Attār of Nishapur
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Since there is no one to be our companion in Love
The prayer mat is for the pious: wine dregs and vice for us ...
If the wine-bringers of the spirit sit with the devout
their wine is for the aesthetics; lees and hangovers for us ...
The prayer mat is for the pious: wine dregs and vice for us ...
If the wine-bringers of the spirit sit with the devout
their wine is for the aesthetics; lees and hangovers for us ...
Attār (عطار - the Pharmacist) of Nishapur, who lived in the twelfth century (born in 1145 or 1146, died around 1221), one of the greatest Sufi poets and thinkers.
Love of the Beloved burned me like a candle, head to foot.
My soul-bird burned like a moth, wing and feather.
My soul-bird burned like a moth, wing and feather.
Dragostea celei Preaiubite m-a parjolit si am ars ca o lumanare, din crestet in talpi.
Sufletul meu, pasare care zboara spre inalt, a ars ca o molie, aripi si pene.
Sufletul meu, pasare care zboara spre inalt, a ars ca o molie, aripi si pene.
I am trying now to realize the whole richness of his Manteq aṭ-Ṭayr - I found an English translation from 1889, and a stubborn question is refusing to give me peace: has Attār passed, he, all the Seven Valleys?
The fire of her love smoked my heart like aloes;
then her fire consumed both the smoke and the aloes.
then her fire consumed both the smoke and the aloes.
Focul dragostei Ei mi-a dogorit inima, precum tortele de aloe,
apoi focul ei a facut scrum dogoarea, si frunzele de aloe.
He died beheaded; Mongols conquered the city and he was enslaved; a friend offered thousand silver pieces for his release. He advised his master to wait for another ransom: his value was greater. When a man came with a bunch of straws, he told the Mongol that this was his value. His subtlety was not at all appreciated.
A coal from her face fell into the desert:
both worlds burned like kindling from her ember.
both worlds burned like kindling from her ember.
Un taciune de pe fata Ei a cazut in pustie:
Si amandoua lumile au ars, ca aprinse din a ei ambra.
Si amandoua lumile au ars, ca aprinse din a ei ambra.
A mausoleum was built in his memory much later, in the fourteenth century.
I was to offer my soul to the soul-mate.
The Beloved outsmarted me; I got burnt.
The Beloved outsmarted me; I got burnt.
Eram pregatit sa-mi daruiesc sufletul, sufletului meu pereche.
Cea Preaiubita m-a intrecut in darnicie; am ars ca o torta.
Cea Preaiubita m-a intrecut in darnicie; am ars ca o torta.
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Nimic nu a ramas din sangele meu, si din carne, nimic, doar cenusa.
(Iranian Film and Poetry)
(Sufi)
Labels: Iranian Film and Poetry
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