"(3) In the third valley (of knowledge) the progress of the pilgrims is in proportion to their innate powers. In the path traversed by Abraham the Friend of God, can a feeble spider keep pace with an elephant? Let the gnat fly as hard as he may, he will never keep up with the wind. Thus the degrees of knowledge attained to by the initiated are different; one only reaches the entrance of the temple, while another finds the Divinity who dwells in it. When the Sun of Knowledge darts its rays, each is illumined in proportion to his capacity, and finds in the contemplation of the truth the rank which belongs to him. He sees a path lie open before him through the midst of the fire, the furnace of the world becomes for him a garden of roses. He perceives the almond within the shell, that is to say, he sees God under the veil of all apparent things. But for one happy man who penetrates into these mysteries, how many millions have gone astray? Only the perfect can dive with success into the depths of this ocean.
"(4) In the fourth valley (of independence) thou hast done with everything but God. Out of this disposition of mind, which no longer feels the need of anything, there rises a tempestuous hurricane, every blast of which annihilates whole kingdoms. The seven seas are then no more than a pool of water; the seven planets are a spark; the eight paradises are only a single curtain; the seven hells a mass of ice. In less time than it takes the greedy crow to fill its crop, out of a hundred caravans of travellers there remains not one alive.
"(5) The Valley of Unity which succeeds to that of Independence, is the valley of privation of all things and reduction to unity, that is to say, the attainment of a degree of spirituality, in which the Divine Essence, apart from every attribute, is the object of contemplation.
"(6) In the sixth valley, that of Amazement, the pilgrim's lot is to suffer and to groan; each breath he draws is like a sword; his days and nights are passed in sighs; from each of his hairs distils a drop of blood, which, as it falls, traces in the air the letters of the word "alas!" There he remains in a state of stupefaction, and finds his way no more."
To make the meaning of "Amazement" clearer, Attar gives the following allegory. He supposes that the young companions of a princess wished one day to amuse themselves at the expense of a slave. They made him drink wine in which they had dropped a narcotic drug, and when he was asleep had him carried to the harem. At midnight, when he woke, he found himself on a gilded couch surrounded by perfumed candles, scent-boxes of aloes, and lovely women whose songs ravished his ear. "Disconcerted and stupefied," says the poet, "he no longer retained reason nor life. He was no longer in this world, nor was he in the other. His heart was full of love for the princess, but his tongue remained mute. His spirit was in ecstacies. When he awoke in the morning he found himself again a slave at his old post. The memory of the past night was so vivid that it caused him to utter a cry; he tore his garments, and threw dust upon his head. They asked him what was the matter, but he knew not what to reply. He could not say whether what he had seen was a dream or a reality; whether he had passed the night in drunkenness or in full possession of his faculties. What he had seen had left a profound impression on his mind, and yet he could not trace it out accurately. He had contemplated Beauty beyond all words, and yet he was not sure whether he had seen It after all. The only effect of his vision was a trouble of mind and uncertainty."
(7) At last comes the seventh valley, that of Poverty and Annihilation. "But these words are insufficient to describe it; forgetfulness, deafness, dumbness, fainting—such is the condition of the pilgrim in this valley. One sun causes millions of shadows to vanish. When the ocean is agitated, how can the figures traced on its waters remain? Such figures are this world and the world to come, and he who knows them to be nothing is right. He who is plunged in this sea, where the heart is astray and lost, has by means of his very annihilation found immutable repose. In this ocean, where reigns a constant calm, the heart finds nought but annihilation."
Attar also illustrates the Sufi doctrine of annihilation (which resembles the Buddhistic nirvana) by an allegory. "One night," he says, "the butterflies were tormented by the desire to unite themselves with the candle-flame. They held a meeting, and resolved that one of them should go and experiment, and bring back news. A butterfly was sent to a neighbouring house, and he perceived the flame of the candle which was burning within. He brought back word and tried to describe the flame according to the measure of his intelligence; but the butterfly who presided over the assembly said that the exploring butterfly had attained no real knowledge of the candle-flame. A second butterfly went forth, and approached so close to the flame as to singe his wings. He also returned, and threw a little light on the mystery of union with the flame. But the presiding butterfly found his explanation not much more satisfactory than the preceding one.
"A third butterfly then flew forth; he was intoxicated with love for the flame, and flung himself wholly into it; he lost himself, and identified himself with it. It embraced him completely, and his body became as fiery-red as the flame itself. When the presiding butterfly saw from afar that the flame had absorbed the devoted butterfly and communicated its own qualities to it; 'That butterfly,' he exclaimed, 'has learnt what he wished to know, but he alone understands it. Only he who has lost all trace and token of his own existence knows what annihilation is. Until thou ignorest thyself, body and soul, thou canst not know the object which deserves thy love.'"
The foregoing terrible description of the seven mysterious valleys was well calculated to discourage the birds, and Attar tells us that after hearing it they stood with hearts oppressed and heads bent. "All understood," he says, "that it was not for a feeble hand to bend this bow. They were so terrified by the discourse of the hoopoe that a great number died on the spot where they were assembled. As to the others, in spite of their dismay, they consented to commence the journey. During long years they travelled over hill and dale, and spent a great part of their lives in pilgrimage.
"Finally, of all who set out, a very small band arrived at the goal. Some were drowned in the ocean, others were annihilated and disappeared. Others perished on the peaks of high mountains, devoured by thirst and a prey to all kinds of ills.[48] Others had their plumes burnt and their hearts dried up by the scorching heat of the sun; others fell a prey to the wild beasts which haunted the road, falling panic-struck, without resistance, into their claws; others died of sheer exhaustion in the desert; others fought and killed each other madly for chance grains of corn; others experienced all kinds of pains and fatigues, and ended by stopping short of the goal; others, engrossed in curiosity and pleasure, perished without thinking of the object for which they had set out.