Tuesday, October 22, 2013

The Beloved








Brothers, my peace is in my aloneness.
My Beloved is alone with me there, always.
I have found nothing in all the worlds
That could match His love,
This love that harrows the sands of my desert.
If I come to die of desire
And my Beloved is still not satisfied,
I would live in eternal despair.
To abandon all that He has fashioned
And hold in the palm of my hand
Certain proof that He loves me—
That is the name and the goal of my search.
Rabi´a al-Adawiyya, translation by Andrew Harvey and Eryk Hanut – ‘Perfume of the Desert’
~~


O Lord,
If tomorrow on Judgment Day
You send me to Hell,
I will tell such a secret
That Hell will race from me
Until it is a thousand years away.
O Lord,
Whatever share of this world
You could give to me,
Give it to Your enemies;
Whatever share of the next world
You want to give to me,
Give it to Your friends.
You are enough for me.
O Lord,
If I worship You
From fear of Hell, burn me in Hell.
O Lord,
If I worship You
From hope of Paradise, bar me from its gates.
But if I worship You for Yourself alone
Then grace me forever the splendor of Your Face.
Rabi´a al-Adawiyya, translation by Andrew Harvey and Eryk Hanut – ‘Perfume of the Desert’

The Story

The Story


A group of bandits once infested the mountains, waiting for passing caravans to rob. A king who lived in a nearby city gathered the best of his soldiers and sent them to the mountains to find the robbers. The soldiers found their hiding places, and waited for the bandits to fall asleep. With nightfall, the robbers fell asleep one by one. In the middle of the night the soldiers attacked, captured them, and brought them back to court.

The king ordered all to be executed. There was a very young man among these thieves, and the king’s minister, taking pity on this youth, asked the king to spare him. Perhaps such a young man could be exposed to a good environment, brought up in a good family, and given teachers to help him to grow to be a better man.

The king warned his minister that the boy was a thief, that such was his identity, despite his youth. But the minister begged to be allowed to try. So the king set the boy free and gave the minister the responsibility of educating the boy. Time passed, and in a few years, the boy began associating with unfit friends, stealing, and eventually killing none other than the son of the minister, running away from the city and joining another group of bandits.

Moral of the Story
Rain is delicate and pure. It pours gracefully upon both field and desert, The field grows flowers, and the desert-thorns