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Umar Ibn Farid: The Wine Ode (Sung by Abu Dawood from Sudan)
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The Egyptian Sufi ‘Umar ibn al-Fârid (1181–1235 A.D.) was revered as a Saint already in his life-time, and his much visited tomb at the foot of the Muqattam range of hills is held to be one of the seven holy places of Cairo. He ranks unquestionably among the greatest of all Arab poets. Unlike his eminent Andalusion contemporary Muhyi’d-Dîn Ibn ‘Arabî, Ibn al-Fârid wrote only poetry. His odes have been amply commented, in particular by the Damascene Sufi ‘Abd al-Ghanî an-Nâbulusî (1641–1731 A.D.)
Wine is the symbol of Gnosis and Love in their Essential Oneness, the Divine Radiance whereby all things exist and the Divine Attraction whereby all existence is reabsorbed into its Principle. This Gnosis-Love is both Transcendent and Immanent; its Subject as well as its Object is God. Being Absolute, pure Wine is only accessible to man in virtue of the Divine Self in the depth of his heart.
The full moon, its cup, is the Logos, the Spirit of Muhammad (ar-Rûh al-Muhammadî), and by extension the Spiritual Master, the Shaykh. The crescent is a disciple of promise who is ‘growing’ towards the perfection of plenitude. The tavern is the Zâwiyah where the Sufi gatherings are held, and the people of the tavern, are the initiates of the Tarîqah, that is, the order or brotherhood.
Each generation of Sufis has lamented the spiritual decadence of the present as compared with the past. The poet complains of his times by dwelling on the absence or hiddenness of the wine.
This poem, here translated into blank verse, was translated into prose by Nicholson in his Studies in Islamic Mysticism, (pp. 184-188) and by Arberry in The Mystical Poems of Ibn al-Fârid (Chester Beatty Monographs, No. 6, pp. 81-84).
Rememb’ring the belovèd, wine we drink
Which drunk had made us ere the vine’s creation.
A sun it is; the full moon is its cup;
A crescent hands it round; how many stars
Shine forth from it the moment it be mixed!
But for its fragrance ne’er had I been guided
Unto its tavern; but for its resplendence
Imagining could no image make of it.
Time its mere gasp hath left; hidden it is.
Like secrets pent in the intelligence,
Yet if it be remembered in the tribe,
All become drunk—no shame on them nor sin.
Up hath it fumed from out the vessel’s dregs.
Nothing is left of it, only a name;
Yet if that name but enter a man’s mind,
Gladness shall dwell with him and grief depart.
Had the boon revelers gazed upon its seal,
That seal, without the wine, had made them drunk.
Sprinkle a dead man’s grave with drops of it,
His spirit would return, his body quicken.
If in the shadow of the wall where spreads
Its vine they laid a man, mortally sick,
Gone were his sickness; and one paralyzed,
Brought near its tavern, would walk; the dumb would speak,
Did he its savor recollect. Its fragrance,
If wafted through the East, even in the West,
Would free, for one berheumed, his sense of smell;
And he who stained his palm, clasping its cup,
Could never, star in hand, be lost by night.
Unveil it like a bride in secrecy
Before one blind from birth: his sight would dawn.
Decant it, and the deaf would hearing have.
If riders rode out for its native earth,
And one of them were bit by snake, unharmed
By poison he. If the enchanter traced
The letters of its name on madman's brow,
That script would cure him of his lunacy;
And blazoned on the standard of a host,
Its name would make all men beneath it drunk.
In virtue the boon revelers it amends,
Makes perfect. Thus by it the irresolute
Is guided to the path of firm resolve.
Bountiful he, whose hand no bounty knew;
And he that never yet forbore forbeareth,
Despite the goad of anger. The tribe’s dunce,
Could he but kiss its filter, by that kiss
Would win the sense of all its attributes.
‘Describe it, well thou knowest how it is,’
They bid me. Yea, its qualities I know:
Not water and not air nor fire nor earth,
But purity for water, and for air
Subtlety, light for fire, spirit for earth--
Excellencies that guide to extol its good
All who would tell of it, and excellent
Their prose in praise of it, excellent their verse.
So he that knew not of it can rejoice
To hear it mentioned, as Nu‘m’s lover doth
To hear her name, whenever Nu‘m is named.
Before all beings, in Eternity
It is, ere yet was any shape or trace.
Through it things were, then it by them was veiled,
Wisely, from him who understandeth not.
My spirit loved it, was made one with it,
But not as bodies each in other merge.
Wine without vine: Adam my father is.
Vine without wine, vine mothereth it and me.
Vessels are purer for the purity
Of truths which are their content, and those truths
Are heightened by the vessels being pure.
Things have been diff’renced, and yet all is One:
Our spirits wine are, and our bodies vine.
Before it no before is, after it
No after is; absolute its privilege
To be before all afters. Ere time’s span
It pressing was, and our first father’s age
Came afterwards—parentless orphan it!
They tell me: ‘Thou hast drunk iniquity’.
Not so, I have but drunk what not to drink
Would be for me iniquitous indeed.
Good for the monastery folk, that oft
They drunken were with it, yet drank it not,
Though fain would drink. But ecstasy from it
Was mine ere I existed, shall be mine
Beyond my bones’ decaying. Drink it pure!
But if thou needs must have it mixed, ‘twere sin
To shun mouth-water from the Loved One’s lips.
Go seek it in the tavern; bid it unveil
To strains of music. They offset its worth,
For wine and care dwelt never in one place,
Even as woe with music cannot dwell.
Be drunk one hour with it, and thou shalt see
Time’s whole age as thy slave, at thy command.
He hath not lived here, who hath sober lived,
And he that dieth not drunk hath missed the mark.
With tears then let him mourn himself, whose life
Hath passed, and he no share of it hath had.
Wine is the symbol of Gnosis and Love in their Essential Oneness, the Divine Radiance whereby all things exist and the Divine Attraction whereby all existence is reabsorbed into its Principle. This Gnosis-Love is both Transcendent and Immanent; its Subject as well as its Object is God. Being Absolute, pure Wine is only accessible to man in virtue of the Divine Self in the depth of his heart.
The full moon, its cup, is the Logos, the Spirit of Muhammad (ar-Rûh al-Muhammadî), and by extension the Spiritual Master, the Shaykh. The crescent is a disciple of promise who is ‘growing’ towards the perfection of plenitude. The tavern is the Zâwiyah where the Sufi gatherings are held, and the people of the tavern, are the initiates of the Tarîqah, that is, the order or brotherhood.
Each generation of Sufis has lamented the spiritual decadence of the present as compared with the past. The poet complains of his times by dwelling on the absence or hiddenness of the wine.
This poem, here translated into blank verse, was translated into prose by Nicholson in his Studies in Islamic Mysticism, (pp. 184-188) and by Arberry in The Mystical Poems of Ibn al-Fârid (Chester Beatty Monographs, No. 6, pp. 81-84).
Rememb’ring the belovèd, wine we drink
Which drunk had made us ere the vine’s creation.
A sun it is; the full moon is its cup;
A crescent hands it round; how many stars
Shine forth from it the moment it be mixed!
But for its fragrance ne’er had I been guided
Unto its tavern; but for its resplendence
Imagining could no image make of it.
Time its mere gasp hath left; hidden it is.
Like secrets pent in the intelligence,
Yet if it be remembered in the tribe,
All become drunk—no shame on them nor sin.
Up hath it fumed from out the vessel’s dregs.
Nothing is left of it, only a name;
Yet if that name but enter a man’s mind,
Gladness shall dwell with him and grief depart.
Had the boon revelers gazed upon its seal,
That seal, without the wine, had made them drunk.
Sprinkle a dead man’s grave with drops of it,
His spirit would return, his body quicken.
If in the shadow of the wall where spreads
Its vine they laid a man, mortally sick,
Gone were his sickness; and one paralyzed,
Brought near its tavern, would walk; the dumb would speak,
Did he its savor recollect. Its fragrance,
If wafted through the East, even in the West,
Would free, for one berheumed, his sense of smell;
And he who stained his palm, clasping its cup,
Could never, star in hand, be lost by night.
Unveil it like a bride in secrecy
Before one blind from birth: his sight would dawn.
Decant it, and the deaf would hearing have.
If riders rode out for its native earth,
And one of them were bit by snake, unharmed
By poison he. If the enchanter traced
The letters of its name on madman's brow,
That script would cure him of his lunacy;
And blazoned on the standard of a host,
Its name would make all men beneath it drunk.
In virtue the boon revelers it amends,
Makes perfect. Thus by it the irresolute
Is guided to the path of firm resolve.
Bountiful he, whose hand no bounty knew;
And he that never yet forbore forbeareth,
Despite the goad of anger. The tribe’s dunce,
Could he but kiss its filter, by that kiss
Would win the sense of all its attributes.
‘Describe it, well thou knowest how it is,’
They bid me. Yea, its qualities I know:
Not water and not air nor fire nor earth,
But purity for water, and for air
Subtlety, light for fire, spirit for earth--
Excellencies that guide to extol its good
All who would tell of it, and excellent
Their prose in praise of it, excellent their verse.
So he that knew not of it can rejoice
To hear it mentioned, as Nu‘m’s lover doth
To hear her name, whenever Nu‘m is named.
Before all beings, in Eternity
It is, ere yet was any shape or trace.
Through it things were, then it by them was veiled,
Wisely, from him who understandeth not.
My spirit loved it, was made one with it,
But not as bodies each in other merge.
Wine without vine: Adam my father is.
Vine without wine, vine mothereth it and me.
Vessels are purer for the purity
Of truths which are their content, and those truths
Are heightened by the vessels being pure.
Things have been diff’renced, and yet all is One:
Our spirits wine are, and our bodies vine.
Before it no before is, after it
No after is; absolute its privilege
To be before all afters. Ere time’s span
It pressing was, and our first father’s age
Came afterwards—parentless orphan it!
They tell me: ‘Thou hast drunk iniquity’.
Not so, I have but drunk what not to drink
Would be for me iniquitous indeed.
Good for the monastery folk, that oft
They drunken were with it, yet drank it not,
Though fain would drink. But ecstasy from it
Was mine ere I existed, shall be mine
Beyond my bones’ decaying. Drink it pure!
But if thou needs must have it mixed, ‘twere sin
To shun mouth-water from the Loved One’s lips.
Go seek it in the tavern; bid it unveil
To strains of music. They offset its worth,
For wine and care dwelt never in one place,
Even as woe with music cannot dwell.
Be drunk one hour with it, and thou shalt see
Time’s whole age as thy slave, at thy command.
He hath not lived here, who hath sober lived,
And he that dieth not drunk hath missed the mark.
With tears then let him mourn himself, whose life
Hath passed, and he no share of it hath had.
(Martin Lings)
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