What follows is my provisional translation (in other words, not official or authorized; see here for more) of selected Persian passages from a lengthy Tablet of Bahá’u’lláh known as “the Exalted Letters.” This Tablet was originally revealed in Arabic and then translated into Persian, with the addition of new content in that language, by Bahá’u’lláh Himself. The original text of the passages below has been published in Ad‘íyiy-i-Ḥaḍrat-i-Maḥbúb, pp. 270–80.
Verily, Thou dost witness, O My Beloved, that trials and tribulations have appeared from the horizon of decree—that the showers of wrath have begun to rain from all directions, and that the gales of sorrow have started to blow. How many the countless souls that have been sacrificed in the path of the Friend! How renowned the men whose heads have hung high from the gallows! Never was a moment’s peace Mine to enjoy, nor a night of merriment ever Mine to have. The snare of Thy love is fastened round the necks of the mystics, and the dart of Thy love hath wounded the hearts of the lovers. For fourteen years, no trace of tranquility hath reached Me, and the doors to comfort have remained firmly shut. . . .
And Thou art well aware, O My Lord and My Master, of what hath befallen this Servant and descended upon Him. Not for an instant hath He rested in a place of security, nor hath He at any time been established on a seat of glory. But for the blood of His own heart, no drink hath He drunk, and save for the pieces of His very soul, no food hath He had to sustain Him. At one time, He was a captive of the infidels and traveled from city to city; at another, He was the companion of chains and fetters. This is especially true of these days, in which He hath been made the Target of the shafts of Sunní and Shíʻih alike, and the Object of the vengeance of both groups. My friends have gloried in My abasement and rejoiced at My sorrow, whilst Mine enemies harbor rancor for Me in their hearts. How numerous are the jealousies that lie hid in the breasts of men, and what enmities are concealed in their hearts! He hath left the outward dungeon[1] only to be confined to the prison of the ungodly. The arrows of idle fancies are falling from every angle, and the swords of envy, even as a copious shower, are raining down on all sides. And yet, notwithstanding all these dire calamities and grievous afflictions, there is still hope that He may not be deterred from His service—that His feet may not falter in His perseverance, and His eyes fix themselves on servitude in their stead.
At this time when tears stream down My cheeks, and crimson blood floweth from My heart, I call on Thee to make My sorrow-stricken soul oblivious of all but Thyself and engrossed in Thee alone, that it may be severed from aught else and bound only to Thee, for Thy captive shall never separate himself from Thee, nor can anyone who hath met with Thine approval ever be truly rejected. Such a one is a king, condemned by mankind though he may be; he is victorious, although none render him aid; he is loved, even should he be an outcast. At this juncture, the Torch of Divine Unity blazeth forth, and the Mirror of Singleness reflecteth the Temple of Oneness; and the Persian Flute playeth, in Arabian tones, the verse “All on the earth shall pass away, but the face of thy Lord”,[2] for the hands of the mystics can scarcely stretch out, while Thou art established in the lofty habitation of glory, and the hearts of the lovers are vexed, while Thou, with the utmost independence, standest firm in the treasury of sublimity. What way can be imagined by which to soar in that spacious heaven, what means conceived through which to set foot in the realm of holiness? The vain imaginings of men are like unto dust. How can the darksome dust ever smirch Thy spotless hem of sanctity, or the limited glance ever fall upon Thy luminous Face? . . .
I swear by Thy glory, O My Lord, that all these adversities are sweeter than every honey and better than any joy, for until the seekers of the cynosure of reunion pass beyond the limit of glory, they shall not be cheered by the Embodiment of beauty. Until they quaff the chalice of extinction, they shall not enter the path of immortality. Until they put on the garment of poverty in the way of Thy good-pleasure, they shall not be honored with the flowing robe of wealth. Until they fall sick with the malady of love, they shall not discover the destination of healing. Until they abandon their earthly abode, they shall not ascend to the land of celestial holiness. Until they die in the wilderness of perpetual search, they shall not attain unto life imperishable and everlasting. Until they take refuge in the realm of degradation, they shall not find the path to the heaven of exaltation. Until they taste the poison of separation, they shall not be nourished with the sweetness of eternity. Until they traverse the wilds of remoteness and isolation, they shall not repose in the cities of nearness and reunion. . . .
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[1] The Síyáh-Chál.
[2] Qur’án 28:88.
A typescript of the original Persian text of these passages appears below.
Adib Masumian 