An Arab went to Persia, and was astonished by the customs he found there. This ignorant man, as he travelled through the country, chanced to pass by a calandar’s house. He saw there a handful of disorderly folk who had gambled away both worlds, and said not a word. All were without wives, without a coin, yet pure of heart; all were free from impurity, one more than another. Each held in his hand a flask of cloudy wine, which they had carefully filled before sitting down. As soon as the Arab saw these people, he felt drawn to them, and his mind and heart fell upon the highway of his journey. When the calandars saw him thus bereft of honour, reason, and sense, they all said to him: “Come in, man of no account!” So he entered, willingly or unwillingly. Thus it came to pass, and there is no more to tell. He became as dissolute as they. Having become drunk
By the effect of a single cup of wine, the Arab was as though wiped out, and his manly vigour was destroyed. He had many precious objects, much gold and silver, which one of those calandars took from him in an instant. A libertine came and gave him more wine, then made him leave that house. The Arab then returned to his own country, one-eyed, poor, his soul parched and his lips dry. His people said to him: “You are greatly troubled; tell us of your gold and silver. But perhaps you fell asleep (and were robbed). You had money, and now you are in distress; you were wrong to go to Persia. The thief has waylaid you; what has become of your money? Explain what happened, so that we may know the state you are in.” — “I went along a road, wandering,” he replied, “and suddenly found myself among calandars. I know nothing else, except that my gold and silver are gone, and that I have lost everything.” They asked him to describe these calandars. “They merely said to me,” he replied: “‘Enter.’”
The Arab remained stricken dumb as a child by that word: “Enter.” Take the first step yourself, then, or follow your own fancies. Renounce life, unless you prefer it to the object of your love. If, on the contrary, you prefer the secrets of love to your soul, you will then sacrifice it for that object. You will surrender your soul and remain naked, but you will soon hear the sacramental word: “Enter.”
THE LOVER WHO LOSES HIS MISTRESS.
THE LOVER WHO LOSES HIS MISTRESS.
A man of lofty views and perfect attainments became enamoured of a beautiful person. Now she to whom he had surrendered his heart grew thin and yellow as a saffron stalk. The bright day was dark to his heart; death came from afar and drew near to her. This news was brought to her lover; he hastened to her with a dagger in his hand, saying: “I will kill my mistress on the spot, that this fair one, like a wondrous painting, may not die a natural death.” They said to him: “Thou art mad; what reason hast thou, then, for wishing to kill her? Shed no blood; withdraw thy hand from this murder, for she is about to die. What use is it to kill a person who is dying? Only a madman severs the head of the dead.” — “If my soul perishes by my hand, I shall be made to perish by the penalty of retaliation. Then, on the day of resurrection, I shall burn for her (in hell) like a candle before all humankind assembled. I am put to death because of my passion for this fair one, and tomorrow I shall likewise be burned because of her. Such is my state here and hereafter. My fate is to be either slain or burned for this fair one.”
The lovers who stake their lives have come upon this path, having withdrawn their hands from both worlds: they have torn from their souls all thought of sensible things; they have wholly withdrawn their hearts from the world. When spiritual life returned to their dead bodies, they enjoyed intimacy with the object of their affection.