M6:2268 — ور بگویی خود نگردد آشکار / تو به قصد کشف گردی جرم‌دار

Translation: And should you speak, it itself will not become manifest; You, by intending to reveal, become guilty. Meaning: This couplet asserts that certain profound, ineffable truths cannot truly be revealed through language. Even an attempt to articulate them will not make them manifest in their essence, and by merely intending to uncover such secrets, the speaker incurs a spiritual transgression.

Mowlana, in these verses, delves into one of the most sensitive and profound topics in mysticism: the unity of existence (tawhīd-i wujūdī) and absolute oneness. He prefaces this couplet by discussing the angels' prostration to Adam, which was, in essence, their prostration to themselves, as they beheld their own selves mirrored in Adam and in God's formless essence. This mirrors God's 'Anī Anā' (I am that I am) to Moses: a pure existence, without quiddity or form, that cannot be encapsulated by any concept.

Mowlana himself is acutely aware of the peril inherent in expressing such secrets. He prefaces this couplet with: "The time has come for our perfect Friend to pull my ear, / Towards the spring, that I may cleanse my mouth of these words, / And not utter what we have veiled from humankind." This is a spiritual injunction to conceal truths that must remain hidden from general access. It is in this context that our couplet reveals the reason for such a prohibition.

He states: "And should you speak, it itself will not become manifest." This line signifies that even if one attempts to articulate this absolute, formless truth through language, it will never truly be revealed. This truth pertains to rū'yat (vision) and direct experience, not to concepts and definitions. It is a 'knowledge that is not of concepts, but of vision.' Language, by its very nature, reduces the essence of such truths, drawing them away from immediate experience.

The more critical point lies in the second half of the verse: "You, by intending to reveal, become guilty." The mere intention to uncover or unveil such hidden secrets is, in itself, a transgression. Why a transgression? Because these truths are not meant to be publicly traded in the marketplace of discourse. They belong to souls that have attained the station of direct vision and experience. Any attempt to generalize them is a form of sacrilege, diminishing the secret's sacred value. I have previously drawn a parallel to Mowlana's reluctance to name the Beloved in Dīvān-e Shams, where out of 'jealousy' (ghayrat), he considered the Beloved's name 'not a coin to be spent everywhere.'

Yet, Mowlana immediately devises a rhetorical escape for himself in the subsequent verses: "But I, now, in distraction, weave for myself; / The speaker of this, and its hearer, are also I." He claims that these words are not for another but are uttered in his own inner distraction and preoccupation, making him both the speaker and the listener. This is a powerful rhetorical strategy for articulating dangerous truths; a kind of inner solitude that exempts Mowlana from the accusation of revealing secrets. This connects to my earlier discussions on Mowlana's takhallus 'Khamoosh' (the Silent One), which had multiple reasons, one being the protection of his audience and another, the safeguarding of himself from such accusations. A truth whose 'points are sharp as a steel sword' must remain veiled, unless the speaker utters it to their own ear.

Key takeaways

• The secret of Absolute Existence transcends language; its true comprehension is visionary and experiential, not conceptual.
• Attempting to articulate and reveal sublime secrets that should remain veiled is considered a spiritual transgression.
• In expressing sensitive existential truths, Mowlana declares himself both the speaker and listener to avoid the accusation of disclosing secrets.
• Certain truths must remain concealed, to be apprehended only through direct experience, not through verbal discourse.
• This couplet highlights the limitations of language in conveying the deepest mystical experiences and the necessity of 'silence' in their presence.