Hakim Sanai Afghanistan (1044? - 1150?)
Poems by Hakim Sanai
Not much is known known about Hakim Sanai, often just just called Sanai or Sanai Sanai of Ghazna. Sanai is one of the earlier Sufi poets. He was born in the province of Ghazna in southern Afghanistan Afghanistan in the middle of the 11th century and probably died around 1150. Rumi acknowledged Sanai and Attar as his two primary inspirations, inspirations, saying, "Attar is the soul and Sanai its two eyes, I came after Sanai and Attar." Sanai was originally a court poet who was engaged in writing praises for the Sultan of Ghazna. The story is told of how the Sultan decided to lead a military attack against neighboring India and Sanai, as a court poet, was summoned to join the expedition to record the Sultan's exploits. As Sanai was making his way to the court, he passed an enclosed enclosed garden frequented frequented by a notorious notorious drunk named named Lai Khur. As Sanai was passing by, he heard Lai Khur loudly proclaim a toast to the blindness of the the Sultan for greedily choosing choosing to attack India, India, when there was was so much beauty in Ghazna. Sanai was shocked and stopped. Lai Khur then proposed a toast to the blindness of the famous young poet Sanai who, with his gifts of insight and expression, couldn't see the pointlessness of his existence as a poet praising such a foolish Sultan. These words were like an earthquake to Hakim Sanai, because he knew they were true. He abandoned his life as a pampered court poet, even declining marriage to the Sultan's own sister, and began to study with a Sufi master named Yusef Hamdani. Sanai soon went on pilgrimage to Mecca. When he returned, he composed his
poetic masterpiece, masterpiece, Hadiqatu'l Haqiqat Haqiqat or The Walled Walled Garden of Truth. There was a double meaning in this title for, in Persian, the word for a garden is the same word for paradise, but it was also from within a walled garden that Lai Khur uttered the harsh truths that set Hakim Sanai on the path of wisdom. And if, my friend, you ask m e the way wa y
by Hakim Sanai
English version version by D.L. Pendlebury Pendlebury Original Language Persian/Farsi Persian/Farsi And if, my friend, you ask me the way, I'll tell you plainly, it is this: to turn your face toward the world of life, and turn your back on rank and reputation; and, spurning outward prosperity, to bend your back double in his service; to part company with those who deal in words, and take your place in the presence of the wordless. Belief and unb elief elief
by Hakim Sanai
English version version by D.L. Pendlebury Pendlebury Original Language Persian/Farsi Persian/Farsi Belief and unbelief both have their origin in your hypocrite's heart; the way is only long because you delay to start on it: one single step would bring you to him: become a slave, and you will be a king. Belief brings me close to You
by Hakim Sanai
English version by Priya Hemenway Original Language Persian/Farsi Belief brings me close to You but only to the door. It is only by disappearing into Your mystery that I will come in. Bloo m Lik e a Rose
by Hakim Sanai
English version by David and Sabrineh Fideler Original Language Persian/Farsi Your heartrending fire made me bloom like a rose. I died at your feet and returned fast to life. My inborn freedom offered nothing in profit; but now I am free, since becoming your slave L o v e 's c o n q u e r o r i s h e
by Hakim Sanai
English version by D.L. Pendlebury Original Language Persian/Farsi Love's conqueror is he whom love conquers. Apply yourself, hand and foot, to the search;
but when you reach the sea, stop talking of the stream. Meditation
by Hakim Sanai
English version by Peter Lamborn Wilson and Nasrollah Pourjavady Original Language Persian/Farsi Collect your mind's fragments that you may fill yourself bit by bit with Meaning: the slave who meditates on the mysteries of Creation for sixty minutes gains more merit than from sixty years of fasting and prayer. Meditation: high-soaring hawk of Intellect's wrist resting at last on the flowering branch of the Heart: this world and the next are hidden beneath its folded wing. Now perched before the mud hut which is Earth now clasping with its talons a branch of the Tree of Paradise soaring here striking there -- each moment fresh prey gobbling a mouthful of moonlight wheeling away beyond the sun
darting between the Great Wheel's star-set spokes, it rips to shreds the Footstool and the Throne a Pigeon's feather in its beak -or a comet -till finally free of everything it alights, silent on a topmost bough. Hunting is king's sport, not just anyone's pastime but you? you've hooded the falcon -- what can I say? -clipped its pinions broken its wings... alas. Mystic Chat
by Hakim Sanai
English version by Peter Lamborn Wilson and Nasrollah Pourjavady Original Language Persian/Farsi My dear! You haven't the feet for this path -why struggle? You've no idea where the idol's to be found -what's all this mystic chat? What can be done with quarrelsome fellow travelers, boastful marketplace morons?
If you were really a lover you'd see that faith and infidelity are one... Oh, what's the use? nit-picking about such things is a hobby for numb brains. You are pure spirit but imagine yourself a corpse! pure water which thinks it's the pot! Everything you want must be searched for -except the Friend. If you don't find Him you'll never be able to start to even look. Yes, you can be sure: You are not Him -unless you can remove yourself from between yourself and Him -in which case you are Him.
-- from The Drunken Universe: An Anthology of Persian Sufi Poetry, Translated by Peter Lamborn Wilson / Translated by Nasrollah Pourjavady
Naked in the B ee-Hous e
by Hakim Sanai
English version by Coleman Barks Original Language Persian/Farsi Being humble is right for you now. Don't thrash around showing your strength. You're naked in the bee-house! It doesn't matter how powerful your arms and legs are. To God, that is more of a lie than your weakness is. In his doorway your prestige and your physical energy are just dust on your face. Be helpless and completely poor. And don't try to meet his eye! That's like signing a paper that honors yourself. If you can take care of things, do so! But when you're living at home with God, you neither sew the world together with desires nor tear it apart with disappointments. In that place existence itself is illusion. All that is, is one. Lost in that, your personal form becomes a vast, empty mosque. When you hold on to yourself, you're a fire-worshipping temple.
Dissolve, and let everything get done. When you don't, you're an untrained colt, full of erratic loving and biting. Loyal sometimes, then treacherous. Be more like the servant who owns nothing and is neither hungry nor satisfied, who has no hopes for anything, and no fear of anyone. An owl living near the king's palace is considered a bird of misfortune, ragged and ominous. But off in the woods, sitting alone, its feathers grow splendid and sleek like the Phoenix restored. Musk should not be kept near water or heat. The dampness and the dryness spoil its fragrance. But when the musk is at home in the musk bladder, fire and wetness mean nothing. In God's doorway your guilt and your virtue don't count. Whether you're Muslim, or Christian, or fire-worshipper, the categories disappear. You're seeking, and God is what is sought, the essence beyond any cause. External theological learning moves like a moon and fades when the sun of experience rises. We are here for a week, or less. We arrive and leave almost simultaneously. To be is not to be. The Qur'an says, "They go hastening, with the Light running on before them."
Clear the way! Muhammed says, "How fine!" A sigh goes out, and there is union. Forget how you came to this gate, your history. Let that be as if it had not been. Do you think the day plans its course by what the rooster says? God does not depend on any of his creatures. Your existence or non-existence is insignificant. Many like you have come here before. When the fountain of light is pouring, there's no need to urge it on! That's like a handful of straw trying to help the sun. "This way! Please, let this light through!" The sun doesn't need an announcer. The lamp you carry is your self-reliance. The sun is something else! Half a sneeze might extinguish your langern, whereas all a winter's windiness cannot put That out. The road you must take has no particular name. It's the one composed of your own sighing and giving up. What you've been doing is not devotion. Your hoping and worrying are like donkeys wandering loose, sometimes docile, or suddenly mean. Your face looks wise at times, and ashamed at others. There is another way, a pure blankness where those are one expression.
Omar once saw a group of boys on the road challenging each other to wrestle. They were all claiming to be champions, but when Omar, the fierce and accomplished warrior, came near, they scattered. All but one, Abdullah Zubair. Omar asked, "Why didn't you run?" "Why should I? You are not a tyrant, and I am not guilty." When someone knows his own inner value, he doesn't care about being accepted or rejected by anyone else. The prince here is strong and just. Stand wondering in his presence. There is nothing but That.
-- from The Hand of Poetry: Five Mystic Poets of Persia, with Lectures by Inayat Khan, Translated by Coleman Barks <
>
/ Photo by ewan traveler /
View All Poems by Hakim Sanai
Commentary by Ivan M. Granger
Ivan re-emerges... It is fascinating to me how my worst bouts of fatigue and illness seem to coincide with world trauma and political upheaval. Since Sunday I've been essentially bedridden. I've only started to come out of it as of last night. Then I turn on the news and discover how the terrible wound in Gaza has been re-opened with so much suffering. The repercussions of these events are worse than the immediate devastation and personal tragedies being shown (or not being shown) on the news. A good time to send healing prayers to the region -- along with a firm
application of political and social pressure to insist on restraint.
The cruelties of the world can make one feel naked in the bee-house, entirely vulnerable, revealing the illusions of our "strength." There are so many delightful lines and images in this poem, but today I thought I'd focus on a short section that is not the most transfixing on a poetic level, but one that I keep returning to... If you can take care of things, do so! But when you're living at home with God, you neither sew the world together with desires nor tear it apart with disappointments.
That first statement -- "If you can take care of things, do so!" -immediately negates the temptation to interpret the poet's words as a justification for passivity. We are given bodies for one purpose: to interact in a world of action. We are not disconnected spectators. As body dwellers, we are inherently beings of action, and being interconnected we act with each other and for each other. But the intensity of action and the world perceived by the senses can confuse us, leading us to imagine that reality is somehow held together by our actions and injured by our failures. This belief leads to inflation of ego in success, and a crippling psychic burden when success evades us. And then we get caught in the cycle of taking only actions we think will succeed and avoiding all others. Our actions grow smaller, safer, more predictable. We all feel this gravitational pressure to some extent.
But-- when we remember that we are first and foremost beings with vast interior spaces, beings of awareness and intention, we break that ever tightening cycle. We step free from the idea of a mechanical world of action and reaction, action graded with a pass or fail. Instead, we understand action as a form of ritual. We begin to see action as enaction. Action flows outward from those great interior halls of the heart. Action becomes expression. Yes, we still strive to take effective action, we measure the results and improve future actions, but we are not enthralled by those results. We take action simply because it is our nature to act. And we act because the awakening heart prompts us to act. The results are left to that greater Reality. Freed from "results" and "success," we can then act in ways that are right for the simple reason that it is right. Right action heals in ways that even "success" cannot always match. In Hinduism, this might be called Karma Yoga. I prefer not to call it anything. It is simply the nature of being in the world. This is where we stand wondering... Have a beautiful day, inside and out. And if you celebrate Thanksgiving, may it be a special day. No tong ue can tell Your secret
by Hakim Sanai
English version by Priya Hemenway Original Language Persian/Farsi No tongue can tell Your secret for the measure of the word obscures Your nature.
But the gift of the ear is that it hears what the tongue cannot tell.
-- from The Book of Everything: Journey of the Heart's Desire, by Hakim Sanai Al-Ghaznavi / Translated by Priya Hemenway Streaming
by Hakim Sanai
English version by Coleman Barks Original Language Persian/Farsi When the path ignites a soul, there's no remaining in place. The foot touches ground, but not for long. The way where love tells its secret stays always in motion, and there is no you there, and no reason. The rider urges his horse to gallop, and so doing, throws himself under the flying hooves. In love-unity there's no old or new. Everything is nothing. God alone is. For lovers the phenomena-veil is very transparent, and the delicate tracings on it cannot be explained with language. Clouds burn off as the sun rises, and the love-world floods with light.
But cloud-water can be obscuring, as well as useful. There is an affection that covers the glory, rather than dissolving into it. It's a subtle difference, like the change in Persian from the word "friendship" to the word "work." That happens with just a dot above or below the third letter. There is a seeing of the beauty of union that doesn't actively work for the inner conversation. Your hand and feet must move, as a stream streams, working as its Self, to get to the ocean. Then there's no more mention of the search. Being famous, or being a disgrace, who's ahead or behind, these considerations are rocks and clogged places that slow you. Be as naked as a wheat grain out of its husk and sleek as Adam. Don't ask for anything other than the presence. Don't speak of a "you" apart from That. A full container cannot be more full. Be whole, and nothing.
-- from The Hand of Poetry: Five Mystic Poets of Persia, with Lectures by Inayat Khan, Translated by Coleman Barks <>
View All Poems by Hakim Sanai
Commentary by Ivan M. Granger
What a wonderful poem on the spiritual path. There is so much to contemplate in this poem, but one of my favorite verses is: "The rider urges his horse to gallop, / and so doing, throws himself / under the flying hooves." That's a striking image, but disturbing. What does Sanai mean by this? The horse we ride is our love for the Divine. Urging that horse to a gallop is to raise that love to a high passion through spiritual practice. The "self" that we must throw under the "flying hooves" of divine love is the ego-self, the false self that slices up reality, proclaiming, "I like this, this is mine. I dislike that, that has nothing to do with me." When that petty self is courageously thrown beneath the driving of divine love, we are surprised to find that our true Self lives. That self is actually the one riding the horse, it is the horse, it is the path the horse streams along. That greater self is not separate from anything; it is a part of the Divine Beloved. This is what Sanai refers to when, at the end he tells us, "Don't speak of a 'you' / apart from That." Take everythin g away
by Hakim Sanai
English version by Priya Hemenway Original Language Persian/Farsi Take everything away and leave me alone with You. Close every door and open the one to You.
-- from The Book of Everything: Journey of the Heart's Desire, by Hakim Sanai Al-Ghaznavi / Translated by Priya Hemenway The Good Darkness
by Hakim Sanai
English version by Coleman Barks Original Language Persian/Farsi There is great joy in darkness. Deepen it. Blushing embarrassments in the half-light confuse, but a scorched, blackened, face can laugh like an Ethiopian, or a candled moth, coming closer to God. Brighter than any moon, Bilal, Muhammed's Black Friend, shadowed him on the night journey. Keep your deepest secret hidden in the dark beneath daylight's uncovering and night's spreading veil.
Whatever's given you by those two is for your desires. They poison, eventually. Deeper down, where your face gets erased, where life-water runs silently, there's a prison with no food and drink, and no moral instruction, that opens on a garden where there's only God. No self, only the creation-word, BE. You, listening to me, roll up the carpet of time and space. Step beyond, into the one word. In blindness, receive what I say. Take "There is no good..." for your wealth and your strength. Let "There is nothing..." be a love-wisdom in your wine.
-- from The Hand of Poetry: Five Mystic Poets of Persia, with Lectures by Inayat Khan, Translated by Coleman Barks The Way of the Holy Ones
by Hakim Sanai
English version by Andrew Harvey Original Language Persian/Farsi Don't speak of your suffering -- He is speaking. Don't look for Him everywhere -- He's looking for you. An ant's foot touches a leaf, He senses it; A pebble shifts in a streambed, He knows it. If there's a worm hidden deep in a rock,
He'll know its body, tinier than an atom, The sound of its praise, its secret ecstasy -All this He knows by divine knowing. He has given the tiniest worm its food; He has opened to you the Way of the Holy Ones.
-- from Perfume of the Desert: Inspirations from Sufi Wisdom, by Andrew Harvey / Eryk Hanut
The way to You
by Hakim Sanai
English version by Priya Hemenway Original Language Persian/Farsi The way to You lies clearly in my heart and cannot be seen or known to the mind. As my words turn to silence, Your sweetness surrounds me.
-- from The Book of Everything: Journey of the Heart's Desire, by Hakim Sanai Al-Ghaznavi / Translated by Priya Hemenway The Wild Rose of Praise
by Hakim Sanai
English version by Coleman Barks Original Language Persian/Farsi Those unable to grieve, or to speak of their love, or to be grateful, those
who can't remember God as the source of everything, might be described as a vacant wind, or a cold anvil, or a group of frightened old people. Say the Name. Moisten your tongue with praise, and be the spring ground, waking. Let your mouth be given its gold-yellow stamen like the wild rose's. As you fill with wisdom, and your heart with love, there's no more thirst. There's only unselfed patience waiting on the doorsill, a silence which doesn't listen to advice from people passing in the street.
-- from The Hand of Poetry: Five Mystic Poets of Persia, with Lectures by Inayat Khan, Translated by Coleman Barks T h en t h r o u g h t h a t d i m m u r k i n es s
by Hakim Sanai
English version by Coleman Barks Original Language Persian/Farsi Then through that dim murkiness, I saw an old man with a radiant face. "You are the moon!" I called out. "Where did you come from?" "I am beyond substance and space. I am creation's cause, here to lead you
back to your home. Hold close. and let my fire consume you. Don't be afraid of losing your strength here. This fire is one which has a spring of eternal water inside it. As your animal-soul dies, your new soul will be born. Live humbly with me, and I will raise you into majesty." He talked more to me in silence, without using syllables. He gave me love and light and eyes to see, and together we set out.
-- from The Hand of Poetry: Five Mystic Poets of Persia, with Lectures by Inayat Khan, Translated by Coleman Barks There is no place for p lace!
by Hakim Sanai
English version by Ivan M. Granger Original Language Persian/Farsi There is no place for place! How can a place house the maker of all space, or the vast sky enclose the maker of heaven? He told me: "I am a homeless treasure. The world was made to give you a place to stand and see me." Tell me, if the one you seek is placeless, why put your shoes on?
The real road is found by polishing, polishing the mirror of your heart.
-- from Real Thirst: Poetry of the Spiritual Journey, by Ivan M. Granger
Until you are comp lete
by Hakim Sanai
English version by D. L. Pendlebury Original Language Persian/Farsi Until you are complete, a bridge has been prepared; but once you have become complete, what are bridge and river to you?
-- from The Walled Garden of Truth, by Hakim Sanai / Translated by David Pendlebury We tried reasoning
by Hakim Sanai
English version by D.L. Pendlebury Original Language Persian/Farsi We tried reasoning our way to him; it didn't work; but the moment we gave up, no obstacle remained.
-- from The Walled Garden of Truth, by Hakim Sanai / Translated by David Pendlebury When he adm its you to his presence
by Hakim Sanai
English version by D.L. Pendlebury Original Language Persian/Farsi When he admits you to his presence ask from him nothing other than himself. When he has chosen you for a friend, you have seen all that there is to see. There's no duality in the world of love: what's all this talk of 'you' and 'me'? How can you fill a cup that's full already?
-- from The Walled Garden of Truth, by Hakim Sanai / Translated by David Pendlebury Your intellect is just a hotc h-potch
by Hakim Sanai
English version by D.L. Pendlebury Original Language Persian/Farsi Your intellect is just a hotch-potch of guesswork and thought, limping over the face of the earth; wherever they are, he is not; they are contained within his creation. Man and his reason are just the latest ripening plants in his garden. Whatever you assert about his nature, you are bound to be out of your depth, like a blind man trying to describe the appearance of his own mother.
While reason is still tracking down the secret, you end your quest on the open field of love.
-- from The Walled Garden of Truth, by Hakim Sanai / Translated by David Pendlebury
