M6:4617 — ور بگویی ور بکوشی صد هزار / هست بیگار و نگردد آشکار

Translation: Even if you speak, and strive a hundred thousand times, It is all futile labor, and it will not become manifest. Meaning: This verse asserts that ultimate truth and unity cannot be attained or expressed through intellectual or linguistic efforts; it remains unmanifest in the realm of words.

This profound couplet unveils one of Rumi's most critical teachings regarding the inherent limitations of language and the intellect in perceiving and expressing the formless truth of Unity. Without a doubt, Rumi here labels language as bigār, a futile and unproductive effort when it comes to the fundamental truths of existence; any striving with it is in vain.

To my mind, Rumi is here referring to that 'One' (yakī-i) which transcends all temptations and descriptions, the Unity that forms the very bedrock and root of existence. Language, by its very nature, is an instrument of multiplicity. The domain of discourse is the arena of separations: 'I' and 'you,' 'this' and 'that,' subject and object. How can one contain in words a Unity 'in which there are no numbers or opposites'? This is an impossibility. Language dissects truth, analyzes it to make it comprehensible; yet, that Truth itself is like 'water' — it is simultaneously chemistry and physics, color and smell, but in its essence, it is simply 'water,' not any of these analyses.

This is precisely why Rumi unequivocally states: 'Only duality enters the field of discourse.' Whatever falls into the trap of language is inevitably rendered dual, triple, or manifold. This couplet continues the same line of thought as 'But what can I say to the squint-eyed (ahwal)? Nothing at all'; for someone whose eye perceives the single truth as two, no matter how much you speak of the One, it will still remain two in their comprehension. Now, language itself acts like such an 'ahwal'; whatever unitary concept you entrust to it, it renders manifold.

Striving 'a hundred thousand times' to 'speak' or 'manifest' that Unity is like trying to brave the heart of the sea with a 'wooden vehicle' (meaning language and the partial intellect). This vehicle is effective on dry land, for managing daily affairs, for earthly sciences and philosophies; but in the 'sea of Unity,' it is 'barren' (abtar) and will drown. The language of 'dry land' differs from the language of the 'sea.' The language of the sea is the language of experience, the language of 'the death of man' (marg-i mard), meaning an existential transformation that opens the eye of truth-perception, not merely the ear of truth-hearing.

I have frequently observed this inadequacy of language in the words of mystics and even contemporary philosophers. Wittgenstein also famously remarked, 'Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.' Rumi, too, at the end of this section, explicitly states: 'Or sew up your mouth and be happily silent.' Thus, this verse not only warns of language's limitations but also proposes silence as the only honest way to confront that ineffable truth. To speak of it is nothing but bigār, unless it is done 'squint-eyed' (ahwalāna) and 'pluralistically' (mushrikāna), necessitated by the company of strangers and the unaware.

Key takeaways

• The singular truth of existence transcends the expressive power of language.
• By its very nature, language dissects and pluralizes concepts, making it incapable of conveying true unity.
• Intellectual and verbal efforts to grasp and articulate Unity are futile and 'bigār' (vain labor).
• In the realm of absolute truth, 'only duality enters the field of discourse'; whatever takes the form of words becomes manifold.
• The 'wooden vehicle' of intellect and language is only useful on 'dry land' and becomes barren in the 'sea of Unity'.
• The path to perceiving Unity is not through speech or hearing, but through existential transformation and 'the death of man' (marg-i mard).