To You The Prison For Me The Garden
Your eyes are awake, and your heart is sunk in slumber; my eyes are asleep, (but) my heart is in (contemplation of) the opening of the door (of Divine grace).
My heart hath five senses other (than the physical): both the worlds (external and spiritual) are the stage (theatre) for the senses of the heart. Do not regard me from (the standpoint of) your infirmity: to you ’tis night, to me that same night is morningtide. To you ’tis prison, to me that prison is like a garden: to me the most absolute state of occupation (with the world) has become (a state of spiritual) freedom. Your feet are in the mud; to me the mud has become roses. You have mourning; I have feasting and drums.
(Whilst) I am dwelling with you in some place on the earth, I am coursing over the seventh sphere (of Heaven), like Saturn. ’Tis not I that am seated beside you, ’tis my shadow: my rank is higher than (the reach of) thoughts, Because I have passed beyond (all) thoughts, and have become a swift traveler outside (the region of) thought. I am the ruler of thought, not ruled (by it), because the builder is ruler over the building. All creatures are subjugated to thought; for that reason they are sore in heart and practised in sorrow.
I yield myself to thought purposely, (but) when I will I spring up from the midst of them (that are under its sway). I am as a bird of the zenith, thought is a gnat: how should a gnat have power over me? Purposely I come down from the lofty zenith, that those of base degree may attain to me. When disgust at the qualities of the low (world) seizes me, I soar up like the birds which spread their pinions.
My wings have grown out of my very essence: I do not stick two wings on with glue.
The Masnawi Vol 2 3550
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