Poetry Chaikhana Blog

Ivan M. Granger June 23rd, 2008

If one His praise of me would learn,
by Saadi

English version by Edward B. Eastwick

If one His praise of me would learn,
      What of the traceless can the tongueless tell?
      Lovers are killed by those they love so well;
No voices from the slain return.

— from The Gulistan of Sadi: The Rose Garden, Translated by Edward B. Eastwick

/ Photo by HAMED MASOUMI /

I love that line, “What of the traceless can the toungeless tell?”

There is actually a lot being said in these few lines, all circling around the wordlessness of true lovers of God. Why is it that lovers are “tongueless”? Why is it that lovers are “killed,” and the voices of the “slain” don’t return?

Sacred poetry often portrays death from an upside-down perspective in which death is sought with an enthusiasm that can, at times, sound almost suicidal. Without understanding of this imagery, it can sound as if every mystic and saint has some strange death wish.

In deep ecstasy, the sense of individuality, the sense of “I” thins and can completely disappear. Though you may still walk and breathe and talk, there is no “you” performing these actions. The separate identity, the ego, disappears, to be replaced by a vast, borderless sense of reality — the “traceless.” Suddenly, who you have always thought yourself to be vanishes and, in its place, stands a radiant presence whose boundaries are no longer perceived in terms of flesh or space.

It is this experience, this complete shedding of the limited body of the ego, that is the death so eagerly sought by mystics throughout time. This is what Saadi means by his statement, “Lovers are killed by those they love so well.”

This same death of the ego leads to a space beyond words. With the small self no longer in the way of true perception, reality is finally perceived as a unified wholeness. The mind ceases to cut its perception of reality into manageable little pieces. Everything, absolutely everything is recognized as part of that single wholeness. And that’s where words fail. Words can only ever apply to fragments of reality, particles of meaning. But in the lover’s vision of Oneness, words are no longer big enough to contain what is witnessed.

What then can one say? Lover’s fall silent. They are toungeless. In this sacred ‘death,’ one has no voice. Some mystics literally fall silent and cease to speak in awe of such Unity, while others may speak and write and sing… but inwardly they too are spacious, clear, silent. The use of words becomes at most a game, incapable of truly conveying the lover’s awe and praise. One can only hope that this game of words and incomplete meanings will point the way for others, that they too may one day find themselves toungeless.

Nuff said…

Saadi Iran/Per (1207? - 1291) Timeline Muslim / Sufi

Sheikh Muslihu’d-Din, known as Saadi, was descended from Ali, the son-in-law of the Prophet Mohammed. Saadi’s father apparently died when he was a boy.

Although Saadi was born and died in Shiraz, Persia (Iran), during his life he traveled extensively. He is said to have traveled for thirty years throughout the Islamic world. Iran has filled the centuries with some of the world’s finest poets, but Iranians consider Saadi to be one of the greatest.

Historians often divide his life into three parts. His first twenty-five years were spent studying in various countries, going to university at Baghdad. During the next thirty years he traveled widely, east to India and as far west as Syria. He made his pilgrimage to Mecca fourteen times. Finally, Saadi returned to Shiraz where he devoted himself to writing and to teaching.

Saadi was a disciple of the Sufi master Sheikh Shahabud-Din Sahrawardi.

Saadi’s two best known works are the Bustan (the Garden), composed entirely in verse, and the Gulistan (the Rose Garden), in both prose and verse. He was particularly known for the wry wit he injected into his poems.

Saadi is probably the first Persian poet to have been translated into European languages. A German version of the Gulistan appeared in 1654.

Saadi’s tomb can be seen in the town of Shiraz. Lines from Saadi’s poems are still commonly used in conversations by Iranians today.

More poetry by Saadi

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