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The tale of the King and the
Servant Girl
Jalaluddin Rumi
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Oh now my friends, listen
closely to this story that I tell…
for in truth it states the absolute essence of our
case so well.
Once upon a long time ago there lived a king…
a king who
power over the physical world and the higher world
knew.
One day it happened that upon his horse this king
he rode
out for the chase with his courtiers… carrying
a heavy load.
And as he rode his highway a servant-girl he suddenly
saw:
instantly this king’s soul became servant
to the girl he saw.
His soul, a bird in its cage, began wildly beating,
fluttering;
he gave some of his wealth and that one he was purchasing.
After buying her and a reality, what he desired…
became,
by Divine Destiny that servant-girl sick and tired
became.
There was a man who had an ass, but didn’t
have a saddle:
a wolf took his ass when he finally got a saddle
to straddle.
He had a jug for the water but the water he couldn’t
obtain:
when he found water the jug broke... full jug he
did not gain.
Gathering physicians from left and right he gave
commands:
“Both of our lives... have now been given
over to your hands.
My life means nothing to me: but everything to me...
she is!
I am stricken and I’m in agony and my only
remedy... she is.
Whoever heals her, that one who is the life and
soul of mine,
will carry away all the treasure, the pearls and
coral of mine.
They then promised him: “Our lives on the
line we will put;
with our heads together… our knowledge so
fine we will put.
Each, all, everyone of us has the healing ways of
the Messiah
on the world: our palms hold balms to quell every
pain’s fire.”
And because of their pride they did not say... “God
Willing:”
and so the weakness of man to them God was then
revealing.
I mean... to make such an exception like this is
truly cruelty;
not to merely say that… a mere shape has then...
no reality:
Ah, how many of these words out loud have never
been said
but still…. his soul and his actions with
these words are wed!
No matter how may cures and drugs that those doctors
tried
the worse the illness became… no matter what
they applied.
That servant-girl from that sickness thin as a hair
became…
and from the king’s eyes tears... like a bleeding
river became.
Divine Destiny saw that the bile was produced from
oxymel
and the oil of almonds caused more dryness to her
outer shell.
Myrobalan was the cause of still a much further
constipation
and like naphtha… water fed the fire, and
stopped relaxation.
When finally the king saw that the physicians had
no power,
without shoes on feet he ran to the mosque…
to offer prayer.
On entering that mosque he hurried up to the altar
to pray…
and soon his tears bathed the prayer carpet on which
he lay.
He became flooded in ecstasy but finally his eyelids
he raised
and when this happened his lips opened and he then
praised:
“O You, You Who hold the whole world as Your
least gift,
What can I say to You, each small secret You know
and sift.
O, every time we have a need we always take refuge
in You;
because one more time we have lost the way to see
through.
Still, you have said this… “Although
all the secrets I know,
it’s necessary you say them, go through the
outward show.”
And then from the very depth of his soul he started
to cry out
and then the great Sea of Mercy and Bounty began
to spout.
And while he was weeping... he finally fell into
deep-sleeping
and in a dreaming trance an old man was suddenly
appearing
Who said: “O king, good news, your prayers
granted will be,
and if a stranger should visit you tomorrow, he
is sent by me.
This man is a skilled physician, so greet him when
he comes:
understand he is honest, trustworthy… one
of the true ones.
In his remedy is the supreme magic for any sight
to behold...
and in his temperament... is God’s Great Might
to behold.”
When the promised hour had came and the dawn had
broken,
from the east the stars were burnt out by sun that
had risen,
The king was awake at the window, waiting in expectation:
he was awaiting that which in the dream was a premonition.
He suddenly saw a human being… majestic and
wonderful,
worthy of worship… among all of the shadows
a sun so full.
He seemed like a bright new moon though he was far
away:
although he did not seem real, he did… some
fantastic way.
Although an imaginary image in this reality does
not exist,
see how the world turns by a fantasy that still
does persist.
Mankind’s peace and war because of a fantasy
are turning...
Mankind’s pride and shame from a fantasy are
springing…
But even the saints are transfixed... fascinated
by the sight
reflected from the Almighty’s Garden... faces
of moonlight.
The face of this strange guest who had suddenly
appeared
was the same as last night’s vision that king
had dreamed.
The Pure Light of the Truth in that Saint was manifested…
one sees purity if that one... only by that one’s
heart is led.
That Saint of the Truth who from far off came into
his sight,
from his head down to his toe shone forth the Purest
Light.
Instead of that king’s servant going forward,
the king went:
to his guest from the Invisible the king to that
meeting went.
As the king went forth to greet this guest from
the Invisible
it was exactly like that when sugar with flour does
mingle.
They had learned to swim… both were Seamen
in the Sea:
being knit together without stitch or sewing...
in the Unity.
One like a one who is thirsty and the other one
like water...
that one a drowsy one and a one like the wine is
the other.
The king said… “You were really the
One I loved, not her:
but in this world one action always causes another
to occur.
You are like Mohammed to me… and I am like
Omar who
is fastening his belt and getting ready to do service
for you.
Let us pray to God, to help us to have more self-discipline:
on one unable to control himself God’s Grace
doesn’t shine.
One without this, not only is he in such a horrible
condition,
but he is helping to set many fires burning on every
horizon.
Bounty eventually came down from the sky…
nevertheless:
it came without work, barter or trying to buy...
nevertheless.
From heaven the bread and the dishes of food then
ceased…
work of sowing, mattock and scythe came… then
increased.
Among Moses’ people came forth shouts from
some place:
“Where’s the garlic, lentils?”
They cried from lack of grace.
Some time later on, once again it was Jesus who
interceded:
God sent food and bounty upon trays, all that was
needed.
But once again… those ones with no grace stepped
forward
and like a bunch of beggars took everything that
they could,
Even though it was Jesus who had given it to them,
saying:
“Never again on earth will food disappear,
it’s now lasting!”
Those ones had doubled and wanted still more to
store away,
not believing that Majestic table would feed them
each day.
Those ones with faces like beggars that greed had
blinded...
they found that the Gate of Mercy all of them no
longer fed.
That bread and all that food from the heavens were
cut off...
after that no one became the beneficiary of that
table-cloth.
If the poor people are not helped then the rain
does not fall;
if sexual intercourse is rife… then a plague
comes to us all.
Whatever of grief and sorrow that happens to fall
upon you,
it’s the result of the irreverence and bad
manners that you do.
One who is offensive and irreverent in the Path
of the Friend
is not man but a robber and steals from his friends
in the end.
Heaven is full of light and it is because of this
Divine grace;
from this grace angels are holy and of sin have
not one trace.
The sun… it suffers eclipse because of irreverence
and pride
and the door was shut on Satan for the talking back
he tried.
The king opened his arms and that one to his chest
he held:
in his heart and in his soul, him like love most
blest, he held.
He kissed that one’s hand, then he kissed
that brow he held;
conversation of home and journey, of where and how
he held.
As he questioned him he led him inside and up onto
the dais
saying... “Finally, by being patient, a treasure’s
come to us.”
Then... “You are a gift of God, causing problems
to depart...
you’re the meaning of ‘Patience is the
key to joy in the heart’.
Meeting you face to face all my questions are now
answered,
you undo my problem knots yet not one word have
you said.
You understand the depth of our hearts, knowing
what it is;
you grab hold the hand of whoever’s feet in
the muddy pit is.
Welcome, O chosen one... the approved of. If you
disappear
our fate will be… that this room will be filled
with our fear.
You protect and you care for all people and if an
individual
doesn’t ask your help he’s doomed…
‘ If he doesn’t call...’ ”
After that coming together… feeding of soul
was completed
that king took his hand and him into his quarters
he then led.
He told that one the story of the girl, of her strange
sickness:
then he sat him next to her... so he could diagnose
her illness.
That one… he felt her pulse and looked at
her face and urine;
he heard the symptoms and causes that the others
did define.
He said: “So far all the remedies which to
her... give they did
are destructive… nothing to her to help her
to live... they did.
They didn’t know the patient’s inner
condition. From God I
seek protection from their false diagnosis: a patent
lie, say I!”
He knew her painful problem, to him her illness
was no secret
but he kept quiet and that secret before the king
he didn’t set.
Her suffering did not come because of black or yellow
bile…
some smoke must be rising to be smelling a burning
woodpile.
He saw she suffered a grief… coming from a
hurting heart is;
her body was not sick, this condition from a grieving
heart is.
When one is in love this results in a sore and an
aching heart;
there’s no sickness like that sickness of
a sick, breaking heart.
The lover’s ailment is difficult from all
others on the globe…
mysteries of God can be probed using love as the
astrolabe.
It doesn’t matter where love comes from, over
here and there:
eventually… we are led by it to the Beyond,
the Everywhere!
No matter what I say… or how I try to explain
about Love,
when I experience Love I’m ashamed of what
I said of Love.
Most is more understandable when a tongue the explainer
is,
but love that’s not explained by the tongue
so much clearer is.
The pen hurried along, being caught up in the act
of writing...
but the moment it reached Love into itself it went,
splitting!
When explaining it, intellect like an ass gets stuck
in mire…
nothing but Love can truly explain love… and
love’s desire.
If you want to know what the sun is, then to the
sun you go:
you want proof of its existence don’t turn
away, you’ll know.
A shadow a very good indication of the sun’s
existence gives;
the Sun… the Light each moment one can experience,
gives.
Shadows, like late at night talking… makes
one fall to sleep;
but ‘moon is split asunder’ when over
the line sun does creep.
In the world something existing as wonderful as
sun is not;
but Sun of the soul never sets: going when day’s
gone, is not.
Although in this physical world there’s only
one sun we see,
to imagine another sun as the same… it is
not a possibility.
But the Sun of the soul that is far beyond this
world’s ether
is unique: nothing comes close in imagination or
form either.
What capacity has the imagination to conceive His
Essence,
so in the imagination... appears something of His
Presence?
Shams-e Tabriz, that One who that supreme Pure Light
is;
He, the Sun and the shower of what True and also
Right is;
When news of face of Shams’ ud-din was heard
far and wide
the sun of the fourth heaven its head out of shame
it did hide.
And since his name has come up it’s only right
that this one
gives out some inkling... of the bountiful Light
of that One!
Right now the soul, Hesam’odin, grabbed my
garment has;
for he, catching a waft of that Joseph’s garment’s
scent has.
He says: “For the sake of these years we have
been friends
speak now of those experiences that one into ecstasy
sends,
So that earth and heavens laughing and rejoicing
becomes...
from your voice countlessly real vision increasing
becomes.”
I said, “O you, my soul who are so far away
from that lover,
like one who far from the physician from illness
can’t recover,
Do not ask me to do anything for I have totally
passed away,
my comprehension has now vanished and praises I
can’t pay.
One not conscious of himself, no matter how he expounds,
whether overdoing it or keeping quiet, never right
it sounds.
Whatever he says doesn’t hold together, it
makes no sense,
like mere formalities that to those pure are only
a nonsense.
When my veins are insensible, for me a possibility
there isn’t
to describe that Friend… a description, definitely,
there isn’t.
The description of this separation and my poor bleeding
heart
isn’t now possible: at another time, it my
heart may impart.”
He said, “Nourish me now for I am hungry...
please feed me
for time’s like a sword that cuts deeply,
so do it now, quickly.
O comrade, the Sufi is the son of the time of now...
of today:
putting it off by you saying ‘Tomorrow,’
is not the real Way.
Can it be that you yourself are not a true Sufi?
Aren’t you?
What one has is worthless if not paid is the fee.
Aren’t you?”
To him I said: “It’s better to cover
up the secret of the Friend;
if you want to hear, listen, for into these stories
it does blend.
Its much better that all the secret those loved
ones may hold,
in the conversations and stories of many others
they be told.”
He said: “Tell it openly and nakedly, not
unfaithfully to me,
tell it and you stop torturing me, no more a meddler
you be!
Be naked with the way you talk and strip away the
cover…
when I sleep with the adorable One no shirt’s
on this lover.”
I said this… “If that One should be
exposed for you to see,
you yourself, your side and your centre… would
no longer be.
Ask what you have to ask, but please… ask
in moderation:
a single blade of straw will never hold up a mighty
mountain.
If the sun by which this whole world is warmed and
illumined
should come just a little closer... all on it would
be consumed.
Do not keep looking for trouble and turmoil and
bloodshed…
don’t mention him or ask again... of Shams-e
Tabriz,” I said.
There is no end to this… much better of the
beginning to tell:
But now, of this tale I’m telling it’s
better the ending to tell...
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