Original content

English translation

He said: We were angels at first; we had traversed the road of obedience with our soul. We were confidants of the travelers on the path; we were companions of the dwellers of the Throne. How can a first calling leave the heart? When does a first love go out of the heart? If, on a journey, you see Rum or Khutan, when does love of homeland leave your heart? We too were once among the intoxicated with this wine; we were lovers at His threshold. Our navel cord was cut on love for Him; His love was planted in our soul. We had seen fair days from fortune; in spring we had drunk the water of mercy. Was it not His hand of grace that planted us? Was it not He who raised us up from nonexistence? How often we had seen kindness from Him; we had wandered in the rose-garden of His good pleasure. He would place the hand of mercy on our head; He would open springs of gentleness from us. In my infancy, when I was seeking milk, who rocked my cradle but He? From whom did I drink milk other than His milk? Who raised me except His governance? A disposition that entered existence with the milk: how can it be detached from a person? If the ocean of generosity made a rebuke, when are the doors of generosity closed? The true coin of Him is giving, kindness, and bounty; wrath in relation to Him is like a dust-cloud from adulteration. He made the world for the sake of kindness; His sun cherished the atoms. If separation from His wrath is pregnant, it is so that the worth of union with Him may be known, so that His separation may cuff the soul and the soul may know the worth of the days of union. The Prophet said that God has declared: My intention in creation was beneficence. I created so that they might gain benefit from Me, so that they might put their hands into My honey; not so that I might gain a benefit, or take a cloak from one who is naked. For the few days He has driven me from before Him, my eye has remained fixed on His beautiful face. From such a face, such wrath: how strange! Everyone has become occupied with causes. I do not look at the cause, for it is originated; for an originated thing is the cause of another originated thing. I gaze on the prior kindness; whatever is originated, I split it in two. Suppose my leaving prostration was from envy: that envy arises from love, not from denial. Every envy surely arises from affection, when someone else becomes the beloved friend's companion. The condition of friendship is enduring jealousy, just as the condition of a sneeze is saying, 'Live long.' Since on His gaming-board there was no play but this, He said, 'Play'; what do I know of any increase? I lost that one game that there was, and cast myself into affliction. Even in affliction I taste His delights; I am checkmated by Him, checkmated by Him, checkmated by Him. O noble one, how can anyone free himself from a six-doored trap in the six directions? How can a part of the six escape from the whole of the six, especially when the Formless One sets it crooked? Whoever is inside His six is in fire; He will rescue him, for He is the Creator of the six. Whether it is disbelief or faith, it is woven by His Presence's hand, and is His.