Читать книгу The Singing Caravan: A Sufi Tale - Robert Gilbert Vansittart Baron Vansittart - Страница 5

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The Sufis trembled: "Open, open wide,

Dismiss us to illuminate the East."

Old Ghaffír fumbled the reluctant bolts,

Lifting his hands and eyes as for a feast.

And this was their viaticum. His words

Were mingled with their eagerness like yeast:

Go forth, poor words!

If truly you are free,

Simple, direct, you shall be winged like birds,

Voiced like the sea.

Walk humbly clad!

Be sure those words are lame

That ride a-clatter, or that deck and pad

A puny frame.

As in your dress,

So in your speech be plain!

Be not deceived; the Mighty Meaningless

Are loud in vain.

Be not puffed up,

Nor drunk with your own sound!

Shall men drink deeply when an empty cup

Is handed round?

Shout not at heaven!

Say what I bade you say.

Simplicity is beauty dwelling even

In yea or nay.

Be this your goal.

Beauty within man's reach

Is poetry. You cannot touch man's soul

Save with man's speech.

Therefore go straight.

You shall not turn aside

To vain display; for yonder lies the gate

Where gods abide

Your coming. Go!

The way was never hard.

What would you more than common flowers or snow?

For your reward,

Be understood,

And thus shall you be sung.

Aye, you who think to show us any good,

Speak in our tongue.