y Salomón.
«When long ago the Simorgh first appeared – His face like sunlight when the clouds have cleared – He cast unnumbered shadows on the earth, On each one fixed his eyes, and each gave birth.» — la respuesta de la abubilla, que es el pasaje doctrinal del poema sobre el origen de las aves: el Simorgh proyectó sombras innumerables sobre la tierra y cada una engendró.
«Thus we were born; the birds of every land Are still his shadows – think, and understand.» — y la consecuencia que saca de ello: las aves de todas las tierras son todavía sus sombras.
«Do not reveal this truth, and God forfend That you mistake for God Himself God’s friend.» — la reserva que la abubilla pone en el mismo aliento, y que el poema no retirará: no confundir a Dios con el amigo de Dios.
«You are not God, though in God you are drowned; Those lost in Him are’not the Deity – This problem can be argued endlessly.» — y el límite doctrinal exacto, que la introducción del volumen señala como el punto donde Attar se detiene ante Ibn Arabi: quien está perdido en Él no es la Deidad.
«If He had kept His majesty concealed, No earthly shadow would have been revealed, And where that shadow was directly cast The race of birds sprang up before it passed.» — la contraparte del argumento: sin manifestación no habría sombra, y las aves nacieron donde la sombra cayó.
«Your heart is not a mirror bright and clear If there the Simorgh’s form does not appear; No one can bear His beauty face to face, And for this reason, of His perfect grace, He makes a mirror in our hearts – look there To see Him, search your hearts with anxious care.» — el desplazamiento hacia el corazón como espejo, con la razón que da: nadie soporta esa belleza de frente, y por gracia Él pone el espejo dentro.
«When riding through his streets he did not fail To hide his features with a scarlet veil. Whoever scanned the veil would lose his head; Whoever spoke his name was left for dead, The tongue ripped from his mouth; whoever thrilled With passion for this king was quickly killed.» — la anécdota del rey de los espejos, que la abubilla cuenta para explicarlo: el velo escarlata y la muerte de quien lo escrutaba.
«How strange it was that men could neither brook The presence nor the absence of his look!» — y la paradoja que el poema subraya: ni la presencia ni la ausencia de esa mirada se podían soportar.
«The king commanded mirrors to be placed About the palace walls, and when he faced Their polished surfaces his image shone With mitigated splendour to the throng.» — la salida que el rey encuentra, y que es la figura de toda la doctrina del poema: espejos en los muros, para que la imagen llegue con esplendor atenuado.
«Make of your heart a looking-glass and see Reflected there the Friend’s nobility; Your sovereign’s glory will illuminate The palace where he reigns in proper state. Search for this king within your heart; His soul Reveals itself in atoms of the Whole.» — la aplicación que la abubilla hace de la anécdota: hacer espejo del corazón y buscar ahí al rey, cuya alma se revela en los átomos del Todo.
«The multitude of forms that masquerade Throughout the world spring from the Simorgh’s shade. If you catch sight of His magnificence It is His shadow that beguiles your glance; The Simorgh’s shadow and Himself are one; Seek them together, twinned in unison.» — y la identidad que afirma entre la sombra y aquello de lo que es sombra: las formas del mundo salen de la sombra del Simorgh, y esa sombra y Él son uno.
«Deluded natures cannot recognize The royal way that stands before their eyes.» — y la moraleja con que la cierra: la naturaleza engañada no reconoce el camino real que tiene enfrente.
«Ayaz, afflicted with the Evil Eye, Fell ill. For safety he was forced to lie Sequestered from the court, in loneliness.» — la anécdota de la enfermedad de Ayaz, primera de las muchas que el poema arma con Mahmoud y su esclavo favorito.
«Tell him that I endure his suffering, And hardly comprehend I am the king; My soul is with him (though my flesh is here) And guards his bed solicitous with fear; Ayaz, what could this Evil Eye not do, If it destroys such loveliness as you!» — el mensaje del rey al enfermo, en voz suya: apenas sabe que es rey, y su alma vela junto a la cama aunque su carne esté en la corte.
«An ancient secret yielded to the birds When they had understood the hoopoe’s words – Their kinship with the Simorgh was now plain» — el efecto que el poema le atribuye a esa doctrina dentro de la fábula: entendido el parentesco con el Simorgh, las aves quieren partir de nuevo.
«Love has no time for blasphemy or faith, Nor lovers for the Self, that feeble wraith. They burn all that they own; unmoved they feel Against their skin the torturer’s sharp steel.» — y la indiferencia del amor respecto de las dos, con la prueba física que el poema le adjudica.
«Love thrives on inextinguishable pain, Which tears the soul, then knits the threads again.» — la definición del amor por el dolor, que es el segundo gran tema del poema según la introducción.
«But where love thrives, there pain is always found; Angels alone escape this weary round – They love without that savage agony Which is reserved for vexed humanity.» — y la distinción que el poema traza entre ángeles y hombres a partir de ahí: los ángeles aman sin esa agonía, y por eso quedan fuera del ciclo.
«Islam and blasphemy have both been passed By those who set out on love’s path at last; Love will direct you to Dame Poverty, And she will show the way to Blasphemy.» — el itinerario que la abubilla describe, con la Pobreza personificada como guía del último tramo.
«Begin the journey without fear; be calm; Forget what is and what is not Islam; Put childish dread aside – like heroes meet The hundred problems which you must defeat.» — y la instrucción de partida, que manda olvidar qué es y qué no es el islam.
«He knew the people’s hearts in joy and grief And was their living symbol of Belief.» — y la posición que el poema le da antes de derribarlo: era el símbolo viviente de la Creencia.
«A strange dream troubled him, night after night; Mecca was left behind; he lived in Rome, The temple where he worshipped was his home, And to an idol he bowed down his head.» — el sueño que abre la caída: dejada La Meca, vivía en Roma y se inclinaba ante un ídolo.
«But every man meets problems on the Way, And I shall conquer if I watch and pray. If I can shift this rock my path is clear; If not, then I must wait and suffer here.» — y la lectura que el propio sheikh hace del sueño, que es la que lo pierde: lo toma por un obstáculo del Camino que hay que ir a remover.
«The man about whose heart her ringlets curled Became a Christian and renounced the world;» — el efecto que el poema le atribuye de antemano, antes de que el sheikh la vea.
«But those who thought to feast there found her eyes Held pointed daggers to protect the prize, And since she kept her counsel no one knew – Despite the claims of some – what she would do.» — y la reserva que el retrato guarda sobre ella, que es lo que sostiene el suspenso de la historia entera: nadie sabía lo que haría.
«But you are lost in vague uncertainty… Pass beyond shadows to Reality.» — la instrucción que se sigue de eso, dicha en imperativo: pasar de las sombras a la Realidad.
«When Alexander, that unconquered lord, Who subjugated empires with his sword, Required a lengthy message to be sent He dressed up as the messenger and went.» — la anécdota de Alejandro disfrazado de mensajero, que la abubilla usa como figura del rey no reconocido.
«His sovereign answered him: “You could not know lines 1153–71 The hidden ways by which we lovers go; I cannot bear my life without his face, And every minute I am in this place.» — el desenlace de la anécdota de Ayaz, en boca del rey, que es la razón por la que vale como alegoría: los amantes van por caminos ocultos, y él no ha dejado en ningún momento ese lugar.
«The passing world outside is unaware Of mysteries Ayaz and Mahmoud share; In public I ask after him, although Behind the veil of secrecy I know Whatever news my messengers could give; I hide my secret and in secret live» — y el cierre, que hace de la ocultación una práctica y no un accidente: pregunta en público por quien ya sabe en secreto.
«‘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!» — la definición de amante con que la abubilla, ya guía, abre la instrucción del Camino: aquel en quien todo pensamiento del Yo ha muerto, justo o pecador por igual.
«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.» — la exigencia más dura del pasaje, que la introducción del volumen liga a la tradición antinómica de Khorasan: el Yo y la Fe se tiran juntos, y a quien lo llame blasfemia se le responde que el amor excede a la piedad.
«Sam’an was once the first man of his time. Whatever praise can be expressed in rhyme Belonged to him: for fifty years this sheikh Kept Mecca’s holy place, and for his sake Four hundred pupils entered learning’s way. He mortified his body night and day, Knew theory, practice, mysteries of great age, And fifty times had made the Pilgrimage.» — el arranque de la historia del sheikh Sam'an —así, con apóstrofo, lo imprime esta traducción—, la más larga del poema: cincuenta años al cuidado del santuario de La Meca, cuatrocientos discípulos y cincuenta peregrinaciones.
«They left the Ka’abah* for Rome’s boundaries, A gentle landscape of low hills and trees, Where, infinitely lovelier than the view, There sat a girl, a Christian girl who knew The secrets of her faith’s theology.» — el viaje a Roma, con la llamada de nota que el troceo imprime pegada al nombre del santuario, y la aparición de la joven cristiana instruida en la teología de su fe.
«The Christian turned, the dark veil was removed, A fire flashed through the old man’s joints – he loved! One hair converted hundreds; how could he Resist that idol’s face shown openly?» — el instante de la caída del sheikh Sam'an, que el poema despacha en dos pareados.
«Love sacked his heart; the girl’s bewitching hair Twined round his faith impiety’s smooth snare. The sheikh exchanged religion’s wealth for shame, A hopeless heart submitted to love’s fame.» — y la formulación del canje, que es lo que hace escandalosa la historia: cambió la riqueza de la religión por la vergüenza.
«“I have no faith,” he cried. “The heart I gave Is useless now; I am the Christian’s slave.» — la confesión del sheikh, en voz suya.
«Their remonstrations fell on deafened ears; Advice has no effect when no one hears. In turn the sheikh’s disciples had their say; Love has no cure, and he could not obey. (When did a lover listen to advice? When did a nostrum cool love’s flames to ice?» — el comentario del poeta sobre los discípulos que intentan devolverlo a la fe, en el paréntesis que él mismo abre.
«Those nights I passed in faith’s austerities Cannot compare with this night’s agonies; But like a candle now my flame burns high To weep all night and in the daylight die.» — el lamento nocturno del sheikh, que compara las vigilias de la fe con la de ahora y sale perdiendo la primera.
«The loved one, reason, patience – all are gone And I remain to suffer love alone.» — y el cierre de la tirada de preguntas con que termina esa noche.
«Another asked: “Where is your rosary?” He said: “I fling the beads away from me; The Christian’s belt* is my sole sanctuary!» — la primera de las réplicas del sheikh a sus discípulos, en la serie de pregunta y respuesta que ocupa dos planas: tira el rosario y hace santuario del cinturón cristiano, con la llamada de nota que el troceo imprime pegada a la palabra.
«One urged him to repent; he said: “I do, Of all I was, all that belonged thereto.» — la segunda, que acepta el verbo y le cambia el objeto: se arrepiente de todo lo que fue.
«One counselled prayer; he said: “Where is her face That I may pray toward that blessèd place?» — la tercera, que sustituye la alquibla por el rostro de la muchacha, en la grafía con acento grave que imprime esta traducción.
«He said: “No man repents past folly more; Why is it I was not in love before?» — y la que da vuelta el reproche de abandonar el islam: se arrepiente, sí, de no haber amado antes.
«The sheikh said: “If a demon straight from hell Deceives me, I rejoice and wish her well.» — la réplica al discípulo que atribuye su estado a un dardo demoníaco.
«“True, I have lost the fame I once held dear,” Replied their sheikh, “and fraud as well, and fear.» — y la que convierte la acusación de haber perdido el rumbo en inventario de pérdidas: la fama, el fraude y el miedo.
«One said: “Before our God confess your shame.” He answered: “God Himself has lit this flame.» — la réplica que atribuye a Dios mismo el fuego que lo consume, y que es el punto en que la historia deja de ser caída y pasa a ser doctrina.
«He said: “Prepare your ears for blasphemy; An infidel does not prate piety.» — y la última, que corta la discusión declarándose infiel.
«There in the dust he knelt, till constant prayers Made him resemble one of her dark hairs; A patient month he waited day and night To glimpse the radiance of her beauty’s light.» — el mes de espera en la calle, en la imagen que hace del sheikh uno de los cabellos oscuros de ella.
«Restore the heart you stole, or let me see Some glimmer in your heart of sympathy; In all your pride find some affection for The grey-haired, lovesick stranger at your door.» — la súplica del sheikh, que pide el corazón robado o una señal de compasión.
«You are the sun and I a shadow thrown By you – how then can I survive alone?» — y la imagen con que la súplica enlaza con la doctrina de las sombras que la abubilla expuso antes.
«She laughed: “You shameless fool, take my advice – Prepare yourself for death and paradise! Forget flirtatious games, your breath is cold; Stop chasing love, remember you are old. It is a shroud you need, not me! How could You hope for wealth when you must beg for food?» — la respuesta de la muchacha, que le opone la vejez y la pobreza.
«He answered her: “Say what you will, but I In love’s unhappy torments live and die; To Love, both young and old are one – his dart Strikes with unequalled strength in every heart.» — y la réplica del sheikh, que iguala a viejos y jóvenes ante el Amor.
«The girl replied: “There are four things you must Perform to show that you deserve my trust: Burn the Koran, drink wine, seel up Faith’s eye, Bow down to images.» — las cuatro condiciones que la muchacha le pone, y que son el catálogo de lo prohibido: quemar el Corán, beber vino, cegar el ojo de la Fe y postrarse ante imágenes.
«The sheikh declared: “Wine I will drink with you; The rest are things that I could never do.» — y la primera respuesta del sheikh, que acepta una y rechaza tres.
«She said: “If you agree to my commands, To start with, you must wholly wash your hands Of Islam’s faith – the love which does not care To bend to love’s requests is empty air.» — el argumento con que ella lo lleva más lejos: el amor que no se pliega a lo que el amor pide es aire.
«He yielded then: “I must and will obey; I’ll do whatever you are pleased to say. Your slave submits – lead me with ringlets twined As chains about my neck; I am resigned!» — y la rendición del sheikh, en la imagen de los rizos como cadenas al cuello.
«This sheikh who had the whole Koran by heart Felt wine spread through him and his faith depart; Whatever he had known deserted him, Wine conquered and his intellect grew dim;» — el efecto del vino, dicho con la ironía exacta de quien sabía el Corán de memoria.
«Deriding him: “What do you want, old man? Old hypocrite of love, who talks but can Do nothing else? To prove your love, declare That your religion is my rippling hair.» — la exigencia final de la muchacha, que pide que la religión de él sea el cabello de ella.
«But she pretended ignorance and said: “What is it, sheikh? Why is our street your bed?» — la primera palabra de la muchacha, que finge no entender; la pregunta se completa en la plana siguiente con el verso sobre el musulmán que duerme donde pisan los cristianos.
«For love – to imitate my blasphemy You can embrace me here; if not, you may Take up your stick and hobble on your way.» — el ultimátum de la muchacha, que arranca a media frase porque el troceo corta la plana tras la marca de numeración del texto persa: o imita su blasfemia abrazándola, o toma su bastón y se va.
«I spurned idolatry When sober, but your beauty is to me An idol for whose sake I’ll gladly burn My faith’s Koran.» — la rendición completa del sheikh Sam'an, en voz suya: rechazaba la idolatría sobrio, y ahora quemaría por ella el Corán de su fe.
«They took him to a nearby monastery, Where he accepted their theology; He burnt his dervish cloak and set his face Against the faith and Mecca’s holy place» — la conversión formal: monasterio, teología cristiana y el manto de derviche quemado.
«After so many years of true belief, A young girl brought this learned sheikh to grief.» — y el comentario del poeta sobre la desproporción entre la causa y el efecto.
«How many leave the faith through wine! It is The mother of such evil vagaries.» — el paréntesis con que el poeta interrumpe el relato para atribuirle al vino la deserción de la fe.
«For fifty years I walked an open road While in my heart high seas of worship flowed; Love ambushed me and at its sudden stroke For Christian garments I gave up my cloak;» — el balance que el sheikh hace de su propia vida: cincuenta años de camino abierto deshechos por una emboscada.
«The Ka’abah has become love’s secret sign, And homeless love interprets the Divine.» — y el pareado en que su caída se vuelve doctrina: la Ka'abah pasa a ser el signo secreto del amor, y el amor sin casa es lo que interpreta lo Divino.
«The girl replied: “But you are poor, and I Cannot be cheaply won – the price is high; Bring gold, and silver too, you innocent – Then I might pity your predicament; But you have neither, therefore go – and take A beggar’s alms from me; be off, old sheikh!» — la nueva condición que ella le pone, ya de dinero, después de haber conseguido las otras.
«I’ve passed beyond loss, profit, Islam, crime, For how much longer must I bide my time?» — y el estado en que el sheikh se declara, más allá de pérdida, ganancia, islam y crimen.
«“You are too poor to play the bridegroom’s part,” She said, “but be my swineherd for a year And then we’ll stay together, never fear.» — la condición del año de porquerizo, que es la humillación mayor de la historia porque el cerdo es lo impuro por excelencia en el islam.
«This reverend sheikh kept swine – but who does not Keep something swinish in his nature’s plot?» — y el giro con que el poeta impide que el lector se distancie del sheikh: pregunta quién no guarda algo porcino en su naturaleza.
«Do not imagine only he could fall; This hidden danger lurks within us all, Rearing its bestial head when we begin To tread salvation’s path – if you think sin Has no place in your nature, you can stay Content at home; you are excused the Way.» — la advertencia que saca de ahí, dirigida al lector y no a las aves: quien crea que el pecado no tiene sitio en su naturaleza está dispensado del Camino.
«But if you start our journey you will find That countless swine and idols tease the mind – Destroy these hindrances to love or you Must suffer that disgrace the sad sheikh knew.» — y la consecuencia para quien sí emprende el viaje.
«The sheikh replied: “What grief has filled my heart! Go where you please – but quickly, now, depart; Only the Christian keeps my soul alive, And I shall stay with her while I survive.» — la orden del sheikh a sus discípulos, que los despide y se queda.
«Should anyone reproach my actions, say That countless others have pursued this Way, This endless Way where no one is secure, Where danger waits and issues are unsure.» — y el mensaje que les encarga, que reencuadra su caída como accidente del Camino y no como excepción: muchos otros lo han recorrido, y ahí nadie está seguro.
«“O criminals!” he cried. “O frailer than Weak women in your faith – when does a man Need faithful friends but in adversity? You should be there, not prattling here to me.» — el reproche del amigo que se había quedado en La Meca, que invierte los papeles: los culpables no son el sheikh sino los discípulos que lo dejaron.
«He put on Christian garments – so should you; He took their faith – what else had you to do? This was no friendship, to forsake your friend, To promise your support and at the end Abandon him – this was sheer treachery.» — y lo que sostiene que debieron hacer, que es la tesis moral del episodio: seguir al amigo hasta la blasfemia.
«He answered them: “However hard the fight, You should have fought for what was clearly right. Truth struggled there with error; when you went You only worsened his predicament.» — y la sentencia con que cierra el reproche.
«They neither ate nor slept but kept their gaze Unswerving throughout forty nights and days. Their wailing lamentations filled the sky, Moving the green-robed angels ranked on high To clothe themselves with black,» — las cuarenta noches de oración de los discípulos, con los ángeles de verde que se visten de negro.
«The sheikh’s friend rose and said: “God’s Messenger, Vouchsafe your help. Our sheikh has wandered far; You are our Guide; guide him to Truth again.» — la petición del amigo al Profeta, que es quien resuelve la historia.
«The Prophet answered: “I have loosed the chain Which bound your sheikh – your prayer is answered, go. Thick clouds of dust have been allowed to blow Between his sight and Truth – those clouds have gone; I did not leave him to endure alone.» — y la respuesta del Profeta, que declara haber soltado la cadena y no haber dejado solo al sheikh en ningún momento.
«The dust is laid; sin disappeared before His new-made vow. A world of sin, be sure, Shall with contrition’s spittle be made pure. The sea of righteousness drowns in its waves The sins of those sincere repentance saves.» — el principio general que el Profeta enuncia al cerrar: un mundo de pecado se limpia con la saliva de la contrición.
«Weeping they ran to where the swineherd-sheikh, Now cured of his unnatural mistake, Had cast aside his Christian clothes, the bell, The belt, the cap, freed from the strange faith’s spell.» — el reencuentro, con el sheikh ya despojado de la campana, el cinturón y el gorro cristianos.
«Grief dried the blood within him when he saw How he had lost all knowledge of God’s law; All he had once abandoned now returned And he escaped the hell in which he’d burned.» — y el vuelco de su estado interior, que el poema describe como salida de un infierno ya padecido.
«They said: “The mist has fled that hid your sun; Faith has returned and blasphemy is gone;» — la lectura que los discípulos hacen del desenlace, en la imagen de la niebla que ocultaba el sol.
«God who can turn the day to darkest night Can turn black sin to pure repentant light – He kindles a repentant spark, the flame Burns all our sins and all sin’s burning shame.» — y el principio con que la rematan: el mismo que vuelve noche el día vuelve luz el pecado negro.
«I will be brief: the sheikh was purified According to the faith; his old self died – He put the dervish cloak on as before. The group set out for Mecca’s gates once more.» — el cierre del episodio en primera persona del poeta, con el manto de derviche repuesto.
«Our sheikh is savaged by some shark – you race To separate yourselves from his disgrace. Love’s built on readiness to share love’s shame; Such self-regarding love usurps love’s name.» — el pareado del poema que la introducción de este mismo volumen cita en la plana 18 como ejemplo de la anáfora de Attar, y que por eso aparece dos veces en el troceo: el amor se funda en la disposición a compartir su vergüenza, y el que se cuida a sí mismo usurpa el nombre.
«Rise, follow your lost sheikh’s way; Accept his faith, beneath his feet be dust; You tricked him once, be pure to him and just, And, as he took your path without pretence, Take his path now in truth and innocence.» — la voz que se dirige en sueños a la muchacha cristiana y cierra la simetría del episodio: ella ha de tomar el camino de él como él tomó el suyo.
«Follow his lead; you once led him astray – Be his companion as he points the Way; You were a robber preying on the road Where you should seek to share the traveller’s load.» — y la figura con que esa voz le nombra lo que hizo: fue salteadora en el camino donde debía repartir la carga del viajero.
«O God,” she cried, “extend your saving hand To one who is an outcast of the earth, To one who tricked a saint of unmatched worth – Do not abandon me; my evil crime Was perpetrated in a thoughtless time; I did not know what I know now – accept The prayers of one who ignorantly slept.» — la oración de la muchacha en el desierto, que alega ignorancia y no inocencia.
«The sheikh’s heart spoke: “The Christian is no more; The girl you loved knocks at religion’s door – It is our way she follows now; go back And be the comforter her sorrows lack.» — el aviso que el sheikh recibe en su propio corazón, y que el poema no atribuye a ningún mensajero.
«Dear sheikh,” she said, “I cannot bear such pain; Absence undoes me and my spirits wane. I go from this unhappy world; farewell World’s sheikh and mine – further I cannot tell, Exhaustion weakens me; O sheikh, forgive…” And saying this the dear child ceased to live.» — y su muerte, que el poema hace suceder de la ausencia del Amigo y no de la enfermedad; la frase queda cortada en los puntos suspensivos que imprime el troceo.
«She was a drop returned to Truth’s great sea; She left this world, and so, like wind, must we.» — el cierre doctrinal del episodio, que la generaliza al lector en el segundo verso: gota devuelta al mar de la Verdad.
«The Self ignores the secrets of the Way, The mysteries no mortal speech can say; Assurance whispers in the heart’s dark core, Not in the muddied Self – a bitter war Must rage between these two. Turn now and mourn That your existence is so deeply torn!» — la moraleja final, que localiza el conflicto: la certeza susurra en el fondo del corazón y no en el Yo enturbiado, y entre los dos hay guerra.
«They heard the tale; the birds were all on fire To quit the hindrance of the Self; desire To gain the Simorgh had convulsed each heart; lines 1596–1614 Love made them clamour for the journey’s start.» — el efecto que la historia de Sam'an tiene sobre las aves dentro de la fábula, y que es la razón de que ocupe el lugar que ocupa.
«Hardly had they begun when they agreed To call a halt: ‘A leader’s what we need,‘ They said, ‘one who can bind and loose, one who Will guide our self-conceit to what is true;» — la primera decisión del viaje, que es elegir guía: alguien que ate y desate.
«Whatever he commands along the Way, We must, without recalcitrance, obey, Until we leave this plain of sin and pride And gain Kaf’s distant peak.» — y la obediencia que las aves se imponen de antemano, sin recalcitrancia.
«A hush fell, arguments were laid aside, The lots were chosen, and the hoopoe won, A lucky verdict that pleased everyone.» — el modo en que se resuelve la elección, y que el poema no disimula: por sorteo.
«The hoopoe, as their chief, was hailed and crowned – Huge flocks of birds in homage gathered round; A hundred thousand birds assembled there, Making a monstrous shadow in the air.» — la partida de las cien mil aves, con la sombra monstruosa que hacen en el aire.
«The throng set out – but, clearing the first dune, Their leader sent a cry up to the moon And panic spread among the birds; they feared The endless desolation which appeared.» — y el pánico que las toma pasada la primera duna.
«How featureless the view before their eyes, An emptiness where they could recognize No marks of good or ill – a silence where The soul knew neither hope nor blank despair.» — la descripción del vacío del Camino: ni marcas de bien o de mal, ni esperanza ni desesperación.
«One moonlit night Sheikh Bayazid, attracted by the sight Of such refulgent brilliance, clear as day, Across the sleeping city took his way And thence into the desert, where he saw Unnumbered stars adorning heaven’s floor.» — la anécdota de Bayazid, que la abubilla cuenta para responder por qué el Camino está vacío; el maestro que la introducción llama Bistami aparece aquí con el nombre que Attar le da.
«O great God,” he cried, “Your dazzling palace beckons far and wide – Where are the courtiers who should throng this court?» — y la pregunta de Bayazid en el desierto, que es la de las aves.
«A voice said: “Wanderer, you are distraught; Be calm. Our glorious King cannot admit All comers to His court; it is not fit That every rascal who sleeps out the night Should be allowed to glimpse its radiant light. Most are turned back, and few perceive the throne; Among a hundred thousand there is one» — la respuesta de la voz, que es la del poema a su propia fábula: la corte no admite a todos, y de cien mil pasa uno.
«But in the hoopoe’s heart new confidence Transported him above the firmaments – The sands could not alarm him nor the high Harsh sun at noon, the peacock of the sky. What other bird, throughout the world, could bear The troubles of the Way and all its care?» — el contraste que el poema traza entre la bandada aterrada y su guía.
«We know that on this lengthy Way no light Will come to clear uncertainty’s dark night; But when the heart is free we shall commit Our hearts and bodies, all we have, to it.» — y la condición que ponen antes de comprometerse, que abre la larga sección de preguntas y respuestas del poema.
«The dove and nightingale voiced their complaint; Such beauty made the company grow faint – A cry of ecstasy went up; a state Where neither Self nor void predominate Fell on the birds. The hoopoe spoke; he drew The veil from what is ultimately true.» — el estado en que quedan las aves antes del discurso, descrito como aquel donde no predominan ni el Yo ni el vacío.
«One asked: ‘How is it you surpass us in This search for Truth; what is our crippling sin? We search and so do you – but you receive Truth’s purity while we stand by and grieve.» — la primera pregunta de la serie: por qué la abubilla alcanza la Verdad y ellas no, buscando lo mismo.
«No one can gain this by the forms of prayer, For even Satan bowed with pious care; Though don’t imagine that you need not pray; We curse the fool who tricks you in this way.» — el límite que la abubilla le pone de inmediato a esa doctrina, con el ejemplo de Satán que también se inclinó: la forma de la oración no basta, y quien deduzca de ahí que no hay que orar engaña.
«Pray always, never for one moment cease, Pray in despair and when your goods increase, Consume your life with prayer, till Solomon Bestows his glance, and ignorance is gone.» — y la instrucción que se sigue, que es la que la introducción del volumen usa para explicar cómo el contexto cambia el sentido de una historia.
«He said: ‘King Mas’oud, riding out one day, Was parted from his army on the way. Swift as the wind he galloped till he saw A little boy sat by the ocean’s shore.» — la anécdota del rey Mas'oud y el pescadorcito, que la abubilla cuenta a continuación.
«Our father’s gone; for seven children I Must cast my line” was his subdued reply. “Our mother’s paralysed and we are poor; It is for food that I must haunt this shore» — la situación del niño, en voz suya: siete hermanos, la madre paralítica y el sedal como único sustento.
«Accept your luck, don’t try to comprehend How this has happened; you’d be lost, my friend. Your wealth is greater than my own; today A king has fished for you – I cannot stay.» — y el desenlace en boca del rey, que prohíbe al niño entender lo que ha ocurrido.
«how long must I remain Behind this veil of ignorance?» — la petición de la muchacha al sheikh, con que la conversión se invierte respecto del comienzo; la frase queda cortada aquí porque el troceo intercala a media oración la marca de numeración del texto persa, y sigue pidiendo que le haga claros los misterios del islam.
«Whoever knows love’s path is soon aware That stories such as this are far from rare. All things are possible, and you may meet» — la advertencia con que el poema niega excepcionalidad a la historia entera; el pareado se cierra en la plana 70 con la desesperación, el perdón, la certeza y el engaño.
«And how we should behave before the king – You served great Solomon in everything And flew across his lands – therefore you know Exactly where it’s safe and right to go;» — la petición de las aves a la abubilla, que fundan otra vez en su servicio a Salomón; el tramo arranca a media frase porque el troceo corta la plana tras el primer verso.
«Once looked at me – it is that glance alone Which gave me what I know; no wealth could bring The substance I received from wisdom’s king.» — la respuesta de la abubilla, que atribuye todo lo que sabe a una sola mirada de Salomón y no a un mérito; el nombre del rey queda en la plana anterior, donde el troceo corta.
«The mysteries of Islam to me here, And I shall tread its highway without fear.» — y la continuación de esa misma petición al otro lado de la marca de numeración.
«Tomorrow when I fish you are the prey, A trophy I refuse to give away.» — el vuelco de la anécdota del pescadorcito, en boca del rey Mas'oud: al día siguiente la presa es el niño.
«He is my friend, this fact suffices me; He is my equal here in everything, The partner of my throne,” declared the king;» — y la respuesta del rey a los cortesanos que murmuran por la pobreza del niño: lo hace igual suyo y socio del trono.
«To every taunt the boy had one reply: “My sadness vanished when the king passed by.» — la única explicación que el niño da de su suerte, que es la moraleja de la mirada.
«A friend to God passed by me as I died; The earth drank up my blood, but stealthily That pilgrim on Truth’s journey glanced at me, And all the glorious extravagance That laps me now came from his searing glance.» — la anécdota del asesino en el paraíso, en voz del propio ajusticiado: todo su estado viene de la mirada de un peregrino que pasó mientras moría.
«The man on whom that quickening glance alights Is raised to heaven’s unsuspected heights; Indeed, until this glance discovers you Your life’s a mystery without a clue; You cannot carve your way to heaven’s throne If you sit locked in vanity alone.» — y la generalización que la abubilla saca de las dos anécdotas: sin esa mirada la vida es un enigma sin clave.
«You need a skilful guide; you cannot start This ocean-voyage with blindness in your heart.» — el argumento por el que toda esta sección justifica la figura del guía, que es la abubilla dentro de la fábula y el sheikh fuera de ella.
«Your sight is failing and the road is long; Trust one who knows the journey and is strong. Whoever travels in a great lord’s shade Need never hesitate or be afraid; Whoever undertakes this lord’s commands Finds thorns will change to roses in his hands.» — y la promesa que acompaña a la obediencia al guía.
«The king got down and helped him with the wood, His flower-like hands embraced the thorns; and then He rode back to his waiting lords again.» — la anécdota del rey Mahmoud y el leñador: el rey baja del caballo y carga la leña espinosa.
«Two grains, my friends, that’s true – but this rare buyer lines 1732–47 Can surely manage something rather higher? A great one touched these thorns – his hand brought forth A hundred flowers; just think what that is worth! A dinar buys one root – a little gain Is only right, I’ve had my share of pain; The wood itself is worthless, I agree – It is that touch which gives it dignity» — el remate de la anécdota, en boca del leñador, que es la doctrina del pasaje entero: la leña no vale nada y el contacto de la mano real es lo que le da dignidad.
«One of the birds let out a helpless squeak: ‘I can’t go on this journey, I’m too weak. Dear guide, I know I can’t fly any more; I’ve never tried a feat like this before.» — la objeción del ave cobarde, que abre la serie de preguntas del Camino.
«The blood of multitudes has stained the Way; A hundred thousand creatures, as you say, Address themselves to this great enterprise – How many die, a useless sacrifice!» — y el argumento de fondo de esa objeción: de los cien mil que emprenden la empresa, muchos mueren en vano.
«Since you have such a short time to live here, What difference does it make? What should you fear? The world is filth and sin, and homeless men Must enter it and homeless leave again.» — la primera respuesta de la abubilla al ave cobarde, que le niega el término de comparación: la vida que teme perder es corta y sin casa.
«If this great search is vain, if my belief Is groundless, it is right that I should die. So many errors throng the world – then why Should we not risk this quest? To suffer blame For love is better than a life of shame.» — y la apuesta que la abubilla formula en primera persona, con la hipótesis contraria incluida: si la búsqueda es vana, morir en ella sigue siendo lo correcto.
«No one has reached this goal, so why appeal To those whose blindness claims it is unreal? I’d rather die deceived by dreams than give My heart to home and trade and never live.» — la objeción que la abubilla se plantea a sí misma —que nadie ha llegado— y lo que responde: prefiere morir engañada por sueños.
«We have no freedom to achieve our goal Until from Self and fools we free the soul. To be admitted past the veil you must Be dead to all the crowd considers just.» — la condición que pone para pasar el velo, y que reaparece en todo el poema: estar muerto para lo que la multitud tiene por justo.
«The fruit of love’s great tree is poverty; Whoever knows this knows humility.» — y el fruto que el poema le adjudica al árbol del amor.
«Sheikh Noughani set out for Neishapour. The way was more than he could well endure And he fell sick- he spent a hungry week Huddled in tattered clothes, alone and weak.» — la anécdota del sheikh Noughani, de quien el índice biográfico de este volumen dice que no se le pudo rastrear.
«Go, sweep the dirt of Neishapour’s main square, And with the grain of gold that you find there Buy bread and eat.» — y la respuesta de la voz a su ruego de pan, que le manda barrer la plaza.
«Bread needs the sauce of work,” the Lord’s voice said; “Since bread is not enough, I will increase The sauce that makes it tasty; work in peace!» — la doctrina del episodio, en boca de la voz: el pan pide la salsa del trabajo.
«A simpleton walked naked through the crowd, And seeing such fine clothes he cried aloud: lines 1791–1810 “God give me joy like theirs.” A voice replied: “I give the sun’s kind warmth; be satisfied.» — la anécdota del simple desnudo, en que la respuesta divina llega por vía de otro hombre y con diez días de retraso.
«The answer came: “In His great court one must Be humble as His royal highway’s dust; So many, kindled by His glory, come – But few will ever reach the longed-for home.» — y la moraleja con que cierra, que repite la cifra de la anécdota de Bayazid: muchos se encienden y pocos llegan.
«Saint Rabe’eh for seven years had trod The pilgrimage to Mecca and her God.» — la anécdota de Rabe'eh, la santa cuyo nombre esta traducción imprime así y no Rabi'a: siete años de peregrinación.
«Just at that moment the aspiring saint Succumbed to woman’s intimate complaint – She was impure; she turned aside and said:» — y el obstáculo que la detiene a las puertas de la Ka'abah, que el poema nombra con circunloquio: la impureza ritual de la menstruación.
«No lover lived as true as Rabe’eh, Yet look, she too was hindered on the Way.» — la lectura que el poema hace del episodio, y que es lo contrario de una hagiografía: ni la más verdadera de las amantes queda libre de estorbo.
«When first you enter Wisdom’s sea, beware – A wave of indecision floods you there. lines 1811–25 You worship at the Ka’abah’s shrine and then You’re weeping in some worthless pagan’s den;» — la advertencia sobre la indecisión, con la oscilación entre la Ka'abah y el antro pagano.
«A saintly fool lived in a squalid place. One day he saw the Prophet face to face, Who said to him: “In your life’s work I see The signs of heaven-sent tranquillity.» — la anécdota del loco atribulado, en que el Profeta mismo le atribuye señales de tranquilidad.
«When love has pitched his tent in someone’s breast, That man despairs of life and knows no rest. Love’s pain will murder him, then blandly ask» — la descripción del amor como enfermedad que cobra sus honorarios; el pareado del cirujano se cierra en la plana 80, al otro lado del corte.
«Another bird complained: ‘Sin stains my soul; How can the wicked ever reach our goal?» — la segunda objeción de la serie, la del ave que se declara pecadora.
«The answer came: ‘You speak from ignorance; Do not despair of His benevolence. Seek mercy from Him; throw away your shield, And by submission gain the longed-for field.» — la respuesta de la abubilla, que trata la desesperación como ignorancia y no como humildad.
«The gate stands open to contrition’s way – If you have sinned, squeeze through it while you may,» — y la imagen de la puerta de la contrición, siempre abierta.
«Shame forced a vicious sinner to repent. Once more his strength returned, once more he went Down his old paths of wickedness and lust; Leaving the Way, he wallowed in his dust.» — la anécdota del pecador que recae, escogida justamente porque la primera penitencia no aguanta.
«You broke it and again I gave you time, Asking no payment for this newer crime; Poor fool – would you repent once more? My gate Stands open always; patiently I wait.» — y la voz que le responde al amanecer: la puerta sigue abierta y no se cobra el crimen nuevo.
«There Gabriel went and saw the man in tears – A worthless idol ruled his hopes and fears.» — la anécdota de Gabriel y el incrédulo: el orante que Dios atiende resulta estar llorando ante un ídolo en Roma.
«And God replied: “He does not know our Way; Mere ignorance has led this man astray – I understand the cause of his disgrace And will not coldly turn aside My face; I shall admit him to My sanctuary Where kindness will convert his blasphemy» — y la respuesta de Dios al asombro de Gabriel, que es una de las formulaciones más extremas del poema: la ignorancia explica el desvío, y la bondad convertirá la blasfemia.
«This man for whom God showed such care Was one like you – and if you cannot bring Great virtues to the presence of our king, Do not alarm yourself; the Lord will bless The saint’s devotions and your nothingness.» — la aplicación que la abubilla hace al ave que se decía pecadora: donde no haya virtudes, el Señor bendecirá la nada.
«A sufi passing in a street nearby Asked: “Will you sell for nothing?” But he laughed: “Who gives his goods for nothing? Don’t be daft!» — la anécdota del sufí que quería comprar algo por nada, en el mercado de Bagdad.
«For nothing We shall give you everything; If you want more, that ‘more’ We’ll also bring.» — y la voz que le responde con la oferta que el mercader le negó, en primera persona del plural mayestático.
«Know that Our mercy is a glittering sun; No particle escapes its brilliance, none – Did We not send to sin and blasphemy Our Prophet as a sign of clemency?» — la imagen con que esa voz define la misericordia, y la prueba que alega: el envío del Profeta al pecado y a la blasfemia.
«God said: “Gharoun has ten times seven times, Dear Moses, begged forgiveness for his crimes – Still you ignore him, though his soul is free From all the twisting growths of blasphemy; I have uprooted them and now prepare A robe of grace in answer to his prayer.» — la anécdota en que Dios reconviene a Moisés, y que pone al profeta del lado del rigor y a Dios del lado del perdón.
«You have destroyed him; wound has followed wound; You force his head to bow down to the ground – If you were his Creator you would give Some respite to this suffering fugitive.» — y el reproche concreto, con el argumento que lo remata: si Moisés fuera su Creador le daría tregua.
«One who shows mercy to the merciless Brings mercy close to Godlike blessèdness; The ocean of God’s grace is infinite – Our sins are like a tear dissolved in it.» — la proporción que el poema pone entre el pecado y la gracia.
«One who accuses sinners takes the part Of tyranny, and bears a tyrant’s heart.» — y la sentencia contra el acusador, que es lo que la sección entera viene a decir.
«A sinner died, and, as his coffin passed, A man who practised every prayer and fast Turned ostentatiously aside – how could He pray for one of whom he knew no good?» — la anécdota del pecador que entra en el cielo, con el devoto que se aparta del féretro.
«God saw your merciless, disdainful pride, And pitied my poor soul,” the man replied.» — y el desenlace en boca del pecador: fue el desdén del devoto lo que le valió la piedad.
«If all were pure of all iniquity, God could not show His generosity; The end of Wisdom is for God to show – Perpetually – His love to those below.» — el argumento con que el poema hace necesaria la falta: sin iniquidad no habría dónde mostrar la generosidad.
«His Wisdom’s like a crow’s wing in the night – He sends a child out with a taper’s light, line 1885–1903 And then a wind that quenches this thin flame; The child will suffer words of scathing blame, But in that narrow darkness he will find The thousand ways in which his Lord is kind.» — la parábola del niño y la vela apagada, con que el poema explica la oscuridad como método.
«Do not despise yourself, for there is none Who could with you sustain comparison; Do not torment yourself – your soul is All, Your body but a fleeting particle.» — el giro con que la abubilla vuelve la doctrina contra el desprecio de sí: el alma es el Todo y el cuerpo la partícula.
«Abbasseh said: “At God’s last Judgement Day, When panic urges men to run away lines 1904–18 And at the same time paralyses them, When sinners stumble, overwhelmed by shame, When terror seizes on the human race, And each man seeks to hide his anguished face,» — la anécdota de los celos de los ángeles, puesta en boca de Abbasseh, la figura de la que el índice biográfico de este volumen dice que Attar pudo inventarla.
«The angels will cry out: ‘Lord, is this just, That man, before us all, take precedence?’ And God will say: ‘There is no consequence Of loss or gain in this for you, but man Has reached the limit of his earthly span – Hunger must always be supplied with bread; A mortal nation clamours to be fed’.» — y la respuesta que la anécdota pone en boca de Dios ante la queja de los ángeles: el hombre ha llegado al límite de su plazo, y al hambre hay que darle pan.
«The hoopoe said: ‘This troubles everyone; What man is truly single-minded? None! If all of us could boast a spotless mind, Why should the prophets mingle with mankind?» — la respuesta de la abubilla, que universaliza la falla y la usa como argumento: si todos tuvieran la mente limpia, los profetas no harían falta.
«Life is an obstinate young colt – until He’s broken in by your restraining will lines 1919–35 He knows no peace; but you are indolent, Stretched out beside the oven, warm, content. Tears temper hearts; but living well’s a rust That inch by inch reduces them to dust – You’re just a eunuch pampering his needs; Your Self’s grown gross, a dog that sleeps and feeds.» — y la imagen del potro sin domar con que le devuelve el reproche al ave.
«He answered: “In the world’s way these you see Aren’t men or women; so it is with me – For in the way of Faith I’m neither man Nor woman, but ambiguous courtesan – Unmanliness reproaches me, then blame For my virility fills me with shame.» — y la respuesta de Shebli, que lee su propia ambigüedad como figura de la del creyente: ni hombre ni mujer en el camino de la Fe.
«If you seem more substantial than a hair, You’ve made an idol of yourself – take care, Whatever praise or blame may say of you, You’re an idolater in all you do.» — la advertencia que la abubilla saca de ahí: el que se cree algo se ha hecho ídolo de sí mismo.
«As Truth’s sworn slave, beware of Azar’s ways Who carved the stone to which he offered praise – Devotion is the crown of all mankind; Leave Uzza* and such idols far behind.» — y el ejemplo de Azar, el tallador de ídolos, con la llamada de nota que el troceo imprime pegada al nombre de la diosa preislámica.
«One day two dressed as wandering sufis came Before the courts to lodge a legal claim. The judge took them aside. “This can’t be right, For sufis to provoke a lawyers’ fight,» — la anécdota de los dos sufíes en el tribunal, que la abubilla trae contra la duplicidad.
«I’m just a judge, unversed in your affair, But I’m ashamed to see the clothes you wear; You should wear women’s veils – that would be less Dishonest than your present holy dress.» — y el veredicto del juez, que no es jurídico sino de vestimenta: el velo de mujer sería menos deshonesto que el hábito sufí que llevan.
«If on its path love forces you to yield, Then do so gladly, throw away your shield; Resist and you will die, your soul is dead – To ward off your defeat bow down your head!» — la instrucción que la abubilla saca del episodio: rendirse de buena gana, porque resistir mata.
«A poor man fell in love with Egypt’s king, Who heard the news and ordered guards to bring The wretch to him. “You love the king,” he said; “Now choose: give up your home here or your head – You must make up your mind between these two, Exile or death. Well, which seems best to you?» — la anécdota del pobre enamorado del rey de Egipto y la elección que el rey le impone entre destierro y muerte.
«Your soul’s an agent of the sacred Whole. But “part” and “whole” must disappear at last; The Way is one, and number is surpassed.» — la relación que el poema fija entre el alma y el Todo —el pareado empieza en la plana anterior con la carne como agente del alma— y el límite que se pone enseguida: parte y todo desaparecen al final, porque el Camino es uno y el número queda atrás.
«I lack the organs of virility; Each moment I prefer a different tree – I’m drunk, devout, the world’s, then (briefly) His; Caught between “No, it isn’t”, “Yes, it is”. The flesh will send me drinking, then I’ll find The praise of God awakening in my mind; What should I do between these two extremes, Imprisoned by conflicting needs and dreams?» — la objeción del ave indecisa, que se declara sin virilidad y partida entre la bebida y la alabanza de Dios; el primer verso queda en la plana anterior, donde el troceo corta.
«At last they found him where the town enjoys The sexual services of men and boys, Sitting among the catamites; his eye Was moist and humid, and his lips bone-dry.» — la anécdota de Shebli en el burdel de Bagdad, que la introducción del volumen señala como prueba de que ese amor se tenía por vergonzoso; el arranque de la anécdota queda en la plana anterior.
«He did not really love,” the king replied. “Though he pretended love for me, he lied: If he were valiant in love he would Have chosen death here as the highest good.» — el veredicto del rey de Egipto sobre el pobre que eligió el destierro: no era amor, porque el amor habría elegido la muerte.
«Had he required my head, at his command There would have been no lord to rule this land; I would have worn his livery, a king Would have become his slave in everything» — y la reciprocidad que el rey declara y que el pobre no reclamó: si hubiera pedido su cabeza, el rey se habría vuelto su esclavo.
«One of the birds then said: ‘My enemy’s That veteran of highway robberies, My Self; how can I travel on the Way With such a follower? The dog won’t pay The least attention to a word I say – The dog I knew is gone and in his place A slavering wolf stalks by me, pace for pace.» — la objeción del ave que denuncia al Yo como salteador de caminos, en la imagen del perro vuelto lobo.
«The hoopoe said: ‘How has this dog betrayed And brought to dust whatever plans you made! lines 1970–87 The Self’s squint-eyed and cannot guide you well, Part dog, part parasite, part infidel.» — la respuesta de la abubilla, que define al Yo por sus tres mitades.
«When you are praised your Self swells up with pride (Aware that praise is quite unjustified); There’s no hope for the Self – the dog grows fatter The more it hears men fawn, deceive and flatter.» — y el mecanismo que le atribuye: el perro engorda con el halago aunque uno sepa que es inmerecido.
«What is your childhood but a negligence, A time of carelessness and ignorance? What is your youth but madness, strife and danger, Knowledge that in this world you are a stranger? What is your age but torpid helplessness, The flesh and spirit sapped by long distress?» — el balance de las tres edades del hombre bajo el reinado del Yo, en tres preguntas.
«Until this dog, the Self, can be subdued, Our life is folly, endlessly renewed; If all of life from birth to death is vain, Blank nothingness will be our only gain –» — y la conclusión que saca, dicha sin atenuante.
«The Self is hell – a furnace belching fire, An icy pit as Pride succeeds Desire, And though a hundred thousand die of grief, That this same dog should die is past belief.» — la identificación del Yo con el infierno, en el horno y la fosa de hielo.
«A man who lived by digging graves survived To ripe old age. A neighbour said: “You’ve thrived For years, digging away in one routine – Tell us the strangest thing you’ve ever seen.” He said: “All things considered, what’s most strange Is that for seventy years without a change That dog, my Self, has seen me digging graves, Yet neither dies, nor alters, nor behaves!» — la anécdota del sepulturero, que la abubilla trae como prueba de que el Yo no muere: setenta años viendo cavar tumbas sin inmutarse.
«Beneath the Self’s reign we are infidels And nourish blasphemy in all our cells; Its life is stubborn, strong, intractable – To kill it seems well-nigh impossible. It draws its strength from both alternatives; No wonder it so obstinately lives.» — la descripción del Yo en boca de Abbasseh, que explica su fuerza por la indecisión misma: saca su vigor de las dos alternativas.
«But if the heart can rule, then day and night This dog will labour for the heart’s delight, And when the heart rides out he sprints away Eager to flush his noble master’s prey.» — y el uso que le reconoce si el corazón gobierna: el mismo perro se vuelve el que levanta la presa.
«Whoever chains this dog will find that he Commands the lion of eternity; Whoever binds this dog, his sandals’ dust Surpasses all the councils of the just.» — la promesa con que Abbasseh cierra: quien encadene a ese perro manda sobre el león de la eternidad.
«A ragged pilgrim of the sufis’ Way By chance met with a king, and heard him say:» — la anécdota del rey y el sufí, donde el poema nombra por su nombre el Camino de los sufíes.
«Although self-praise is not our normal rule (The man who loves himself is still a fool), I’ll tell you, since I must, that one like me Exceeds a thousand like your majesty.» — y la respuesta del sufí al rey, con la reserva que él mismo se impone antes de decirla.
«Since you find no delight in faith – alas, Your Self has made of you, my lord, an ass And sat on you, and set its load on you – You’re just its slave in everything you do; You wear its halter, follow its commands, A no-one, left completely in its hands.» — el argumento del sufí, en la imagen del Yo que cabalga sobre el rey.
«My study is to reach Truth’s inmost shrine – And I am not my Self’s ass, he is mine; Now since the beast I ride on rides on you, That I’m your better is quite plainly true.» — y el remate, que invierte la cabalgadura: el sufí monta a su Yo y ese Yo monta al rey.
«This man, and hundreds like him, constitute The mighty phalanx of the Absolute; When such an army charges you will find You and your puny Self are left behind.» — la lectura que el poema hace del sufí harapiento: hombres así forman la falange del Absoluto.
«Two foxes met, and tasted such delight They could not let each other out of sight. But then a king came hunting on the plain And parted them. “Where shall we meet again?” She yelped. He barked back as he reached their hole: “At the furrier’s, dear – hung up as a stole!» — la anécdota de los dos zorros, con el chiste macabro que la cierra y que la introducción del volumen señala como muestra del humor casero de Attar.
«The hoopoe said: ‘This devil never leaves Until the Self has gone; if he deceives You now, his cunning is your own deceit – Your wishes are the devil, you the cheat!» — y la respuesta de la abubilla, que disuelve al demonio en el propio deseo de quien se queja.
«A sluggard once approached a fasting saint And, baffled by despair, made this complaint: “The devil is a highwayman, a thief, Who’s ruined me and robbed me of belief.» — la anécdota de la queja del demonio, que empieza por la acusación del perezoso.
«The saint replied: “Young man, the devil too Has made his way here to complain – of you. ‘My province is the world,’ I heard him say; ‘Tell this new pilgrim of God’s holy Way To keep his hands off what is mine – if I Attack him it’s because his fingers pry In my affairs; if he will leave me be, He’s no concern of mine and can go free’.» — y la vuelta que le da el santo: el demonio también vino a quejarse, y pide que el peregrino no meta la mano en lo suyo.
«He said: “I get my bread from God’s own hands, Then carry out the Evil One’s commands.» — la anécdota de Malek Dinar, resuelta en un solo pareado suyo.
«What is this world, this nest of greed and lust, But leavings of oppression, windswept dust? Here tyranny intensified its reign, Here cruelty struck and left an emptied plain.» — la definición del mundo que la abubilla propone, hecha de despojos de la opresión.
«God calls this world a nothing, but its snare Has trapped you, and you struggle in despair – When will you die to such unhappiness And take the hand that leads you from distress?» — y la paradoja que le opone: Dios lo llama nada y su trampa retiene igual.
«The creature who abandons what he sought For nothing’s sake is nought and less than nought.» — la sentencia aritmética con que remata: quien deja lo que buscaba por nada es menos que nada.
«To close your eyes and flee is courage here, Or like some fluttering moth you’ll draw too near And in the blaze be burnt; to worship flame Is drunken pride, the path to death and shame.» — la inversión del valor que el poema propone ante la hoguera del mundo: aquí el coraje es cerrar los ojos y huir.
«A crazy dervish heard his prayer and said: “You dare to call His mercies on your head When your behaviour seems to say ‘The earth Can hardly hold a person of my worth’ – You’ve raised a palace up against the sky, Embellished it with gold to daze the eye; Ten boys and ten young girls await your whim, What claim have you on mercy or on Him?» — la anécdota del señor rico y el derviche, que le objeta al orante su propio inventario.
«If Fate gave you my daily round of bread, Then you could call down mercies on your head.» — y la condición que el derviche le pone para que la súplica valga.
«When leaves are falling it’s too late to sow; Repentance on a death-bed is too slow – The time to turn aside has flown; be sure Whoever waits till then will die impure» — y el refrán agrícola con que lo remata.
«Another bird said: ‘I love gold alone; It’s life to me, like marrow to a bone – When I have gold I blossom like a flower; With restless pride I revel in its power.» — la objeción del ave avara, dicha sin disimulo.
«The hoopoe said: ‘Appearances delight The heart that cannot see Truth’s dawning light; You are as blind by day as in the night – Your life’s a crawling ant’s. What essence lies In surfaces? A void! Direct your eyes To meaning’s core; gold is a stone, and you Are like a child attracted by its hue.» — y la respuesta de la abubilla, que reduce el oro a piedra y al avaro a niño atraído por el color.
«Obstructs my path. I can’t fight back with force; Against his specious talk I’ve no recourse. How can I find salvation from his lies, Drink down the wine of meaning and be wise?» — la objeción del ave que se dice vencida por el Orgullo; el primer verso queda en la plana anterior, donde el troceo corta.
«A true believer said: “There is a crowd Who when they come to die will cry aloud And turn to God. But they are fools; they should» — la anécdota del arrepentimiento en el lecho de muerte, que el poema desautoriza; la frase se completa en la plana 98.
«Each month you count the profits from your trade, What trade! – your soul’s been sold, the bargain’s made. Life’s sweetness passes and you spend your time Scrabbling for farthings – isn’t this a crime? You give this All for nothing, while your heart Is given wholly to the merchant’s art;» — la respuesta de la abubilla al ave avara, que le devuelve su contabilidad: lo vendido es el alma.
«Remember the Koran: “You cannot gain Salvation while the things you love remain.» — la cita coránica con que la abubilla apoya la renuncia, tal como el poema la pone en sus labios.
«You must abandon all things that exist; Even the soul itself must be dismissed – Renounce its fellowship; it too must go, Along with all you own and all you know.» — y hasta dónde la lleva, que es el extremo que el poema repite: también el alma se despide.
«If you have made this world a place for sleep, Your bed’s the load that makes the Way so steep Burn it! and pass beyond what merely seems; You can’t deceive the Truth with sleepy dreams. Let fear persuade you, and the fire is lit; Burn your bed now if you would rise from it.» — la imagen de la cama como carga del Camino, con el imperativo de quemarla.
«A novice hid a little store of gold. His sheikh knew this, although he’d not been told.» — la anécdota del novicio y el oro escondido, que el sheikh sabe sin que se lo digan.
«The sheikh said: “Throw out what you cannot hide, Then either way will do – as you decide.» — y el consejo del sheikh ante la bifurcación, que hace del oro y no del camino la verdadera decisión.
«Let gold win someone’s heart, and when that’s done Even the Devil, out of fear, will run (When gold is weighed what arguments ensue: “One grain too many!”“No, one grain too few!» — la escena de la pesada del oro, que el poema intercala como prueba de lo que hace con quien lo ama.
«A sheikh of Basra said to Rabe’eh: “How much you have endured along love’s Way! And all this strength is from yourself – tell me The source of your profound ability, This inward light which you have neither read Nor learnt nor copied.» — la anécdota de Rabe'eh y las dos monedas, que empieza con la pregunta del sheikh de Basra por el origen de su luz interior.
«The worldly man’s embroiled in bloody cares, Laying a hundred thousand different snares Until unlawfully he gets his gold, And promptly dies! Before his body’s cold, The eager heir has claimed his property, His legal right to strife and misery.» — la suerte del hombre mundano según la abubilla, con el heredero esperando el cadáver.
«We seek the Way of perfect Unity, Where no one counts his own prosperity;» — y la definición del Camino que opone a eso: la Unidad perfecta, donde nadie cuenta su prosperidad.
«A man divinely blessed filled all his days For twice two hundred years with sacred praise. He lived alone where no man ever trod And, hidden by Truth’s veil, conversed with God» — la anécdota del ermitaño que escuchó a un pájaro: cuatrocientos años de alabanza y trato con Dios.
«Charmed by this liquid voice the hermit found Companionship in its beguiling sound.» — y el desliz mínimo que la historia castiga: hallar compañía en el canto de un ave.
«I’ve bought and cared for you – your negligence Has cheaply sold me off as recompense: I pay the price for you, you auction Me, Is this your meaning for “fidelity”? I am the one Companion you should keep, Not some quick bargain to be marked down “cheap”» — el reproche que Dios manda al ermitaño por medio del profeta de su tiempo, en la figura del trueque: yo pago tu precio y tú me subastas.
«Another bird declared: ‘My happiness Comes from the splendid things which I possess: My palace walls inlaid with gold excite Astonishment in all who see the sight. They are a world of joy to me – how could lines 2150–65 I wrench my heart from this surpassing good? There I am king; all bow to my commands – Shall I court ruin in the desert sands? Shall I give up this realm, and live without My certain glory in a world of doubt? What rational mind would give up paradise For wanderings filled with pain and sacrifice?» — la objeción del ave ostentosa, que alega palacio, reino y sensatez.
«There’d be no harm in palaces like yours, Did not the thought of death beat at our doors.» — con la salvedad exacta que hace daño al argumento del ave: el palacio no tendría nada de malo si no existiera la muerte.
«An old ascetic spoke. “One thing’s amiss,” He said; “there’s one particular you lack. This noble structure has a nasty crack» — la anécdota del palacio del rey, en que un asceta halla la única falla.
«The man said: “Lord, it is the truth I tell – And through that crack will enter Azra’el.* It may be you can block it, but if not, Then throne and palace are not worth a jot!» — y cuál es esa falla: la grieta por donde entrará Azra'el, con la llamada de nota que el troceo imprime pegada al nombre.
«Your palace now seems like some heavenly prize, But death will make it ugly to your eyes; Nothing remains for ever and you know – Although you live here now- that this is so.» — el argumento con que el asceta lo remata, que no apela a doctrina sino a lo que el rey ya sabe.
«To gratify his busy self-esteem, A merchant built a mansion like a dream, And when the preparations were all done, He regally invited everyone To an enormous entertainment there, At which they’d feast and dutifully stare.» — la anécdota del mercader y su fiesta, montada para que la miren.
«He met a begging fool, who stood his ground And mocked the merchant’s diligence. “My lord,” He said, “I’m desolate (O, rest assured!) That I can’t come and drink your health, but I’m So busy that I really haven’t time – You will forgive me?” and he gave a grin. “Of course,” the merchant answered, taken in.» — y el necio mendigo que la desinfla devolviéndole su propia prisa.
«You’ve seen an active spider work – he seems To spend his life in self-communing dreams; In fact the web he spins is evidence lines 2180–97 That he’s endowed with some far-sighted sense.» — la parábola de la araña, con la ironía puesta ya en el primer pareado.
«Such is the world, and one who feeds there is A fly trapped by that spider’s subtleties; If all the world is yours, it will pass by As swiftly as the blinking of an eye; And though you boast of kings and patronage, You are a child, an actor on a stage.» — la aplicación que el poema hace de la parábola, con el mundo entero pasando como un parpadeo.
«Whoever lives for banners, drums and glory Is dead; the dervish understands this story And calls it windy noise–winds vainly flap The banners, hollowly the brave drums tap.» — la sentencia contra la gloria, en la imagen de las banderas que el viento agita y los tambores huecos.
«They skin the leopard for his splendid pelt; They’ll flay you too before your nose has smelt A whiff of danger. When your life’s made plain, Which will be better, death or chastening pain?» — y el aviso que la acompaña, en la piel del leopardo.
«To see the Way, look with the eyes of thought; Set out on it and glimpse the heavenly court – And when you reach that souls’ asylum, then Its glory will blot out the world of men.» — la instrucción positiva con que cierra la respuesta: mirar con los ojos del pensamiento.
«The dervish said: “If there is no strict Way, How has it led you to me here today?» — la anécdota del necio y el derviche en el desierto, cuyo remate convierte la objeción del necio en prueba de lo contrario.
«When worldly pleasures cloy, prepare to die – The world gives neither name nor truth, pass by! The more you see of it the less you see,» — y la paradoja con que el poema cierra el pasaje sobre el mundo.
«I sell this and am satisfied to get Two grains of silver – though I never yet Held both these grains together in my palm, But one in either hand. I fear the harm That follows from the clink of coin on coin, The sleepless nights when sums of money join.» — la respuesta de Rabe'eh al sheikh de Basra, que no es doctrinal sino práctica: hila algodón basto y nunca tiene juntas en la palma las dos monedas de plata que gana; el primer verso queda en la plana anterior.
«This world’s a kennel’s filthy murk at best; Your palace is a kennel with the rest.» — la respuesta de la abubilla al ave ostentosa, que iguala el palacio con la perrera; el insulto que abre la réplica queda en la plana anterior.
«The cunning spider’s home – and with her broom She clears both fly and spider from the room.» — el desenlace de la parábola de la araña: la escoba del ama de casa barre a la mosca y a la araña juntas; el verso arranca en la plana anterior.
«A perfumed wood was burning, and its scent Made someone sigh with somnolent content. One said to him: “Your sigh means ecstasy; Think of the wood, whose sigh means misery» — la anécdota del leño perfumado, que reparte el mismo suspiro entre el éxtasis de quien huele y la miseria de lo que arde.
«This bandit, Love, confronted me and stole My intellect, my heart, my inmost soul – The image of her face is like a thief Who fires the harvest and leaves only grief.» — la objeción del ave que no puede dejar a su amada, con el Amor personificado como salteador.
«My pain exceeds all cure or remedy; I’ve passed beyond both faith and blasphemy – My blasphemy and faith are love for her; My soul is her abject idolater –» — y el estado en que esa ave se declara, más allá de la fe y de la blasfemia.
«The hoopoe said: ‘You are the prisoner of Appearances, a superficial love; This love is not divine; it is mere greed For flesh – an animal, instinctive need.» — la respuesta de la abubilla, que distingue dos amores y niega que el suyo sea divino.
«To love what is deficient, trapped in time, Is more than foolishness, it is a crime – And blasphemous the struggle to evade That perfect beauty which can never fade.» — y la calificación que le da, con el argumento del objeto: amar lo deficiente y atrapado en el tiempo es crimen.
«You would compare a face of blood and bile To the full moon – yet what could be more vile In all the world than that same face when blood And bile are gone? – it is no more than mud. This is the fleshly beauty you adore; This is its being, this and nothing more.» — la reducción con que la abubilla desarma la metáfora amorosa persa, devolviendo el rostro a su materia.
«When that last veil is lifted neither men Nor all their glory will be seen again, The universe will fade – this mighty show In all its majesty and pomp will go, And those who-loved appearances will prove Each other’s enemies and forfeit love, While those who loved the absent, unseen Friend Will enter that pure love which knows no end.» — y el reparto final que anuncia: los que amaron apariencias se vuelven enemigos y los que amaron al Amigo invisible entran en el amor sin fin.
«Once Shebli saw a poor wretch weeping. “Why These tears?” the sheikh inquired. “What makes you cry?» — la anécdota de Shebli y el hombre que ha perdido a su amigo.
«The sheikh replied: “And is that all you miss? Don’t grieve, my friend, you’re worth much more than this. Choose now another friend who cannot die – For His death you will never have to cry.» — y el consejo de Shebli, que no consuela la pérdida sino que cambia el objeto: elegir un amigo que no pueda morir.
«There was a merchant once who had a slave As sweet as sugar how did he behave? He sold that girl beyond comparison – And O, how he regretted what he’d done He offered her new master heaps of gold And would have paid her price a thousandfold; His heart4n flames, his poor head in a whirl, He begged her owner to resell the girl.» — la anécdota del mercader que vendió a su esclava favorita y quiso recomprarla.
«But anyone who gives his love for gain, Who stitches tight the eyes of common-sense Deserves as much for his improvidence – To think that on that fatal market-day I tricked myself and gave the best away.» — y el veredicto que el propio mercader se aplica, que es la moraleja: quien cambia su amor por ganancia se engaña a sí mismo.
«Your breaths are jewels, each atom is a guide To lead you to the Truth, and glorified From head to foot with His great wealth you stand;» — la aplicación que el poema hace al lector: cada átomo es guía hacia la Verdad, y uno está cubierto de esa riqueza sin saberlo.
«God nourished you in love and holy pride, But ignorance detains you from His side.» — y la causa que le atribuye a la separación, que no es castigo: la ignorancia.
«A royal hunt swept out across the plain. The monarch called for someone in his train To bring a greyhound, and the handler brought A dark, sleek dog, intelligent, well-taught; A jewelled gold collar sparkled at its throat, Its back was covered by a satin coat – Gold anklets clasped its paws; its leash was made Of silk threads twisted in a glistening braid.» — la anécdota del rey y su lebrel, con el inventario de collar, manta y ajorcas que la hace legible como alegoría.
«He stooped to sniff, and when the king saw why, A glance of fury flashed out from his eye. “When you’re with me,” he said, “your sovereign king, How dare you look at any other thing?» — la falta que el perro comete: olfatear un hueso yendo junto a su rey.
«The king said: “No, do just as you are told; Drive him, exactly as he is, away – And when he comes back to himself some day, He’ll see the riches that he bears and know That he was mine, a king’s, but long ago.» — y la sentencia del rey, que deja al perro con sus joyas puestas para que un día reconozca de quién fue.
«Now is the dragon’s time – the lover must Submit and see his throat’s blood stain the dust; What terrifies the human soul’s so slight – An ant at most – in this vast dragon’s sight; His lovers’ thirst will not be quenched till they Drink their own blood and take the selfless Way.» — la imagen del dragón con que la abubilla describe el trato del amor, y la sed que solo se apaga con la sangre propia.
«Hallaj was taken to the gallows tree And cried: “I am the Truth”; they could not see The meaning of his words and hacked at him, Tearing his bleeding carcass limb from limb.» — el martirio de Hallaj, en la escena que el poema da sin preámbulo: dijo que era la Verdad y no lo entendieron.
«Since it is blood which paints a man’s face red, I’ve painted mine that no one here may say ‘Hallaj turned pale on that last bloody day» — y la explicación que el propio Hallaj da de haberse pintado el rostro con su sangre: para que nadie diga que palideció.
«When he must die and sees the gallows near, The hero’s courage leaves no room for fear – Since all the world is like a little ‘O’, Why should I fear whatever it may show?» — el argumento del valor que le atribuye el poema, con el mundo reducido a una letra redonda y vacía.
«That sea of faith, Junaid, in Baghdad once Discoursed with such persuasive eloquence It seemed the stars bowed down to hear him speak. This stalwart guide and comfort of the weak Delighted in his son, a lovely child Who as his father lectured was beguiled And murdered by a gang – they tossed his head In that assembly’s midst and quickly fled.» — la anécdota de Junaid, el maestro que la introducción del volumen pone del lado sobrio del sufismo, y el asesinato de su hijo a media lección.
«Junaid looked steadfastly at this cruel sight And did not weep but said: “What seems tonight So strange was certain from eternity; What happens happens from necessity» — y su respuesta, que el poema deja sin comentario junto a la de Hallaj: lo que pasa pasa por necesidad.
«Another bird spoke up: ‘The Way is long, And I am neither valiant nor strong. I’m terrified of death; I know that I – Before the first stage is complete – must die; I tremble at the thought; when death draws near, I know I’ll shriek and groan in snivelling fear.» — la objeción del ave que teme a la muerte, dicha sin adorno.
«The hoopoe said: ‘How feebly you complain! How long will this worn bag of bones remain? What are you but a few bones? – and at heart Each bone is soft and hastens to depart.» — la respuesta de la abubilla, que empieza por desarmar lo que se teme perder.
«As you are reared to live, so from your birth lines 2315–33 You’re also rested to one day leave this earth.» — y el argumento de simetría: la misma crianza que prepara para vivir prepara para irse.
«The sky is like some huge, inverted bowl Which sunset fills with blood from pole to pole – The sun seems then an executioner, Beheading thousands with his scimitar.» — la imagen del cielo al atardecer como verdugo, en el pareado que la sostiene.
«If you are profligate, if you are pure, You are but water mixed with dust, no more – A drop of trembling instability, And can a drop resist the surging sea?» — y la igualación de puros y disolutos ante el polvo, con la gota que no resiste al mar.
«In India lives a bird that is unique: The lovely phoenix has a long, hard beak Pierced with a hundred holes, just like a flute – It has no mate, its reign is absolute.» — la parábola del fénix, que el poema sitúa en la India y describe con un pico agujereado como flauta.
«Each opening has a different sound; each sound Means something secret, subtle and profound – And as these shrill, lamenting notes are heard, A silence falls on every listening bird; Even the fish grow still. It was from this Sad chant a sage learnt music’s artifice.» — y el origen que le atribuye al arte de la música: un sabio lo aprendió de ese canto.
«The phoenix’ life endures a thousand years And, long before, he knows when death appears; When death’s sharp pangs assail his tiring heart, And all signs tell him he must now depart,» — la duración de esa vida y el saber anticipado de la propia muerte, que es lo que hace de la parábola una lección.
«Then drawn to him by his heart-piercing calls lines 2334–55 The birds approach, and savage animals – They watch, and watching grieve; each in his mind Determines he will leave the world behind. Some weep in sympathy and some grow faint; Some die to hear his passionate complaint.» — el efecto del canto fúnebre sobre las aves y las fieras, que resuelven dejar el mundo.
«What other creature can – throughout the earth – After death takes him, to himself give birth?» — lo que el poema le reconoce de único al fénix: engendrarse a sí mismo después de la muerte.
«If you were given all the phoenix’ years, Still you would have to die when death appears.» — y el uso que le da, que es el contrario del que la figura suele tener: ni esos años eximen de morir.
«Now understand that none, however sly, Can slip past death’s sharp claws – we all must die; None is immortal in the world’s vast length; This wonder shows no creature has the strength To keep death’s ruthless vehemence in check – But we must soften his imperious neck; Though many tasks will fall to us, this task Remains the hardest that the Way will ask.» — la conclusión de la parábola, con la tarea que el poema declara la más dura del Camino: ablandar la cerviz de la muerte.
«A passing sufi said: “And such a day lines 2356–70 Has never come your wretched father’s way!” The son knows sorrow, but do not compare Such grief with all his father has to bear.» — la anécdota del hijo que llora ante el féretro, con la réplica del sufí que traslada la desgracia al muerto.
«There’s nothing I can say,” The man replied, “except that every day’ I lived was wasted on what’s trivial, And now I shall be dust – and that is all.» — la anécdota del virrey moribundo, resuelta en su propia respuesta: cada día gastado en lo trivial, y polvo al final.
«King Solomon, whose seal subdued all lands, Is dust compounded with the desert sands, And tyrants whose decrees spelt bloody doom Decay to nothing in the narrow tomb: How many sleep beneath the ground! And sleep Like theirs is bitter, turbulent and deep.» — la igualación de Salomón y los tiranos bajo tierra, que cierra la serie con el sello del anillo ya inútil.
«Look hard at death – in our long pilgrimage The grave itself is but the first grim stage;» — y el lugar que el poema le da a la tumba dentro del viaje: la primera etapa, no el final.
«Once Jesus reached a clear stream’s shaded bank – He scooped up water in his palms and drank; How sweet that water was! as if it were lines 2371–88 Some rose-sweet sherbet or an elixir; One with him filled a jug, and on they went. When Jesus drank, to his astonishment, The jug seemed filled with bitterness. “How strange,” He said, “that water can so quickly change – They were the same; what can this difference mean? What tasted sweet is brackish and unclean!» — la anécdota de Jesús y el arroyo, donde la misma agua sabe distinta según el recipiente.
«The jug spoke: “Lord, once I too had a soul And was a man – but I have been a bowl, A cruse, a pitcher of crude earthenware, Remade a thousand times; and all forms share The bitterness of death – which would remain Though I were baked a thousand times again; No water could be sweet which I contain.» — y la explicación del cántaro, en voz suya: fue hombre, y la amargura de la muerte queda en el barro por muchas veces que se le vuelva a cocer.
«If while you live and breathe you fail to see The nature of your own reality, How can you search when dead? The man who lives And does not strive is lost; his mother gives Him life but he cannot become a man – He strays, a self-deluded charlatan.» — la aplicación que el poema hace al lector, con el plazo puesto en esta vida.
«How many veils obstruct the sufi’s quest, How long his search till truth is manifest!» — y el verso en que el poema nombra por su nombre la búsqueda de la que trata.
«When Socrates lay close to death, a youth – Who was his student in the search for truth – Said: “Master, when we’ve washed the man we knew And brought your shroud, where should we bury you?» — la anécdota de la muerte de Sócrates, que Attar incorpora a la serie sufí sin marcar la procedencia.
«He said: “If you can find me when I’ve died, Then bury me wherever you decide – 1 never found myself; I cannot see How when I’m dead you could discover me.» — y la respuesta que le atribuye, que traslada la ignorancia de sí al terreno de la sepultura.
«Another bird said: ‘Hoopoe, it’s no good. Things never happen as I’d hoped they would; I’ve spent my time in misery since birth, The most unlucky wretch in all the earth – My heart knows so much torment that it seems Each atom of my body raves and screams; My life has trodden out a hopeless way; God damn me if I’ve had one happy day!» — la objeción del ave que se dice desgraciada de nacimiento.
«The hoopoe said: ‘How arrogant you are To think your wretched self so singular!» — y la respuesta de la abubilla, que lee la desdicha exclusiva como arrogancia.
«He said: “I see a man who stands on guard And notes who drinks – his eyes are cold and hard, And if I drank, the sweetest sherbet would, I know, act like a poison in my blood. While he stands here the contents of the bowl Are liquid fire to sear the drinker’s soul.» — la anécdota del hombre que no bebía sorbete, con la vigilancia que vuelve veneno lo dulce.
«If disappointments darken all your days, You need not grieve, for nothing worldly stays – It is your passion for magnificence That prompts your tears, not fancied indigence.» — el diagnóstico que la abubilla hace del ave desgraciada: lo que produce las lágrimas es la pasión por la magnificencia, no la carencia.
«What is your grief compared with all the pain God’s martyrs suffered on Kerbelah’s plain?*» — y el término de comparación con que le mide el dolor, con la llamada de nota que el troceo imprime pegada al topónimo.
«A good kind-hearted monarch one day gave A rosy apple to his favourite slave, Who seemed to eat the fruit with such delight The laughing king said: “Here, give me a bite!» — la anécdota de la manzana, en que el rey prueba lo que el esclavo comía con deleite.
«The slave replied: “My lord, you’ve given me Such proofs of constant generosity, I could not find it in my grateful heart To grumble just because one apple’s tart – I must accept whatever you bestow; No harm can come to me from you, I know.» — y la explicación del esclavo, que es la doctrina de la sección: tras tanta generosidad no cabe protestar por una manzana ácida.
«If you meet tribulations here be sure That wealth will come from all you must endure; The paths of God are intricate and strange – What can you do? Accept what will not change!» — la aplicación que la abubilla hace de la anécdota, con la aceptación como única salida.
«One asked a sufi how he spent his time. He said: “I’m thirsty, filthy, smeared with grime, Burnt in this stove men call the world, but I Shall keep my courage up until I die.» — la anécdota del sufí interrogado por su vida, resuelta en la respuesta que se da a sí mismo.
«If in this world you seek for happiness You are asleep, your search is meaningless – If you seek happiness you would do well To think of that thin bridge arched over hell.*» — y la advertencia que el poema le opone a la busca de felicidad, con la llamada de nota al puente sobre el infierno.
«Encompass all the earth, you will not find One happy heart or one contented mind.» — la negativa tajante con que cierra: en toda la tierra no hay un corazón contento.
«An old, sad woman talked to Mahna’s sheikh: “Teach me to pray for joy, for pity’s sake – I’ve suffered so much that I cannot bear To think of future grief – give me some prayer» — la anécdota de la mujer que pedía una oración para la alegría.
«How many years I wandered far and wide Until I found the fortress that you seek It is the knee, bend it, accept, be meek; I found no other way – this remedy, And only this, will cure your misery.» — y la respuesta del sheikh, que sustituye la oración por un gesto: la rodilla doblada.
«Junaid replied: “That hour he finds the heart.» — la anécdota de Junaid interrogado sobre cuándo un hombre conoce la dicha, resuelta en media línea.
«An atom looked at from which way you will Remains unalterably an atom still; And one who has an atom’s nature shows That stubborn fact, no matter how he grows.» — la doctrina del átomo, que es la que el poema opone a toda pretensión de crecimiento.
«One night a bat said: “How is it that I Have never seen the sun; I wonder why? I long to lose myself inks pure light; Instead my wretched life is one long night – But though I travel with my eyes shut fast I know I’ll reach that promised blaze at last.» — la parábola del murciélago que quería ver el sol, que es la del que confía en el viaje sin abrir los ojos.
«The seer was there and said: “You’ve managed one Short step, and yet you think you’ve passed the sun;» — el veredicto del vidente, que mide el avance real del murciélago en un solo paso.
«I’m ignorant of right and wrong – I’ll wait lines 2473–89 For any orders that you stipulate. Whatever you command I’ll gladly do, Delighted to submit myself to you.» — la intervención del ave que acepta la autoridad de la abubilla, y que es la única de la serie que no plantea objeción; el primer pareado queda en la plana anterior.
«One hour of guidance benefits you more Than all your mortal life, however pure.» — la proporción con que la abubilla defiende la figura del guía: una hora de guía vale más que una vida entera de pureza sin ella.
«How much a dog endures! and all in vain; Without a guide his pain is simply pain.» — y el criterio que la sostiene: sin guía, el sufrimiento no significa nada.
«The king replied: “The others make a noise Like rowdy children playing with new toys; Each takes his part in some festivity, Careful to please himself as much as me – They do their duty and are quite content, But here in prison more than duty’s meant.» — la explicación del rey, que distingue entre quien festeja cumpliendo y quien obedece sin nada propio.
«The others celebrate in pompous pride, Conceited, giddy and self-satisfied, But these poor captives sacrifice their will And bow to my commands through good and ill – They have no business but to spend each breath In expectation of the noose and death, Yet they submit – and to my grateful eyes Their prison is a flower-strewn paradise.» — y el criterio exacto que aplica: los presos sacrifican su voluntad, y por eso su cárcel le parece un jardín.
«And then remembered that one distant dawn A sigh was from my very entrails torn; That sigh had cleared the Way – a massive gate Swung open, and I entered the debate» — y lo que el soñador recuerda como causa: un suspiro arrancado de las entrañas que abrió el Camino.
«I heard the sigh that tore your breast, And knew I must accept you as you are, Not seek for this or that particular – Embrace the soul and disregard the pain, Or weigh up what is loss and what is gain; Your wish is my command, for who am I To question those commands or to reply?» — la respuesta que la anécdota pone en boca de Bayazid, que acepta sin pedir prueba.
«When once a slave accepts his Lord’s control And hears Him whisper in his inmost soul He does not boast, no outward signs are shown, But when life’s crises come – then he is known.» — la moraleja que el poema saca: la sumisión no se muestra por fuera y se conoce en la crisis.
«When Sheikh Kherghan lay near to death he cried: “If men could split my heart and see inside, They’d tell the world my misery and pain, A wise man’s secret doctrine would be plain:» — la anécdota de la muerte del sheikh Kherghan, que entrega su doctrina secreta al morir.
«But when you bow the head in slavery, Be resolute, bow down with dignity:» — el matiz que Kherghan añade, y que impide leer la esclavitud como envilecimiento.
«A slave was given, from his sovereign’s hand, A splendid robe – and feeling very grand He put it on to wander through the town. By chance, as he paraded up and down, Some mud splashed in his face, and with his sleeve He quickly wiped it off: who should perceive His action but a sneaking sycophant – The king was told and hanged the miscreant.» — la anécdota del esclavo y la túnica, en que limpiarse el barro con la manga del regalo cuesta la horca.
«The hoopoe said: ‘Our Way does not belong To anyone, but to the pure and strong – To those who let go every interest And give themselves entirely to our quest; All your possessions are not worth a hair.» — la respuesta de la abubilla, que niega que el Camino sea de nadie y lo reserva a los puros y fuertes.
«Consign them to the fire, and when its flash Has burnt them, rake together all the ash And sit on it – then you will know their worth.» — y la prueba material que propone para medir el valor de lo poseído.
«Will what you own bribe death? Will death delay? If you would enter on the pilgrim’s Way, Tie up your grasping hands: all you endure Is valueless if you set out impure.» — el argumento con que remata: la propiedad no soborna a la muerte.
«A sheikh of Turkestan once said: “Above All other things there are just two I love. My swiftly trotting piebald horse is one – The second is none other than my son If death should take my son I’d sacrifice My horse in thanks – I know these two entice, As idols would, my spirit from the Way.» — la anécdota del sheikh de Turkestán, que nombra sus dos ídolos sin disculparse: el caballo y el hijo.
«One day Sheikh Kherghani’s devout routine Was spoilt by cravings for an aubergine. His mother was unsure what should be done But hesitantly gave him half a one –» — la anécdota del sheikh Kherghani y la berenjena, donde el antojo mínimo desencadena la desgracia.
«The sheikh cried out: “How often I’d foreseen Disaster if I tasted aubergine!» — y el lamento del sheikh ante la cabeza degollada de su hijo, que es todo el comentario que la anécdota recibe.
«It is not knowledge keeps a man secure – With all his understanding, fate is sure; Each moment we receive a different guest, And each that comes presents another test,» — la doctrina que el poema saca de ahí: el saber no protege, y cada instante trae un huésped nuevo.
«We know their life and death,’ a voice replied; ‘We kill these pilgrims first; when they have died We compensate them for the blood we shed.» — y la respuesta de la voz a su queja, que reclama esas muertes como propias.
«When my exchequer has no love* to give, While I can pay for death they shall not live,» — la respuesta a la pregunta por cuándo cesará la matanza, con la llamada de nota que el troceo imprime pegada a la palabra clave.
«Then when he is destroyed and cannot find His head, his feet, his passions or his mind, I clothe him in the splendour he has won And grace enfolds him, radiant as the sun:» — y lo que esa voz promete después de la destrucción: el esplendor que el siervo ha ganado.
«Shadows are swallowed by the sun, and he Who’s lost in God is from himself set free;» — la lectura que el poema hace de la anécdota, que enlaza con la doctrina de las sombras del comienzo.
«I know of no one in the world profound As Pharaoh’s sorcerers: the wealth they found Was faith’s true Way, which is to sift apart The grosser Self from the aspiring heart.» — el elogio de los magos de Faraón, figura de los que se convirtieron de golpe y a quienes el poema pone por encima de todos.
«O hoopoe,’ cried another of the birds, ‘What lofty ardour blazes from your words! Although I seem despondent, weak and lame, I burn with aspiration’s noble flame – And though I’m not obedient I feel My soul devoured by an insatiate zeal.» — la intervención del ave que arde de aspiración y se declara a la vez desobediente.
«The hoopoe said: ‘This strange, magnetic force That holds God’s ancient lovers to their course Still shows the Truth: if you will but aspire You will attain to all that you desire.» — y la respuesta de la abubilla, que hace de la aspiración misma la garantía del logro.
«When Joseph was for sale, the marketplace Teemed with Egyptians wild to see his face; So many gathered there from dawn to dusk The asking price was five whole tubs of musk.» — la anécdota de la vieja que quería comprar a José, con el precio que el mercado había puesto.
«A king returned once to his capital. His subjects had prepared a festival, And each to show his homage to the crown Had helped to decorate the glittering town. The prisoners had no wealth but iron gyves, Chains, severed heads, racked limbs and ruined lives – With such horrific ornaments they made A sight to greet their monarch’s cavalcade.» — la anécdota del rey que se detuvo ante la cárcel, con los presos que solo tienen cadenas y miembros rotos por adorno.
«A master of the Way once said: “Last night I saw a strange, unprecedented sight – I dreamt that Bayazid and Tarmazi lines 2509–30 Were walking, and they both gave way to me – I was their guide! I sought to understand How two such sheikhs were under my command,» — la anécdota del sufí que precedió a Bayazid y a Tarmazi, contada como sueño y como perplejidad del propio soñador.
«You are His slave, and cannot go amiss; All else is pride. If you are neither slave Nor God you’re substanceless, however brave –» — la doctrina secreta que el sheikh Kherghan entrega al morir —el mandato de dejar la idolatría queda en la plana anterior—: quien no es esclavo ni Dios no tiene sustancia.
«Whoever boasts a pure, unsullied name Will find his actions contradict his claim,» — la advertencia contra el alarde de pureza: la frase empieza en la plana anterior con la vela que se consume al arder, y aquí dice que los actos contradicen la pretensión.
«Trusting in God, I’d brought no sustenance – I came on forty men ahead of me, Dressed all in rags, a closed community.» — la anécdota de la voz que habla a Zulnoon, con los cuarenta peregrinos harapientos del desierto; el nombre del sufí queda en la plana anterior, donde el troceo corta.
«And in the world no wisdom could provide A surer path than this, a better guide!» — el cierre de la respuesta sobre la pureza, en los dos únicos versos que el troceo imprime en esta plana: ningún saber del mundo da senda más segura que la de los magos de Faraón.
«say What purity consists of on this Way, It seems a settled heart’s forbidden me –» — la pregunta del ave por la pureza, que abre la sección sobre el desprendimiento; el verso de arranque se repite más adelante en el poema, de modo que el ancla empieza a media frase, y la queja sigue en la plana 126.
«The merchant laughed and said: “Come on, old girl, It’s not for you to purchase such a pearl lines 2613–29 His value’s reckoned up in gold and jewels; He can’t be sold for threads to ancient fools!» — la réplica del mercader a la vieja que ofrece hilos por José.
«O, I knew that before,” the old crone said; “1 knew you wouldn’t sell him for my thread But it’s enough that everyone will ay ‘She bid for Joseph on that splendid day» — y la respuesta de ella, que es la moraleja de la anécdota: sabía que no se lo venderían, y le bastaba que se dijera que pujó.
«The heart that does not strive can never gain The endless kingdom’s gates and lives in vain;» — la aplicación que el poema hace de la aspiración como medida, sin reparar en la desproporción de los medios.
«I know of one who whined unceasingly, Complaining of his abject poverty, Till Ibrahim Adham said: “Do you weep Because you bought your poverty too cheap?» — la anécdota de Ibrahim Adham y el quejoso, con la pregunta que invierte los términos de la pobreza.
«He said: “I gave a kingdom up for mine, But for the earthly realm which I resign I still receive, each moment that I live, A hundred worlds: my realm was fugitive – I said farewell to it, to all the earth, And put my trust in goods of proven worth.» — y la explicación de Ibrahim Adham, que pagó su pobreza con un reino y la cobra en mundos.
«Those who aspire renounce both heart and soul, Content through years to suffer for their goal; The bird of aspiration seeks His throne, Outsoaring faith and all the world, alone: lines 2630–46 But if you lack this zeal, be off with you – You’re quite unfit for all we have to do.» — el criterio de admisión que la abubilla deriva de la anécdota, con el despido incluido.
«When Sheikh Ghouri, an adept of the Way, Took refuge underneath a bridge one day Together with a group of crazy fools, Sanjar rode by, resplendent in his jewels,» — la anécdota del sheikh Ghouri y el príncipe Sanjar, con los locos bajo el puente.
«But we’ve decided on a choice for you – Be good to us, and bid the world adieu, Or be our enemy, and you will find It is your faith that you must leave behind. If you will join us for a moment here, Your pride and gorgeous pomp will disappear – Look at our friendship and our enmity And make your mind up; which is it to be?» — y el ultimátum que el sheikh le plantea al príncipe, en que amistad y enemistad cuestan lo mismo.
«One night a fool of God wept bitterly And said: “The world, as far as I can see, Is like a box, and we are locked inside, Lost in the darkness of our sin and pride; When death removes the lid we fly away – lines 2647–60 If we have feathers – to eternal day, But those who have no feathers must stay here, Tormented in this box by pain and fear.» — la parábola de las plumas del alma, en la imagen del mundo como caja cerrada que la muerte destapa.
«Give wings to aspiration; love the mind; And if at death you’d leave this box behind, Grow wings and feathers for the soul; if not, Burn all your hopes, for you will die and rot.» — y el imperativo que se sigue de ella, con la alternativa dicha sin eufemismo.
«Another bird said: ‘What are loyalty And justice, put beside such majesty? God gave me boundless loyalty and I’ve Not been unjust to any man alive – What is the ghostly rank of those who own Such qualities, before our sovereign’s throne?» — la pregunta del ave por la justicia y la lealtad, que alega no haber sido injusta con nadie.
«The hoopoe said: ‘Salvation’s Lord is just, And justice raises man above the dust; To live with justice in your heart exceeds A lifetime’s earnest prayer and pious deeds; And tales of lavish generosity Are less than one just act done secretly (Though justice given in a public place Suggests deceit beneath the smiling face).» — la respuesta de la abubilla, que pone un acto justo en secreto por encima de toda una vida de oración, y desconfía del que se hace en público.
«The just man does not argue for his rights; It is for others that he stands and fights.» — y la definición del justo que cierra el pasaje.
«Ahmad Hanbal, a man renowned and wise, Whose knowledge no one dared to criticize, Would when he felt his mind inadequate Consult a barefoot beggar at his gate.» — la anécdota de Ahmad Hanbal y el mendigo, donde el sabio consulta al descalzo.
«Ahmad Hanbal replied: “As you have seen, My commentaries have carried off the prize; In matters of hadith* and law I’m wise – I know more worldly things than him, it’s true, But he knows God – much more than I can do.» — y su explicación, que reparte los dos saberes sin negar ninguno: él sabe de hadith y de ley, el mendigo sabe de Dios.
«As Mahmoud’s army moved through India, They chanced to take an old king prisoner Who learnt the Moslem faith at Mahmoud’s court And counted this world and the next as nought.» — la anécdota del rey indio cautivo de Mahmoud, convertido y vuelto ermitaño.
«To this the Indian king replied: “My lord, It’s not my kingdom conquered by your sword That makes me weep, but thoughts of Judgement Day;» — y la causa de su llanto, que no es la pérdida del reino.
«O faithless wretch, you had no thoughts of Me Till you were crushed by Mahmoud’s cavalry – It took an army’s might to change your mind, lines 2681–89 And till you stood defenceless you were blind –» — el reproche que el rey indio se imagina en boca de Dios: hizo falta un ejército para volverle la mente.
«A Moslem fought an infidel one day And as they fought requested time to pray. He prayed and fought again – the infidel Then asked for time to say his prayers as well; He went aside to find a cleaner place And there before his idol bowed his face.» — la anécdota del musulmán infiel y el infiel fiel, montada sobre la tregua para orar que cada uno pide.
«The Moslem, when he saw him kneel and bow, Said: “Victory is mine if I strike now.» — y la traición que el musulmán se dispone a cometer.
«His blade was sheathed when you asked him for time; For you to strike him now would be a crime – Have you not read in Our Koran the verse ‘Fulfil your promises’? And will you curse The word you gave? The infidel was true; He kept his promises, and so should you.» — la voz del cielo que lo detiene, con la cita coránica que alega para hacerlo.
«You are a Moslem, but false piety Is less than this poor pagan’s loyalty.» — y la comparación con que la voz cierra el reproche, que es lo que da título al episodio.
«But when the infidel had heard this tale, His eyes were filled with tears, his face turned pale – “God censures you for your disloyalty And guards the life of His sworn enemy – Can I continue to be faithless now? I’ll burn my gods, to Allah I will bow, Expound His law! Too long my heart has lain In darkness bound by superstition’s chain.» — el desenlace, que el poema no anuncia: es el infiel quien se convierte, al oír que Dios reprende al musulmán y protege a su enemigo jurado.
«Ten starving brothers left their home to stand In Joseph’s presence, in a foreign land, And begged for some benevolent relief To ease the torments of their wretched grief.» — la anécdota de José y sus hermanos, con la hambruna que los lleva a su presencia.
«Now Joseph’s face was veiled; he took a bowl And struck it hard – a sound as if a soul Cried out in misery was heard. He said: lines 2716–42 “Do you know what this means?” Each shook his head.» — y el procedimiento con que José los acusa: golpear una escudilla y traducir el sonido.
«Then Joseph said: “It speaks to you; it says You had a brother once, in former days, More precious than this bowl – he bore the name Of Joseph; and it says that, to your shame, His goodness overshadowed all of you.» — la primera acusación que José le hace decir a la escudilla.
«When they gave Joseph for the merchant’s gold, It was themselves, and all the world, they sold – And when they threw their brother in that well, They threw themselves in the abyss of hell.» — y la lectura que el poema hace de la venta: al venderlo se vendieron ellos y el mundo entero.
«There is no need to scrutinize my tale, It is your own; when thoughtlessly you fail To render loyalty its proper due, How can the light of friendship shine for you?» — el giro con que el poeta le entrega la historia al lector, en segunda persona.
«You’re like a lame ant struggling for its soul, Aimlessly sliding, caught inside this bowl – Blood fills it, but a voice beyond its rim Still calls to you – rise now, and fly to Him.» — y la imagen con que cierra la sección: la hormiga coja resbalando dentro de la escudilla llena de sangre.
«Another bird said: ‘Is audacity Allowable before such majesty? One needs audacity to conquer fear – But is it right in His exalted sphere?» — la pregunta del ave por la audacia ante la majestad, que abre la sección siguiente.
«Sanjar replied: “I’m not the man for you. It’s not your kind my hate and love pursue; You’re not my enemy, you’re not my friend; My heart’s directed to a different end. In front of you I’ve neither pride nor shame And have no business with your praise or blame.» — la respuesta de Sanjar, que el poema consigna sin objetarla: no es ni amigo ni enemigo, y su corazón va a otra parte.
«Since he is filled with reverence to the brim, A breath of boldness is permitted him.» — la respuesta de la abubilla sobre la audacia, que la autoriza solo a quien está lleno de reverencia.
«The ignorant, it’s true, can never share The secrets of our king. If one should dare To ape the ways of the initiate, What does he do but blindly imitate? He’s like some soldier who kicks up a din And spoils the ranks with his indiscipline.» — y el paréntesis con que excluye al ignorante que imita las maneras del iniciado.
«Whose boldness comes from mere excess of joy; He has no certain knowledge of the Way And what seems rudeness is but loving play – He’s like a madman – love’s audacity Will have him walking on the restless sea.» — el segundo caso que la abubilla admite, el del novicio cuya audacia es exceso de alegría.
«One can’t expect discretion from a flame, And madmen are beyond reproach or blame When madness chooses you to be its prey We’ll hear what crazy things you have to say.» — y el criterio con que el poema deja fuera de juicio a los locos de Dios.
«A barefoot, hungry dervish once, by chance, Caught sight of this unique magnificence, And wondering asked: “What houris might these be?” The crowd exclaimed: “The splendid troop you see Are slaves belonging to our noble lord.” The dervish writhed as if in pain, then roared: “Great God, look down from your exalted sphere – Learn how to treat your slaves from this man here!» — la anécdota del derviche que envidiaba a los esclavos del rey, con el grito con que le pide cuentas a Dios.
«If you are mad like him, if you possess Such leaves of Truth, forget all bashfulness, Be bold! But if these leaves are not your style, Control yourself, and wipe away your smile.» — y el reparto que la abubilla hace de esa licencia entre quien la tiene y quien no.
«Boldness like this does not deserve our blame; Such men are moths, ambitious for the flame – They only see their goal and cannot say What’s good or bad along the pilgrims’ Way.» — la figura de la mariposa que busca la llama, con la que el poema explica esa exención.
«He saw a ruined hut and with a dash Stood underneath its roof; a sudden crash Rang out – a tile had fallen on his head, And how the gaping gash it cut there bled! He looked up at the sky and yelled: “Enough! Why can’t you clobber me with better stuff?» — la anécdota del loco que buscó abrigo, con la queja que dirige al cielo por la teja.
«A poor man living in a drainage-ditch Once borrowed from his neighbour (who was rich) A valued ass, and rode it to the mill. He slept there, and the ass made off at will – A wolf devoured the beast; with indignation The owner made a claim for compensation.» — la anécdota del pobre, el rico y el asno, planteada como caso jurídico.
«Whoever* lets this wolf hunt far and wide, Whoever put him here to roam about, Should compensate you both without a doubt – O God, who is the debtor, who can say? It’s certain that no mortal ought to pay.» — y la sentencia del juez, que traslada la deuda a quien soltó al lobo, con la llamada de nota que el troceo imprime pegada a la palabra.
«Dear Joseph’s radiant face, so ecstasy Is mirrored in the sufi’s maddened heart – Then he has lost himself and moves apart From all that we perceive – the world grows dim As all the world resolves to follow him.» — la comparación con que el poema describe el éxtasis del sufí: como las doncellas de Egipto ante el rostro de José; el símil arranca en la plana anterior.
«In Egypt once a baleful famine spread – The people perished as they begged for bread. Death filled the roads; the living gnawed the dead. lines 2794–2811 A crazy dervish saw their wretched plight And cried: “O God, look down from Your great height – If there’s no food for them, make fewer men!» — la anécdota de la hambruna de Egipto, con la propuesta que el derviche loco le hace a Dios.
«A dervish suffered bruises and sore bones From children who continually threw stones. He found a ruined hut and in he stole, Not noticing its roof contained a hole. A hailstorm started – through the leaky shed The hail came bouncing on the old man’s head.» — la anécdota del derviche engañado por el granizo, que toma por pedradas de los niños.
«A door blew open and revealed the hail; He saw his error and began to wail: “The darkness tricked me, God – and on my head Be all the foolish, filthy names I said.» — y su rectificación al ver la verdad, que el poema pone como modelo de retractación.
«If crazy dervishes behave like this It’s not for you to take their words amiss; If they seem drunk to you, control your scorn – Their lives are painful, savage and forlorn; They must endure a lifetime’s hopelessness And every moment brings some new distress – Don’t meddle with their conduct; don’t reprove Those given up to madness and to love.» — la instrucción que el poema da al lector sobre los locos de Dios: no meterse con su conducta ni reprenderlos.
«You would excuse them – nothing is more sure – If you could share the darkness they endure.» — y la razón que ofrece, puesta en condicional.
«Until he saw the Jewish cemetery And said: “These souls are pardoned and go free; But this is not a truth that can be taught. “ His words were heard and he was haled to court, Where angry judges asked him what he meant – AlVasati replied: “Your government Accuses them; their pardon’s heaven-sent» — la anécdota de AlVasati ante el cementerio judío, en la grafía que imprime esta traducción, con la distinción que le vale el proceso: los jueces acusan y el perdón viene del cielo.
«Another bird spoke up: ‘I live for love, For Him and for the glorious world above – For Him I’ve cut myself from everything; My life’s one song of love to our great king.» — la intervención del ave que dice vivir solo para el Simorgh.
«The time has come – my Self will disappear; I’ll drink the wine of meekness and draw near; His beauty will illuminate my heart; His neck will know my touch; we shall not part.» — y la seguridad con que anuncia su propia consumación, que es lo que el poema va a objetarle.
«The hoopoe said: ‘The Simorgh isn’t won By boasts of who you are and what you’ve done – Don’t brag of love; He’s not deceived by lies, And no one pulls the wool across his eyes.» — la respuesta de la abubilla, que descalifica el alarde de amor como forma de pretender.
«His call is like some lightly wafted breeze lines 2829–50 Lifting the veil from hidden mysteries – Then He will draw you to Himself, alone; Your place will be with Him, beside His throne» — y el modo en que, según ella, ocurre de verdad: una brisa que levanta el velo, y la atracción viene de Él.
«When Bayazid had left the world behind, He came that night before the dreaming mind Of one of his disciples, who in fear Asked how he’d fared with Monkar and Nakir.*» — la anécdota de Bayazid después de muerto, con la llamada de nota que el troceo imprime pegada a los nombres de los dos ángeles del interrogatorio.
«About the Lord, I told them I could see No profit in our talk – if I should say ‘He is my God’, my answer would betray A proud, ambitious heart; they should return To God and ask him what they wished to learn – God says who is His slave; the slave is dumb, Waiting for Him to say: ‘Good servant, come!» — y la respuesta que Bayazid dice haberles dado, que traslada la declaración de Dios y deja mudo al siervo.
«It is His works that act, not yours, you fool; When will these dunces understand His rule!» — la doctrina que el poema saca de ahí, dicha en reproche directo al lector.
«A dervish wept to feel the violence of The inextinguishable fires of love. His spirit melted, and his soul became A seething mass of incandescent flame; He wept as he proceeded on his way, lines 2851–67 And through his scalding tears was heard to say: “For how much longer must I weep? Desire Has burnt my life in its consuming fire.» — la anécdota del derviche enamorado de Dios, con la queja que da pie al reproche.
«And when did I approach Him?” asked the saint; “No, He approaches me; that’s my complaint – How could a wretched thing like me pretend To have the worth to claim Him as my friends? Look – I do nothing; He performs all deeds And He endures the pain when my heart bleeds.» — y la respuesta del derviche a la voz que lo acusa de orgullo, que invierte por completo la iniciativa.
«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.» — la consecuencia que el poema extrae: quien es amado así desaparece.
«If there is any “you”, if any wraith Of Self persists, you’ve strayed outside our faith.» — y el criterio de pertenencia con que cierra, que es el más severo del poema.
«Shah Mahmoud, full of sorrow, went one night To one who keeps the baths’ huge fires alight; The man made room among the ash and grime (Feeding the furnace-mouth from time to time), Then brought the king some stale, unwholesome bread.» — la anécdota del rey y el fogonero de los baños, que empieza con el rey de incógnito comiendo pan duro.
«If you weren’t king you could be happy, sire; I’m happy shovelling wood on this great fire – So I’m not less than you or more, you see I’m nothing next to you, your majesty.» — la declaración del fogonero, que iguala su suerte con la del rey sin dejar de reconocerle el rango.
«He said: “My hope is this, that now and then My king will visit me in this dark den The dust he treads on is a crown to me; His presence here will be my monarchy.» — y lo único que pide cuando el rey le ofrece lo que quiera: que vuelva a visitarlo.
«Besides, it’s here I made friends with my king, I wouldn’t give this up for anything – When you are here the bath-house shines anew; What more could I desire from you than you?» — el remate de esa petición, que es la doctrina de la sección: no hay nada que desear de Él fuera de Él mismo.
«The bath attendant’s love should teach you yours; Learn from him all the loving heart endures – And if this love has stirred in you, then cling With passion to the garments of your king; He too is moved; hold fast and do not stop – He is a sea; He asks of you one drop.» — la aplicación que el poema hace de la anécdota del fogonero, con la proporción invertida del final: Él es un mar y pide una gota.
«A man who lived by selling water found He’d very little left; he looked around And saw another water-seller there – “Have you got any water you could spare?” He asked. “No, fool, I certainly have not,” The other snapped; “make do with what you’ve got!” “O, give me some,” the man began to plead; “I’m sick of what I have; it’s yours I need.» — la anécdota de los dos aguadores, donde lo pedido no es agua sino el agua del otro.
«When Adam’s heart grew tired of all he knew, He yearned for wheat, a substance strange and new – He gave up all he owned for one small grain, And naked suffered love’s relentless pain; He disappeared in love’s intensity – The old and new were gone and so was he; He was annihilated, lost, made naught – Nothingness swallowed all his hands had sought.» — la lectura que el poema hace de la caída de Adán, que no es castigo sino trueque: dio todo por un grano y quedó aniquilado.
«Another bird squawked: ‘There can be no doubt I’ve made myself unworldly and devout. To reach this wise perfection which you see I’ve lived a life of cruel austerity, And as I’ve gained the sum of wisdom here, I really couldn’t move, I hope that’s clear. What fool would leave his treasury to roam In deserts and dry mountains far from home?» — la objeción del ave satisfecha de su estado, que alega austeridad y sabiduría alcanzadas.
«The hoopoe said: ‘Hell’s pride has filled your soul; Lost in self-love, you dread our distant goal. Your arrogance deceives you, and you stray Further and further from the spirit’s Way. lines 2908–19 Your Self has trapped your soul and made it blind; The devil’s throne is your complacent mind. The light that guides you is a fantasy, Your love a self-induced absurdity – All your austerities are just a cheat, And all you say is nothing but deceit.» — la respuesta de la abubilla, que trata la perfección alcanzada como orgullo y las austeridades como engaño.
«Don’t trust the light which shows you where you go; Your own Self sheds this dim, misleading glow – It has no sword, but such an enemy Will threaten any man’s security. If it’s your Self’s light which the road reveals, It’s like the scorpion’s sting which parsley heals;» — y el criterio con que el poema desconfía de la luz interior cuando el Yo es su fuente.
«The sheikh said: “When I looked I saw a sea Of my disciples sworn to follow me; They filled the roads and in my mind there slid The thought: ‘By God, I equal Bayazid! So many praise me, can I doubt this sign That heaven’s boundless glories will be mine?» — y el pensamiento exacto que le pasó por la cabeza, que él mismo reproduce: compararse con Bayazid.
«Then as I triumphed in my inmost heart, My donkey answered me – and with a fart; My pompous, self-deceiving soul awoke, And this is why I weep and tear my cloak.» — la respuesta que recibe, que el poema no dignifica de ningún modo.
«You change your face each moment, but deep down You are a Pharaoh and you wear his crown,» — la acusación que el poema le hace al lector, con Faraón como figura de la hipocresía.
«If you put all your trust in “I” and “me” You’ve chosen both worlds as your enemy – But if you kill the Self, the darkest night Will be illuminated with your light. If you would flee from evil and its pain Swear never to repeat this “I” again!» — y la promesa que le opone: matar el Yo ilumina la noche más oscura.
«God said to Moses once: “Go out and find The secret truth that haunts the devil’s mind.” When Moses met the devil that same day He asked for his advice and heard him say: “Remember this, repeat it constantly, Don’t speak of ‘me’, or you will be like me.» — la anécdota del secreto del demonio, que entrega su consejo a Moisés: no decir *mí*.
«A saint once said: “The novice ought to see A door that opens on obscurity – Then seas of love will inundate his mind, And he will leave our earthly life behind; If he sees anything but darkness there, He is deceived and worships empty air.» — la anécdota del santo que describe el umbral del novicio: una puerta que abre a la oscuridad, y la luz ahí es engaño.
«There is a den in you where dragons thrive; Your folly keeps the prowling beasts alive – By day and night you watch them sleep and eat And cosset them, and toss them blood-soaked meat.» — la imagen del cubil de dragones que el poema pone dentro del lector.
«A dog brushed up against a sheikh, who made No move to draw his skirts in or evade The filthy stray – a puzzled passer-by Who’d noticed his behaviour asked him why.» — la anécdota del sheikh y el perro, que el poema usa para igualar la impureza de fuera con la de dentro.
«He said: “The dog is filthy, as you see, But what is outside him is inside me What’s clear on him is hidden in my heart; Why should such close companions stay apart?» — y la explicación del sheikh, que hace del perro un compañero por semejanza.
«If straws impede you, or a mountain-top, Where is the difference if you have to stop?» — el criterio con que el poema iguala el estorbo grande y el pequeño.
«In Moses’ time there lived an anchorite Who prayed incessantly by day and night, And yet derived no pleasure from his quest; No sun had risen in his troubled breast. He had a beard, of which he took great care, Loving to comb it hair by silky hair.» — la anécdota del anacoreta y su barba, con la devoción y el peine juntos.
«Who answered: “Tell this would-be saint that he Pays more attention to his beard than Me.» — la respuesta que Moisés trae de Dios, que nombra la causa del estancamiento.
«Then Gabriel appeared to them and said: “Concern for that grey beard still fills his head; He loved it then, and now he pulls it out, His wretched love is even more devout.» — y la vuelta de tuerca de Gabriel, que lee el arranque de la barba como la misma devoción agravada.
«Whatever stage you’ve reached, to spend one breath Unmindful of your God is worse than death –» — la sentencia que el poema deriva de la anécdota.
«A fool with an enormous beard once fell Into a violent sea’s tumultuous swell. lines 2975–96 As he was struggling he heard someone shout: “That bag tied on your collar – throw it out!” “It’s not a bag, it’s my huge beard!” he cried. “Well, that’s just marvellous,” the man replied, “A splendid growth; but now the harvest’s come.» — la anécdota del necio que se ahogaba, con el chiste sobre la barba que toman por un morral.
«Once, as a sufi washed his clothes, a cloud Filled all the heavens like a darkening shroud – But though the world seemed plunged in deepest night, The sufi’s clothes shone clean and strangely bright.» — la anécdota del sufí que lavaba su ropa, donde la nube hace el trabajo del jabón.
«The hoopoe said: ‘Trust Him, and while you live, Avoid whoever seems too talkative.» — la respuesta de la abubilla, que junta la confianza con una advertencia práctica sobre los habladores.
«Let His joy teach you yours, as planets move Within the orbit of sustaining love; What is His equal? Say that nothing is, Then happiness is yours, and you are His.» — y la imagen astronómica con que la remata: los planetas girando dentro de la órbita del amor que los sostiene.
«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.» — la anécdota del derviche en éxtasis entre los leopardos, con la sentencia sobre la no división que canta veinte días.
«Die to yourself – no longer stay apart, But give to Him who asks for it your heart; The man whose happiness derives from Him Escapes existence, and the world grows dim; Rejoice for ever in the Friend, rejoice Till you are nothing, but a praising voice.» — la instrucción que el poema saca de esa anécdota, con el término al que reduce a quien la cumple.
«You seek for faults to censure and suppress And have no time for inward happiness – How can you know God’s secret majesty If you look out for sin incessantly?» — y el reproche con que el poema cierra: la censura de las faltas ajenas cierra el acceso a la majestad oculta.
«First free yourself from thoughts of “me” and “I”; If any thought of selfhood stains your mind An empty void is all the Self will find, If any taste of selfhood stays with you Then you are damned whatever you may do.» — la condición que la abubilla pone para volar más allá del cielo que gira —la frase empieza en la plana anterior—: quedar libre de todo pensamiento de *mí* y de *yo*.
«Sheikh Abou Bakr of Neishapour one day Led his disciples through a weary way. His donkey carried him, aloof, apart – And then the beast let out a monstrous fart!» — la anécdota del sheikh Abou Bakr, cuya vanidad la enmienda el asno.
«say What will sustain my heart along the Way – To travel as I should I need your aid; If you can help me I’ll be less afraid – To make me start this quest, then persevere, I must be told how I can conquer fear. lines 2997–3012 I spurn the crowd’s advice; I’m quite alone And haven’t any wisdom of my own.» — la petición del ave que pide ayuda y consejo, y declara no tener sabiduría propia ni fiarse del consejo de la multitud; el verso de arranque se repite en el poema, de modo que el ancla va a media frase.
«Grace comes to those, no matter how they’ve strayed, Who know their own sin’s strength, and are afraid.» — la condición que el poema pone para la gracia, que no es la inocencia sino el conocimiento de la propia fuerza para pecar.
«A sot became extremely drunk – his legs And head sank listless, weighed by wine’s thick dregs. A sober neighbour put him in a sack And took him homewards hoisted on his back. Another drunk went stumbling by the first, Who woke and stuck his head outside and cursed. “Hey, you, you lousy dipsomaniac,” He yelled as he was borne off in the sack, “If you’d had fewer drinks, just two or three, You would be walking now as well as me.» — la anécdota del borracho que acusa a otro borracho, llevado él mismo a cuestas dentro de un saco.
«He saw the other’s state but not his own, And in this blindness he is not alone; You cannot love, and this is why you seek To find men vicious, or depraved, or weak – If you could search for love and persevere The sins of other men would disappear.» — y la lectura que el poema hace de ella, que liga la censura ajena con la incapacidad de amar.
«A lion-hearted hero met defeat – Five years he loved, and slavery was sweet. The girl for whom he was content to sigh lines 3029–46 Had one small blemish lurking in her eye, And though, as often as she would permit, He gazed at her he never noticed it.» — la anécdota del amante que no veía la mancha en el ojo de su amada.
«She answered: “As your love began to die, This speck was brought to being in my eye.» — y la respuesta de ella cuando él la nota al fin, que fecha la aparición de la mancha en el enfriamiento del amor.
«Your sins are heavy, and while they are there, Another’s guilt is none of your affair.» — la regla que el poema deriva de esas anécdotas.
«Leave me alone! Let justice do its worst – Enforce the law and beat yourself up first!» — la anécdota del borracho y el alguacil, con la sentencia que el borracho le devuelve: que empiece por pegarse a sí mismo.
«Another bird said: ‘Leader of my soul, What shall I ask for if I reach our goal? His light will fill the world, but I’m not sure What special gift I should be looking for – I’ll ask Him for whatever you suggest.» — la pregunta del ave por el don que habría de pedirle al Simorgh.
«The hoopoe said: ‘Poor fool, make one request; Seek only Him – of all things He is best; If you’re aware of Him, in all the earth What could you wish for of a greater worth?» — y la respuesta de la abubilla, que reduce toda petición a una.
«When Bou Ali Roudbar drew near to death, He said: “Impatience hastens my last breath. I see the gates of heaven part and rise; A throne of glory shines before my eyes – Angelic voices fill the glistening dome; Like nightingales they call my ardour home.» — la anécdota de la muerte de Bou Ali Roudbar, que describe el cielo abierto ante sus ojos.
«Though I believe in this refulgent state, It’s not for this my soul and spirit wait; They murmur to me: ‘What is this to you? Was it for this you bid the world adieu?» — y el rechazo que le opone, formulado como pregunta de su propia alma: no era por eso que dejó el mundo.
«Infuse my soul with Your sustaining love, And I know neither hell nor heaven above; I know but You; no faith or blasphemy Could make me swerve from my fidelity; I love but You; to You I must resign My thirsting soul and take Your soul for mine – Both worlds for me are You; You are my creed; I recognize no other hope or need –» — la petición que hace en su lugar, que suprime a la vez el cielo y el infierno como motivos.
«But if the sun did not light up the day, They would not think of Me, nor ever pray – Their prayers know nothing of love’s selfless pain; Not love inspires them but mere lust for gain.» — y el diagnóstico que esa misma voz hace de las oraciones de los hombres.
«True prayer seeks God alone; its motives start Deep in the centre of a contrite heart.» — la definición de oración verdadera que el pasaje propone.
«If it is paradise for which you pray You can be sure that you have lost your way.» — y la consecuencia que el poema saca para el lector, dicha sin atenuante.
«Shah Mahmoud called Ayaz to him and gave His crown and throne to this bewitching slave, Then said: “You are the sovereign of these lands; I place my mighty army in your hands – I wish for you unrivalled majesty, That you enslave the very sky and sea.» — la anécdota en que Mahmoud entrega el trono a Ayaz, y que el poema monta para que el regalo resulte una pérdida.
«Though even as they murmured Ayaz wept lines 3074–3106 That what the king decreed he must accept; The courtiers said to him: “You are insane To change from slave to king and then complain!» — el llanto de Ayaz ante el ascenso, y el desconcierto de los cortesanos.
«But Ayaz answered them: “O, rather say My king desires me to be far away, To lead the army and be occupied In almost any place but by his side. What he commands I’ll do, but in my heart We shall not for one instant – live apart; And what have I to do with majesty? To see my king is realm enough for me.» — y su explicación, que lee el trono como alejamiento: ver a su rey le basta por reino.
«Alas! You’re not the man for this; your thoughts See hell’s despair and heaven’s wondrous courts – Forget these two, and glory’s radiant light Will stage by stage emerge from darkest night; The pilgrim does not long for paradise – Keep back your heart; He only will suffice.» — la aplicación al lector, que le pide olvidar a la vez el infierno y el paraíso.
«This was the common hymn of Rabe’eh: “O God, who knows all secrets,” she would pray, “May fortune favour all my enemies, And may my friends taste heaven’s ecstasies;» — la oración habitual de Rabe'eh, que empieza pidiendo fortuna para sus enemigos.
«It is not this world or the next I crave But, for one moment, to be called Your slave –» — y lo único que pide para sí, que es el título de esclava.
«All that the universe has ever shown Can find its match but God, who is alone; And only He, wherever you may seek, Is absolute, abiding, and unique.» — el argumento por el cual el poema hace de Dios la única meta: todo lo demás tiene par.
«God counselled David: “There is nothing here Of good or bad, unseen or far or near, Which does not have some cunning complement; For only I have no equivalent.» — y la anécdota en que la misma doctrina va en boca de Dios ante David.
«To choose what is not God is to prefer To be some worthless idol’s worshipper, And if this idol is your soul, your creed Is nothing more than irreligious greed.» — la consecuencia que el poema extrae, que alcanza también al alma propia como ídolo.
«When Mahmoud’s army had attacked Somnat They found an idol there that men called “Lat”.*» — la anécdota de Mahmoud en Somnat, con la llamada de nota que el troceo imprime pegada al nombre del ídolo.
«Shah Mahmoud said: “I feared God’s Judgement Day; I was afraid that I should hear Him say ‘Here two – Azar and Mahmoud – stand, behold! One carved his idols, one had idols sold!» — y la razón que da para quemarlo en vez de venderlo: no quedar emparejado con Azar en el Juicio.
«Destroy the idols in your heart, or you Will one day be a broken idol too – First burn the Self, and as its fate is sealed The gems this idol hides will be revealed.» — la aplicación que el poema hace de esa anécdota, con las joyas que salen del ídolo al arder.
«Your soul and God have formed a covenant; Do not turn back from that first firm assent – Will you object to what you once averred, Swear true allegiance and then break your word?» — y el pacto previo que el poema le recuerda al lector.
«Mahmoud began his Indian campaign And saw before him, drawn up on the plain, The massive army of his enemy – In fear he prayed to God for victory And said: “If I should win this doubtful day, The dervishes will bear the spoils away.» — la anécdota del voto de Mahmoud antes de la batalla en la India.
«The madman said: “O king, these anxious pains Are not worth more than two small barley grains – If all your dealings with the Lord cease here, forget the vow you made and never fear; But if you think you might need Him again Then keep your promise to the final grain.» — y la sentencia del loco BoulHossein, que resuelve el dilema por la vía de si el rey volverá a necesitar a Dios.
«Should be creation’s all-consuming care; Though hell were not his fear nor heaven his goal, The Lord should wholly occupy man’s soul.» — la anécdota en que Dios instruye a David sobre la oración —la frase empieza en la plana anterior— y que separa el rezo del temor al infierno y de la esperanza del cielo.
«What gifts would it be right for me to bring? I’ll gladly get whatever you advise; What would be welcome to our sovereign’s eyes? A king deserves a quite distinctive gift; Only a miser would be ruled by thrift!» — la pregunta del ave por el regalo que convendría llevarle al rey.
«Be ruled by me,’ the hoopoe said. ‘Take care To offer something which is lacking there – Where is the point in dragging all that way lines 3165–83 A costly present common there as day?» — la respuesta de la abubilla, que fija el criterio del regalo por lo que falta allá y no por su valor aquí.
«There mystery resides and confidence, Pure knowledge and the soul’s obedience – But take the torment of a heart alone, The soul’s distress, for these are there unknown,» — y lo que según ella falta en esa corte: el tormento de un corazón solo y la angustia del alma.
«If one sigh rises from the inmost soul, That man is saved, and has attained our goal.» — la medida con que el poema cierra el pasaje: un solo suspiro salido de lo más hondo basta.
«Zuleikha used her great authority To have poor Joseph kept in custody – She gave her callous orders to the guard: “Give that man fifty lashes, good and hard! Deal with this Joseph’s body so that I From far away can hear him groan and sigh.” But when the guard saw Joseph’s face he felt The cold indifference of his calling melt. There was a leather coat left on the ground, And with his whip he made this skin resound – As every blow descended on the coat, A scream of pain went up from Joseph’s throat. But when Zuleikha heard his voice she cried: “You are too soft; whip harder, break his pride!» — la anécdota de Zuleikha y José azotado, con el guardián que finge los golpes sobre un cuero.
«Zuleikha said: “Now Joseph cannot bluff; lines 3184–98 This sigh is from his inmost soul – enough! This sigh was real and from his essence came – His former groans were nothing but a game.» — y el criterio con que Zuleikha distingue el grito real del fingido, que es el mismo que el poema aplica al suspiro.
«A hundred mourners at a funeral grieved; One truly sighed – the man who was bereaved. They were a ring, but only one of them Was set within that circle as a gem – Till you have truly mourned beside the grave, You cannot take your place among the brave.» — la anécdota de los cien plañideros, con el único que llora de veras como la gema del anillo.
«A negro had a slave devout and wise Who at an early hour would wake and rise, Then pray until the sun came peeping through. His master said: “Wake me up early too, And we can pray together till the dawn.» — la anécdota del esclavo devoto a quien el amo pide que lo despierte para orar con él.
«The slave said: “Just before a baby’s born, Who tells the mother ‘Now your time draws near’? She knows it does – her pain has made it clear; If you have felt this pain you are awake – No other man can feel it for your sake. If someone has to rouse you every day, Then someone else instead of you should pray.» — y la respuesta del esclavo, que compara el dolor propio con el del parto: a quien hay que despertar, que rece otro por él.
«He said: “The wretches damned in hell will cry To those in paradise: ‘O, testify To us the nature of your happiness; Describe the sacred joys which you possess!» — la visión del cielo y el infierno que el poema atribuye al sheikh Bou Ali Tousi, planteada como diálogo entre condenados y bienaventurados.
«And they will say: ‘Ineffable delight Shines in the radiance of His face; its light Draws near us, and this vast celestial frame – The eightfold heaven – darkens, bowed by shame.» — y la respuesta de los del paraíso, que hacen palidecer los ocho cielos ante la luz de ese rostro.
«But when we glimpse that radiant face and know That we must live for ever here below, Cut off through all eternity from grace – Such longing seizes us for that far face, Such unappeasable and wild regret, That in our anguished torment we forget The pit of hell and all its raging fire; For what are flames to comfortless desire?» — el remate de la visión, en boca de los condenados: el anhelo de ese rostro les hace olvidar el fuego.
«The desert’s arid sands are burning now. Pray there; against the hot dust press your brow And feel it sear your flesh; the wounded skin Will be an emblem of the wound within.» — la anécdota del hombre que pidió una estera de oración, con la respuesta que el poema pone en boca del Profeta.
«If no scar marks your heart, the countenance Of love will pass you by without a glance; But heart’s wounds show that on the battlefield Your friends have found a man who will not yield.» — y el criterio que se sigue: la cicatriz es la credencial.
«Another bird said: ‘Hoopoe, you can find The way from here, but we are almost blind – The path seems full of terrors and despair. Dear hoopoe, how much further till we’re there?» — la pregunta por la duración del viaje, que es la que abre la descripción de los siete valles.
«How far this is the world has never learned, For no one who has gone there has returned – Impatient bird, who would retrace this trail? There is no messenger to tell the tale, And they are lost to our concerns below – How can men tell you what they do not know?» — y la primera respuesta de la abubilla, que es una abstención: nadie ha vuelto a contarlo.
«The first stage is the Valley of the Quest; Then Love’s wide valley is our second test; The third is Insight into Mystery, The fourth Detachment and Serenity – The fifth is Unity; the sixth is Awe, A deep Bewilderment unknown before, The seventh Poverty and Nothingness – And there you are suspended, motionless, Till you are drawn – the impulse is not yours – A drop absorbed in seas that have no shores.» — la lista de los siete valles tal como el poema la enuncia, con el término al que llevan: la gota absorbida en mares sin orilla.
«When you begin the Valley of the Quest Misfortunes will deprive you of all rest, Each moment some new trouble terrifies, And parrots there are panic-stricken flies.» — el primer valle, el de la Búsqueda, donde hasta los loros se vuelven moscas asustadas.
«Renounce the world, your power and all you own, And in your heart’s blood journey on alone.» — y lo que ese valle exige, con la soledad como condición.
«When once your hands are empty, then your heart Must purify itself and move apart From everything that is – when this is done, The Lord’s light blazes brighter than the sun, Your heart is bathed in splendour and the quest Expands a thousandfold within your breast.» — el orden que el poema fija: primero las manos vacías, después la purificación del corazón, y solo entonces la luz.
«When love inspires his heart he begs for wine, 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.» — la imagen de la gota de vino con que el valle de la Búsqueda enlaza con el siguiente.
«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 strengthless vacancy.» — y el desenlace del primer valle, en que fe y blasfemia se desvanecen juntas.
«God breathed the pure soul into Adam’s dust, And as He did so said the angels must, lines 3251–72 In sight of Adam, bow down to the ground (God did not wish this secret to be found).» — la anécdota de Eblis, que el poema monta sobre un secreto que Dios no quería que se viera.
«All bowed, and not one saw what God had done, Except Eblis, who bowed himself to none. He said: “Who notices if I don’t bow? I don’t care if they cut my head off now; I know this Adam’s more than dust – I’ll see Why God has ordered all this secrecy.» — y el motivo que le atribuye a Eblis, que no es soberbia sino curiosidad por el secreto.
«God said: “Come out – I see you peer and pry; You know my treasure’s home and you must die. The kings who hide a treasure execute Their secret’s witnesses to keep them mute – You saw the place, and shall the fact be spread Through all the world? Prepare to lose your head!» — la sentencia que recibe, con la comparación de los reyes que matan a los testigos de su tesoro.
«Eblis replied: “And what is that to me? I saw the treasure and I now go free! To curse belongs to You and to forgive, All creatures of the world and how they live; Curse on! This poison’s part of Your great scheme And life is more than just an opium-dream. All creatures seek throughout the universe What will be mine for ever now – Your curse!» — y la respuesta de Eblis, que es el giro que hace memorable el episodio: reclama la maldición como lo suyo propio y la tiene por el don que todas las criaturas buscan.
«As Shebli’s death approached his eyes grew dim; Wild torments of impatience troubled him – But strangest was that round his waist he tied A heathen’s belt,*» — la anécdota de la muerte de Shebli, con el cinturón de infiel que se ciñe y la llamada de nota que el troceo imprime pegada.
«And Shebli cried: “What will become of me? I melt, I burn with fevered jealousy, And though I have renounced the universe I covet what Eblis procured – God’s curse.» — y lo que Shebli declara envidiar, que enlaza su muerte con la anécdota de Eblis.
«Bright jewels and stones are equal from His hand, And if His gems are all that you demand, Ours is a Way you cannot understand –» — la doctrina que el poema saca de ahí: de esa mano, joyas y piedras valen igual.
«The stone your angry lover flings may hurt, But others’ jewels compared with it are dirt.» — y la comparación con que la sostiene.
«Once someone saw Majnoun, oppressed with pain, Sifting the dusty highway grain by grain, And asked: “What are you searching for, my friend?” He cried: “My search for Leili has no end.» — la anécdota de Majnoun cribando el polvo del camino en busca de Leili.
«Majnoun replied: “I search in every place; Who knows where I may glimpse her lovely face?» — y su respuesta a la objeción sensata, que es la lógica del primer valle.
«Yusef of Hamadan, a learned seer, Once said: “Above, below, in every sphere, Each atom is a Jacob fervently Searching for Joseph through eternity.» — la sentencia de Yusef de Hamadán que el poema cita a continuación: cada átomo es un Jacob buscando a José.
«Regret and sighs should be your portion here; In sighs rejoice, in longing persevere – And if beneath the sky’s oppressive dome» — la instrucción que el poema saca de esa visión; el pareado se cierra en la plana 165, donde las heridas acercan a casa.
«Now, like a baby curled inside the womb, Wait patiently within your narrow room; Ignore the world – blood is your element; Blood is the unborn child’s sole nourishment.*» — la imagen del feto con que el poema describe la paciencia del primer valle, con la llamada de nota que el troceo imprime pegada.
«The old man heard, then said: “O Bou Sa’id, Imagine someone piled up millet seed From here to highest heaven’s unknown dimes, And then repeated this a hundred times; And now imagine that a bird appears And pecks one grain up every thousand years, Then flies around the earth’s circumference A hundred times – from heaven’s eminence In all those years no sign would come to show Sheikh Bou Sa’id the Truth he longs to know.» — la anécdota del sheikh Mahna y el campesino, con la cuenta de mijo y el pájaro que picotea un grano cada mil años.
«Such is the patience that our pilgrims need, And many start our quest, but few succeed;» — y la aplicación que el poema hace de esa cuenta, con la proporción de los que llegan.
«If you discover in your quest a jewel, Do not, like some delighted doting fool, Gloat over it – search on, you’re not its slave; It is not treasures by the way you crave. To make an idol of the gems you find Is to be drunk, to cloud the searching mind – At this first glass your soul should not submit; Seek out the wine-press of the infinite.» — la advertencia contra detenerse en un hallazgo, con el primer vaso que no debe bastar.
«He said: “I threw a bracelet on the ground; You could redeem the world with what you found! You could be like a king, a lord of men, And yet I find you sifting dust again!» — la anécdota del rey y el barrendero, con el reproche del rey a quien sigue cribando polvo.
«The sweep replied: “The treasure that you gave Made me a hidden, greater treasure’s slave – I have perceived the door to wealth and I Shall sift through dust-heaps till the day I die.» — y la respuesta del barrendero, que es la doctrina del valle: el hallazgo lo volvió esclavo de un tesoro mayor.
«And Rabe’eh said: “Fool to chatter so – When has the door been closed, I’d like to know?» — la réplica de Rabe'eh a quien pedía que se le abriera la puerta, que niega que haya estado cerrada.
«Love’s valley is the next, and here desire Will plunge the pilgrim into seas of fire, Until his very being is enflamed And those whom fire rejects turn back ashamed.» — el segundo valle, el del Amor, descrito como mar de fuego que rechaza a unos y quema a otros.
«The lover is a man who flares and bums, Whose face is fevered, who in frenzy yearns,» — y la definición de amante que abre ese valle, en la grafía que imprime el troceo.
«Who knows of neither faith nor blasphemy, Who has no time for doubt or certainty, To whom both good and evil are the same, And who is neither, but a living flame.» — la indiferencia del amante respecto de fe, blasfemia, bien y mal, que el poema formula como identidad y no como permiso.
«True lovers give up everything they own To steal one moment with the Friend alone – They make no vague, procrastinating vow, But risk their livelihood and risk it now.» — y el contraste con el lector tibio, con la inmediatez como marca de lo verdadero.
«They are the falcon when it flies distressed In circles, searching for its absent nest – They are the fish cast up upon the land That seeks the sea and shudders on the sand.» — las dos imágenes con que el poema fija ese estado: el halcón sin nido y el pez fuera del agua.
«If you could penetrate their passing show And see the world’s wild atoms, you would know That reason’s eyes will never glimpse one spark Of shining love to mitigate the dark.» — la negativa que el poema le opone a la razón: sus ojos no alcanzan a ver una chispa de ese amor.
«Love led a lord through paths of misery. He left his splendid house and family And acted like a drunkard to be near The boy he loved, who lived by selling beer – He sold his house and slaves and all he had To get the means to buy beer from this lad.» — la anécdota del señor enamorado del cervecero, que vende casa y esclavos para comprarle cerveza.
«When someone asked: “What is this love?” he cried: “It is to sell the world and all its pride – A hundred times – to buy one drop of beer.» — y la definición de amor que el arruinado da de sí, que el poema toma por buena.
«When Leili’s tribe refused Majnoun, he found They would not let him near their camping-ground. Distraught with love, he met a shepherd there And asked him for a sheepskin he could wear, And then, beneath the skin, began to creep On hands and knees as if he were a sheep.» — la anécdota de Majnoun disfrazado de oveja para acercarse al campamento de Leili.
«Majnoun replied: “No garment’s worthy of Dear Leili, but I wear this skin for love – I know how fortune favours me, and I Burn rue to turn away the Evil Eye.» — y la respuesta de Majnoun a quien le ofrece ropa: el vellón raído es su atavío de amor.
«If you would scour yourself of each defect, Let passion wean you from the intellect – To leave such toys and sacrifice the soul Is still the first small step towards our goal.» — la instrucción que el poema saca de la anécdota, con la advertencia de que sacrificar el alma es apenas el primer paso.
«A beggar fell in love once with Ayaz – The news soon spread through markets and bazaars, And when he rode about the gaping town There was the beggar running up and down; Or if Ayaz once halted in the square, His eyes would meet the beggar’s hungry stare.» — la anécdota del mendigo enamorado de Ayaz, que corre junto a su caballo por la ciudad.
«The man replied: “In matters of desire, A beggar is his monarch’s equal, sire – You cannot sunder love from pauper’s rags; They’re like a rich man and his money bags – And poverty in love resembles salt: It gives love taste; you can’t call that a fault!» — la respuesta del mendigo al rey, que iguala mendigo y monarca en materia de deseo y hace de la pobreza la sal del amor.
«Your love is with you; you need never know The pains of absence love should undergo. O, you are proud to have him, but love’s trial Would come if you should lose him for a while.» — y la objeción que el mendigo le hace al rey, que es la del amor sin ausencia.
«It’s me who is the ball,” the man replied; “Look – both of us are struck from side to side; Each shares the other’s pain, each feels the force Of Ayaz when he rides by on his horse – lines 3406–27 We’re both bewildered by his mallet’s blows, And where we’re going neither of us knows.» — la figura de la pelota de polo con que el mendigo describe su propio estado.
«You want a witness – if I sacrifice My living soul for love, will that suffice? O Mahmoud, love like yours is meaningless; Die if you want to boast of your distress!» — la prueba que el mendigo ofrece cuando el rey le pide testigo de su pobreza.
«Then, in the silence after he replied, He sank at his beloved’s feet and died – And when he saw the lifeless body there The world was darkened by Mahmoud’s despair.» — y el desenlace, que el poema despacha en dos pareados.
«Prepare to risk your being while you live, And know the glory sacrifice will give – If you are summoned by that distant call, Pursue the fading sound until you fall; And as you fall the news you longed to find Will break at last on your bewildered mind.» — la instrucción que el poema extrae, con la caída como forma de llegar.
«He met a group of dervishes, who had Renounced the world and seemed to him quite mad (But don’t be fooled – if they seem filthy thieves They are far purer than the world believes, And though in drunkenness they seem to sink The ecstasy they know is not from drink» — la anécdota del árabe en Persia, con el paréntesis en que el poema advierte al lector cómo leer a esos derviches sucios y ebrios.
«Love here is fire; its thick smoke clouds the head – When love has come the intellect has fled; It cannot tutor love, and all its care Supplies no remedy for love’s despair.» — y la relación que el poema pone entre el amor y el intelecto, que es la de una expulsión: llegado el amor, el entendimiento huye y no tiene remedio que ofrecer.
«Though both are hurt, mine is the grimmer part – Its skin is scarred, my scars are in my heart.» — y la diferencia que el mendigo marca entre la pelota de polo y él.
«They made him drunk, he lost himself, and soon His mind had foundered in a vacant swoon; His gold, his jewels, his very livelihood Were stolen there and disappeared for good – A dervish gave him more to drink, and then They pushed him naked out of doors again.» — el despojo del árabe a manos de los derviches, que la introducción del volumen descifra: el árabe es el camino formal, los bandidos son los sufíes y el vino es la doctrina.
«He said: “I went as usual – full of pride – Then saw a dervish by the highway’s side. But then what happened next I can’t be sure; My gold and silver went and now I’m poor!» — y lo único que el árabe acierta a contar de lo ocurrido.
«Enter the Way or seek some other goal, But do so to the utmost of your soul; Risk all, and as a naked beggar roam If you would hear that “Enter” call you home.» — la instrucción que el poema saca de la anécdota, con la desnudez como condición de entrada.
«A selfless youth had lost his heart to one Whose beauty beggared all comparison, But then the girl grew sick (as Fate decreed), As thin and yellow as a rotten reed. Now death approached – she seemed to waste away; Dark night descended on the brightest day. When he was told his love despaired of life, The youth ran riot, brandishing a knife, And cried: “If Death – which no man can withstand – Has come, then let her perish by my hand!» — la anécdota del amante que quiso matar a su amada moribunda.
«But if I kill her,” came the youth’s reply, “The law decrees that I too have to die, And at the resurrection hell will be My burning doom through all eternity; Thus I shall die for her today and light A candle for her in the future’s night – To die for her is my supreme desire, To die, and burn for her in endless fire.» — y el cálculo con que el joven lo justifica: matarla lo condena, y así arde por ella para siempre.
«As Abraham approached his life’s last breath, He fought with Azra’el and parried death. “Go back,” he cried, “and tell my king to wait; The king’s friend will arrive a little late.» — la anécdota de la muerte de Abraham, que forcejea con el ángel de la muerte.
«And he replied: “How can I give my soul When Azra’el obscures the longed-for goal? When Gabriel himself appeared in fire And asked me to describe my heart’s desire, I did not glance at him; the path I trod Had then as now no other goal but God – I turned my head aside from Gabriel, And shall I hand my soul to Azra’el? I shall not give this soul until I hear The word of God command me to draw near; And when I hear His voice this life will be Less use than half a barley grain to me – How could I give my soul to anyone But Him? Enough, my explanation’s done!» — y la razón que Abraham alega, que no es miedo sino exclusividad del destinatario: no entregará el alma a ningún intermediario.
«The next broad valley which the traveller sees Brings insight into hidden mysteries; Here every pilgrim takes a different way, And different spirits different rules obey.» — el tercer valle, el del Conocimiento de los misterios, donde el poema declara que cada peregrino sigue una vía distinta.
«How could a spider or a tiny ant Tread the same path as some huge elephant? Each pilgrim’s progress is commensurate With his specific qualities and state (No matter how it strives, what gnat could fly As swiftly as the winds that scour the sky?). Our pathways differ – no bird ever knows The secret route by which another goes.» — y el argumento con que sostiene esa pluralidad de caminos, que ninguna otra parte del poema retira.
«Our insight comes to us by different signs; lines 3486–3505 One prays in mosques and one in idols’ shrines – But when Truth’s sunlight clears the upper air, Each pilgrim sees that he is welcomed there.» — el pareado más extremo de esa doctrina: uno reza en mezquitas y otro en templos de ídolos, y a la luz de la Verdad cada uno se ve recibido.
«He will perceive the marrow, not the skin – The Self will disappear; then, from within The heart of all he sees, there will ascend The longed-for face of the immortal Friend.» — lo que el peregrino alcanza en ese valle, con la desaparición del Yo como condición del rostro.
«A hundred thousand men must faint and fail Till one shall draw aside the secrets’ veil – Perfected, of rare courage he must be To dive through that immense, uncharted sea.» — y la proporción de los que llegan a levantar el velo.
«Though you should reach the throne of God, implore Him still unceasingly: “Is there yet more?» — la instrucción que impide dar por terminado el viaje en cualquier punto, incluido el trono de Dios.
«This man is Knowledge (sensible, devout; If you should go to China seek him out), But he has turned to stone from secret grief, From lack of zeal, indifference, unbelief.» — y la clave alegórica que el poema da de ella: ese hombre es el Conocimiento, petrificado por falta de celo.
«The world is dark, and Knowledge is a light, A sparkling jewel to lead you through the night – Without it you would wander mystified, Like Alexander lost without a guide;» — la función que el poema le reconoce al Conocimiento, con Alejandro perdido como término de comparación.
«But if you trust its light too much, despair Will be the sequel of pedantic care, And if you underestimate this jewel Despair will mark you as a righteous fool (Ignore or overvalue this bright stone, And wretchedness will claim you for her own).» — y el límite doble que le pone: fiarse de más lleva a la pedantería y de menos a la necedad piadosa.
«A lover, tired out by the tears he wept, Lay in exhaustion on the earth and slept; When his beloved came and saw him there, Sunk fast in sleep, at peace, without a care, She took a pen and in an instant wrote, Then fastened to his sleeve, a little note.» — la anécdota del amante dormido y la nota que la amada le prende de la manga.
«But if you are a lover, blush with shame; Sleep is unworthy of the lover’s name!» — y lo que la nota dice, que reparte los oficios: el platero madruga, el devoto vela, y el amante no duerme.
«A man who sleeps before death’s sleep I call A lover of him self, and that is all! You’ve no idea of love, and may your sleep Be like your ignorance–prolonged and deep!» — el remate de la nota, que califica ese sueño de amor propio.
«A watchman fell in love – the poor man kept Love’s vigil day and night and never slept.» — la anécdota del sereno enamorado, que junta dos vigilias en una.
«There’s no sleep in me – can I ask a friend For sleep? It’s not a substance you can lend!» — y la respuesta del sereno a quien le pide que duerma un momento.
«A lover and a watchman should agree, Since neither sleeps through all eternity.» — la identidad que el sereno traza entre los dos oficios.
«Pace the heart’s streets; thieves lurk in ambush there, Waiting for you to waver in your care; But as you scan the darkness you will find New love and insight wake within your mind;» — y la aplicación que el poema le da: rondar las calles del corazón, donde acechan ladrones.
«But lovers journey on before us all; Intoxicated by their love, they fall – Strive, drink as they have drunk, discover love, The key to this world and the world above; A woman will become a man, a man A sea whose depths no mortal mind may scan.» — el pasaje en que el poema declara que el amor cambia el sexo de quien lo recibe, antes de explicarlo.
«is it denied That Adam bore a woman from his side, That Mary bore a man? Until this light Shines out, such truths are hidden from your sight;» — los dos ejemplos con que Abbasseh la apoya: Adán que dio una mujer de su costado y María que dio un hombre.
«Whoever drinks the mystics’ wine is king Of all the world can show, of everything – Its realms are specks of his authority, The heavens but a ship on his wide sea;» — la soberanía que el poema atribuye a quien bebe el vino de los místicos, con los cielos como barco en su mar.
«A man in China has become a stone; He sits and mourns, and at each muffled groan Weeps melancholy tears, which then are found» — la parábola del hombre de piedra, cuyas lágrimas se cuajan en guijarros; la frase se cierra en la plana 181.
«Abbasseh told a wandering scholar once: “The man who’s kindled by love’s radiance Will give birth to a woman;» — la formulación de Abbasseh sobre lo que el amor engendra en quien lo recibe, que el poema deja sin comentario.
«Once in a ruined palace Mahmoud met A dervish bowed by sorrow and regret, Who when he saw his noble sovereign cried: “Get out of here or I shall tan your hide – You call yourself a king; you’re just a lout, A thankless, selfish infidel – get out!» — la anécdota de Mahmoud y el derviche, que empieza con el insulto al rey.
«The dervish answered him: “O splendid youth, If you but knew how far you are from Truth, You would not smear your humbled head and face With dust and ash; live coals would take their place.» — y la réplica del derviche cuando el rey se identifica, que mide la distancia por el luto que debería llevar.
«Next comes the Valley of Detachment; here All claims, all lust for meaning disappear.» — el cuarto valle, el del Desapego, donde el poema hace desaparecer toda pretensión y toda busca de sentido.
«The seven planets seem a fading spark, The seven seas a pool, and heaven’s arc lines 3581–99 Is more like dust and death than paradise; The seven burning hells freeze cold as ice.» — y la inversión de escalas con que lo describe: los siete planetas, los siete mares y los siete infiernos reducidos a nada.
«A hundred thousand angels wept when light Shone out in Adam and dispelled the night; A hundred thousand drowning creatures died When Noah’s ark rode out the rising tide; For Abraham, as many gnats were sent To humble Ninirod’s vicious government; As many children perished by the sword Till Moses’ sight was cleansed before the Lord; As many walked in wilful heresy When Jesus saw Truth’s hidden mystery; As many souls endured their wretched fate Before Mohammad rose to heaven’s gate.» — la serie de precios que el poema le pone a cada revelación, de Adán a Mahoma, en la que cada aparición de luz cuesta multitudes.
«If you should see the world consumed in flame, It is a dream compared to this, a game; If thousands were to die here, they would be One drop of dew absorbed within the sea;» — la escala del valle dicha en condicionales: el mundo ardiendo es un juego, y miles de muertos una gota de rocío.
«If earth and heaven were to pass away, One grain of gravel would have gone astray; If men and fiends were never seen again, They’d vanish like a tiny splash of rain; And should they perish, broken by despair, Think that some beast has lost a single hair; If part and whole are wrecked and seen no more, lines 3600–3618 Think that the earth has lost a single straw; And if the nine revolving heavens stop, Think that the sea has lost a single drop.» — y el cierre de esa serie, que iguala el fin del cielo y de la tierra con un grano de grava extraviado.
«A fine youth living in our village fell Into a deep and dangerous, dark well – His fall dislodged the dust; a long time passed Before they got the young man out at last, But he had suffered underneath the grime – It seemed his rescuers were just in time (Mohammad was the poor boy’s name); his breath Was laboured and he lingered close to death.» — la anécdota del joven caído en el pozo, que el poema sitúa en su propia aldea.
«Where is Mohammad now?” the youth replied, “Where is your son? Or anyone?” and died.» — y su última frase, que le quita el nombre propio a quien lo pronuncia.
«Good pilgrim, ask: Where is Mohammad, where? And where is Adam and his every heir? Where are the earth, the mountains and the sea? Where are the angels and humanity? Where are the bodies buried underground, Where are their minds so subtle and profound? Where is the pain of death? Where is the soul? Where are the sundered parts? Where is the whole? Sift through the universe, and it will seem An airy maze, an insubstantial dream.» — la serie de preguntas con que el poema extiende esa pérdida del nombre a todo lo que hay.
«Said: “Travel to the throne of Majesty, Then to the ends of all the earth, and see That all that is, will be, has ever been, Is but one atom when correctly seen.» — la sentencia de Yusef de Hamadán que el poema cita en este valle: todo cuanto es, fue y será es un solo átomo bien mirado.
«This valley is not easy, child – your mind Knows nothing of the dangers you will find, And when the Way flows blood your pilgrimage Has only journeyed through a single stage.» — la advertencia sobre la dureza del valle, con la sangre del Camino como apenas una etapa.
«Hope lies neither in motion nor in rest; Neither to live nor yet to die is best.» — el callejón sin salida que el poema plantea aquí, y que no resuelve.
«The remedy is labour – this is true, But not that labour which is known to you – Renounce the work you know, the tasks you’ve done, And learn which tasks to work at, which to shun.» — y la única instrucción que da: trabajar, pero no en lo que uno ya sabe hacer.
«Detachment is a flame, a livid flash, That will reduce a hundred worlds to ash; Its valley makes creation disappear, And if the world has gone, then where is fear?» — la definición del Desapego como llama, con la consecuencia que le saca: desaparecido el mundo, desaparece el miedo.
«Astrologers can help you understand With fine configurations traced in sand – lines 3637–56 You’ve seen one draw the heaven’s calendar And indicate each fixed and moving star, Set out the zodiac sign by mighty sign, The zenith of the sun and its decline – The complex forms that influence the earth, The house of mournful death, the house of birth, Which will enable him to calculate Your happiness, your grief, your final fate… Then brush the sand – and all that you have seen Has gone, as though the marks had never been.» — la parábola del horóscopo trazado en la arena, con el zodíaco y las casas borrados de un manotazo.
«Such is the solid world we live in here, A subtle surface which will disappear. You cannot bear this truth, that all must die – Seek out some corner; watch the world pass by!» — y la aplicación que el poema le da al mundo sólido.
«When mountains weigh as little as a straw You have the strength required, but not before.» — el criterio con que el valle mide si el peregrino está listo.
«Once someone said: “The veil was drawn aside; I saw the secret world its shadows hide – In bliss I heard a voice that seemed to say: ‘Name what you wish and it is yours today.» — la anécdota del que vio el mundo secreto y recibió permiso de pedir lo que quisiera.
«My words must come from my experience, And till you share it they will make no sense.» — la declaración del poeta sobre el estatuto de lo que dice, que condiciona su sentido a la experiencia del lector.
«A hungry fly once saw a hive of bees; Transported by delicious fantasies, He buzzed: “What noble friend will be my guide? I’d give a barley grain to get inside – How marvellous if I could just contrive To find myself in this delightful hive.” A passer-by took pity on his pain, Lifted him in and took the barley grain.» — la parábola de la mosca en la colmena, que paga un grano de cebada por entrar.
«Within this valley no man can be free – Your life has passed in thoughtless liberty; But only adults can traverse this waste: Let childhood go; a new life must be faced!» — la advertencia que el poema saca de la parábola, con la infancia declarada insuficiente para este tramo.
«A dervish sheikh became enamoured of A girl whose father traded dogs. His love lines 3675–91 Was like a surging sea that has no shore – He slept among the dogs outside their door.» — la anécdota del sheikh enamorado de la hija de un tratante de perros, que duerme entre los perros.
«The sheikh replied: “Idiot, no sermons, please – If you could see into these mysteries, If God should show these secret truths to you, You’d do exactly as you see me do.» — y su réplica al sufí que lo reprende, que traslada el juicio a un secreto que el otro no ve.
«How much must I describe this journey’s pain? Who heeds my talk? How long must I explain? What is the point of all these words I say? Not one of you has set out on the Way, And till you set out you cannot perceive The truth of all I urge you to believe – Who shares the patient vigil that I keep? What good’s a leader? – You are all asleep!» — la interrupción del poeta, que se queja de que nadie se ha puesto en camino.
«There was a pupil once who begged his sheikh: “Give me some good advice, for pity’s sake!” The sheikh cried: “Leave me – go on, get away, lines 3692–3707 And if you itch for what I’ve got to say, First wash your face – musk can’t drive out a stink; Words are no good to someone sick with drink!» — la anécdota del discípulo que pedía consejo, con la condición que el sheikh le pone antes de dárselo.
«Next comes the Valley of pure Unity, place of lonely, long austerity, And all who enter on this waste have found Their various necks by one tight collar bound – If you see many here or but a few, They’re one, however they appear to you.» — el quinto valle, el de la Unidad, donde el poema declara que muchos y pocos son lo mismo.
«The many here are merged in one; one form Involves the multifarious, thick swarm» — y la distinción precisa que introduce para que la Unidad no se lea como uniformidad.
«Not oneness locked in singularity); Unit and number here have passed away; Forget for-ever and Creation’s day – That day is gone; eternity is gone; Let them depart into oblivion.» — el paréntesis en que el poema separa la unidad de la diversidad de la unidad encerrada en lo singular, y borra de paso el número y la eternidad.
«God’s prophets have endured adversity, That, everywhere disaster takes its course, They are the first to feel its crushing force – And how can I expect contentment when Such miseries beset the best of men?» — por qué el que vio el mundo secreto no pidió nada: vio que los profetas son los primeros en recibir el desastre; la frase empieza en la plana anterior.
«To get into this mess I gave a grain; I’d offer double to get out again!» — el lamento de la mosca pegada a la miel, que es el aviso del valle; la queja empieza en la plana anterior.
«He said: “This various world is like a toy – A coloured palm-tree given to a boy, But made of wax – now knead it in your fist, And there’s the wax of which its shapes consist; The lovely forms and colours are undone, And what seemed many things is only one.» — la parábola del juguete de cera con que un derviche explica la Unidad: amasado el muñeco, lo que quedan son las formas deshechas y una sola materia.
«All things are one – there isn’t any two; It isn’t me who speaks; it isn’t you.» — y la consecuencia con que el derviche cierra, que alcanza a los interlocutores del diálogo.
«The man who treads the Way sees one alone And counts a temple as the Ka’abah’s stone.» — la sentencia de la vieja a Bou Ali, que iguala el templo con la Ka'abah y da la vuelta al reproche del sheikh.
«The pilgrim sees no form but His and knows That He subsists beneath all passing shows – The pilgrim comes from Him whom he can see, Lives in Him, with Him, and beyond all three.» — la fórmula con que el poema describe al peregrino en este valle, en tres preposiciones y un más allá.
«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 sun Surpasses good and bad and knows the One.» — el sol oculto que el poema pone en el pecho de todos, sin distinguir entre malvados y bienaventurados.
«This good and bad are here while you are here; Surpass yourself and they will disappear.» — y el criterio con que el poema hace depender el bien y el mal de la persistencia del Yo.
«How could you guess what ills within you lurk, The foulness of their haunts, the dripping murk, Where snake and scorpion slither through the deep, Then undiscovered lose themselves in sleep? Wake them, encourage them, and they will swell Into a hundred monsters loosed from hell.» — la descripción del interior del lector, con las serpientes y los escorpiones dormidos.
«All men contain this evil in their hearts, And hell is yours till every snake departs –» — y su generalización, que reparte el infierno en cada pecho.
«Attar! Enough of all this oratory; Resume your tale, you’d got to ‘Unity’.» — la interpelación del poeta a sí mismo por su nombre, que corta la digresión y devuelve el relato al quinto valle.
«When once the pilgrim has attained this stage, He will have passed beyond mere pilgrimage; He will be lost and dumb – for God will speak, The God whom all these wandering pilgrims seek –» — lo que ocurre en la Unidad según el poema: el peregrino queda mudo y es Dios quien habla.
«In this strange school the inward eye detects A hundred thousand yearning intellects, But failure dogs the analytic mind, Which whimpers like a child born deaf and blind.» — y la suerte que corre ahí la mente analítica.
«The pilgrim has no being, yet will be A part of Being for eternity.» — la fórmula exacta con que el poema evita decir que el peregrino se vuelve Dios.
«Loghman of Sarrakhs cried: “Dear God, behold Your 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.» — la anécdota de Loghman de Sarrakhs, que pide la manumisión alegando la costumbre con los esclavos viejos.
«A voice replied: “When you have gained release From mind and thought, your slavery will cease; You will be free when these two disappear.» — y la condición que la voz le pone, que traslada la esclavitud al pensamiento.
«He 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.» — la danza con que Loghman celebra haberlos soltado, y la fórmula en que el poema deja el episodio.
«A girl fell in a river – in a flash Her lover dived in with a mighty splash, And fought the current till he reached her side. When they were safe again, the poor girl cried: “By chance I tumbled in, but why should you Come after me and hazard your life too?» — la anécdota del amante que salvó a su amada del río, con la pregunta de ella al salir.
«Of ‘I’ and ‘you’ to lovers makes no sense – A long time passed when we were separate, But now that we have reached this single state When you are me and I am wholly you, What use is it to talk of us as two?» — y la respuesta de él, que hace de la Unidad un asunto gramatical.
«And Mahmoud said: “Ayaz, my child, look down – All this is yours, dear boy; accept the crown.» — la anécdota del mando de los ejércitos ofrecido a Ayaz ante el desfile.
«The great king spoke – Ayaz seemed quite unmoved, Lost in his private thoughts; Hassan reproved The youth and said: “Where are your manners, slave? Think of the honour that our king just gave!» — y el reproche del cortesano Hassan ante el silencio del esclavo.
«First then, a slave could grovel on the ground Or gabble thanks and have the heavens resound With some self-advertising, long address – And climb above the king or say far less; But who am I to interpose my voice Between the king and his asserted choice? The slave is his, and regal dignity Demands that he decide and act, not me.» — la primera respuesta de Ayaz, que lee el agradecimiento efusivo como forma de subir por encima del rey.
«Ayaz replied: “Hassan, I cannot say Whilst you are here – you do not share the throne. This mystery is for the king alone.» — y la reserva con que anuncia la segunda, que exige la salida del tercero.
«Ayaz replied: “When generosity lines 3792–3811 Persuades my sovereign lord to glance at me, My being vanishes in that bright light Which radiates from his refulgent sight; His splendour shines, and purified I rise, Dispersed to nothing by his sun-like eyes.» — la segunda respuesta de Ayaz, que es la doctrina de la sección: bajo esa mirada su ser se desvanece.
«If you see anyone or anything, It is not me you see – it is the king! The honours you continually renew Are offered, given and received by you; And from a shadow lost within the sun What kind of service could you hope for? None! That shadow called Ayaz must disappear – Do what you wish; you know he is not here.» — y el remate, que devuelve al rey la escena entera y borra al esclavo de ella.
«Next comes the Valley of Bewilderment, A place of pain and gnawing discontent – Each second you will sigh, and every breath Will be a sword to make you long for death; Blinded by grief, you will not recognize The days and nights that pass before your eyes.» — el sexto valle, el de la Perplejidad, descrito por el dolor y no por el saber.
«In ice you fry, in fire you freeze – the Way Is lost, with indecisive steps you stray – The Unity you knew has gone; your soul Is scattered and knows nothing of the Whole.» — y la pérdida que lo define, que es la de la Unidad recién alcanzada.
«The pilgrim will confess: “I cannot say; I have no certain knowledge any more; I doubt my doubt, doubt itself is unsure;» — la respuesta que el peregrino da en ese valle si se le pregunta por su estado.
«It happened that a handsome slave was brought To join the retinue that served at court, A slave, but what a slave! Compared with him The sun and moon looked overcast and dim. He was uniquely beautiful – and when He left the palace, women, children, men Would crowd into the streets and market-place, A hundred thousand wild to see his face.» — la historia de la princesa y el esclavo, que ocupa el sexto valle: la llegada del esclavo a la corte.
«No, I must have him; this seductive youth Must sleep with me and never know the truth –» — la resolución de la princesa, que exige a la vez el encuentro y el secreto: el esclavo no debe saber nunca la verdad.
«My heart is empty, yet with love is full; My own love is to me incredible.» — y el cierre de esa confesión, en dos contradicciones que el poema no resuelve.
«But all the joys of this celestial place Could not compare with her bewitching face, At which he stared as if struck senseless, dumb, Lost both to this world and the world to come –» — la noche del esclavo con la princesa, y el efecto que la belleza de ella le produce.
«Then, as he slept, they carried him once more And laid him gently on his own hard floor.» — y el modo en que la escena se deshace, que es lo que hace de la historia la del sexto valle.
«He answered: “Was it me who saw that face? Or did some other stand there in my place? I neither saw nor heard a thing, and yet I saw and heard what no man could forget.» — la respuesta del esclavo cuando le piden que cuente lo que vio, que es la fórmula de la Perplejidad.
«He asked: “Was it a dream, or was it true? Was I drunk or sober? I wish I knew – The world has never known a state like this, This paradox beyond analysis, Which haunts my soul with what I cannot find, Which makes me speechless speak and seeing blind.» — y la paradoja que el poema declara sin análisis posible.
«But did I see her? What more can I say? Between this ‘yes’ and ‘no’ I’ve lost my way!» — el verso en que el esclavo resume el estado del valle, entre el sí y el no.
«A sufi said: “This woman has perceived The nature of her loss; her heart knows why She comes to mourn, for whom-she has to cry – She grieves, but knowledge makes her fortunate: Consider now the sufi’s wretched state!» — la anécdota de la madre que llora en la tumba de su hija, con el sufí que le envidia el saber por quién llora.
«Since she knows what has caused her agony, She is a thousand times more blest than me – I have no notion of what makes me weep, What prompts the painful vigils I must keep.» — y la comparación que el sufí hace entre los dos duelos, con la cifra que le pone.
«My heart is lost, and here I cannot find That rope by which men live, the rational mind – The key to thought is lost; to reach this far Means to despair of who and what you are. And yet it is to see within the soul – And at a stroke – the meaning of the Whole.» — el remate del sufí, que declara perdida la razón y a la vez presente el sentido del Todo.
«A sufi heard a cry: “I’ve lost my key; If it’s been found, please give it back to me – My door’s locked fast; I wish to God I knew How I could get back in. What can I do?» — la anécdota del hombre que perdió la llave.
«The sufi said: “And why should you complain? You know where this door is; if you remain Outside it – even if it is shut fast – Someone no doubt will open it at last. You make this fuss for nothing; how much more Should I complain, who’ve lost both key and door!» — y la respuesta del sufí, que compara su pérdida con la del otro y la halla mayor.
«To those who ask: “What can I do?” reply: “Bid all that you have done till now goodbye!» — la única instrucción que el poema da para este valle.
«When shall I know? O, when?” But knowledge here Is turned again to indecisive fear; Complaints become a grateful eulogy And blasphemy is faith, faith blasphemy.» — y el intercambio de términos que describe el estado: la queja se vuelve elogio, y la fe y la blasfemia se cambian de lugar.
«Sheikh Nasrabad made Mecca’s pilgrimage Twice twenty times, yet this could not assuage His yearning heart. This white-haired sheikh became A pilgrim of the pagans’ sacred flame, A naked beggar in whose heart their fire Was mirrored by the blaze of his desire.» — la anécdota del sheikh Nasrabad, que tras cuarenta peregrinaciones acaba mendigo ante el fuego de los paganos.
«A passer-by said: “Shame on you, O sheikh, Shame on these wretched orisons you make; Have you performed the Moslems’ pilgrimage To be an infidel in your old age? This is mere childishness; such blasphemy Can only bring the sufis infamy. What sheikh has followed this perverted way? What is this pagan fire to which you pray?» — y el reproche que recibe, que es el que cualquier lector ortodoxo haría.
«The sheikh said: “I have suffered from this flame, Which burnt my clothes, my house, my noble name, The harvest of my life, all that I knew, My learning, wisdom, reputation too – And what is left to me? – Bewilderment, The knowledge of my burning discontent;» — la respuesta de Nasrabad, que inventaría lo que el fuego le quemó y deja la Perplejidad como único saldo.
«Both from the Ka’abah and this temple’s gate – If this Bewilderment should come to you Then you will grieve, as I am forced to do.» — y el odio igual que declara hacia la Ka'abah y hacia el templo pagano, que el poema no atenúa.
«A novice in whose heart the faith shone bright Met with his teacher in a dream one night And said: “I tremble in bewildered fear; How is it, master, that I see you here? My heart became a candle when you went, A flame that flickers with astonishment; I seek Truth’s secrets like a searching slave – Explain to me your state beyond the grave!» — la anécdota del novicio que ve a su maestro muerto y le pide noticia del otro lado.
«His teacher said: “I cannot understand – Amazed, I gnaw the knuckles of my hand. You say that you’re bewildered – in this pit Bewilderment seems endless, infinite ! A hundred mountains would be less to me Than one brief speck of such uncertainty» — y la respuesta del maestro, que declara la perplejidad mayor después de la muerte que antes.
«Next comes that valley words cannot express, The Vale of Poverty and Nothingness: Here you are lame and deaf, the mind has gone; You enter an obscure oblivion.» — el séptimo valle, el de la Pobreza y la Nada, que el poema declara inexpresable antes de describirlo.
«When sunlight penetrates the atmosphere A hundred thousand shadows disappear, And when the sea arises what can save The patterns on the surface of each wave?» — las dos imágenes con que lo explica: las sombras deshechas por el sol y los dibujos de la ola.
«The two worlds are those patterns, and in vain Men tell themselves what passes will remain.» — y lo que esas imágenes significan: los dos mundos son ese dibujo.
«The pilgrim who has grown wise in the Quest, The sufi who has weathered every test, Are lost when they approach this painful place, And other men leave not a single trace;» — lo que ocurre en este valle a quien llega, sabio o no.
«But though they seem to share a common state, Their inward essences are separate, And evil souls sunk in this mighty sea Retain unchanged their base identity;» — y la distinción que el poema introduce contra la lectura fácil de la aniquilación: las esencias no se igualan.
«But if a pure soul sinks the waves surround His fading form, in beauty he is drowned – He is not, yet he is; what could this mean? It is a state the mind has never seen.» — la fórmula con que describe al alma pura hundida ahí, que el poema deja como contradicción declarada.
«One night that sea of secrets, that loved seer Of Tous, said to a pupil standing near: “When you are worn out by love’s fierce despair And in your weakness tremble like a hair, You will become that hair and take your place In curls that duster round the loved one’s face – Whoever wastes away for love is made A hair concealed within those tresses’ shade – But if you will not waste away, your soul Has made the seven gates of hell its goal.» — la sentencia del vidente de Tous, que hace del consumirse por amor la entrada a los rizos del amado y de lo contrario el camino al infierno.
«I have no need of my identity – I long for death; what use is ‘T’ to me? I live with evil while my Self is here; With God both Self and evil disappear.» — y lo que ese amante concluye de ahí, que es la doctrina del valle.
«Do not despair – think of the oil-lamp’s glow That sends up smoke as black as any crow; Its oil is changed and what was there before The shining flame flared up exists no more. So you, my quaking heart, when you endure These threatening flames, will rise up rare and pure.» — la imagen de la lámpara de aceite con que se consuela: el aceite cambia y lo que había antes de la llama ya no existe.
«First put aside the Self, and then prepare To mount Boraq* and journey through the air; Drink down the cup of Nothingness; put on The cloak that signifies oblivion –» — la instrucción del séptimo valle, con la montura del Profeta y la llamada de nota que el troceo imprime pegada al nombre.
«First lose yourself, then lose this loss and then Withdraw from all that you have lost again – Go peacefully, and stage by stage progress Until you gain the realms of Nothingness;» — y la fórmula de la pérdida en tres tiempos, que es la formulación más apretada del final del poema.
«A frenzied lover wept; a passer-by Inquired the cause, and this was his reply: “They say that when at last the Lord appears, He will receive, for forty thousand years, The men who are deserving in this place;» — la anécdota del amante que lloraba, y la razón que da: el plazo de cuarenta mil años en que serán recibidos los que merecen; sigue en la plana 206 con el regreso a sí mismos.
«The mentor of the moths dismissed his claim, Remarking: “He knows nothing of the flame.» — el veredicto sobre la primera mariposa, que solo vio la luz de lejos.
«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 signs Of one who’s fathomed how the candle shines.» — y el veredicto sobre la segunda, que se acercó y volvió a contarlo.
«Another moth flew out – his dizzy flight Turned to an ardent wooing of the light; He dipped and soared, and in his frenzied trance Both Self and fire were mingled by his dance – The flame engulfed his wing-tips, body, head; His being glowed a fierce translucent red;» — la tercera mariposa, que se mezcla con el fuego en vez de observarlo.
«He said: “He knows, he knows the truth we seek, That hidden truth of which we cannot speak.» — y el veredicto del maestro sobre ella, que es la tesis de la parábola: solo conoce el que se consume.
«To go beyond all knowledge is to find That comprehension which eludes the mind, And you can never gain the longed-for goal Until you first outsoar both flesh and soul;» — la doctrina que el poema deriva de la parábola.
«No creature’s Self can be admitted here, Where all identity must disappear.» — y la condición absoluta del valle, que el poema no matiza.
«A sufi once, with nothing on his mind, Was – without warning – struck at from behind. He turned and murmured, choking back the tears: “The man you hit’s been dead for thirty years; He’s left this world!» — la anécdota del sufí que se creía muerto para el mundo y protesta por un golpe.
«The man who’d struck him said: “You talk a lot for someone who is dead! But talk’s not action – while you boast, you stray Further and further from the secret Way, And while a hair of you remains, your heart And Truth are still a hundred worlds apart.» — y la réplica de quien lo golpeó, que mide la distancia por un solo cabello.
«Burn all you have, all that you thought and knew (Even your shroud must go; let that burn too), Then leap into the flames, and as you burn Your pride will falter, you’ll begin to learn.» — la instrucción que el poema saca de la anécdota, con la mortaja incluida en lo que arde.
«But keep one needle back and you will meet A hundred thieves who force you to retreat (Think of that tiny needle which became The negligible cause of Jesus’ shame*» — y la aguja de Jesús como ejemplo de lo mínimo que basta para detener a un peregrino, con la llamada de nota que el troceo imprime pegada.
«Be still in selflessness and pass beyond All thoughts of good and evil; break this bond, And as it shatters you are worthy of Oblivion, the Nothingness of love.» — el término al que el poema llama la Nada del amor, más allá del bien y del mal.
«But of his wondrous mouth I cannot speak: There self-hood vanishes; I am too weak.» — y el punto en que el poeta declara que el retrato lo excede, con la desaparición del yo como razón.
«There was a dervish, a poor simpleton, Who fell in love with this great monarch’s son – Too weak to chatter, he would sit and sigh, Beyond all help and hope, prepared to die.» — la aparición del derviche, descrito por lo que no puede hacer.
«And what kept him alive? At times he’d see The prince ride by in distant majesty.» — y lo único que lo sostenía.
«My lord,” he panted, “something must be done; A filthy libertine adores your son!» — la denuncia del heraldo al rey, que convierte el amor del derviche en cuestión de honra.
«Cried: “Chain his feet and drag him through the town, Then from the gibbet hang him upside-down.» — y la condena del rey, dictada por la reputación.
«Before I’m murdered in this wretched place, Lord, let me see that boy’s seductive face, And when he stands here I will gladly give My soul for him and have no wish to live.» — la petición del derviche bajo la horca, que no es de perdón.
«I love, and those who die for love die blest, And though for him I bid the world farewell, Love cannot make love’s slave an infidel.» — y el verso con que el poema desactiva la lectura herética de la historia: el amor no hace infiel a su esclavo.
«He turned then to his son and gently said: “Do not distress this wretch who hangs half dead Beneath the gibbet’s arm – go to him now, And speak to him as only you know how. His heart is in your hands; use all your art To comfort him and give him back his heart.» — la orden del rey a su hijo, que revoca la condena y la convierte en encuentro.
«You were the poisoned draught that seared his throat; Drink with him now, be poison’s antidote!» — y la figura con que se la formula: el veneno hecho antídoto.
«This prince sought out a beggar; this bright sun Sought out the unregarded simpleton; This ocean of rich treasures did not stop Until he had united with a drop!» — el comentario del poeta sobre esa inversión, que es la que hace legible la alegoría.
«He wished to hide them from his army’s sight, But tears in princes are a sign of might. They flowed like rain and in that moment he Increased a hundred times his sovereignty.» — las lágrimas del príncipe ante el derviche colgado, que el poema cuenta como aumento y no como pérdida de poder.
«Gasped: “Prince, you see me at the point of death – Your words can kill me now; you did not need Guards and a gibbet to perform this deed.» — las últimas palabras del derviche, que le quitan a la horca el mérito de la muerte.
«Then as a dying candle flares he cried The last exultant laugh of death and died; Made one with his beloved he became The Nothingness of an extinguished flame.» — y el desenlace, que nombra el término del séptimo valle: la Nada de una llama apagada.
«Your being here is mixed with nothingness, And no joy comes to you without distress; If you cannot endure, how will you find The promised peace that haunts your troubled mind?» — la aplicación que el poema hace al lector, con la resistencia como condición.
«To be unsure, to pine for liberty, Is to resist our journey’s alchemy.» — y el verso en que el poema nombra su propio procedimiento como alquimia del viaje.
«I speak of “I”; in truth there is no “I” Where logic falters and the mind must die.» — la salvedad que el poeta hace sobre su propio pronombre al hablar en primera persona.
«When poverty’s bright sun shines over me, A window opens on reality; 4120–35 I see both worlds and in that light I seem Like water lost in water’s moving stream.» — y la imagen con que describe lo que ve desde ahí: agua perdida en el curso del agua.
«To learn the truth about the candle’s light, And they decided one of them should go To gather news of the elusive glow.» — la parábola de las mariposas y la llama, que el poema pone como cierre del séptimo valle; el primer verso queda en la plana anterior.
«This prince’s dignified and splendid state. Lords were his slaves; beauty bowed in defeat; The loveliest were dust beneath his feet, And if he walked the desert’s wastes at night It seemed a second sun diffused its light.» — la historia del derviche enamorado del príncipe, la última larga del poema: el retrato del príncipe, que empieza en la plana anterior comparándolo con José.
«This Nothingness is not for everyone, Yet many seek it out as I have done; And who would reach this far and not aspire To Nothingness, the pilgrim’s last desire?» — la Nada como último deseo del peregrino, dicha por el poeta en primera persona.
«Nouri was questioned by one pure in soul: “How far is it until we reach our goal?” And said: “We pass through fire and splendour first; Then seven oceans have to be traversed.» — la anécdota de Nouri, que mide el viaje en fuego, esplendor y siete océanos.
«A fish* (now listen carefully to me, And I will show you how to cross this sea) Will draw you by its breath – a mighty whale, Vast but invisible from head to tail, Who deep in solitude delights to swim And by his breathing draws the world to him» — y la ballena invisible que, según esa respuesta, atrae el mundo con su aliento; la llamada de nota va pegada a la palabra tal como la imprime el troceo.
«The hoopoe paused, and when the group had heard His discourse, trembling fear filled every bird.» — el efecto del discurso de la abubilla sobre las aves, que cierra la parte doctrinal del poema.
«They saw the bow of this great enterprise Could not be drawn by weakness, sloth or lies, And some were so cast down that then and there They turned aside and perished in despair.» — y la primera criba, que ocurre antes de salir.
«They travelled on for years; a lifetime passed Before the longed-for goal was reached at last.» — el viaje entero, que el poema despacha en un pareado tras doscientas planas de preparación.
«What happened as they flew I cannot say, But if you journey on that narrow Way, Then you will act as they once did and know The miseries they had to undergo.» — y la abstención del poeta sobre lo ocurrido en el camino, que traslada al lector la única vía de saberlo.
«Of many who set out no trace was found. Some deep within the ocean’s depths were drowned; Some died on mountain-tops; some died of heat; Some flew too near the sun in their conceit,» — el recuento de las muertes del viaje, que empieza por los ahogados y los que volaron demasiado cerca del sol.
«A world of birds set out, and there remained But thirty when the promised goal was gained, Thirty exhausted, wretched, broken things, With hopeless hearts and tattered, trailing wings,» — la llegada de las treinta aves, que son las que el juego de palabras del final necesita.
«Who saw that nameless Glory which the mind Acknowledges as ever-undefined, Whose solitary flame each moment turns A hundred worlds to nothingness and burns With power a hundred thousand times more bright Than sun and stars and every natural light.» — y lo que ven al llegar, que el poema nombra como Gloria sin nombre e indefinible.
«Our hearts were torn from all we loved; we bore The perils of a path unknown before; And all for this? It was not this reward That we expected from our longed-for Lord.» — la primera reacción de las aves, que es una queja: no era eso lo que esperaban.
«Time passed; then from the highest court there flew A herald of the starry retinue, Who saw the thirty birds, trembling, afraid, Their bodies broken and their feathers frayed, And said: ‘What city are you from? What race? What business brings you to this distant place? What are your names? You seem destroyed by fear; What made you leave your homes and travel here?» — la aparición del heraldo, que las interroga como a desconocidas.
«The group replied: ‘We flew here for one thing, To claim the Simorgh as our rightful king; We come as suppliants and we have sought Through grievous paths the threshold of His court –» — y la respuesta de las aves, que declaran el objeto del viaje.
«The herald said: ‘This king for whom you grieve Governs in glory you cannot conceive – A hundred thousand armies are to Him An ant that clambers up His threshold’s rim, And what are you? Grief is your fate–go back; Retrace your steps along the pilgrims’ track!» — el rechazo del heraldo, que las manda de vuelta y mide cien mil ejércitos como una hormiga en el umbral.
«But they replied: ‘Our king will not repay With sorrow all the hazards of the Way; Grief cannot come to us from majesty; Grief cannot live beside such dignity.» — y la objeción de las aves, que deducen de la majestad la imposibilidad del dolor.
«Think of Majnoun, who said: “If all the earth Should every passing moment praise my worth, I would prefer abuse from Leili’s heart To all creation’s eulogizing art – The world’s praise cannot equal Leili’s blame; Both worlds are less to me than Leili’s name,» — la sentencia de Majnoun que las aves alegan: prefieren el reproche de la amada al elogio del mundo entero.
«The herald said: ‘The blaze of Majesty Reduces souls to unreality, And if your souls are burnt, then all the pain That you have suffered will have been in vain.» — la segunda objeción del heraldo, que amenaza con la inutilidad de todo lo sufrido.
«They answered him: ‘How can a moth flee fire When fire contains its ultimate desire? And if we do not join Him, yet we’ll burn, And it is this for which our spirits yearn –» — y la respuesta de las aves, que retoma la parábola de la mariposa.
«It is not union for which we hope; We know that goal remains beyond our scope.» — la renuncia expresa de las aves a la unión, que es lo que el poema les concede después.
«The moth replied: “Within that fire I cannot hope to hide – I know I could not penetrate the flame; Simply to reach it is my humble aim» — y la fábula de la mariposa que ellas mismas narran, cuya aspiración se limita a llegar.
«Now, gently, he unlocked the guarded door; A hundred veils drew back, and there before The birds’ incredulous, bewildered sight Shone the unveiled, the inmost Light of Light.» — la apertura de la puerta, con los cien velos que se retiran.
«Then Joseph held a scroll up in his hand And said: ‘No courtier here can understand These Hebrew characters – if you can read This note I’ll give you all the bread you need.» — y la trampa que José les tiende a sus hermanos con ese documento.
«If any of my readers cannot find Himself in this account, the fool is blind.» — el paréntesis en que el poeta advierte al lector que la anécdota es suya.
«The thirty birds read through the fateful page And there discovered, stage by detailed stage, Their lives, their actions, set out one by one – All that their souls had ever been or done:» — la lectura de la página que el heraldo les entrega, donde las aves hallan su propia vida.
«They understood that it was they who’d led The lovely Joseph into slavery – Who had deprived him of his liberty Deep in a well, then ignorantly sold Their captive to a passing chief for gold.» — y lo que la página les revela, que enlaza con la anécdota anterior: fueron ellas quienes vendieron a José.
«Can you not see that at each breath you sell The Joseph you imprisoned in that well, That he will be the king to whom you must Naked and hungry bow down in the dust?» — el paréntesis con que el poeta traslada esa acusación al lector.
«Then, as by shame their spirits were refined Of all the world’s weight, they began to find A new life flow towards them from that bright Celestial and ever-living Light –» — el efecto de la vergüenza sobre las aves, que el poema convierte en refinamiento.
«There in the Simorgh’s* radiant face they saw Themselves, the Simorgh of the world – with awe They gazed, and dared at last to comprehend They were the Simorgh and the journey’s end.» — el desenlace del poema, con la llamada de nota que el troceo imprime pegada al nombre: en el rostro del Simorgh se ven a sí mismas.
«They see the Simorgh – at themselves they stare, And see a second Simorgh standing there; They look at both and see the two are one, That this is that, that this, the goal is won.» — y la formulación exacta de esa identidad, en la fórmula que el poema repite: esto es aquello y aquello esto.
«And silently their shining Lord replies: ‘I am a mirror set before your eyes, And all who come before my splendour see Themselves, their own unique reality; You came as thirty birds and therefore saw These selfsame thirty birds, not less nor more;» — la respuesta del Simorgh, que se declara espejo y hace depender lo visto del número de los que llegan.
«If you had come as forty, fifty – here An answering forty, fifty, would appear; Though you have struggled, wandered, travelled far, It is yourselves you see and what you are.» — y la consecuencia con que la cierra, que quita al viaje todo mérito de descubrimiento.
«Who sees the Lord? It is himself each sees; What ant’s sight could discern the Pleiades? What anvil could be lifted by an ant? Or could a fly subdue an elephant?» — el paréntesis del poeta que sostiene esa doctrina con dos imposibles.
«Though you traversed the Valleys’ depths and fought lines 4255–71 With all the dangers that the journey brought, The journey was in Me, the deeds were Mine – You slept secure in Being’s inmost shrine.» — la segunda parte de la respuesta del Simorgh, que le quita a las aves la autoría del viaje.
«Dispersed to nothingness until once more You find in Me the selves you were before.» — y el término en que las deja, que no es la desaparición sino el reencuentro de lo que ya eran.
«Then, as they listened to the Simorgh’s words, A trembling dissolution filled the birds – The substance of their being was undone, And they were lost like shade before the sun; Neither the pilgrims nor their guide remained. The Simorgh ceased to speak, and silence reigned.» — el final de la fábula, donde ni los peregrinos ni el guía permanecen.
«Some paused bewildered and then turned aside To gaze at marvels as if stupefied; Some looked for pleasure’s path and soon confessed They saw no purpose in the pilgrims’ quest;» — el cierre del recuento de las bajas del viaje: los que se quedaron mirando maravillas y los que no vieron propósito en la búsqueda.
«Not one in every thousand souls arrived – In every hundred thousand one survived.» — y la proporción exacta de los que llegaron, que el poema da dos veces en el mismo pareado.
«When Malek Dar bought Joseph as a slave, The price agreed (and which he gladly gave) Seemed far too low – to be quite sure he made The brothers sign a note for what he’d paid;» — la anécdota del recibo de la venta de José, que el poema intercala justo antes del desenlace; sigue en la plana 219.
«Hallaj’s corpse was burnt and when the flame Subsided, to the pyre a sufi came Who stirred the ashes with his staff and said:» — la anécdota de las cenizas de Hallaj, que el poema coloca inmediatamente después del desenlace de la fábula.
«All that you cried, all that you saw and knew, Was but the prelude to what now is true. The essence lives; rise now and have no fear, Rise up from ruin, rise and disappear – All shadows are made nothing in the one Unchanging light of Truth’s eternal sun,» — la respuesta que el poema da a la pregunta de esa anécdota por dónde fue a parar el grito de Hallaj: todo aquello era el preludio, y las sombras se anulan en la luz.
«A hundred thousand centuries went by, And then those birds, who were content to die, To vanish in annihilation, saw Their Selves had been restored to them once more, That after Nothingness they had attained lines 4272–90 Eternal Life, and self-hood was regained.» — el giro final del poema, que devuelve a las aves el Yo después de la aniquilación y nombra esa Vida Eterna.
«This Nothingness, this Life, are states no tongue At any time has adequately sung – Those who can speak still wander far away From that dark truth they struggle to convey, And by analogies they try to show The forms men’s partial knowledge cannot know.» — y la reserva que el poeta le pone de inmediato: ningún idioma los ha dicho, y quien habla de ellos anda lejos.
«But these are not the subject for my rhyme; They need another book, another time – And those who merit them will one day see This Nothingness and this Eternity; While you still travel in your worldly state, You cannot pass beyond this glorious gate.» — el paréntesis en que el poeta remite esos estados a otro libro y a otro tiempo.
«Know He has made man’s seed and nourished it So that it grows in wisdom until fit To understand His mysteries, to see The hidden secrets of Eternity.» — el itinerario del hombre que el poema traza en el cierre: la semilla crece hasta poder entender los misterios.
«But in that glorious state it cannot rest – In dust it will be humbled, dispossessed, Brought back to Nothingness, cast down, destroyed, Absorbed once more within the primal void –» — y el paso siguiente, que no es culminación sino regreso al vacío.
«Be nothing first! and then you will exist, You cannot live whilst life and Self persist – Till you reach Nothingness you cannot see The Life you long for in eternity.» — la fórmula con que el poema condensa toda su doctrina, en imperativo.
«There was a monarch once of seven lands, A second Alexander, whose commands Sent armies forth from pole to pole, whose might Eclipsed the splendour of the moon at night. He had a minister whose wise advice Was well-informed, sagacious and precise.» — el arranque de la última historia del poema, la del rey que mandó matar a su amado.
«This minister was father to a son, A beauteous youth, a peerless paragon; No man has ever seen such comely grace As glanced out from that boy’s bewitching face» — la presentación del joven, hijo del ministro.
«His serried teeth were like… O, who but fools Would try to represent such shining jewels! And on his cheek there was a musk-like mole, That seemed a portent of Time’s hidden soul; What can I say? – no eloquence conveys A beauty that surpassed all mortal praise.» — y el punto en que el poeta interrumpe el retrato declarándolo imposible.
«His king caught sight of him – and passion made This monarch like a drunken renegade. That full moon caused his sovereign to appear As thin as is the new moon, wan with fear. His love obsessed the king; a moment spent Without that youth was torture, banishment – He could not rest away from him; desire Destroyed his patience in its raging fire.» — el enamoramiento del rey, que el poema describe con las mismas imágenes con que describió el amor divino.
«And when the boy’s head drooped the monarch kept A guardian vigil while his servant slept, The face lit by a candle’s softening light Watched by the weeping king throughout the night.» — la vigilia del rey junto al joven dormido, que es la imagen que la historia va a destruir.
«The youth chafed inwardly, but he was tied By terror to his royal master’s side, Afraid that if he went away but once The king would hang him for his impudence» — y el reverso de esa escena en el joven, atado por el terror y no por el amor.
«This youth caught sight of her, and like a fire Love kindled his impetuous desire. One night (the king was drunk) he slipped away And in her room the two together lay.» — la falta del joven con la muchacha de la corte, cometida una noche en que el rey estaba ebrio.
«Then hate and love could not be held apart; Wild flames of jealousy swept through his heart.» — y la reacción del rey, en que el poema junta el odio y el amor sin separarlos.
«He paused, then ordered that the youth be bound And dragged in chains along the filthy ground – The silver pallor of his lovely back Was at the king’s commandment beaten black, And where his throne had been the soldiers built The gibbet that would show the world his guilt.» — la condena, con la horca levantada donde estaba el trono.
«First flay the faithless wretch,’ their monarch said, ’then hang him upside-down until he’s dead – And then those chosen for my love will see lines 4356–74 Their eyes should glance at no one else but me.» — y la razón que el rey da de la pena, que es de escarmiento para sus futuros amados.
«But when the minister, his father, heard The punishment this lover had incurred, He wept and cried: ‘What harsh necessity Has made the king my son’s sworn enemy?» — la reacción del ministro al saber la pena de su hijo.
«drink has confused our noble monarch’s head; He will regret my son’s uncalled-for fate, But when he’s sober it will be too late; Whoever kills my son will then be killed.» — y el argumento con que el ministro convence a los esclavos: el rey se arrepentirá y matará a los ejecutores.
«The wily minister then brought A murderer, convicted by the court, Who waited in a prison-cell for death – They stripped the villain, flayed him, stopped his breath, Then hanged him upside-down until the mud Beneath the gibbet reddened with his blood» — la sustitución que el ministro urde, con un condenado a muerte en lugar del hijo.
«Let him hang there,’ he cried, ‘till late tonight – There is a lesson in this shameful sight!» — la orden del rey ya sobrio, que deja el cuerpo colgado como lección.
«They saw the beaten, blood-stained flesh but kept Their thoughts a secret and in secret wept; All day the city mourned with smothered cries, Tears hastily suppressed and inward sighs.» — y el duelo callado de la ciudad, que no reconoce al joven en el cadáver.
«A few days passed; the king’s rage vanished too, And as his anger went his sorrow grew – Love made him weak; this lion-hearted king Became an ant, afraid of everything.» — el vuelco del rey cuando la cólera pasa, en la imagen del león vuelto hormiga.
«Night came; he drove off that still-gaping crowd Which stood beneath the gallows tree, and, bowed By lonely grief, told over one by one The actions of his absent paragon. Then as each loved, lost deed was called to mind, He groaned that he had been so rash, so blind.» — la vigilia del rey bajo la horca, repasando uno por uno los actos del ausente.
«For forty nights the ashes of despair Reduced him to the stature of a hair; For forty nights none dared approach the throne Or speak to him, and he was left alone.» — y las cuarenta noches de ayuno y ceniza, que repiten el número de las vigilias de los discípulos de Sam'an.
«It was myself I killed! Do not give back The blackness of my deeds with deeds as black;» — el lamento del rey al despertar, que reconoce el suicidio en el asesinato.
«I spilt your body’s blood, but you have spilt My spirit’s blood to expiate my guilt –» — y la simetría de sangres con que el rey describe lo ocurrido.
«But help was near; the minister had heard Each conscience-stricken and repentant word – He slipped out from his hiding-place and dressed His son as if he were some honoured guest, Then sent him to the king.» — el desenlace, que el ministro ha preparado desde el principio.
«They knew that state of which no man can speak; This pearl cannot be pierced;* we are too weak.» — y el punto en que el poema se calla, con la llamada de nota que el troceo imprime pegada: la perla que no se puede horadar.
«No stranger followed them, or could unfold The secrets they to one another told – Alone at last, together they conferred; Blindly they saw themselves and deaf they heard –» — lo único que el poema dice del encuentro final, en dos oxímoron.
«Those gone before us would have made some sign; But no sign comes, and silence must be mine.» — la razón que el poeta da para callar, que es una negativa de sus predecesores y no una decisión suya.
«Here eloquence can find no jewel but one, That silence when the longed-for goal is won.» — la sentencia sobre el silencio con que el poema se cierra.
«And I too cease: I have described the Way – Now, you must act – there is no more to say.» — y el último verso de esta traducción, que traslada al lector la obligación de actuar.
«What have I done that I should hang and die, A shameful spectacle to passers-by? God will revenge my death; I turn away But I shall face you on His Judgement Day!» — el remate del reproche del joven en sueños, que el poema pone en boca de la víctima y anuncia el Juicio.
«Is this fidelity, to flay my skin For some imagined slight, some paltry sin? Is this how lovers act? No infidel Would make his lover undergo such hell;» — el reproche del joven en sueños, que mide la fidelidad del rey por lo que hizo con su piel.
«O, it is not my death which troubles me, But my unthinking, vicious treachery;» — lo que el rey declara insoportable, que no es morir sino su propia traición; la frase se cierra en la plana 230.
About the work
194 entries — what the apparatus and scholarship say about it«FARID UD-DIN ATTAR, the Persian mystic-poet, was born during the twelfth century at Neishapour (where Omar Khayyam had also been born) in northeast Iran.» — la solapa *About the Author*, texto editorial del volumen y no voz de Attar ni de Davis, sitúa al poeta en Neishapour, la misma ciudad de Omar Khayyam, en el siglo XII (el troceo reemite las planas 2 a 4, y este tramo aparece dos veces, las dos en la plana 3).
«He is said to have been educated at the theological school attached to the shrine of Imam Reza at Mashhad (a major centre of pilgrimage)» — la formación que la solapa le atribuye, con la reserva *is said to*: la escuela teológica anexa al santuario del Imam Reza en Mashhad.
«After his wanderings he settled in his home town, where he kept a pharmacy, and it was there that he wrote his poems.» — la solapa liga el oficio y la obra: vuelto a su ciudad natal, Attar mantuvo una farmacia y allí escribió sus poemas.
«Later in his life he was apparently tried for heresy; the charge was upheld and Attar was banished and his property looted.» — la solapa consigna el proceso por herejía, la condena, el destierro y el saqueo de sus bienes, con *apparently* como único matiz.
«However, he had returned to Neishapour at the time of his death, which was probably shortly before 1220.» — y la fecha de muerte que propone, poco antes de 1220, dicha con *probably*.
«His other chief works are The Book of the Divine, The Book of Affliction and The Book of Secrets.» — las otras obras mayores que la solapa le adjudica, en los títulos ingleses que da esta edición.
«DICK DAVIS was born in 1945 and educated at King's College, Cambridge, where he read English, and at the University of Manchester (Ph.D. in Persian Literature).» — la solapa da la formación de Dick Davis: inglés en King's College de Cambridge y doctorado en literatura persa en Manchester.
«He lived in Iran for eight years (1970–78) and has also lived in Italy and Greece.» — y los ocho años que vivió en Irán, de 1970 a 1978.
«He is Professor of Persian at Ohio State University, USA.» — el cargo que la solapa le asigna al momento de esta edición: profesor de persa en la Universidad Estatal de Ohio.
«He translated The Legend of Seyavash by Ferdowsi for Penguin Classics, and also edited Edward FitzGerald’s Ruba’iyat of Omar Khayyam for Penguin.» — los dos trabajos persas previos que la solapa le cuenta en la misma casa editorial: la traducción de Ferdowsi y la edición del FitzGerald de Khayyam.
«AFKHAM DARBANDI was born in 1948 in Tehran, where she grew up. She trained as a nurse and then as a translator. She and Dick Davis were married in 1974.» — lo único que la solapa dice de Afkham Darbandi, la cotraductora: nacida en Teherán en 1948, formada como enfermera y luego como traductora, casada con Davis desde 1974.
«FARID UD-DIN ATTAR Translated with an Introduction by Afkham Darbandi and Dick Davis» — la portada adjudica a los dos la traducción Y la introducción; al pie de la introducción, en cambio, firma Davis solo, y las dos cosas se consignan sin armonizar (el troceo reemite esta plana tres veces, las tres como plana 4).
«Published by the Penguin Group Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England» — el pie editorial: Penguin Group, con la casa madre en el 80 de Strand, Londres.
«This translation first published 1984» — la fecha que la propia página de derechos da a esta traducción; el año 2005 que trae el nombre del archivo del EPUB no aparece en ninguna plana del troceo.
«Copyright © Afkham Darbandi and Dick Davis, 1984» — el copyright de la traducción, a nombre de los dos traductores; el troceo corta la página de derechos entre la plana 4 y la 5, y esta línea cae ya en la 5.
«Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser» — la cláusula de venta condicionada que imprime la página de derechos, con su excepción para los Estados Unidos.
«THIS TRANSLATION IS DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF MARIAM DARBANDI, 1956–1983» — la dedicatoria del volumen, a la memoria de Mariam Darbandi.
«CONTENTS INTRODUCTION THE CONFERENCE OF THE BIRDS BIOGRAPHICAL INDEX» — el índice del volumen, de tres entradas: la introducción, el poema y el índice biográfico; las notas del traductor, que ocupan las planas 238 a 241, no figuran en él.
«The Conference of the Birds (Manteq at-Tair) is the best-known work of Farid ud-Din Attar,» — la introducción, firmada por Dick Davis al final, abre nombrando el poema por su título persa y lo da como la obra más conocida de Attar.
«His name, Attar, is a form of the word from which we get the ‘attar’ of ‘attar of roses’ and it indicates a perfume seller or druggist.» — Davis deriva el nombre del poeta del mismo término del que viene el *attar* de esencia de rosas: designa a un vendedor de perfumes o a un boticario.
«Attar wrote that he composed his poems in his daru-khané, a word which in modern Persian means a chemist’s shop or drug-store, but which has suggestions of a dispensary or even a doctor’s surgery; and it is probable that he combined the selling of drugs and perfumes with the practice of medicine.» — y de ahí propone, con *it is probable*, que Attar juntara la venta de drogas y perfumes con el ejercicio de la medicina: el poeta dice haber compuesto en su *daru-khané*.
«Attar’s travels seem to have been undertaken more in the pursuit of knowledge than patronage; he boasted that he had never sought a king’s favour or stooped to writing a panegyric (this alone would make him worthy of note among Persian poets).» — Davis contrasta a Attar con sus contemporáneos: viajó tras el conocimiento antes que tras el mecenazgo, y se jactaba de no haber pedido nunca el favor de un rey ni escrito un panegírico.
«he usually presents their behaviour as capricious and cruel, and at one point in the poem he specifically says it is best to have nothing to do with them.» — y señala la opinión que el poema deja ver de los reyes terrenales, pese a que su asunto sea la búsqueda de un rey espiritual.
«The knowledge he particularly sought was concerned with the biographies and sayings of Islamic saints; these he collected together in his prose work Tadhkirat al-Auliya (Memorials of the Saints), which became an important source book for later hagiographers.» — la obra en prosa que Davis le atribuye, el *Tadhkirat al-Auliya*, reunión de biografías y dichos de santos del islam que después usaron los hagiógrafos.
«There is some evidence that late in his life he was tried for heresy – reading The Conference of the Birds it is not difficult to see why, though the accusation was made against a different poem.» — Davis matiza la noticia de la solapa: hay indicios del proceso por herejía, pero la acusación se hizo contra otro poema, no contra éste.
«Edward G. Browne* points out that this was a not uncommon fate for Persian mystical poets to endure, and that in his last book, Lisanu’l Ghaib, Attar ‘compares himself to Nasir-e-Khosrow, who, like himself, “in order that he might not look on the accursed faces” of his persecutors, retired from the world and “hid himself like a ruby in Badakhshan”.’» — la voz de Edward G. Browne, citada por Davis con llamada de nota al pie —el asterisco va dentro de la cita porque así lo imprime el troceo—: el destierro no era destino raro entre los poetas místicos persas, y Attar se comparó en su último libro con Nasir-e-Khosrow.
«However, he was back in Neishapour at the time of his death, which is variously given as having occurred between 1193 and 1235.» — la horquilla de la muerte, que Davis deja abierta entre 1193 y 1235.
«One of the dates most favoured among early writers is 1229, the year of the Mongols’ sack of Neishapour during their devastating sweep westwards, which took them to Baghdad and beyond.» — y la fecha que prefieren los escritores antiguos, 1229, el año del saqueo mongol de Neishapour.
«If Attar was born around 1120 he would have been well over a hundred years old at this time, and it seems more likely that his biographers have been seduced by the pathetic picture of the saintly old poet butchered by the barbarian hordes than that he actually did live so long.» — Davis objeta esa fecha por aritmética y por motivo: con el nacimiento hacia 1120 el poeta pasaría de los cien años, y sospecha que a los biógrafos los sedujo la estampa del anciano santo degollado por los bárbaros.
«A date shortly before 1220 is more probable, though even this would mean that he was in his nineties when he died.» — la fecha que propone en su lugar, con su propio límite dicho en la misma frase: aun así Attar habría muerto en los noventa.
«A memorial stone was erected over Attar’s tomb in the late fifteenth century, and the site is still maintained as a minor shrine.» — la tumba: lápida del siglo XV y culto menor que sigue en pie cuando Davis escribe.
«The Conference of the Birds is a poem about sufism, the doctrine propounded by the mystics of Islam, and it is necessary to know something about this doctrine if the poem is to be fully appreciated.» — la tesis con que Davis encuadra el poema entero: es un poema sobre el sufismo, y sin noticia de esa doctrina no se aprecia del todo.
«Sufism was an esoteric system, partly because it was continually accused of being heretical, partly because it was held to be incomprehensible and dangerous if expounded to those who had not received the necessary spiritual training.» — y las dos razones que da del secreto: la acusación continua de herejía y la convicción de que la doctrina es incomprensible y peligrosa para el no entrenado.
«It was handed down within orders of adepts, who were forbidden to reveal the most important tenets of belief (though some occasionally did), from sheikh to pupil (throughout The Conference of the Birds the word ‘sheikh’ denotes a spiritual leader, not a secular chief).» — la vía de transmisión que describe —de sheikh a discípulo dentro de órdenes de adeptos— y la advertencia de lectura que da de paso: en este poema *sheikh* siempre significa guía espiritual.
«Different sufis living at different times have clearly believed different things, and most sufi authors tend to retreat into paradox at crucial moments, either because they feel their beliefs are genuinely inexpressible by other means or because they fear orthodox reprisal.» — Davis niega que haya una doctrina sufí única y da dos explicaciones del recurso a la paradoja: lo inexpresable, o el miedo a la represalia de la ortodoxia.
«These, briefly, are: only God truly exists, all other things are an emanation of Him, or are His ‘shadow’; religion is useful mainly as a way of reaching to a Truth beyond the teachings of particular religions – however, some faiths are more useful for this than others, and Islam is the most useful;» — el primer tramo del resumen doctrinal que Davis propone como común a casi todas las versiones: solo Dios existe, lo demás emana de Él, y la religión vale sobre todo como vía hacia una Verdad que está más allá de las religiones, con el islam como la más útil.
«man’s distinctions between good and evil have no meaning for God, who knows only Unity; the soul is trapped within the cage of the body but can, by looking inward, recognize its essential affinity with God; the awakened soul, guided by God’s grace, can progress along a ‘Way’ which leads to annihilation in God.» — y el segundo tramo del mismo resumen: las distinciones humanas entre bien y mal no significan nada para Dios, que solo conoce Unidad; el alma, presa en la jaula del cuerpo, reconoce mirando hacia dentro su afinidad con Dios y avanza por un Camino que lleva a la aniquilación en Él.
«The doctrine received its most extreme expression in the writings of the Spanish Arab pantheist Ibn Arabi, a contemporary of Attar, who maintained that the being of creation and the Creator are indivisible.» — el extremo de esa doctrina lo pone Davis en Ibn Arabi, contemporáneo de Attar, para quien el ser de la creación y el del Creador son indivisibles.
«In The Conference of the Birds Attar frequently seems to be about to propound the same doctrine, only to step back at the last moment and maintain a final distinction between God and His creatures.» — y el límite que le reconoce a Attar: se acerca a esa misma doctrina una y otra vez y en el último momento retiene una distinción final entre Dios y sus criaturas.
«It is not possible, for example, to identify incontrovertibly the sheikh from whom he received instruction, or even to state with certainty which order he belonged to.» — la abstención de Davis sobre la filiación de Attar: ni el sheikh que lo instruyó ni la orden a la que perteneció se dejan identificar.
«J. Spencer Trimingham, in his excellent book The Sufi Orders in Islam (Oxford, 1971), says that his sheikh was Majd ad-Din al-Baghdadi (died 1219) of the Kubrawiya order;» — el primer testimonio del desacuerdo, el de J. Spencer Trimingham: el sheikh de Attar fue Majd ad-Din al-Baghdadi, de la orden Kubrawiya.
«however, E. G. Browne quotes a Persian source to the effect that though Majd ad-Din was Attar’s teacher it was medicine that he taught him, not the Way of sufism.» — y el segundo, que Davis pone al lado sin arbitrar: la fuente persa que cita Browne concede el magisterio de Majd ad-Din pero dice que lo que le enseñó fue medicina.
«There is another persistent tradition (first mentioned by Rumi, whom Attar is said to have dandled on his knee as a child and whose poetry is considered by Persians to be the ne plus ultra of mystical literature) that Attar had in fact no teacher and was instructed in the Way by the spirit of Mansur al-Hallaj,» — la tercera versión, que Davis remonta a Rumi: Attar no tuvo maestro y fue instruido en el Camino por el espíritu de Hallaj, que se le apareció en sueños.
«The two traditions are not wholly exclusive; Attar may have belonged, to an order and have had a confirmatory dream in which Hallaj appeared to him.» — Davis señala que las versiones no se excluyen, y deja las dos en pie.
«Attar shows a particular interest in the lives of two sufis, al-Hallaj and Bistami (or ‘Bayazid’, as Attar calls him). Both, significantly enough, were representatives of the more extreme, antinomian and, to many of the orthodox, scandalous tendencies of sufism.» — los dos sufíes que, según Davis, ocupan a Attar más que ninguno, y lo que tienen en común: las tendencias extremas, antinómicas y escandalosas para los ortodoxos.
«He broke with the sufi tradition of secrecy and openly taught mystical doctrines;» — lo que Davis le imputa a Hallaj como acto de ruptura: enseñó en público las doctrinas místicas.
«his most famous pronouncement, made while in a state of religious exaltation, was ‘I am the Truth’ (or even ‘I am God’: the relevant word, haq, can mean either ‘God’ or ‘truth’).» — y su pronunciamiento más famoso, con la ambigüedad del término árabe consignada por Davis dentro del paréntesis.
«He was imprisoned for eight years, then tried and condemned to death; he was flogged, mutilated, hung on a gibbet and then decapitated; his body was burned and the ashes were scattered in the Tigris.» — la ejecución, en el detalle con que la da la introducción.
«The statement ‘I am the Truth’ was considered a declaration of the non-existence of the Self which has been re-absorbed into the true reality, i.e. God;» — la lectura sufí de esa sentencia, tal como la refiere Davis: declaración de la no existencia del Yo reabsorbido en la realidad verdadera.
«The poet Hafez goes so far as to imply that Hallaj died because he had revealed what should be hidden; that is, though to the orthodox his death may have been a punishment for blasphemy, to the sufis it was a punishment for the revelation of a mystery.» — y la voz de Hafez, citada por Davis, que da vuelta el motivo de la condena: para los ortodoxos castigo por blasfemia, para los sufíes castigo por revelar un misterio.
«Bistami or Bayazid (Bistam, which is about halfway between Rey and Neishapour, was his birthplace) was a famous ascetic associated with the ‘ecstatic’ rather than the ‘sober’ sufi path» — el segundo, Bistami, a quien Attar llama Bayazid, del lado extático frente al sobrio de Junaid de Bagdad.
«like Hallaj he proclaimed the fact in utterances that scandalized the orthodox (‘Glory to Me! How great is My majesty!’ – he claimed to have had a vision of the throne of God and to have seen himself sitting on it).» — y las palabras suyas que Davis recoge como escándalo para la ortodoxia.
«The two schools were not seen as opposed, and Attar mentions Junaid with respect, but he is clearly more taken up with the Khorasanian tradition; he was, after all, born in Khorasan and probably imbibed its particular emphases early in his education.» — y el matiz que Davis añade: las dos escuelas no se tenían por opuestas, Attar menciona a Junaid con respeto, y aun así está más tomado por la tradición de Khorasan en que se educó.
«Sufism was never simply a doctrine to which one intellectually assented; it was also a discipline for life, and its adepts followed a carefully prescribed ‘Way’.» — la definición de práctica que Davis antepone a la de doctrina: el sufismo fue también una disciplina de vida con un Camino prescrito.
«that the tradition of his instruction by the spirit of Hallaj is a dramatic symbol of his scholarly preoccupation with the lives of dead sufis.» — Davis marca lo suyo como conjetura —la frase empieza en la plana anterior con *My own guess – it is no more than that – is*— y lee la instrucción por el espíritu de Hallaj como símbolo dramático de una dedicación libresca a las vidas de los sufíes muertos.
«However, he escaped outright condemnation, perhaps by feigning» — y la salida que Davis le atribuye a Bistami, dicha con *perhaps*; la frase sigue en la plana siguiente con *madness, and died in 874 in Bistam* (el informe de minería adjudicó este pasaje a Hallaj: el sujeto es Bistami).
«texts on sufism, as saying that Bistami’s teaching was ‘characterized by ghalaba (rapture, ecstasy) and sukr (intoxication); whereas that derived from al-Junaid is based on sobriety (sahw)’.» — la distinción técnica entre las dos escuelas llega por dos voces encadenadas, Davis citando a Trimingham citando a al-Hujwiri, con los términos árabes conservados; el tramo arranca a media frase porque el troceo corta el chunk dentro de la misma plana.
«To quote Trimingham again, ‘[readers unacquainted with the writings of sufis] could have no better introduction than Attar’s Manteq at-Tair» — Trimingham, citado por Davis, recomienda este mismo poema como la mejor introducción al sufismo para quien no ha leído a los sufíes; el corchete con la aclaración es del propio Davis dentro de la cita.
«where the seven valleys traversed by the birds of the quest are: Search, Love, mystic Apprehension, Detachment/Independence, Unity, Bewilderment, and Fulfilment in Annihilation» — y la lista de los siete valles en la nomenclatura inglesa de Trimingham: Búsqueda, Amor, Aprehensión mística, Desapego, Unidad, Perplejidad y Cumplimiento en la Aniquilación.
«The purpose of the discipline… is to achieve purification. The aspirant has: to purify his nafs, i.e. his personality-self, from its inclination to shahawat, that is, the thoughts and desires of the natural man, and substitute these with love (mahabba)» — el primer tramo del itinerario técnico que Trimingham describe, con los términos árabes entre paréntesis: purificar el *nafs* de su inclinación a los *shahawat* y sustituirlos por *mahabba*; los puntos suspensivos de la elisión son de la cita tal como la imprime esta introducción.
«then he must be cast into the flames of passion (ishq) to emerge in the state of union (wusla) with transmutation of self (fana) through the gifts of dazzlement and wonder (haira) to everlastingness (baqa)» — y el segundo tramo: de las llamas del *ishq* al estado de unión *wusla*, con la transmutación del yo *fana* y, por el don del asombro *haira*, la perpetuidad *baqa*.
«Attar’s poem then is a description of the stages encountered by the adept of the sufis’ Way.» — y la conclusión que Davis saca: el poema es la descripción de las etapas que encuentra el adepto del Camino.
«A poet of the generation before Attar, Sana’i (who died around 1150, when Attar was probably in his twenties), had done more or less just this in his Hadiqatu’l Haqiqat (The Garden of the Truth), in which sufi doctrine is mixed with a great deal of extraneous matter.» — el precedente que Davis le reconoce: Sana'i hizo más o menos lo mismo una generación antes, en un poema donde la doctrina sufí va mezclada con mucha materia ajena.
«The poem is significant as being the first of the three famous long narrative Persian poems written in couplets which expound sufi teachings – the other two are Attar’s Manteq at-Tair and Rumi’s Masnavi-e-Ma’navi – but is by far the least popular of the three and owes its fame to chronological pre-eminence rather than to intrinsic excellence.» — la serie de tres que Davis traza —Sana'i, Attar y Rumi— y el lugar que le da al primero: importa por ser el más antiguo, no por su calidad.
«This is an extreme view, but compared to Attar’s work, Sana’i’s is undeniably patchy and dull.» — y la matiza así: llama extremo el juicio de Browne y, en la misma frase, suscribe el fondo.
«Attar’s great advance on Sana’i’s beginning was to present the sufi doctrine in an extended allegorical form which is itself continually interesting and amusing, which has moments of great psychological insight, humour and narrative suspense, and which gives the poem – over its four and a half thousand lines – a convincingly unfolded narrative structure. In other words he has transformed belief into poetry, much in the way that Milton or Dante did.» — lo que Davis le adjudica a Attar como avance sobre Sana'i: presentar la doctrina en forma alegórica extensa, con humor, penetración psicológica y suspenso, a lo largo de cuatro mil quinientos versos.
«The allegorical framework of the poem is as follows: the birds of the world gather together to seek a king.» — el resumen del argumento que Davis da antes del poema: los pájaros del mundo se reúnen para buscar rey.
«They are told by the hoopoe that they have a king – the Simorgh – but that he lives far away and the journey to him is hazardous.» — y la noticia que la abubilla les da: ya tienen rey, el Simorgh, pero vive lejos y el viaje es peligroso.
«The birds are at first enthusiastic to begin their search, but when they realize how difficult the journey will be they start to make excuses.» — el giro que organiza la primera mitad del poema: el entusiasmo dura hasta que las aves miden la dificultad, y entonces empiezan las excusas.
«The nightingale, for example, cannot leave his beloved; the hawk is satisfied with his position at court waiting on earthly kings; the finch is too afraid even to set out, and so on.» — los tres ejemplos que Davis elige para mostrar que cada especie es un tipo humano: el ruiseñor que no puede dejar a su amada, el halcón satisfecho de su puesto en la corte y el pinzón demasiado asustado para salir.
«The group flies a little way, formally adopts the hoopoe as its leader, and then decides to ask a series of questions about the Way before proceeding. These questions are also answered by illustrative anecdotes.» — la segunda mitad del esquema: adoptada la abubilla como guía, las aves preguntan por el Camino y cada respuesta va en anécdotas.
«The last question is about the length of the journey, and in answer the hoopoe describes the seven valleys of the Way.» — y el lugar exacto que ocupan los siete valles dentro del poema: son la respuesta a la última pregunta, la de la duración del viaje.
«At first they are turned back; but they are finally admitted and find that the Simorgh they have sought is none other than themselves.» — el desenlace, dicho por Davis sin reserva: las aves son admitidas y hallan que el Simorgh que buscaban no es otra cosa que ellas mismas.
«The moment depends on a pun – only thirty (si) birds (morgh) are left at the end of the Way, and the si morgh meet the Simorgh, the goal of their quest.» — y el juego de palabras persa en que se apoya el desenlace: *si morgh*, treinta pájaros, contra *Simorgh*.
«Though Attar treats his material in an entirely different way from Sana’i, it is possible that a shorter poem of Sana’i suggested the device of the birds to him.» — la primera de las fuentes posibles que Davis propone, con *it is possible*: un poema breve del Divan de Sana'i donde los cantos de los pájaros se leen como modos de alabar a Dios.
«Rudaki used the same couplet form as Attar was later to use for The Conference of the Birds; but a direct influence is impossible to prove, because all but a few fragments of Rudaki’s poem have been lost.» — la vía por la que Attar pudo conocerlo —la versión en verso de Rudaki, en la misma forma de pareado— y el límite que Davis pone él mismo: casi todo el poema de Rudaki se perdió, así que la influencia directa no se deja probar.
«In Kalila and Dimna animals talk and act as humans; the fables usually have a moral point to them, and their narratives are allegories of human characteristics and failings.» — el rasgo que hace comparable a ese libro: animales que hablan y obran como humanos, con fábulas que son alegorías de rasgos y fallas del hombre.
«This is precisely the method of Attar’s Conference of the Birds, and the two works also show a similar kind of folksy humour.» — y la identificación que Davis hace del método, con el humor casero como segundo parecido.
«Another work which probably influenced Attar when he came to write his poem is the short Arabic treatise The Bird by Avicenna.» — la tercera fuente posible, dicha con *probably*: el tratado árabe breve de Avicena sobre el pájaro.
«This is the first-person narrative of a bird (clearly representing the human soul) who is freed from a cage by other birds, and then flies off with his new companions on a journey to the ‘Great King’. The group flies over eight high mountain peaks before reaching the king’s court; there are a few moments when Attar seems to echo Avicenna’s imagery.» — y el argumento de ese tratado, que Davis resume para que se vea el parecido: un pájaro que representa al alma, liberado de su jaula por otros pájaros, vuela con ellos hacia el Gran Rey por encima de ocho montañas.
«The hoopoe in Attar’s poem is presented as the birds’ guide and leader; he is therefore the equivalent of a sheikh leading a group of religious adepts, or would-be adepts, along their path.» — la equivalencia que Davis fija y que gobierna toda lectura del poema: la abubilla es el equivalente de un sheikh que conduce a un grupo de adeptos.
«His relation to the other birds is also Attar’s relation to his audience: he expounds the doctrine they wish to hear and admonishes them to act on it.» — y el segundo piso de esa equivalencia: lo que la abubilla es a los pájaros, Attar lo es a su público.
«Attar very frequently gives the impression of merging his personality with that of the hoopoe; this is aided in Persian by the absence of punctuation, in particular quotation marks; a translator has to choose whether the hoopoe or the author is speaking, whereas Attar need not make this decision.» — el problema de atribución de voz que el traductor declara: el persa carece de comillas, Attar funde su persona con la de la abubilla, y en inglés hay que decidir quién habla, decisión que el original no obliga a tomar.
«Though the stories are ostensibly told by the hoopoe to birds they are in reality told by Attar to men, and the admonitions in them are almost always addressed to humanity, Attar’s real audience, rather than to the hoopoe’s fictitious avian audience.» — y la consecuencia de lectura: las historias van dichas de la abubilla a los pájaros pero están dirigidas de Attar a los hombres.
«For example, Persian has a phrase exactly equivalent to the English ‘Be a man!’ (i.e. ‘Pull yourself together and face danger bravely!’); Attar often uses this phrase because he clearly has his true, human audience uppermost in his mind rather than the birds to whom the stories are supposed to be addressed.» — la prueba concreta que Davis ofrece de ello: la fórmula persa equivalente a *Be a man!*, que Attar usa con frecuencia aunque hable a unas aves.
«Most of the poem is organized around the hoopoe’s answers to different birds’ objections to the journey or questions about it. At the beginning the birds are identified by their species (and each species clearly indicates a human type: the nightingale is the lover, the finch is the coward, etc.); and they make excuses, according to their kind, for not going on the journey.» — la arquitectura del texto: casi todo el poema se organiza en respuestas de la abubilla a objeciones y preguntas de las aves, identificadas al principio por especie, cada especie un tipo humano.
«Once the journey has begun the birds ask questions about its course, and here the analogy is much more that of a beginner on the spiritual path asking his sheikh about the trials he is likely to encounter.» — y el cambio de registro a mitad de libro: empezado el viaje, la analogía pasa a ser la del principiante que interroga a su sheikh.
«Each section (except for the opening and closing pages) therefore begins with a bird questioning the hoopoe (or arguing with him) and continues with the hoopoe’s answer. Each answer usually contains two or three stories which illustrate the particular point the hoopoe is making; the stories are linked together by admonition and commentary.» — la unidad formal que se repite en el libro entero: pregunta del ave, respuesta de la abubilla, dos o tres historias por respuesta, y el comentario que las enhebra.
«This obscurity is certainly, in part at least, intentional; the reader is being asked to look at some problem in an unfamiliar way, and logic is often deliberately flouted so that we are, as it were, teased or goaded – rather than logically led – into understanding.» — Davis sostiene que la oscuridad de muchas historias es deliberada y que la lógica se contraría a propósito para empujar al lector a entender por otra vía.
«The paradoxical koans of Zen Buddhism are an analagous phenomenon.» — y el paralelo que propone para explicarlo, en la grafía que imprime el troceo: los koanes paradójicos del budismo zen.
«The obscurities are there to ‘allure’ the mind, and the ambiguities of the allegory are the ‘dark similitude’ which ‘will stick faster in the heart and head’.» — la lectura que Davis hace del poema de Bunyan que acaba de citar, aplicándola a Attar: las oscuridades atraen y la similitud oscura se queda pegada en el corazón y la cabeza.
«But though much of the poem is deliberately in a ‘cloudy strain’ it is certainly not meant to be read in a state of hazy unrelieved incomprehension.» — el límite que Davis le pone a su propia tesis de la oscuridad: el poema no está hecho para leerse en incomprensión continua.
«(This is why it is not really a good idea to dip into the book at random; it is meant to be read through, at least section by section.)» — y la instrucción de lectura que saca de ahí: el libro no se hojea al azar, se lee de corrido o al menos por secciones.
«A bird has asked the hoopoe why he (the hoopoe) is spiritually successful whereas all the other birds get nowhere.» — el ejemplo con que Davis muestra cómo el contexto cambia el sentido de una historia: la pregunta a la que responde el cuento del pescadorcito.
«The hoopoe says it is because Solomon has glanced at him; he goes on to say that this glance is worth far more than prayer.» — y la respuesta de la abubilla dentro del poema: la mirada de Salomón vale más que la oración.
«However, this does not mean that one need not pray – on the contrary, one should pray unceasingly until Solomon glances at one.» — con el contrapeso inmediato, que es lo que impide leerla como quietismo: hay que orar sin cesar hasta que la mirada llegue.
«The story is about individual effort as well as grace and the fact that both are necessary for spiritual progress.» — y la lectura que Davis propone del cuento así situado: esfuerzo y gracia, los dos necesarios.
«Similarly, stories are often linked by a key word; sometimes this link will be a pun which subtly changes the direction of the argument, at other times it seems that, as in a comedian’s patter, word which comes at the end of one story has simply reminded Attar of another story which depends on the same notion.» — el otro procedimiento de enlace que señala: la palabra clave, a veces un retruécano que desvía el argumento y a veces un simple eco, como en la cháchara de un cómico.
«E. G. Browne, with characteristic forthrightness, called it ‘in my opinion one of the dullest books in Persian, seldom rising to» — la voz de Browne sobre el poema de Sana'i, que Davis reproduce antes de matizarla; el tramo se corta en el cambio de plana y sigue en la 11 con la comparación entre Robert Montgomery y Milton.
«A second source may have been Kalila and Dimna. This extraordinarily popular work, also called The» — la segunda fuente posible, dicha con *may have been*; el nombre alternativo del libro queda partido por el cambio de plana y se completa en la 12 como *fables of Bidpai*.
«For example, Attar will tell a story about two people, one of whom is clearly God, the other the aspirant sufi, but» — el mecanismo de la ambigüedad alegórica, en el ejemplo de los dos personajes; la frase sigue en la plana 14 y ahí dice que el lector queda obligado a cambiar de opinión o a suspender el juicio.
«It is clear that certain of the beliefs central to sufism engaged Attar’s imagination more than others. Two themes in particular are diffused throughout almost the entire poem – the necessity for destroying the Self, and the importance of passionate love.» — los dos temas que Davis señala como difundidos por casi todo el poema: la necesidad de destruir el Yo y la importancia del amor apasionado.
«Both are mentioned in every conceivable context and not only at the ‘appropriate’ moments within the scheme.» — y el hecho de composición que le importa: los dos aparecen en cualquier contexto, no solo donde el esquema los pediría.
«The two are connected: the Self is seen as an entity dependent on pride and reputation; there can be no progress until the pilgrim is indifferent to both, and the commonest way of making him indifferent is the experience of overwhelming love.» — el nexo que Davis traza entre los dos temas: el Yo depende del orgullo y la reputación, y la vía más común para volver indiferente al peregrino es el amor arrollador.
«Now the love Attar chooses to celebrate (and the stories that deal with love are easily the most detailed and the longest of the poem) is of a particular kind; it is always love that flies in the face of either social or sexual or religious convention.» — y la clase precisa de amor que el poema celebra, con el paréntesis en que Davis anota de paso que las historias de amor son las más largas y detalladas del libro.
«It may be love between a social superior and inferior (e.g. between a princess and a slave); it is very commonly homosexual love; or, as in the longest story of the poem (pp. 57–75, about Sheikh Sam’an), it may be love between people of different religions.» — los tres casos que enumera, con la localización de la historia más larga del poema, la del sheikh Sam'an, en las planas 57 a 75 de su propia edición impresa.
«The mention of scandal reminds us of the ‘scandalous’, i.e. blasphemous, aspects of the Khorasanian tradition of sufism to which Attar belonged;» — la equivalencia que Davis propone: los amores escandalosos del poema son la contraparte alegórica del abandono espiritualmente escandaloso de la tradición de Khorasan.
«Attar’s concern to demonstrate that the sufis’ truth exists outside of human conventions also appears in his predilection for stories in which a poor, despised person (a dervish or beggar) is shown as spiritually superior to a great lord or king;» — el otro rasgo por el que Davis lee la misma intención: la predilección por historias donde un derviche o un mendigo es espiritualmente superior a un gran señor.
«and, in common with other sufi poets, Attar will use words like ‘fool’ or ‘idiot’ to mean ‘wise man’ or ‘saint’.» — y la inversión de vocabulario que le atribuye junto con otros poetas sufíes: los términos de necio valen por sabio o santo.
«Like many religious poets he loves paradox, as when he has a saint praying that God curse him (because the curse is God’s and thus preferable to a blessing from any other source), and this is part of the same habit of mind – the need to insist that ‘normal’ apprehensions and expectations are questionable, to turn them inside out.» — el ejemplo extremo con que lo ilustra —el santo que ruega ser maldecido por Dios, porque la maldición es de Dios y vale más que la bendición de cualquier otro— y el hábito mental que Davis ve detrás.
«Readers acquainted with medieval European literature will not find Attar’s method unfamiliar; parallels such as The Owl and the Nightingale and Chaucer’s Parliament of Fowls immediately suggest themselves.» — los paralelos europeos que Davis pone a mano del lector inglés.
«Like Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, it is a group of stories bound together by the convention of a pilgrimage, and as in Chaucer’s work the convention allows the author to present a panorama of contemporary society;» — y el parecido que desarrolla con Chaucer: historias enhebradas por la convención de una peregrinación, que permite el panorama de una sociedad.
«With Dante’s Divine Comedy Attar’s poem shares its basic technique, multi-layered allegory, and a structure that leads us from the secular to the Divine, from a crowded, random world, described with a great poet’s relish for language and observation, to the ineffable realm of the Absolute.» — y el que desarrolla con Dante: alegoría de varias capas y una estructura que va de lo secular a lo divino.
«To western readers Attar’s misconceptions about other religions may prove irritating; but his characterization of monasteries as places where orgies go on and good Moslems are led astray is after all no more grotesque than medieval Christian characterizations of what went on in Jewish communities.» — Davis no defiende lo que llama las ideas erróneas de Attar sobre otras religiones: las pone al lado de las caracterizaciones cristianas medievales de las comunidades judías.
«His obsession with idolatory is part of a general Islamic concern, but in The Conference of the Birds, as in a great deal of sufi poetry, the true idol to be destroyed is the Self.» — y la lectura que propone de la obsesión con la idolatría, en la grafía que imprime el troceo: el ídolo verdadero que hay que destruir es el Yo.
«Of especial significance is Attar’s use of the imagery of fire to indicate religious exaltation; pre-Islamic Iran had been Zoroastrian, and the Zoroastrians worshipped fire;» — la clave histórica que da del fuego como imagen de exaltación religiosa: el Irán preislámico fue zoroastriano.
«the ‘fireworshippers’ of Persian mystical poetry are yet another symbol for an antinomian religious fervour scandalous to the orthodox.» — y lo que los adoradores del fuego significan dentro de esa poesía: otro símbolo del fervor antinómico; el crudo parte *fire-worshippers* al final del renglón y la extracción por programa devuelve la forma unida, que se deja tal cual y se restituye aquí.
«In the same way Persian poets, including Attar, use the intoxication induced by wine – forbidden to Moslems – as a metaphor for the ‘forbidden’ intoxications of mysticism.» — el paralelo del vino, prohibido a los musulmanes, como metáfora de las embriagueces prohibidas del misticismo.
«In the story of the Arab who has all his goods stolen while travelling in Persia (pp. 176–7), the Arab represents the follower of the formal, outward path, of religion; the bandits are the sufis,» — y el desciframiento que Davis ofrece de una historia concreta: el árabe robado en Persia es el seguidor del camino formal y los bandidos son los sufíes.
«Attar’s language is, compared with that of many Persian poets, fairly direct and does not present too many difficulties for the translator.» — el juicio del traductor sobre su material: el lenguaje de Attar es directo comparado con el de muchos poetas persas.
«Persian lyric poetry is often a tissue of allusion and thus extraordinarily difficult to render into English; but this poem is a narrative, and whatever else is happening the translator has at least the story to convey.» — y la razón que da: la lírica persa es un tejido de alusiones, pero esto es una narración y siempre queda la historia que contar.
«Persian metaphors are rarely the visual images that English readers expect to find in poetry.» — la advertencia de lectura que Davis antepone: la metáfora persa no es la imagen visual que el lector inglés espera.
«Instead they juxtapose words which have potent associations in a way that deepens and widens the meanings implied by the passage. If the reader attempts to visualize the juxtaposition the result is often ludicrous.» — y cómo opera en su lugar: yuxtaponer palabras de asociaciones potentes, con el aviso de que visualizarlas da un resultado ridículo.
«The metaphor works, if it works, by juxtaposing the associations of ‘Peace’, ‘crowned’ and ‘smiles’ to convey a notion of benign authority.» — el ejemplo inglés con que lo explica, tomado de un verso de Henry Vaughan.
«Thus when Attar compares the Prophet’s face to the moon in one line and the sun in the next, he does not want his readers to visualize the result; rather he expects them to combine the notion of beauty associated with the moon and the notion of solitary splendour associated with the sun.» — y el ejemplo del propio Attar: comparar el rostro del Profeta con la luna en un verso y con el sol en el siguiente no pide una imagen, pide sumar dos asociaciones.
«Most of Attar’s metaphors are stock comparisons, and readers will soon realize that his descriptions of beautiful youths and maidens all use the same vocabulary and imagery.» — lo que Davis previene sobre la repetición: las metáforas son en su mayoría de repertorio y los retratos de jóvenes hermosos usan siempre el mismo vocabulario.
«The first is hyperbole; most descriptions of love, sorrow, longing etc. in the poem will strike the western reader as, to say the least, very unrestrained.» — el primero de los dos recursos que separa: la hipérbole, normal en el verso persa y desmedida para el lector occidental.
«To say that the moon is jealous of one’s beloved’s face or that one weeps blood rather than tears is clearly not to offer a literal» — y el criterio que da para leerla; el tramo se corta en el cambio de plana y sigue en la 18 diciendo que lo que indica es la hondura de la emoción.
«One of Attar’s favourite devices is anaphora, the repetition of a particular word or phrase many times within a few lines, or sometimes over a more extended passage, e.g. ‘Love’s built on readiness to share love’s shame; / Such self-regarding love usurps love’s name’ (p. 70).» — el segundo recurso, que Davis tiene por más propio de Attar, con un pareado de la propia traducción como ejemplo y la referencia a la página impresa de esta edición.
«The effect produced is of an obsessive worrying of a concept; though this can sound peculiar in English, we have in general, though not in every case, tried to reproduce the device.» — y el efecto que le atribuye, con la reserva del traductor sobre hasta dónde se reprodujo.
«The anecdotes and stories are, as one might expect, easier to render in English than the passages of commentary and religious exhortation. The latter are often highly abstract, and they lack the human interest of the tales;» — la dificultad desigual que el traductor declara: las anécdotas se vierten mejor que los pasajes de comentario y exhortación.
«a particular difficulty is that a great deal of the exhortation is written in the imperative mood, which is hard to sustain convincingly for long periods in English; and the negative imperative is especially awkward.» — y la dificultad técnica concreta: el modo imperativo, y sobre todo el imperativo negativo, no se sostiene mucho rato en inglés.
«However, we have in almost all cases resisted the temptation to omit these passages, and in the few places where we have done so no more than two consecutive lines have been cut; usually only one line is absent.» — la declaración de integridad del texto vertido, con su excepción medida: donde se omitió, nunca más de dos versos seguidos.
«However, it would, I believe, be perverse to translate this poem into any other form.» — la defensa del pareado heroico, dicha en primera persona del singular, que es una de las marcas por las que la introducción se lee como de un solo firmante.
«Attar’s metre is the common masnavi metre of Persian narrative poetry; the rhymes occur within the line, and each line has a new rhyme.» — la descripción técnica del metro persa: el masnavi de la narrativa, con la rima dentro del verso y rima nueva en cada verso.
«Each line has, normally, twenty-two syllables, the rhymes occurring at the eleventh and twenty-second syllables. Almost all lines are end-stopped, i.e. the unit of sense is the same length as the line (there are perhaps twenty lines, out of over four thousand, in The Conference of the Birds which are not end-stopped).» — y la medida exacta que da, con el recuento de las excepciones: veintidós sílabas, rimas en la undécima y la vigesimosegunda, y unos veinte versos no cerrados de más de cuatro mil.
«In general we have translated one Persian line by one couplet, though we have sometimes compressed two lines into one couplet.» — la equivalencia de traducción que declaran: un verso persa por un pareado inglés, con compresiones ocasionales.
«English heroic couplets are not normally as relentlessly end-stopped as Attar’s Persian lines are, and we have tried to effect a compromise between producing a fairly normal English narrative flow and giving some idea of the more rigorously divided movement of the Persian.» — y el compromiso que dicen haber buscado entre la fluidez narrativa inglesa y el corte del verso persa.
«Attar’s poem are largely connected with the breaking of convention; in order for this to be effective and interesting the poem must be seen to be rooted in a fairly rigid convention, and the convention of the couplet is a formal paradigm of the conventions of the society Attar is writing about.» — la razón no técnica de la elección: si el asunto es romper la convención, el poema tiene que verse anclado en una convención rígida, y el pareado es el paradigma formal de las convenciones de esa sociedad.
«If the reader considers this a doubtful or spurious point, let him consider the idea of such a poem written in free verse; all sense of tension, of struggle against a prevailing formality, would, I suggest, be dissipated by the openness of the form.» — y la prueba por contrario que propone: en verso libre se disiparía toda tensión.
«Further, narrative poetry depends on what the American poet Turner Cassity has called ‘recitative’. We are used to short poems and expect them to function at a maximum of emotional intensity, like the arias of grand opera. One cannot maintain such intensity over hundreds of pages, and it would be wearying if one could. Narrative poetry needs its workaday recitatives between the arias, its simple conveying of the story from point a to point b. The heroic couplet has been one of the most successful means of effecting such ‘recitatives’ in English.» — el argumento de la ópera: la poesía narrativa necesita recitativos entre las arias, y el pareado heroico ha sido uno de los medios más eficaces de hacerlos en inglés.
«Our method of translation does, however, owe something to the eighteenth century; we have followed, more or less, the guide-lines set out in Alexander Fraser Tytler’s admirable Essay on the Principles of Translation (first published in 1791), with particular reference to the chapters on verse translation.» — la deuda metodológica que el traductor declara: los lineamientos del ensayo de Alexander Fraser Tytler sobre los principios de la traducción, de 1791.
«No complete translation of the poem has previously been made into English.» — lo que esta edición reclama para sí: que no existía antes traducción completa al inglés.
«This translation is of the whole poem with the exception of the invocation and the epilogue.» — y el límite exacto de esa integridad, declarado en la misma plana: quedan fuera la invocación y el epílogo.
«The invocation, a traditional prelude to long narrative poems in Persian, consists of praise of God, of the Prophet and of the founders of Islam.» — lo que contiene la invocación omitida: alabanza de Dios, del Profeta y de los fundadores del islam.
«Attar cleverly weaves the introduction of his birds into the list of prophets, and it is at this point that the poem proper starts and our translation opens.» — y el punto exacto en que arranca esta traducción: donde Attar entreteje la presentación de sus pájaros en la lista de profetas.
«The epilogue, again a traditional feature of such poems, consists largely of self-praise and is a distinct anticlimax after a poem devoted to the notion of passing beyond the Self.» — la razón que dan para omitir el epílogo: consiste sobre todo en autoelogio y desentona con un poema dedicado a pasar más allá del Yo.
«Previous translations have been made into English by Edward FitzGerald, Masani and C. S. Nott.» — los tres traductores ingleses anteriores que Davis reconoce.
«FitzGerald’s is the most interesting, though it also takes the most liberties with the text.» — y el juicio doble que le da al primero, en una sola frase.
«FitzGerald translates about a fifth of the poem (into heroic couplets); he rearranges the stories, sometimes bowdlerizes them and often translates very freely indeed» — la medida de esas libertades: un quinto del poema, con las historias reordenadas y a veces expurgadas.
«But, as with the Khayyam poems, he frequently succeeds in capturing much of the tone and feeling of the original.» — y lo que le reconoce pese a ello.
«Masani’s translation, of around half the poem, is into adequate prose.» — lo que dice de Masani, en una línea.
«Nott’s prose was prepared from Garcin de Tassy’s nineteenth-century French translation; unfortunately the intervention of another language between Nott and the Persian has meant that many of the stories have become blurred in the process.» — y la objeción de fondo que le hace a Nott: su prosa viene de la traducción francesa de Garcin de Tassy, y la lengua interpuesta desdibujó las historias.
«Frequently the point Attar is making is obscured or simply changed; this is especially true in the section where the hoopoe tells anecdotes about sufis who quarrel with God.» — y dónde lo nota sobre todo: en la sección de anécdotas sobre sufíes que riñen con Dios.
«Attar’s tone shifts from the exalted to the sarcastic, from the witty to the indignant; Nott’s tone, perhaps because he is translating from an intervening language, is consistently ‘reverent’, and this makes the poem seem much less lively than it in fact is.» — el rasgo que Davis reclama para el original y echa de menos en Nott: el tono de Attar salta de lo exaltado a lo sarcástico y de lo ingenioso a lo indignado.
«DICK DAVIS ‘This translation has been made from the edition of Attar’s Manteq at-Tair prepared by Dr Sadegh Gouharin (Tehran, 1978)» — la firma de la introducción y, pegada a ella, la nota sobre las fuentes: la traducción se hizo desde la edición de Sadegh Gouharin publicada en Teherán en 1978; el troceo no separa la firma de la nota, y la comilla simple de apertura que la nota trae queda sin cerrar.
«and the notes to his edition have been consulted in the preparation of the Biographical Index which follows the poem.» — y el uso que declaran haber dado a las notas de Gouharin: la preparación del índice biográfico que cierra el volumen.
«Line numbers of the Persian text are given on each page.» — la única numeración que el volumen imprime, y que el troceo conserva intercalada a media plana: la del texto persa, no la de las páginas.
«Other books to which we are particularly indebted, apart from those cited in the introduction, are The Encyclopaedia of Islam and A. J. Arberry’s translation of episodes from Attar’s Tadh-kirat al-Auliya (London, 1966).» — las otras dos deudas bibliográficas declaradas, con la partición del título que imprime el troceo; es cita de bibliografía releída entera en el crudo, y el año entre paréntesis obligó a desactivar la guarda anticosido.
«We are grateful to the British Institute of Persian Studies for generous financial assistance and to those friends who have read the manuscript through, entirely or in part, and made many valuable suggestions.» — y el agradecimiento con que cierra el aparato introductorio, al British Institute of Persian Studies y a los lectores del manuscrito.
«This includes most of the characters unfamiliar to western readers to whom Attar refers, together with entries on one or two wellknown figures (e.g. Joseph) whose role in Islamic literature differs slightly from the western conception of their legends.» — el criterio del índice biográfico, aparato del traductor y no voz del poema: recoge los personajes que un lector occidental no reconocería; el crudo parte *well-known* al final del renglón y la extracción devuelve la forma unida, que se deja tal cual y se restituye aquí.
«It has not been possible to trace a few characters; some of these (e.g. Sheikh Noughani) probably had a purely local fame in Neishapour. Attar may have invented Abbasseh – he gives her no provenance and reports no anecdotes about her.» — y la abstención que el propio índice declara: a algunos no se los pudo rastrear, y de Abbasseh sospecha que Attar la inventó.
«Ibrahim Adham: Abou Eshaq Ibrahim ibn Adham was a prince born in Balkh who renounced the world and lived as a wandering dervish. The similarity of his story to that of the Buddha has often been remarked on, and it is of especial interest because Balkh had been a Buddhist area. He died c. 782. He is the Abou ben Adham of Leigh Hunt’s poem, and the story on which this is based is told in Attar’s Tadhkirat al-Auliya.» — la entrada de Ibrahim Adham, con el parecido con el Buda que el índice señala y la nota de que Balkh había sido zona budista.
«Ayaz: Ayaz ibn Aymaq Abou-Najm was the favourite slave of Sultan Mahmoud of Ghazna (q.v.). Though Ayaz actually existed (he died in 1057), his life was quickly overlaid with legend. His story became the archetypal tale of the slave raised to the highest honours by his king; his relationship with Mahmoud is used as a metaphor of the mystic’s relationship with God.» — la entrada de Ayaz, que da la clave alegórica con que el poema usa a ese esclavo en más de una docena de planas.
«Junaid: Abou’l Qasim ibn Mohammad ibn al-Junaid was one of the most celebrated of sufis and the chief expounder of the ’sober’ school of sufism.» — la entrada de Junaid, que lo sitúa en la escuela sobria y le da la grafía de apertura de comilla que imprime el troceo.
«Of the state of fana or annihilation in God he wrote: ‘For at that time thou wilt be addressed, thyself addressing; questioned concerning thy tidings, thyself questioning’ and it is interesting to compare this with what happens when Attar’s birds reach the Simorgh.» — y la cita de Junaid sobre el *fana* que el índice pone al lado del final del poema, invitando a la comparación.
«Joseph is the most frequently mentioned character in The Conference of the Birds, closely followed by Mahmoud of Ghazna; in both cases. Attar is dearly interested in the same themes: physical beauty (Joseph and Ayaz), gratitude, authority tempered by understanding and mercy,» — el recuento que el índice hace de las dos figuras más citadas del poema, y los temas que les atribuye.
«Khezr: the immortal guardian of a spring whose waters bestow immortality. His original name, al-Khadir, means ‘the green man’ he is clearly a figure from pre-Islamic legend, and parts of his story recall the tale of Utnapishtim in The Epic of Gilgamesh.» — la entrada de Khezr, con la genealogía preislámica y el paralelo con Utnapishtim que el índice propone.
«Leili and her lover Majnoun are the archetypal lovers in Arabic, Persian and Turkish poetry. The story is originally Arabic. They were the children of hostile tribes, and their association was forbidden by Leili’s father. Majnoun, driven mad by love, lived on the fringes of the desert among wild animals; both lovers eventually died of grief. There are many narrative poems based on this story, the most famous being that of the Persian poet Nezami. Majnoun’s madness is a frequent symbol in Islamic mystical poetry of the soul’s longing for God.» — la entrada de Leili y Majnoun, que declara el símbolo por el que esa pareja entra en la poesía mística.
«Attar obviously thought of him as a benign and tolerant ruler, but the historical Mahmoud was, according to E. G. Browne, ‘greedy of wealth… fanatical, cruel to Moslem heretics as well as to Hindus (of whom he slew an incalculable number), fickle, and uncertain in temper’.» — el desacuerdo que el índice consigna sin armonizar: el Mahmoud benigno del poema frente al Mahmoud histórico que describe E. G. Browne.
«Mas’oud: many kings, particularly of Ghazna, were called by this name, and there is no way of knowing which one Attar had in mind in his story of Mas’oud and the fisherboy. At least two manuscripts give the story to Sultan Mahmoud.» — la abstención del índice sobre la identidad del rey Mas'oud, con la variante manuscrita que atribuye el cuento a Mahmoud.
«Rabe’eh (pronounced as three syllables, the last rhyming with ‘way’): Rabe’eh bint Esmail al-Adawiya, one of the first and most important woman mystics of Islam.» — la entrada de Rabe'eh, con la indicación de pronunciación que el índice da y que fija la grafía usada en todo el volumen.
«She is credited with the introduction of the theme of Divine Love into Islamic mysticism, and if this is true her influence on the subsequent course of sufism is incalculable.» — y lo que el índice le adjudica, dicho con su condicional: la introducción del Amor Divino en la mística islámica.
«Sam’an: the story of Sheikh Sam’an is easily the longest in Attar’s poem. Attar sometimes calls him Sam’an and sometimes San’an.» — la entrada de Sam'an, que registra la vacilación del propio Attar entre las dos grafías del nombre.
«Dr Sadegh Gouharin makes the interesting suggestion that the name Sam’an is taken from a monastery of that name near Damascus. He also suggests that the story is modelled distantly on that of a Sheikh ibn Sagha who travelled to Rome and became a Christian.» — y las dos conjeturas de Gouharin que el índice recoge: el monasterio cerca de Damasco y el modelo del sheikh ibn Sagha.
«Attar’s story made a great impression on his early audience and was taken as a factual narrative – so much so that Attar himself was said to have been one of the sheikh’s disciples who followed him to Rome.» — el dato de recepción que el índice añade: la historia se tomó por narración de hechos, y se llegó a decir que Attar fue discípulo del sheikh.
«Shebli: Abou Bakr Dolaf ibn Jahdar al-Shebli was well-born and entered the service of the Baghdad court. Later he joined the group of sufis associated with Junaid (q.v.) and became known for his extravagant behaviour, for which eventually he was confined in an asylum. He died in 946.» — la entrada de Shebli, con el encierro en un manicomio como desenlace de su conducta extravagante.
«Zuleikha: the woman known in the Bible as Potiphar’s wife. Her illicit love for Joseph, who by virtue of his perfect beauty was considered a symbol of the Divine, is often used as a metaphor for the soul’s need for God.» — la entrada de Zuleikha, que explicita la lectura alegórica del amor ilícito.
«Zulnoon: Abou’t-Faiz Thauban ibn Ibrahim al-Mesri was an Egyptian who lived from c. 796 to 859. He travelled in Syria and Iraq and was for a time imprisoned for heresy at Baghdad; after his release he returned to Egypt, where he died. He is credited by later Islamic mystics with having been one of the first and most important of their number; he also had a reputation as an alchemist,» — y la entrada de Zulnoon, único lugar del volumen donde el aparato adjudica a un personaje del poema fama de alquimista.
«lived in the eleventh century and is credited with having been the first to use the mystical themes and metaphors that became typical of Persian sufi poetry,» — la entrada del sheikh de Mahna, a quien el índice adjudica el primer uso de los temas y las metáforas místicas que se volvieron típicos del verso sufí persa; el nombre queda en la plana anterior, donde el troceo corta.
«A Literary History of Persia (1906; Cambridge, 1928 edition), Vol. 2, 509.» — la primera de las notas al final, que remite a la historia de la literatura persa de Browne citada en la introducción; es cita bibliográfica y la guarda anticosido se desactivó para extraerla.
«A reference to the Companion of the Cave. During a period of danger the Prophet Mohammad and a close companion, Abou Bakr, hid for a while in a cave on Mount Thaur. In mystical poetry this episode became a symbol of withdrawal from the world.» — la nota del traductor sobre el Compañero de la Cueva, que descifra el episodio del Profeta y Abou Bakr como símbolo del retiro.
«A building of grey stone at the centre of the great mosque in Mecca, circumambulated by every pilgrim seven times. It is the geographical centre of Islam.» — la nota sobre la Ka'abah, que la define por su función en el peregrinaje.
«The zonnar, a belt or cord worn by Eastern Christians and Jews; thus a symbol of heresy.» — la nota que descifra el cinturón que se ciñen el sheikh Sam'an y Shebli: el *zonnar*, señal de herejía.
«The last four lines of this passage are Attar’s paraphrase of a poem by Hallaj. In this and the following anecdote Attar juxtaposes the attitude to death of the ‘ecstatic’ mystic (Hallaj) and that of the ‘sober’ mystic (Junaid).» — la nota que adjudica cuatro versos a una paráfrasis de un poema de Hallaj, y declara la contraposición deliberada entre el místico extático y el sobrio.
«Sirat: a hair-thin bridge over the pit of hell. The good will be able to cross it; the wicked will slip and plunge into the pit (cf. the ‘brig o’ dread’ in the Lyke Wake Dirge).» — la nota sobre el puente Sirat, con el paralelo inglés que el traductor propone.
«The metaphor is based on the notion of blood-money. A murder could be compensated, if the victim’s relatives agreed, by payment of a sum of money; God destroys the dervishes, then pays for this ‘crime’ with His love; He will continue to do this until He has no more love to give, i.e. for ever.» — la nota que descifra la metáfora del precio de sangre: Dios destruye a los derviches y paga ese crimen con su amor.
«Lat was the name of an Arabian pre-Islamic goddess. Mahmoud attacked and conquered Somnat in north-west India in 1026 and destroyed the Hindu temple there; Attar has either confused the Arabian and Indian deities, or used the name ‘Lat’ generically, or has been seduced by the fortuitous rhyme.» — la nota sobre el ídolo de Somnat, que consigna tres explicaciones posibles del error de Attar sin elegir ninguna.
«This crucial moment depends on a pun: si means ‘thirty’, morgh means ‘bird(s)’ the si morgh see the ’simorgh’. It was probably this pun which suggested the idea of the poem to Attar.» — la nota que explica el juego de palabras del desenlace y propone, con *probably*, que de ahí salió la idea del poema.
«Hallaj was executed for, among other things, crying out ‘I am the Truth’ while in a state of religious exaltation.» — la nota sobre la ejecución de Hallaj, que repite lo dicho en la introducción al pie del pasaje de las cenizas.
«The stringing of pearls on a necklace is a stock metaphor in Persian verse for the writing of poetry; Attar is suggesting that this particular ‘pearl’ is beyond the scope of his, or any, poem – it is too difficult for him to ‘pierce’.» — la última nota del volumen, que descifra la perla que no se puede horadar del verso final: el poema declara su propio asunto fuera de su alcance.
«It is possible that this refers to Jesus. Jesus’ breath is an important element in Moslem stories about Him (it was reputed to have vivifying powers), and it may be that Attar had heard of the Christian use of the fish to signify Jesus.» — la nota sobre el aliento vivificante, dicha con *it is possible* y con *it may be*: el traductor conjetura que Attar supo del pez como signo de Jesús.
«It was at Kerbelah that Husain, the son of Ali and grandson of the Prophet Mohammad, was killed. Husain refused to swear allegiance to the Caliph Yazid; he and his followers were surrounded at Kerbelah, and a swift decisive battle resulted in victory for Yazid’s troops.» — la primera mitad de la nota más larga del pliego, sobre la muerte de Husain en Kerbelah; se partió en dos para no arrastrar un tramo cosido.
«Before the battle Husain’s water-supply was cut off, and he and his followers suffered greatly from thirst. During Moharram, and particularly on the anniversary of Husain’s death, many Moslems will refuse to drink in commemoration of this thirst. It is this memory which is behind the otherwise rather obscure anecdote about the sufi who refused to touch sherbet, which precedes the mention of Kerbelah.» — y su segunda mitad, que explica el ayuno de Moharram y con él la anécdota del sufí que no tocaba el sorbete.
Concepts treated
Iniciación (recepción por grados / metamorfosis del ser) — El Camino se transmite dentro de órdenes de adeptos, de sheikh a discípulo, y la introducción advierte que en todo el poema *sheikh* significa guía espiritual y no jefe secular; dentro de la fábula la abubilla ocupa ese lugar, y el poema pone una hora de guía por encima de una vida entera de pureza sin ella.
Gnosis (conocimiento salvífico) — El tercer valle es el del Conocimiento de los misterios, donde el poema declara que cada peregrino sigue una vía distinta y que ninguna ave sabe por dónde va otra; el pasaje termina mandando ahogar la mente en el mar del conocimiento.
Secreto (lo que se jura no fijar por escrito) — El sufismo se describe como sistema esotérico cuyos adeptos tenían prohibido revelar lo principal, la abubilla alega guardar los secretos de Dios, y el poema se cierra declarando que el estado final no se puede decir.
Cadena de transmisión (quién tomó de quién) — La introducción reparte tres versiones de quién instruyó a Attar —Majd ad-Din al-Baghdadi según Trimingham, el mismo maestro pero en medicina según la fuente persa de Browne, y el espíritu de Hallaj en sueños según una tradición que remonta a Rumi— y las deja conviviendo.
Crítica de fuentes (criterios de inclusión y descarte) — El volumen declara su base textual —la edición de Gouharin, Teherán 1978—, el límite de lo traducido, las notas y los libros consultados, y juzga una por una las tres traducciones inglesas anteriores.
Microcosmos (el hombre-mundo) — El poema pone en cada corazón la contraparte oculta de la pluma del Simorgh, hace de los pájaros del mundo sombras suyas y resuelve la fábula mostrando que las treinta aves y el Simorgh son lo mismo.