Thirteenth Tale Of Seven Beggars #4
Now, if the heart longs so for the spring, why does it not simply go over to it?
Were the heart to come close to the mountain upon which the spring was found, it would lose sight of the peak and would no longer be able to find the spring.
And if it could not see the spring, it would die from longing—for the spring is the source of the heart’s vitality.
While standing opposite the mountain, the heart sees the peak where the spring is.
Yet if it were to approach, the peak would be out of sight.
For such is always the way with a high mountain: from a distance, you can see the peak, but up close, you can no longer see it.
If the heart cannot gaze at the spring, then it would—heaven forbid—lose its will to live. And were the heart—heaven forbid—to die, then the world would go to ruin because the heart is the 205 source of vitality for every living thing. How could the world go on without a heart?
This is the reason the heart cannot go to the spring and remains ever standing opposite it, continually longing and crying out for the spring.
And the spring has no time; it exists outside of time.
Because it transcends time, the spring has no days.
But how, then, can it be in this world since nothing in the world exists without time?
The only time the spring has is granted to it by the heart: a single day as a gift.
Were that day to fade and disappear, the spring would be left without time, and then it would pass away from the world.
If the spring were not to exist anymore, then the heart would—heaven forbid—also pass away.
Thus also the world would—heaven forbid—come to naught.
So, as the end of each day draws near, the heart and the spring bid each other farewell. Then they share their poems, paeans and fables with one another—the finest fables and poetry and songs—with great love and great yearning for one another: the heart for the spring and the spring for the heart.
The True Man of Mercy oversees all this with a watchful eye.
And when the day draws to its end and begins to fade away, when the spring would be left without its day and on the verge of passing away, then the True Man of Mercy comes and grants another day to the heart.
And the heart bestows that day upon the spring. Then the spring has time once more.
When the day appears whence it comes, it arrives accompanied by the finest fables and songs, and in them all wisdom is contained.
Each day is marked by its own distinction: for there 206 are Sundays and Mondays and all the other days, too, as well as days marking the new moon and festivals.
And whichever day comes, it arrives with its own distinct poetry.
Indeed, all the time that the True Man of Mercy has comes from me, the beggar said.
For it is I who go around collecting mercies, and from them time is woven.
That is why this beggar standing before you now is cleverer still than the sage who had boasted that he was as clever as any day you wish.
For all time, every single day—with its poetry and fables that contain all wisdom—is brought into being by my supply of mercies.
Thus, the beggar concluded, I have it on good authority from the True Man of Mercy that I can recite paeans, poetry and mysterious fables, and all wisdom is contained in them.
For all days are brought into this world on account of me.
Now I grant you these words as a simple gift, that you may be as I am.
And then there was a mighty revelry with great celebration and rejoicing.
In the morning, having finished the previous day’s merriment and slept the night away, they once again remembered and wept longingly for the beggar who had a crooked neck.
Just as they were longing for him, he called out, I am here.
Once it was my wish for you to be like me.
But now, by the gift of my words, I grant it: May you be like me.
You think I have a crooked neck, but I do not.
In point of fact, my neck is quite straight.
It is a very lovely neck. But there are worldly vanities, like a vapour, and I twist my neck so as not to loose my spirit into the world.
I do have a lovely neck. A very fine neck.
For I have a very fine voice. I can imitate all the world’s wordless sounds with my voice 207 because my neck and my voice are so fine.
And I have this on good authority from the Republic.
For there is a Republic where everyone is learned in the art of music, in playing instruments and singing.
They all apply themselves to it diligently, even the little children.
There is not a child among them who cannot play some instrument or another.
Even the least in the Republic would be the most excellent musical prodigy in any other country.
The sages and the king and the musicians of the Republic are all extraordinarily erudite in that art.
Once the sages of the Republic were sitting down and each one was boasting of his musical skill.
This one boasted of his ability to play an instrument; that one boasted of how he could play a different instrument.
One boasted of his skill at yet another instrument; another boasted he could play several instruments; and another that he could play all instruments.
This one boasted he could make his voice sound like one of the instruments; that one boasted he could make his voice sound like another of the instruments.
One of them boasted he could make his voice sound like several instruments; another boasted he could make his voice sound like the beat of a drum; and yet another boasted he could make his voice sound just like the boom of a cannon.
I, continued the beggar, was there as well.
I spoke up and told them, My voice is better than all of your voices.
So look here: If you are so wise in the ways of music, then go help out these two cities I know.
For there are two cities a thousand miles apart.
When night comes to those two cities no one 208 can sleep, for as soon as night falls they all start to keen and yowl—man, woman and child alike. The very stones would melt to hear it.
Here’s how it went in the two cities: If the yowling was heard in one city, then they all had to start yowling. And likewise in the other city a thousand miles away. Therefore, since you are so learned in music, help out those two cities, or at least make your voices sound like their yowls.
They asked, Will you lead us there?
I replied, Yes, I will lead you there.
They all rose and set off. When they got there and night fell, the same thing happened: everyone began to keen, and the sages joined in as well.
When they saw they could not help, I said to them, Even so, tell me, where do you reckon that yowling we hear comes from? They asked, Do you know? And I said, I do.
For there are two birds, one male and the other female, and these birds are the only such pair in the world.
The female got lost, so the male searched for her, and she for him.
They searched for one another for a very long time until they had both gone far astray and realized they would be unable to find each other.
So they stopped and built nests. The male built his nest near one of the two cities.
Not hard by, but, given the bird’s voice, fairly close, since from where he built his nest one could hear his call in that city.
The female built her nest similarly near the other city.
And when night fell, the two birds began to keen, for he was lamenting her, and she was lamenting him.
They keened with loud yowls, and those are the yowls heard in the two cities.
209 Because of them, everyone has to join in the keening and no one can sleep.
The sages could not believe it and said, Will you lead us to the birds?
I replied, Yes, I can lead you there. But how will you manage it?
If you cannot withstand the yowling here and must all start keening, how will you make it there?
You will not be able to hold out against that yowling.
And during the day, one cannot withstand the joy either.
For during the day, birds flock around each of them, consoling them and making them merry with their great joy, succouring them with these words of comfort: You will find one another yet!
And they each of them make merry, such that by day one cannot withstand the joy.
The sound of that joy cannot be heard afar off, only when nearby.
But the sound of yowling one can hear at a distance, so one cannot then come near.
They asked, Can you set it right?
I answered, Yes, I can. For I can replicate all the sounds of the world.
And what is more, I can throw my voice such that when I produce a sound, people nearby do not hear it, but it can be heard far away.
In this way I can throw the male bird’s voice to the female bird.
So the call I project will reach near the place where he is, and I will also throw his voice to reach her. I will thereby reunite them.
But who could believe it? So I went and led them into a forest. There they heard:
Someone opening a door and closing it again.
And the slamming of the latch.
And the crack of a gun. 210
And the command to a dog to retrieve what had been shot.
And the dog floundering in the snow.
They heard it all. They looked around but saw nothing, nor did they hear a sound… And here the beggar broke off his tale and said:
Thus I have it on good authority from the Republic that I have a very fine voice and with it I can replicate all the world’s sounds. And now I grant you these words as a simple gift, that you may be like me.
And there was great celebration and rejoicing.