SPILLING THE ROSE OIL

There was a grocer with a fine parrot, which could intelligently to customers in several languages and to the merchants bringing fruits and vegatables.

He could also sing sweet songs in his parrot
language. He sat all day on the back of the
grocer's bench and held forth generously.

Once when the grocer was gone for a moment, the parrot accidently knocked over some bottles of rose oil from a shelf above the bench.

The grocer came back and sat down with great confidence and high good-humour as a merchant always does in front of his shop.

Then he realised that his clothes were soaked in greasy rose oil. He bopped the parrot on the head so that the top feathers came out and the parrot looked bald.

For several days afterward the parrot was quiet. It said nothing in any language, not even its own.

The grocer felt terrible. Three days and three nights he grieved and repented that he had silenced his Friend.

He felt his well-being and his prosperity leaving him. He gave gifts to every dervish that he saw, hoping to restore the speech of the parrot.

Finally a bareheaded dervish came by with a head as bald as a begging bowl.

Hey-hey screeched the parrot, Here's another klutz who spilt some rose oil!

Don't judge the Holy Ones by yourself. The word "lion" sounds like "lying," but the inner qualities are so dissimilar!

People have wandered from the true way because they can't recognise the Helpers for what they are.

All human beings are not the same. Some hymenoptera make poision for their stingers. Others make honey. Some deer just make dung, while others make musk from the same grass.

Two reeds in the water: One's hollow. The other full of sugarcane. One person eats and generates greed and anger. Another, nothing but love.

Bitter water and sweet water both look clear. It takes someone who can taste to know the difference between which is sweet and of the Spirit, and which is not, a difference as wide as a seventy- year journey!

 

Coleman Barks

 
A GREAT ROSE TREE

This is the day and the year
of the rose. The whole garden

is opening with laughter. Iris
whispering to cypress. The rose

is the joy of meeting someone.
The rose is a world imagination

cannot imagine. A messenger from
the orchard where the soul lives.

A small seed that points to a great
rose tree! Hold its hand and walk

like a child. A rose is what grows
from the work the prophets do.

Full moon, new moon. Accept the
invitation spring extends, four

birds flying toward a master. A rose
is all these, and the silence that

closes and sits in the shade, a bud.

-- Ghazal (Ode) 1348
Version by Coleman Barks,
with Nevit Ergin

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SOME KISS WE WANT

There is some kiss we want with
our whole lives, the touch of

spirit on the body. Seawater
begs the pearl to break its shell.

and the lily, how passionately
it needs some wild darling! At

night, I open the window and ask
the moon to come and press its

face against mine. Breathe into
me. Close the language-door and

open the love-window. The moon
won't use the door, only the window.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DON'T GO BACK TO SLEEP

For years, copying other people,
I tried to know myself.
From within, I couldn't decide what to do.
Unable to see, I heard my name being called.
Then I walked outside.
The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don't go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don't go back to sleep.
People are going back and forth across the doorsill where the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.
Don't go back to sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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