Original content

English translation

The Chinese said, 'We are better painters'; the Romans said, 'Ours is honor and splendor.' The sultan said, 'I want a test in this, to see which of you is superior in your claim.' When the people of China and Rome were present, the Romans were more deeply acquainted with the knowledge. The Chinese said, 'Entrust one room specially to us, and one to you.' There were two rooms facing each other, door to door; the Chinese took one and the Romans the other. The Chinese asked the king for a hundred colors; then that noble one opened the treasury. Every morning, colors from the treasury were allotted to the Chinese as a stipend from his bounty. The Romans said, 'Neither design nor color is fitting for the work, only the removal of rust.' They closed the door and kept polishing; they became simple and clear like the heavens. From multicoloredness there is a way to colorlessness; color is like the cloud, and colorlessness is like the moon. Whatever light and radiance you see in the cloud, know it comes from the star, the moon, and the sun. When the Chinese had finished their work, they beat drums for joy. The king entered and saw the images there; they stole away reason and understanding. After that he came toward the Romans; they lifted the curtain from between. The reflection of those images and works struck upon these polished walls. Whatever he had seen there appeared better here; it stole the eye from its socket. The Romans are the Sufis, O father, without repetition, book, or skill. But they have polished those breasts, clean of greed, covetousness, miserliness, and rancor. That mirror-like purity is the attribute of the heart; it can receive the infinite Form. The formless Form of the boundless Unseen shone from the mirror of the heart upon Moses from the bosom. Although that Form is not contained in the celestial sphere, nor in Throne, earth, sea, or fish, for those are limited and numbered; the mirror of the heart has no such limit. Reason here becomes silent or misleading, for the heart is either He, or He Himself is the heart. The reflection of every form does not shine forever except from the heart, both with number and without number. Forever, every new form that comes upon it appears within it without veil. The people of polishing have escaped scent and color; at every moment they behold beauty without delay. They left aside the form and husk of knowledge; they raised the banner of direct certainty. Thought departed and they found luminosity; they found the breast and sea of intimacy. Death, from which all these others are terrified, this people laughs at it. No one gains victory over their hearts; harm comes to the shell, not to the pearl. Although they left grammar and jurisprudence behind, they took up the effacement of poverty. Thus the forms of the eight paradises have shone and found the tablet of their hearts receptive. They are above Throne, Footstool, and void, dwellers in God's seat of truth.