The Conference of the Birds Quotes

“The ocean can be yours; why should you stop
Beguiled by dreams of evanescent dew?
The secrets of the sun are yours, but you
Content yourself with motes trapped in beams.”
― Farīd al-Dīn ʻAṭṭār, The Conference of the Birds

“Heart’s blood and bitter pain belong to love,
And tales of problems no one can remove;
Cupbearer, fill the bowl with blood, not wine -
And if you lack the heart’s rich blood take mine.
Love thrives on inextinguishable pain,
Which tears the soul, then knits the threads again.
A mote of love exceeds all bounds; it gives
The vital essence to whatever lives.
But where love thrives, there pain is always found;
Angels alone escape this weary round -
They love without that savage agony
Which is reserved for vexed humanity.”
― Farid ud-Din Attar, The Conference of the Birds

“I doubt my doubt, doubt itself is unsure
I love, but who is it for whom I sigh?
Not Muslim, yet not heathen; who am I?”
― Farid ud-Din Attar, The Conference of the Birds

“I'd rather die deceived by dreams than give
My heart to home and trade and never live.”
― Farīd al-Dīn ʻAṭṭār, The Conference of the Birds

“The Beginning is lost;
the End stretches into eternity.
Don't bother with them, they're all irrelevant.
And since all is really nothing,
then nothing is truly everything.”
― Attar of Nishapur, The Conference of the Birds

“Who trusts the sea? Lawlessness is her law;
You will be drowned if you cannot decide
To turn away from her inconstant tide.
She seethes with love herself - that turbulence
Of tumbling waves, that yearning violence,
Are for her Lord, and since she cannot rest,
What peace could you discover in her breast?
She lives for Him - yet you are satisfied
To her His invitation and to hide.”
― Farīd al-Dīn ʻAṭṭār, The Conference of the Birds

“...Rise up and play
Those liquid notes that steal men's hearts away.”
― Farīd al-Dīn ʻAṭṭār, The Conference of the Birds

“Since love has spoken in your soul, reject
The Self, that whirlpool where our lives are wrecked;
As Jesus rode his donkey, ride on it;
Your stubborn Self must bear you and submit -
Then burn this Self and purify your soul;
Let Jesus' spotless spirit be your goal.”
― Farīd al-Dīn ʻAṭṭār, The Conference of the Birds

“When you feel empty, you have to open up your heart and let the wind sweep through it.”
― Peter Sís, The Conference of the Birds

“I am alone; make me your single goal --
My presence is sufficient for your soul;
I am your God, your one necessity --
With every breath you breathe, remember Me.”
― Farid Al-Din Attar, The Conference of the Birds

“When they had understood the hoopoe's words,
A clamour of complaint rose from the birds:
'Although we recognize you as our guide,
You must accept - it cannot be denied -
We are a wretched, flimsy crew at best,
And lack the bare essentials for this quest.
Our feathers and our wings, our bodies' strength
Are quite unequal to the journey's length;
For one of us to reach the Simorgh's throne
Would be miraculous, a thing unknown.
[...] He seems like Solomon, and we like ants;
How can mere ants climb from their darkened pit
Up to the Simorgh's realm? And is it fit
That beggars try the glory of a king?
How ever could they manage such a thing?'

The hoopoe answered them: 'How can love thrive
in hearts impoverished and half alive?
"Beggars," you say - such niggling poverty
Will not encourage truth or charity.
A man whose eyes love opens risks his soul -
His dancing breaks beyond the mind's control.
[...] Your heart is not a mirror bright and clear
If there the Simorgh's form does not appear;
No one can bear His beauty face to face,
And for this reason, of His perfect grace,
He makes a mirror in our hearts - look there
To see Him, search your hearts with anxious care.”
― Attar of Nishapur, The Conference of the Birds

“وما علمنا فى أى وقت أنعم علينا بالقلب”
― فريد الدين العطار النيسابوري, The Conference of the Birds

“A thousand for his love expired each day,
And those who saw his face, in blank dismay
Would rave and grieve and mourn their lives away-
To die for love of that bewitching sight
Was worth a hundred lives without his light.
None could survive his absence patiently,
None could endure this king's proximity-
How strange it was that man could neither brook
The presence nor the absence of his look!”
― Farid Attar, The Conference of the Birds

“How strange it was that man could neither brook
The presence nor the absence of his look!”
― Farid Attar, The Conference of the Birds

“His part is mercy, ours is endless praise.”
― Farid Al-Din Attar, The Conference of the Birds

“Lift your head out of this hurricane to find solace and tranquillity. If you stay caught in the storm, your head will whirl as fast as a millstone and you will know so little peace that even a single fly can buzz away your peace. Parable”
― Farid al-Din Attar, The Conference of the Birds

“يا رب ألا لليلتي من نهار ؟ ألا لشمع الفلك من اشتعال ؟ قد قضيت الليالي الطوال في رياضة، وما أرى أحد قط ليالي مثلها، ومن الاحتراق كالشمع فقدت كل قوة، وماعاد بكبدي من ماء غير دماء القلب، وأصبحت كالشمعة أقتل بالإشعال والإحراق، لذا أحرق بالليل، وأقتل بالنهار. لقد قضيت الليلة أقاسي أهوال القتال، وغرقت من رأسي إلى قدمي في خضم الدماء، وفي كل لحظة تعرض لي مئات الأهوال، ولا أعلم متى يشرق صبحي ؟ وكل من مني بمثل تلك الليلة ذات مرة، أصبح شغله الشاغل في ليله ونهاره إحراق كبده. وكثيرا ما قضيت النهار والليل في لوعة، ولكن تلك الليلة كأنها يوم هلاكي، بل كأنني كنت قد خلقت ذات يوم، من أجلت تلك الليلة، فيا إلهي، ألا لليلتي هذه من نهار ؟ ألا لشمع الفلك من اشتعال ؟
يا رب، أهذه سمات هذه الليلة ؟ أو أن الليلة يوم القيامة ؟ أو أن شمع الفلك قد انطفأ بزفرتي ؟ أو أن حبيبي توارى من الخجل خلف الحجب ؟
الليل طويل حالك الظلمة كشعرها، ولولا ذلك لسلكت الطريق مائة مرة إلى محلتها، إنني أحترق الليلة من جوى العشق، ولم تعد لي طاقة لتحمل إيلام العشق، أين العمر لأصف ذلتي، أو لأتأوه بكامل إرادتي ؟ أين الصبر حتى أكف عن المسير، أو أن أعاقر الكؤوس كالرجال؟ وأين الحظ، حتى تصحو عزيمتي، أو أن تعينني في عشقها؟ وأين العقل، حتى يكون العلم قدوتي، أو بحيلة العقل أمثل أمامها ؟ وأين اليد حتى أضع تراب الطريق على مفرقي، أو أن أرفع رأسي من تحت التراب والدم ؟ وأين القدم حتى أعاود البحث عن محلة الحبيب ؟ وأين العين حتى أعاود رؤية وجه الحبيب؟ وأين الرفيق حتى يساعدني في غمي؟... وأين الصديق حتى يأخذ لحظة بيدي ؟ وأين القوة حتى أستطيع البكاء والنواح ؟ وأين الفطنة حتى أتصرف بحكمة ؟
ذهب العقل، وانقضى الصبر وولى الحبيب، فأي عشق هذا ؟ وأي ألم، وأي فعل؟”
― فريد الدين العطار, The Conference of the Birds

“In this valley, Love is represented by fire, Reason by smoke. When Love bursts into flame, Reason is forthwith dissipated like smoke. Reason cannot coexist with Love’s mania, for Love has nothing whatever to do with human Reason. If ever you attain a clear vision of the unseen world, then only will you be able to realize the source of Love. By the odour of Love every atom in the world is intoxicated. It owes its existence to the existence of Love. If”
― Farid al-Din Attar, The Conference of the Birds

“It was in China, late one moonless night,
The Simorgh first appeared to mortal sight –
He let a feather float down through the air,
And rumours of its fame spread everywhere...”
― Farid ud-Din Attar, منطق الطير

“Among lovers, only those with wings
flee this worldly cage before death comes.
The condition of these lovers is hard to recount,
for such souls speak a different tongue.
The one who learns and speaks their language
will hold the elixir of happiness at Simorgh's court.”
― Farid ud-Din Attar, The Conference of the Birds

“The dwellers in Paradise know that the first thing they must give up is their heart.”
― Farid ud-Din Attar, The Conference of the Birds

“Love is a cruel pain that devours everything. Sometimes it tears the veil from the soul, sometimes it draws it together. An atom of love is preferable to all that exists between the horizons, an atom of its pain better than the happy love of all lovers. Love is the marrow of beings; but there can be no real love without real suffering. Whoever is grounded firm in love renounces faith, religion, and unbelief. Love will open the door of spiritual poverty and poverty will show you the way of unbelief. When there remains neither unbelief nor religion, your body and your soul will disappear; you will then be worthy of the mysteries- if you could fathom them, this is the only way.”
― Farid ud-Din Attar, The Conference of the Birds

“Cupbearer, fill the bowl with blood, not wine --
And if you lack the heart’s rich blood, take mine.
Love thrives on inextinguishable pain;
Which tears the soul, then knits the threads again.”
― Farid Al-Din Attar, The Conference of the Birds

“If you become sure-footed in love, you'll transcend everything, even blasphemy and belief.”
― Attar, The Conference of the Birds

“The seven oceans are drops of rain...”
― Peter Sís, The Conference of the Birds

“The sorrow bird: We've gone too far. I'm afraid we can't go back.

Hoopoe: Back?... There's a circle, bird. Why, just think of the phoenix. He lives alone for more than a thousand years acquiring great wisdom and when it's his time to go, he gathers leaves around himself, spreads his wings, and starts a fire - a new phoenix is born from his ashes. We're going forward, bird!”
― Peter Sís, The Conference of the Birds

“In the way of religion gold is like a lame donkey; it has no value, only weight.”
― Farid ud-Din Attar, The Conference of the Birds

“چون بلند و پست با هم یار شد
آدمی اعجوبه ی اسرار شد”
― عطار نیشابوری, منطق الطیر

“Wanderer, you are distraught; Be calm. Our
glorious King cannot admit
All comers to His court; it is not fit
That every rascal who sleeps out the night
Should be allowed to glimpse its radiant light.
Most are turned back, and few perceive the throne;
Among a hundred thousand there is one.”
― Farid Al-Din Attar, The Conference of the Birds

“The moths and the flame
by Farid ud-Din Attar

Moths gathered in a fluttering throng one night
To learn the truth about the candle light,
And they decided one of them should go
To gather news of the elusive glow.
One flew till in the distance he discerned
A palace window where a candle burned —
And went no nearer: back again he flew
To tell the others what he thought he knew.
The mentor of the moths dismissed his claim,
Remarking: “He knows nothing of the flame.”
A moth more eager than the one before
Set out and passed beyond the palace door.
He hovered in the aura of the fire,
A trembling blur of timorous desire,
Then headed back to say how far he’d been,
And how much he had undergone and seen.
The mentor said: “You do not bear the signs
Of one who’s fathomed how the candle shines.”
Another moth flew out — his dizzy flight
Turned to an ardent wooing of the light;
He dipped and soared, and in his frenzied trance
Both self and fire were mingled by his dance —
The flame engulfed his wing-tips, body, head,
His being glowed a fierce translucent red;
And when the mentor saw that sudden blaze,
The moth’s form lost within the glowing rays,
He said: “He knows, he knows the truth we seek,
That hidden truth of which we cannot speak.”
To go beyond all knowledge is to find
That comprehension which eludes the mind,
And you can never gain the longed-for goal
Until you first outsoar both flesh and soul;
But should one part remain, a single hair
Will drag you back and plunge you in despair —
No creature’s self can be admitted here,
Where all identity must disappear.”
― Attar of Nishapur, The Conference of the Birds