I am not subject to space, therefore I know no 'where', I am not subject to time, therefore I know no 'when', What space-time is I am, and nothing finite appertains to me.
Being nowhere I am every 'where', being everywhere I am no 'where', For I am neither any 'where' nor no 'where', Neither inside nor outside any thing or no thing, Neither above nor below, before nor after, at either side of any or no thing.
I do not belong to that which is perceptible or knowable, Since perceiving and knowing is what I am, I am not beyond hither or thither, within or without, Because they too are what I am.
I am not extended in space, I am not developed in duration; All these are my manifestations, all these are conceptual images of what I am, For it is my absence, my absolute absence, which renders concepts conceivable.
I am ubiquitous, both as absence and as presence, Since, as I, I am neither present nor absent. I can never be known as an object in mind, For I am what is knowing, and even 'mind' is my object.
As long as there is a 'you' doing or not-doing anything, thinking or not-thinking, 'meditating' or 'not-meditating', you are no nearer home than the day you were 'born'.
However many years you may have been at it, and whatever you have understood or have not-understood, you have not yet started if there is a 'you' that is still in the saddle.
As long as you do anything as from a 'you', you are in 'bondage'.
Here the word you stands for any object that appears to act or not to act, that is any phenomenon as such. 'You' stands for any such object which believes that it acts volitionally as an autonomous entity, and is thereby bound by identification with a phenomenon.
Let us say it again: as long as there is a pseudo-entity apparently doing or not-doing anything, thinking or not-thinking, meditating or not-meditating, that phenomenon is no nearer home than the day it was apparently born.
However many years a phenomenon may have been at it, and whatever it has understood or not-understood, it has not yet started if there is a pseudo-entity that is still in the saddle.
As long as a phenomenon does anything as from a pseudo-entity, it is in 'bondage'.
The difference is between what you are and what you think you are but are not, 'bondage' being identification of the former with the latter.
Again: the difference is between This which every phenomenon is and That which no phenomenon is, 'bondage' being identification of the former with the latter.
That, in very simple language, is the pseudo-mystery, the so-called insoluble problem, the joke that made Lazarus Laugh.
II
Treating this matter in the first person singular, it becomes a question of what we mean when we say 'I'.
If in saying 'I' we speak as from a psycho-somatic phenomenon that believes itself to be an independent entity acting or not-acting autonomously as a result of its own volition, then no matter what we may know or ignore, what we may have practised or not-practised, we are well and truly in bondage.
If in saying 'I' - although we may speak as from a phenomenon that appears to act or not to act (as observed by other phenomena and by 'itself') - we do not regard that phenomenon as possessing of its own right and nature any autonomy or volition, and so is properly to be regarded not as 'I' but as 'it', then since such phenomenon is not 'in the saddle' I am not identified with it, and I am not in bondage.
In this latter case the word 'I' is subjective only, as the word 'Je' in French, and for the accusative (or objective) case the word 'me' is necessary, as is 'moi' in French, even after the verb 'to be', for 'I' have no objective quality whatever, and all that could be called 'me' can never in any circumstances have any subjective quality, so that what I am as 'I' is purely noumenal and what I appear to be as 'me' is exclusively phenomenal. So that in saying 'I', if we speak or act as from what we are - from impersonal noumenality, with the spontaneity that is called 'Tao', there is no longer any question of bondage, for there is no longer any supposed entity to be bound.
III
There is a further stage of fulfilment, in which complete reintegration takes place. Therein 'I' and 'it', 'I' and 'you', subject and object, lose all elements of difference. Of this stage only the fully integrated can be qualified to speak with authority, for herein no differentiation any longer is possible.
I am you, you are I, subject is object, and object is subject, each is either and either is both, for phenomena are noumenon and noumenon is phenomena.
This is the end of the big joke, the final peal of laughter, for it, too, is so simple and obvious that only the blindfold should fail to see it, or could see it in any other manner.
Said as we say it, however that may be, it can never be true; said as the integrated say it, however that may be - even in the self-same words - it cannot be false: for what is neither false nor true cannot be false as it cannot be true. It is what it is - and whatever it be called, that it can never be.
The only vision I have is your sight The only thing I follow is your light. Everyone finds his repose in sleep, Sleep from my eyes has taken flight.
2 Pick up the joy giving wine and come hither. Temptations of mean foes decline and come hither. Don’t listen to the one who says sit down and stay; Listen to me, pick up the line and come hither.
3 I said, your lips said, your lips we revive; I said, your mouth said, sweetness we derive; I said your words, he said, Hafiz said; May all sweet lips be joyous and alive. 4 One, beautiful and full of grace Mirror in hand, grooming her face My handkerchief I offered, she smiled, Is this gift also part of the chase?
5 I put my arms around your waist, A lover’s embrace to taste. From your resolve it’s obvious All my efforts will go to waste.
6 You are the moon and the sun is your slave; As your slave, it like you must behave. It is only your luminosity and light That light of sun and moon can save.
7 A new challenge everyday You keep away and delay; When I act to close the gap Fate says there is a bigger play.
8 My beloved is brighter than the sun, Put in the heavens, my only one. Placed the hearts upon the earth To watch the sun’s daily run.
9 My broken heart’s sorrows are deep. Painful, disturbed, broken my sleep. If you don’t believe, send me your thoughts And you will see how in sleep I weep.
10 Candle’s story how can I tell? Of the broken heart’s living hell? My sorrow is in how I can find Another who knows these sorrows well.
11 First enticed me to take the cup, When I got drunk, told me to stop. My eyes watery, my heart on fire, I became dust and your wind picked me up.
12 All treasures ain’t worth this oppression. All pleasures ain’t worth one transgression. Not even seven thousand years of joy Is worth seven days of depression.
13 Every friend who talked of love, became a foe. Every eagle shifted its shape to a crow. They say the night is pregnant, and I say, Who is the father? And how do you know?
14 Since the flower withers in the dark, The bud blooms to leave its mark, Happy is the heart, light as a bubble, At the tavern is naked, stark.
15 Spend time with wine by a stream, And let sorrows away stream. My life, like a rose, is but few days; Youthful and joyous live this dream.
16 This rose is from the dust of one like me. His joy within the rose, thus I can see. My companion and confidant it is, because The colorful rose brings the sweet scent of he.
17 With fate you still hope to trade; Passage of time should make you afraid. You said no color comes after black, I said my black hair to white degrade.
18 In times of youth, drinking is better. With the joyful, linking is better. The world is a mere temporal inn; With the shipwrecked, sinking is better.
19 You can buy everyone with gold; Either in one shot, or slowly are sold. Even the narcissus, pride of the world, Sold itself, why, its crown of gold behold.
20 This tired life is the flood of age, With a full cup began this outrage. Wake up, and see the carrier of time Slowly carries you along life’s passage.
21 Don’t make me fall in love with that face Don’t let the drunk the wine seller embrace. Sufi, you know the pace of this path, The lovers and drunks don’t disgrace.
22 I needed to hang on to her curly ring, Help me please, let my affairs take wing. Said, release my hair, instead take my lips, Let go of long life, with good times swing.
23 From warriors learn courage, And wisdom from the sage. If you truly seek God’s grace, Ride with the heavenly carriage.
24 At dawn your eyes from Jupiter learn O God, may fantasies of my mind burn. The ear adorned with that elegant ring Gems of Hafiz’s poems may earn.
25 O friend, from your foes your heart release, In pleasant company drink the good wine with ease. Confer with those who know, open your heart And from the ignorant fleas flee like the breeze.
26 One with such beauty none will make. When her garments off we take You can see her heart in her fragile breast, Like a hard rock in a clear lake.
27 The morning breeze tended to the rose, A maid-in-waiting, as the flower grows. If in the sun you have a shady refuge, Seek the shade of a rose, and one who glows.
28 Don’t let go of the cup’s lips Till you receive your worldly tips. Bittersweet is the world’s cup From lover’s lips and the cup sips.
29 I long for your hug and kiss, I want the wine that will bliss. Let me cut the story short, Please return, cause you I miss.
30 I spent my life chasing my wishes What benefits fate furnishes? Whomever to I said I loved you, Turned to my foe, why my luck ravishes?
31 My life has only brought me sorrow; Love’s good and bad only taught me sorrow. My constant companion is only pain, My lover has only bought me sorrow.
32 When there is wine, no need to cry; Army of sorrows, no need to defy. Your lips are green, bring forth the wine. Drinking at the green, everyone must try.
33 Beauty of the rose you eclipse, Every bud quietly away slips. How can the rose compete with you? Rose shines in moonlight, moon in your grips.
34 Your eyes enrapture, and colors pour, Alas, your love’s arrows score. Too soon you gave up on the lovers, Alas, your heart has rocks in store.
35 O breeze, my story quietly share, My heart’s secrets, to whoever you care. Tell not to upset or bring sorrow, Share them with a heart that’s aware.
36 Every flower its beauty bestows, Your lips the dearest gems dispose. May your lips nurture our souls With the wine that every spirit knows.
37 Let not your thoughts constantly be fought, Let thoughts in patience and joy be caught. What patience? Cause what they call the heart Is a drop of blood, and a thousand thought.
38 Bring me the cup that preys on joy; Bring me a lover who is shy and coy. The wine that twists and turns like a chain Bring me to enslave and destroy.
39 With good company and harp and reed In a corner, jug of wine and time to heed, The warmth of wine runs through my veins, Why should I succumb to my greed?
40 O divider of heaven and hell bring relief, Don’t let us give in to our grief. How long upon our lives you prey? Why don’t you hunt our lives’ thief?
41 I wish that fate would cease this carnage, And to the lovers give their due wage. In times of youth the rein in my hands, Now on the saddle, I ride in old age.
42
If like me, you too fall in this trap, Hold the wine and cup upon your lap. We are the lovers, burning our tracks, Join us, if you can put up with the crap.
