“The hoopoe said: 'Your heart's congealed like ice;When will you free yourself from cowardice?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 menMust enter it and homeless leave again.They die, as worms, in squalid pain; if weMust perish in this quest, that, certainly,Is better than a life of filth and grief.If this great search is vain, if my beliefIs groundless, it is right that I should die.So many errors throng the world - then whyShould we not risk this quest? To suffer blameFor love is better than a life of shame.No one has reached this goal, so why appealTo those whose blindness claims it is unreal?I'd rather die deceived by dreams than giveMy heart to home and trade and never live.We've been and heard so much - what have we learned?Not for one moment has the self been spurned;Fools gather round and hinder our release.When will their stale, insistent whining cease?We have no freedom to achieve our goalUntil from Self and fools we free the soul.To be admitted past the veil you mustBe dead to all the crowd considers just.Once past the veil you understand the WayFrom which the crowd's glib courtiers blindly stray.If you have any will, leave women's stories,And even if this search for hidden gloriesProves blasphemy at last, be sure our questIs not mere talk but an exacting test.The fruit of love's great tree is poverty;Whoever knows this knows humility.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 and blandly askA surgeon's fee for managing the task -The water that he drinks brings pain, his breadIs turned to blood immediately shed;Though he is weak, faint, feebler than an ant,Love forces him to be her combatant;He cannot take one mouthful unawareThat he is floundering in a sea of care.”

“When they had understood the hoopoe's words,A clamour of complaint rose from the birds:'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.Our feathers and our wings, our bodies' strengthAre quite unequal to the journey's length;For one of us to reach the Simorgh's throneWould be miraculous, a thing unknown.[...] He seems like Solomon, and we like ants;How can mere ants climb from their darkened pitUp to the Simorgh's realm? And is it fitThat beggars try the glory of a king?How ever could they manage such a thing?'The hoopoe answered them: 'How can love thrivein hearts impoverished and half alive?"Beggars," you say - such niggling povertyWill not encourage truth or charity.A man whose eyes love opens risks his soul -His dancing breaks beyond the mind's control.[...] Your heart is not a mirror bright and clearIf 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 thereTo see Him, search your hearts with anxious care.”

“A KING WHO PLACED MIRRORS IN HIS PALACEThere lived a king; his comeliness was suchThe world could not acclaim his charm too much.The world's wealth seemed a portion of his grace;It was a miracle to view his face.If he had rivals,then I know of none;The earth resounded with this paragon.When riding through his streets he did not failTo 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 thrilledWith passion for this king was quickly killed.A thousand for his love expired each day,And those who saw his face, in blank dismayWould rave and grieve and mourn their lives away-To die for love of that bewitching sightWas worth a hundred lives without his light.None could survive his absence patiently,None could endure this king's proximity-How strange it was that man could neither brookThe presence nor the absence of his look!Since few could bear his sight, they were contentTo hear the king in sober argument,But while they listened they endure such painAs made them long to see their king again.The king commanded mirrors to be placedAbout the palace walls, and when he facedTheir polished surfaces his image shoneWith mitigated splendour to the throne.If you would glimpse the beauty we revereLook in your heart-its image will appear.Make of your heart a looking-glass and seeReflected there the Friend's nobility;Your sovereign's glory will illuminateThe palace where he reigns in proper state.Search for this king within your heart; His soulReveals itself in atoms of the Whole.The multitude of forms that masqueradeThroughout the world spring from the Simorgh's shade.If you catch sight of His magnificenceIt is His shadow that beguiles your glance;The Simorgh's shadow and Himself are one;Seek them together, twinned in unison.But you are lost in vague uncertainty...Pass beyond shadows to Reality.How can you reach the Simorgh's splendid court?First find its gateway, and the sun, long-sought,Erupts through clouds; when victory is won,Your sight knows nothing but the blinding sun.”

“The home we seek is in eternity;The Truth we seek is like a shoreless sea,Of which your paradise is but a drop.This ocean can be yours; why should you stopBeguiled by dreams of evanescent dew?The secrets of the sun are yours, but youContent 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.”

“Every time we make the decision to love someone, we open ourselves to great suffering, because those we most love cause us not only great joy but also great pain. The greatest pain comes from leaving. When the child leaves home, when the husband or wife leaves for a long period of time or for good, when the beloved friend departs to another country or dies … the pain of the leaving can tear us apart.Still, if we want to avoid the suffering of leaving, we will never experience the joy of loving. And love is stronger than fear, life stronger than death, hope stronger than despair. We have to trust that the risk of loving is always worth taking.”

“No, there's more to life than this. . .That was the past, but there is a future.Now we know. We dare to understand. Truly. Truly, the past was a dream. But this, this is real. To know from this that something must be done, that is real.We searched. We were confused, but we searched. And now the search has ended, for the truth has found us. For the first time in our lives, for the first time, our house has a real foundation . . . Everywhere now, men are rising from their sleep. Men-- men are understanding the bitter, black total of their lives. Their whispers are growing to shouts. They become an ocean of understanding. No man fights alone.Oh, if you could see with me the greatness of men. I tremble like a bride to see the time when they'll use it. No, my dear, we must have one regret-- that life is so short, that we must die so soon.Yes, I-- I want to see that new world. I want to kiss all those future men and women. What's all this talk about bankruptcies, failures, hatreds? They won't know what that means.I tell you, the whole world is for men to possess. Heartbreak and terror are not the heritage of mankind. The world is beautiful. No fruit tree wears a lock and key. Men will sing at their work, men will love. Oh, darling, the world is in its morning. And no man fights alone.Let's have air. Open the windows. --From Paradise Lost”

“I'd rather die deceived by dreams than giveMy heart to home and trade and never live.”