M1:201 — شه بدو بخشید آن مه‌روی را / جفت کرد آن هر دو صحبت‌جوی را

Translation: The King bestowed that moon-faced beauty upon him, And united those two seekers of companionship.

Meaning: The king gave the beautiful slave-girl to the goldsmith, bringing together the two individuals who passionately desired each other's company.

This beyt appears to be the culmination of a heartfelt desire and a romantic union, yet, in truth, Rumi subtly introduces one of his deepest insights into the nature of love and its endurance. In this scene, the King, upon the advice of the divine physician (a representative of unseen divine providence), bestows the moon-faced slave-girl upon the goldsmith from Samarqand, uniting the two who genuinely longed for each other's companionship. However, I urge you to look at the hidden layers of this event, for in Rumi's world, 'one thing gives rise to another' (کار از کار خیزد); every event has an underlying purpose or end that might not be immediately apparent.

Recall that the goldsmith was swayed by 'gold, robes, and silver,' lured by the false promise of 'dominion, honor, and prestige' into the King's presence. This is precisely the meaning of ghurūr here: to be deceived or fooled, not to be proud in the modern sense. He did not know that this journey was his sūʾ al-qaḍā (ill fate), a dreadful destiny he was rushing towards of his own accord. This seemingly delightful union actually plays a role in a larger scheme for the slave-girl's true healing and her purification from 'colored loves' (ʿishq-i rangī).

As Rumi unequivocally states later in this very story:

ʿishq-hā-yī k-az pay-i rang-ī būd ʿishq nabūd, ʿāqibat nang-ī būd (Loves that followed a 'color' (superficial quality) Were not love; in the end, they brought disgrace.)

This is a bitter but fundamental truth. Any love built upon fleeting 'colors' or transient attributes is destined for decay and scandal. 'Color' here alludes to superficial beauty, wealth, status, youth, or any perishable quality that lacks a true foundation. When that 'color' fades or diminishes, as it does with the goldsmith's illness and emaciation, the 'love' too 'grows cold.' The slave-girl's 'soul no longer remained in dependence on him,' meaning her heart detached from him, because the foundations of this love lacked intrinsic stability.

Through this anecdote, Rumi delineates the clear boundary between 'love for the dead' (ʿishq-i murdagān) and 'love for the living' (ʿishq-i zindagān). 'Love for the dead' is that which is directed towards the perishable; whether this perishable object be beauty or wealth. Such love can never be 'lasting' (pāyanda), for its beloved is itself heading towards oblivion. In contrast, 'love for the living' is that which is directed towards al-Ḥayy al-Lā Yamūt (the Ever-Living who does not die), i.e., God Almighty; a love that is 'fresher than a bud' every moment and invigorates and increases one's very soul. This distinction is Rumi's fundamental philosophy of true love, and this beyt, despite its sweet appearance, is precisely the nexus for demonstrating this profound insight: a union that ultimately leads to another separation, so that the lesson of true love may be learned. This is a message the Masnavi reiterates throughout, and here, within the heart of a seemingly romantic tale, it is beautifully embedded.

Key takeaways

• Apparent and transient unions are often part of a deeper divine plan for the purification of the soul.
• "Colored" loves, based on beauty, wealth, or status, are unstable and ultimately lead to "disgrace" and disillusionment.
• The goldsmith's deception (ghurūr) by the king symbolizes the soul's inclination towards ephemeral worldly manifestations, leading him to his 'ill fate' (sūʾ al-qaḍā).
• Rumi clearly distinguishes between 'love for the dead' (for the perishable) and 'love for the living' (for God), deeming the former destined for decay.