{"id":6578,"date":"2019-10-16T07:39:19","date_gmt":"2019-10-16T14:39:19","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/?p=6578"},"modified":"2019-10-16T08:08:14","modified_gmt":"2019-10-16T15:08:14","slug":"farid-ud-din-attar-the-moths-and-the-flame-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/2019\/10\/16\/farid-ud-din-attar-the-moths-and-the-flame-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Farid ud-Din Attar – The moths and the flame"},"content":{"rendered":"

The moths and the flame
\nby Farid ud-Din Attar<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n

English version by Afkham Darbandi and Dick Davis<\/font><\/p>\n

Moths gathered in a fluttering throng one night
\nTo learn the truth about the candle light,
\nAnd they decided one of them should go
\nTo gather news of the elusive glow.
\nOne flew till in the distance he discerned
\nA palace window where a candle burned \u2014
\nAnd went no nearer: back again he flew
\nTo tell the others what he thought he knew.
\nThe mentor of the moths dismissed his claim,
\nRemarking: \u201cHe knows nothing of the flame.\u201d
\nA moth more eager than the one before
\nSet out and passed beyond the palace door.
\nHe hovered in the aura of the fire,
\nA trembling blur of timorous desire,
\nThen headed back to say how far he\u2019d been,
\nAnd how much he had undergone and seen.
\nThe mentor said: \u201cYou do not bear the signs
\nOf one who\u2019s fathomed how the candle shines.\u201d
\nAnother moth flew out \u2014 his dizzy flight
\nTurned to an ardent wooing of the light;
\nHe dipped and soared, and in his frenzied trance
\nBoth self and fire were mingled by his dance \u2014
\nThe flame engulfed his wing-tips, body, head,
\nHis being glowed a fierce translucent red;
\nAnd when the mentor saw that sudden blaze,
\nThe moth\u2019s form lost within the glowing rays,
\nHe said: \u201cHe knows, he knows the truth we seek,
\nThat hidden truth of which we cannot speak.\u201d
\nTo go beyond all knowledge is to find
\nThat comprehension which eludes the mind,
\nAnd you can never gain the longed-for goal
\nUntil you first outsoar both flesh and soul;
\nBut should one part remain, a single hair
\nWill drag you back and plunge you in despair \u2014
\nNo creature\u2019s self can be admitted here,
\nWhere all identity must disappear.<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/a> \u2014 from The Conference of the Birds<\/a>, Translated by Afkham Darbandi \/ Translated by Dick Davis<\/font><\/p>\n


\n\/ Image by ruslik<\/a> \/<\/em><\/font><\/p>\n

I don\u2019t feature selections from it often enough, but Attar\u2019s Mantic at-Tayr<\/i> (The Conference of the Birds) is a long-time favorite of mine. The English language version by Afkham Darbandi and Dick Davis is good, but I still hope to read a truly great English translation someday.<\/p>\n

This version maintains the two-line rhyme scheme. So read it out loud and feel the play of the rhyming couplets. Some are, admittedly, forced in English translation, but they bring a playfulness to the piece.<\/p>\n

Moths gathered in a fluttering throng one night
\nTo learn the truth about the candle light\u2026<\/i><\/p>\n

This is really a story in poetic form, an expansion on the ancient spiritual metaphor of the moth and the flame. We have a small community of moths gathered together at night. One moth flies off, sees a palace with a candle burning in the window. The moth returns and tells the other moths of the wondrous sight he has just witnessed. The \u201cmentor of the moths\u201d (the sheikh, their spiritual leader) states flatly, \u201cHe knows nothing of the flame.\u201d<\/p>\n

Another moth flies out to see the candle, flies close enough to feel the heat and the strange fluttering desire it awakens in him, and returns. Again, the mentor moth says that he clearly hasn\u2019t understood the nature of the flame.<\/p>\n

Finally, a moth truly overcome with love for the flame flies right into it, merges with it, and is utterly consumed. The leader of the moths approvingly says that one knows the truth.<\/p>\n

So many things we can understand from this image. The flame, of course, is God, the Eternal One. And the moths are individual souls, spiritual seekers, lovers of God. We are the moths.<\/p>\n

Attar is reminding us of one of the core truths only mystics seem to remember: It is not enough to think about God, or theorize about God, or pray to God, or read about God, or subscribe to the right faith in God, or even catch glimpses of God. Regardless of one\u2019s religion or rectitude, the Divine is only ever known through direct encounter. Even the word \u201cencounter\u201d implies two who meet. No, the moth knows the real truth, light is known only through merging with it, and in merging, letting go of any sense of self that is separate. In this encounter there are not two, just one.<\/p>\n

The only way to know is to be so enamored with that fiery, entrancing Beauty that we recklessly abandon the nafs<\/i>, the little self, in order to merge with that dancing light.<\/p>\n

That fluttering, moth-like self we all think we are \u2014 it has no substance anyway. The flame teaches us this.<\/p>\n

Words fail, concepts fail, but we come to know in a greater, deeper way when we allow ourselves to be consumed.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe knows, he knows the truth we seek,
\nThat hidden truth of which we cannot speak.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n


\n

<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

<\/a>Recommended Books: Farid ud-Din Attar<\/font><\/b><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n
<\/a><\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
Poetry for the Spirit: Poems of Universal Wisdom and Beauty<\/a><\/small><\/td>\nThe Drunken Universe: An Anthology of Persian Sufi Poetry<\/a><\/small><\/td>\nMusic of a Distant Drum: Classical Arabic, Persian, Turkish & Hebrew Poems<\/a><\/small><\/td>\nPerfume of the Desert: Inspirations from Sufi Wisdom<\/a><\/small><\/td>\nThe Conference of the Birds<\/a><\/small><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
More Books >><\/a><\/i><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

<\/center>
\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\"Farid<\/a><\/td>\n\nFarid ud-Din Attar<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n

Iran\/Persia (1120? \u2013 1220?) Timeline<\/a>
\nMuslim \/ Sufi<\/a><\/a>
\n<\/a><\/a><\/em><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

<\/p>\n

Farid ud-Din Attar was born in Nishapur, in what is today north-east Iran. There is disagreement over the exact dates of his birth and death but several sources confirm that he lived about 100 years. He is traditionally said to have been killed by Mongol invaders. His tomb can be seen today in Nishapur.<\/p>\n

As a younger man, Attar went on pilgrimage to Mecca and traveled extensively, seeking wisdom in Egypt, Damascus, India, and other areas, before finally returning to his home city of Nishapur.<\/p>\n

The name Attar means herbalist or druggist, which was his profession. (The profession can also carry implications of being an alchemist.) It is said that he saw as many as 500 patients a day in his shop, prescribing herbal remedies which he prepared himself, and he wrote his poetry while attending to his patients.<\/p>\n

About thirty works by Attar survive, but his masterpiece is the Mantic at-Tayr (The Conference of the Birds). In this collection, he describes a group of birds (individual human souls) under the leadership of a hoopoe (spiritual master) who determine to search for the legendary Simurgh bird (God). The birds must confront their own individual limitations and fears while journeying through seven valleys before they ultimately find the Simurgh and complete their quest. The 30 birds who ultimately complete the quest discover that they themselves are the Simurgh they sought, playing on a pun in Persian (si and murgh can translate as 30 birds) while giving us an esoteric teaching on the presence of the Divine within us.<\/p>\n

Attar\u2019s poetry inspired Rumi and many other Sufi poets. It is said that Rumi actually met Attar when Attar was an old man and Rumi was a boy, though some scholars dispute this possibility.<\/p>\n

Farid ud-Din Attar was apparently tried at one point for heresy and exiled from Nishapur, but he eventually returned to his home city and that is where he died.<\/p>\n

A traditional story is told about Attar\u2019s death. He was taken prisoner by a Mongol during the invasion of Nishapur. Someone soon came and tried to ransom Attar with a thousand pieces of silver. Attar advised the Mongol not to sell him for that price. The Mongol, thinking to gain an even greater sum of money, refused the silver. Later, another person came, this time offering only a sack of straw to free Attar. Attar then told the Mongol to sell him for that was all he was worth. Outraged at being made a fool, the Mongol cut off Attar\u2019s head.<\/p>\n

Whether or not this is literally true isn\u2019t the point. This story is used to teach the mystical insight that the personal self isn\u2019t of much real worth. What is valuable is the Beloved\u2019s presence within us \u2014 and that presence isn\u2019t threatened by the death of the body.<\/p>\n

More poetry by Farid ud-Din Attar<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The moths and the flame by Farid ud-Din Attar English version by Afkham Darbandi and Dick Davis Moths gathered in a fluttering throng one night To learn the truth about the candle light, And they decided one of them should go To gather news of the elusive glow. One flew till in the distance he […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[44,349,787,348,622,1290,60,1958,193,1344,19],"class_list":["post-6578","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry","tag-attar","tag-conference-of-the-birds","tag-egoless","tag-farid-ud-din-attar","tag-fire","tag-flame","tag-light","tag-moth","tag-muslim-poetry","tag-nafs","tag-sufi-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6578","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6578"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6578\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6580,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6578\/revisions\/6580"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6578"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6578"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6578"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}