HAPPY is he who loves the way of Thought; for he has a secret road to the house of meeting. The world so full of beauty is the looking-glass of the majesty of Thought: Thought is a shining Sinai, the cup of Jamshid in which all the world is seen. In the bright mirror of thought things unseen put on the colour of the seen: the meaning of the world is clothed in form, and visible things are robed in beauty. By thought the shapes of things are made clear, and every form becomes substance. The tree of life and heaven and the suns of heaven are a secret message from the throne of Thought; the message is sent forth, and lo, the life of nations is made anew.
Everything which is hidden from the eyes becomes visible in that magic mirror, and by Thought the lover can see his absent love and rejoice in her presence. Thought built a house for love to dwell in, and on the walls I saw painted the picture of one at whom Fate aimed the cruel dart of parting; but in his hand he held the shield of thought.
[Here written above in Arabic is the quatrain: I love a moon who is queen above me, I am the star of the moon. Her beauty is queen of the world. I asked her name. She said, “Mark well: I am the Lady Hadijeh.”]
With eyes closed to the small and the great of the world, with heart intent on the things of thought, one night poor Valeh in his soul made war with fortune. With tearful eyes he cried aloud, “Oh, fortune, how long will you strive with me? How long will you harry and destroy? I have not seen one kind look in your eyes; I think your night has no morning. Your shade has fallen upon my face, and my day has become even as night; by your command my moon is hidden in the clouds; justice, oh fortune, I call on you for justice! For your decrees have made me sorrowful, and my mirror is black with rust. Before your feet gladness flies away, even as day before the feet of night; but when my beloved was with me, when my moon was bright in the firmament, I grieved not at the night, for night was as bright as the day. But now my moon is hidden, she shines no more, I walk in darkness, night is my guide, and your thick darkness my covering.
“Have mercy, oh Fortune, have mercy for one hour. Awake, arise; take me by the hand and lead me in dreams to my love.”
So he cried; and as he spoke sleep came on him. And when he had drunken of the wine of sleep, lo! the desire of his heart came to his arms; the door was open to the cherisher of his soul. In a dream, she came; she lifted the veil from her cheek, and her beauty shone forth like a burning candle. And Valeh looked upon the face of his beloved.
[Written above: “Every day I beheld the sun of her face; in every thread of her clothes I saw the sun. Whom saw I save Hadijeh? What save her came into my vision? In everything I saw, I saw Hadijeh.”]
For Fortune had heard his prayer and had awoken; and he, in dreams, stood by the side of the running water, he who had thirsted so long, and drank his fill of the water of life.
He kissed the ground before her feet; he laid his head in the dust; he knelt at her shrine and worshipped. In the cup of his eyes he drank madness from that perfect wine and desire without end. His arm embraced her; his hand was on her locks; he drank sweetness from the ruby of her lips. And then they told the story of their loves, as friends who meet after long parting. And so in sorrow and in joy the night passed on, till the hour of waking came at last.
[Written above: “In sleep my beloved came to my arms; in the dark night the sun was at my side. Oh Fortune, my enemy, I owe thee but this one service; and I owe thee life and speech and vision.”
“One night the star-face came and went; in dreams it had pity on me and came and went. Dost thou know how it went when the dawn came? It became one with the light of the sun.”]
And when he awoke, behold he was alone.* He was the drunkenness of his own wine; he himself was the dew and the sun; he himself Valeh and Hadijeh. In sleep the one was two; when he awoke it was one; truth came and fancy vanished. For the heart of that poor wanderer became as a pattern and example of death; for has not Ali, our Lord, said the words: “Oh you who have understanding, behold the living, they are as men that sleep; their waking will be in death, for death is the root and life, the branch and the leaf.”
[Written above: “In my heart, of myself, I hear her words; that whisper, every fibre of my body hears; my limbs and my joints are brimful of Hadijeh; she speaks with Valeh's lips, I hear her with Hadijeh's ears.”]
“The word of Valeh. I am the eye of the soul, the object of worship, the majesty of human kind. Poor Mansur could but say, ‘I am God’; Valeh says, ‘I am Hadijeh Sultan.’”*
“I am the nightingale and the rose and the garden; I am myself the ringdove and the cypress; one life have I, one heart; no more two, but one; I myself am Hadijeh, I myself am Valeh, I myself am myself.”
“I did not care to live; I had not courage to die. In the two worlds, loveless, we dwelt as in a fiery furnace, till the pain of Love, God bless it, fell on our hearts and the furnace became a garden of roses.* In sleep, after a death of waking, when she came like life to my arms— oh Valeh, the trembling of thy heart awoke me.”
“My heart is faint for thinking of the waning moon; my soul is weary for the buffeting of the winds. What is life? This, when in the company of the mad, the cupbearer of love gives me wine in the cup of Hadijeh.”