A beggar fell in love with Ayäz, and the news spread everywhere. Whenever Ayäz rode on horseback along the road, this wretched man, having heard of it, would hasten to meet him. Whenever Ayäz, perfumed with musk, came to the square, this spiritual libertine looked at none but him, as the polo-player looks at the ball. The matter was reported to Mahmüd: namely, that this beggar had fallen in love.
The next day, when Ayäz appeared, that libertine hastened thither also, more enamoured than ever. He gazed at Ayäz’s face: it seemed as though the mallet were about to seize the ball. The Sultan glanced at him, and saw that Ayäz’s soul was like the barleycorn, and this man’s face like the husk surrounding it. He saw that this beggar’s back was bent like the mallet, that his head spun like the ball in the polo game, and that he wandered in every direction across the field, like the ball itself. Mahmüd called him and said: “Wretched beggar, would you then drink from the same cup as the king?” — “Though you call me a beggar,” replied the dervish, “I am nevertheless no less than you in the game of love. Love and poverty go together; the capital of love is to possess nothing. You are sovereign, and your heart is luminous; but love requires a heart scorched like mine. Of love, you have only its basest element, and that is all; so endure for a moment the pain of absence. Despite the union you enjoy, know how to stand firm in the anguish of absence, if you are truly enamoured.”
The king replied, “Thou who hast no tidings of existence, why then dost thou look at the ball of mail?”
“It is,” answered the beggar, “because this ball is in motion like me; it remains in agitation like me, and I like it. It knows my worth, and I know its worth; we both, the ball and I, have fallen into the same bewilderment. We exist without head or foot. It knows me and I know it, and we can both speak of the pain that the mallet makes us suffer; but the ball is happier than I, for the horse touches it from time to time with his foot. Although I am like this ball, without head or foot, yet I suffer more pain than this ball. The ball receives wounds from the mallet upon its body; but this wretched beggar feels them in his heart. Indeed, although the ball suffers pains without equal, Ayâz at last reaches it; but as for me, although I suffer still greater torments than it, Ayâz is nevertheless not pursuing me, though I am before Him. The ball has sometimes fallen into His presence, whereas this beggar is always far from Him. At last, when it comes before Him, it feels the joy bestowed by the wine of union. I cannot partake even of the fragrance of His union, whereas the ball has been united to Him, and has thus won over me the ball of success.”
“It is,” answered the beggar, “because this ball is in motion like me; it remains in agitation like me, and I like it. It knows my worth, and I know its worth; we both, the ball and I, have fallen into the same bewilderment. We exist without head or foot. It knows me and I know it, and we can both speak of the pain that the mallet makes us suffer; but the ball is happier than I, for the horse touches it from time to time with his foot. Although I am like this ball, without head or foot, yet I suffer more pain than this ball. The ball receives wounds from the mallet upon its body; but this wretched beggar feels them in his heart. Indeed, although the ball suffers pains without equal, Ayâz at last reaches it; but as for me, although I suffer still greater torments than it, Ayâz is nevertheless not pursuing me, though I am before Him. The ball has sometimes fallen into His presence, whereas this beggar is always far from Him. At last, when it comes before Him, it feels the joy bestowed by the wine of union. I cannot partake even of the fragrance of His union, whereas the ball has been united to Him, and has thus won over me the ball of success.”
“O my dervish!” said the king to him then, “Thou hast boasted before me of thy poverty. If Thou dost not lie, wretched beggar, thou must know a witness of thy poverty.” — “So long as I possess life,” replied the dervish, “I am not indigent. I have pretensions; but in truth I do not belong to the assembly of spiritual poverty. If I sacrifice my soul for love, that sacrifice is the pledge of my spiritual poverty. And if Thou, Mahmûd, hast the feeling of love, sacrifice Thy life; otherwise, make no pretence of loving.”
He spoke, and his soul departed from the world; he gave it at once for the face of his beloved. When this spiritual libertine had thus surrendered his soul upon the dust of the road, the world grew black for Mahmûd, from the grief he felt.
He spoke, and his soul departed from the world; he gave it at once for the face of his beloved. When this spiritual libertine had thus surrendered his soul upon the dust of the road, the world grew black for Mahmûd, from the grief he felt.
If thou deem it little to make light of life, come and behold this extraordinary thing. If thou art once told, “Enter,” then, in order to hear that consoling word from the path where thou art, thou must become so bereft of head and foot that thou canst stake all thou possessest; and when the glad tidings reach thee, thy reason and thy soul will be turned upside down.