Chapter Guide
In brief
Chapter V shows what Chapter IV's self-reliance can become: a Self strengthened by love gains authority that worldly power cannot command.
The opening lines make a bold claim about the mature Self. When love has strengthened it, the Self does not merely endure the world; it exercises command over inward and outward forces. Iqbal immediately shifts from doctrine to story so that this dominion can be seen in action rather than stated in abstraction.
The episode of Bu Ali contrasts two kinds of authority. The governor's escort has visible power, servants, horses, and command of the street, but its pride is brittle. The saint's disciple appears powerless, yet the injury done to him awakens a deeper order. Bu Ali's letter makes the king tremble because spiritual force has touched the source beneath official rank.
The final scene softens this power without cancelling it. Amir Khusrau's music wins pardon because true inward majesty is not petty revenge; it can be moved by beauty. The chapter therefore joins firmness with grace: do not wound the hearts of dervishes, because the fire within them is stronger than the structures that surround them.
Figures in this chapter
- Bu Ali Qalandar
- Nicholson identifies him as Sheikh Sharafuddin of Panipat. Encyclopaedia Iranica describes Abu Ali Qalandar, Sharaf al-Din Panipati, as an Indian poet and saint who died in 725/1324, while warning that authentic records of his life are scarce and later accounts mix biography with miracle legend. Encyclopaedia Iranica
- Amir Khusrau
- Nicholson identifies him as the celebrated Persian poet of India. Encyclopaedia Iranica presents Amir Khusrau Dehlavi (1253-1325) as a major Persian-language poet of medieval India, attached to Delhi's courtly and Sufi worlds. Encyclopaedia Iranica
Original chapter heading
Showing that when the Self is strengthened by Love it gains dominion over the outward and inward forces of the universe.
از محبت چون خودی محکم شودقوتش فرمانده عالم شود
پیر گردون کز کواکب نقش بستغنچه ها از شاخسار او شکست
پنجه ی او پنجه ی حق می شودماه از انگشت او شق می شود
در خصومات جهان گردد حکمتابع فرمان او دارا و جم
با تو می گویم حدیث بوعلیدر سواد هند نام او جلی
آن نوا پیرای گلزار کهنگفت با ما از گل رعنا سخن
خطه ی این جنت آتش نژاداز هوای دامنش مینو سواد
کوچک ابدالش سوی بازار رفتاز شراب بوعلی سرشار رفت
عامل آن شهر می آمد سوارهمرکاب او غلام و چوبدار
پیشرو زد بانگ ای ناهوشمندبر جلو داران عامل ره مبند
رفت آن درویش سر افکنده پیشغوطه زن اندر یم افکار خویش
چوبدار از جام استکبار مستبر سر درویش چوب خود شکست
از ره عامل فقیر آزرده رفتدلگران و ناخوش و افسرده رفت
در حضور بوعلی فریاد کرداشک از زندان چشم آزاد کرد
صورت برقی که بر کهسار ریختشیخ سیل آتش از گفتار ریخت
از رگ جاں آتش دیگر گشودبا دبیر خویش ارشادی نمود
خامه را بر گیر و فرمانی نویساز فقیری سوی سلطانی نویس
بنده ام را عاملت بر سر زده استبر متاع جان خود اخگر زده است
باز گیر این عامل بد گوهریورنه بخشم ملک تو با دیگری
نامه ی آن بنده ی حق دستگاهلرزه ها انداخت در اندام شاه
پیکرش سرمایه ی آلام گشتزرد مثل آفتاب شام گشت
بهر عامل حلقه ی زنجیر جستاز قلندر عفو این تقصیر جست
خسرو شیرین زبان ، رنگین بیاننغمه هایش از ضمیر «کن فکان»
فطرتش روشن مثال ماهتابگشت از بهر سفارت انتخاب
چنگ را پیش قلندر چون نواختاز نوائی شیشه ی جانش گداخت
شوکتی کو پخته چون کهسار بودقیمت یک نغمه ی گفتار بود
نیشتر بر قلب درویشان مزنخویش را در آتش سوزان مزن
Persian text from Ganjoor · 27 bayts
When the Self is made strong by Love
Its power rules the whole world.
The Heavenly Sage who adorned the sky with stars
Plucked these buds from the bough of the Self.
Its hand becomes God’s hand,
The moon is split by its fingers.
It is the arbitrator in all the quarrels of the world,
Its command is obeyed by Darius and Jamshíd.
I will tell thee a story of Bú Ali,[52]
Whose name is renowned in India,
Him who sang of the ancient rose-garden
And discoursed to us about the lovely rose:
The air of his fluttering skirt
Made a Paradise of this fire-born country.
His young disciple went one day to the bazaar—
The wine of Bú Ali’s discourse had turned his head.
The governor of the city was coming along on horseback,
His servant and staff-bearer rode beside him.
The forerunner shouted, “O senseless one,
Do not get in the way of the governor’s escort!”
But the dervish walked on with drooping head,
Sunk in the sea of his own thoughts.
The staff-bearer, drunken with pride,
Broke his staff on the head of the dervish,
Who stepped painfully out of the governor’s way,
Sad and sorry, with a heavy heart.
He came to Bú Ali and complained
And released the tears from his eyes.
Like lightning that falls on mountains,
The Sheikh poured forth a fiery torrent of speech.
He let loose from his soul a strange fire,
He gave an order to his secretary:
“Take thy pen and write a letter
From a dervish to a sultan!
Say, ‘Thy governor has broken my servant’s head;
He has cast burning coals on his own life.
Arrest this wicked governor,
Or else I will bestow thy kingdom on another.”
The letter of the saint who had access to God
Caused the monarch to tremble in every limb.
His body was filled with aches,
He grew as pale as the evening sun.
He sought out a handcuff for the governor
And entreated Bú Ali to pardon this offence.
Khusrau, the sweet-voiced eloquent poet,[53]
Whose harmonies flow from the creative mind
And whose genius hath the soft brilliance of moonlight,
Was chosen to be the king’s ambassador.
When he entered Bú Ali’s presence and played his lute,
His song melted the fakir’s soul like glass.
One strain of poesy bought the grace
Of a majesty that was firm as a mountain.
Do not wound the hearts of dervishes,
Do not throw thyself into burning fire!
از محبت چون خودی محکم شودقوتش فرمانده عالم شود
When the Self is made strong by Love
Its power rules the whole world.
پیر گردون کز کواکب نقش بستغنچه ها از شاخسار او شکست
The Heavenly Sage who adorned the sky with stars
Plucked these buds from the bough of the Self.
پنجه ی او پنجه ی حق می شودماه از انگشت او شق می شود
Its hand becomes God’s hand,
The moon is split by its fingers.
در خصومات جهان گردد حکمتابع فرمان او دارا و جم
It is the arbitrator in all the quarrels of the world,
Its command is obeyed by Darius and Jamshíd.
با تو می گویم حدیث بوعلیدر سواد هند نام او جلی
I will tell thee a story of Bú Ali,[52]
Whose name is renowned in India,
آن نوا پیرای گلزار کهنگفت با ما از گل رعنا سخن
Him who sang of the ancient rose-garden
And discoursed to us about the lovely rose:
خطه ی این جنت آتش نژاداز هوای دامنش مینو سواد
The air of his fluttering skirt
Made a Paradise of this fire-born country.
کوچک ابدالش سوی بازار رفتاز شراب بوعلی سرشار رفت
His young disciple went one day to the bazaar—
The wine of Bú Ali’s discourse had turned his head.
عامل آن شهر می آمد سوارهمرکاب او غلام و چوبدار
The governor of the city was coming along on horseback,
His servant and staff-bearer rode beside him.
پیشرو زد بانگ ای ناهوشمندبر جلو داران عامل ره مبند
The forerunner shouted, “O senseless one,
Do not get in the way of the governor’s escort!”
رفت آن درویش سر افکنده پیشغوطه زن اندر یم افکار خویش
But the dervish walked on with drooping head,
Sunk in the sea of his own thoughts.
چوبدار از جام استکبار مستبر سر درویش چوب خود شکست
The staff-bearer, drunken with pride,
Broke his staff on the head of the dervish,
از ره عامل فقیر آزرده رفتدلگران و ناخوش و افسرده رفت
Who stepped painfully out of the governor’s way,
Sad and sorry, with a heavy heart.
در حضور بوعلی فریاد کرداشک از زندان چشم آزاد کرد
He came to Bú Ali and complained
And released the tears from his eyes.
صورت برقی که بر کهسار ریختشیخ سیل آتش از گفتار ریخت
Like lightning that falls on mountains,
The Sheikh poured forth a fiery torrent of speech.
از رگ جاں آتش دیگر گشودبا دبیر خویش ارشادی نمود
He let loose from his soul a strange fire,
He gave an order to his secretary:
خامه را بر گیر و فرمانی نویساز فقیری سوی سلطانی نویس
“Take thy pen and write a letter
From a dervish to a sultan!
بنده ام را عاملت بر سر زده استبر متاع جان خود اخگر زده است
Say, ‘Thy governor has broken my servant’s head;
He has cast burning coals on his own life.
باز گیر این عامل بد گوهریورنه بخشم ملک تو با دیگری
Arrest this wicked governor,
Or else I will bestow thy kingdom on another.”
نامه ی آن بنده ی حق دستگاهلرزه ها انداخت در اندام شاه
The letter of the saint who had access to God
Caused the monarch to tremble in every limb.
پیکرش سرمایه ی آلام گشتزرد مثل آفتاب شام گشت
His body was filled with aches,
He grew as pale as the evening sun.
بهر عامل حلقه ی زنجیر جستاز قلندر عفو این تقصیر جست
He sought out a handcuff for the governor
And entreated Bú Ali to pardon this offence.
خسرو شیرین زبان ، رنگین بیاننغمه هایش از ضمیر «کن فکان»
Khusrau, the sweet-voiced eloquent poet,[53]
Whose harmonies flow from the creative mind
فطرتش روشن مثال ماهتابگشت از بهر سفارت انتخاب
And whose genius hath the soft brilliance of moonlight,
Was chosen to be the king’s ambassador.
چنگ را پیش قلندر چون نواختاز نوائی شیشه ی جانش گداخت
When he entered Bú Ali’s presence and played his lute,
His song melted the fakir’s soul like glass.
شوکتی کو پخته چون کهسار بودقیمت یک نغمه ی گفتار بود
One strain of poesy bought the grace
Of a majesty that was firm as a mountain.
نیشتر بر قلب درویشان مزنخویش را در آتش سوزان مزن
Do not wound the hearts of dervishes,
Do not throw thyself into burning fire!
Persian text from Ganjoor · 27 bayts