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West-eastern Divan.

Moganni Nameh.

Who the song would understand.

Needs must seek the song’s own land.

Who the minstrel understand,

Needs must seek the minstrel’s land.

BOOK OF THE MINSTREL.

HEGIRA.

- NORTH and West and South are crumbling,
- Kingdoms tremble, thrones are tumbling;
- To the East fly from annoyance,
- Seeking patriarchal joyance,
- Where ’mid love and wine and singing,
- Chiser’s Fount new life is bringing.
- There in calm and holy places
- Will I study primal races;
- Searching back to dim beginnings
- For the source of wisdom’s winnings;
- Wealth of language, lore of heaven,
- Undisturb’d by discord’s leaven.
- Children then show’d veneration,
- Scorn’d was outside obligation!
- Firmly grown in bone and marrow,
- Faith was strong though thought was narrow;
- And the word kept power unbroken,
- Just because the word was spoken.
- I will mix with shepherd races—
- Find enjoyment in oases,
- With long caravans will wander,
- Wealth on shawls and spices squander.
- Every path though rough or pretty
- Will explore from waste to city.
- Mountain footways rough and weary,
- Hafis, do thy songs make cheery;
- When the guide on muleback clinging
- Wakes the echoes with his singing;
- And the stars above are brighten’d,
- And the lurking brigand frighten’d.
- When I bathe or when I’m drinking,
- Hafis great, of thee I’m thinking;
- When her veil my sweetheart raises,
- And my cheek her fair hair grazes,
- Yea, the secret of the poet,
- E’en the houris long to know it.
- If you envy him this pleasure,
- Or would stint him in his measure,
- Know his poems, gently knocking,
- For admittance hover flocking,
- Round the gate of Eden never,
- Doubting of the life forever.

DISCORD.

WHEN by the brook his strain
Cupid is fluting,
And on the neighb’ring plain
Mavors disputing,
There turns the ear ere long,
Loving and tender,
Yet to the noise the song
Soon must surrender.
Loud then the flute-notes glad
Sound ’mid war’s thunder;
If I grow raving mad,
Is it a wonder?
Flutes sing and trumpets bray,
Waxing yet stronger;
If, then, my senses stray,
Wonder no longer.

TALISMANS.

GOD is of the East possess’d,
God is ruler of the West;
North and South alike, each land
Rests within His gentle hand.

He, the only righteous one,
Wills that right to each be done.
’Mongst His hundred titles, then,
Highest praise be this!—Amen.

Error seeketh to deceive me,
Thou art able to retrieve me;
Both in action and in song
Keep my course from going wrong.

THE FOUR FAVORS.

- THAT Arabs through the realms of space
- May wander on, light-hearted,
- Great Allah hath, to all their race,
- Four favors meet imparted.
- The turban first—that ornament
- All regal crowns excelling;
- A light and ever-shifting tent,
- Wherein to make our dwelling;
- A sword, which, more than rocks and walls
- Doth shield us, brightly glist’ning;
- A song that profits and enthrals,
- For which the maids are list’ning.

SONG AND STRUCTURE.

- LET the Greek his plastic clay
- Mould in human fashion,
- While his own creation may
- Wake his glowing passion;
- But it is our joy to court
- Great Euphrates’ torrent,
- Here and there at will to sport
- In the watery current.
- Quench’d I thus my spirit’s flame,
- Songs had soon resounded;
- Water drawn by bards whose fame
- Pure is, may be rounded.

CREATION AND VIVIFICATION.

- OLD Adam was a clod of earth
- Which God a man created,
- Yet he, in spite of such a birth,
- Was unsophisticated!
- The Elohim blew down his nose
- The breath of life most pleasing;
- He now to something great arose:—
- He caught a fit of sneezing.
- Yet in his bones and limbs and head
- He still remain’d half earthy,
- Till Noah the bumper found, ’tis said,
- The right thing for the worthy.
- The clod as soon as he was wet
- Felt wings of inspiration,
- Just as the dough when it is set
- Swells up with fermentation.
- Thus Hafis, may thy lofty song,
- Thy glorious example
- Lead us with clinking cups along
- To our Creator’s temple.

Hafis Nameh.

Spirit let us bridegroom call,

And the word the bride;

Known this wedding is to all

Who have Hafis tried.

BOOK OF HAFIS.

THE NEW NAME.

- Poet.
- MAHOMET-SHEMS-ED-DIN, tell me
- Why thy noble people name thee
- Hafis?
- Hafis.
- Sir, I cannot blame thee;
- I will speak how it befell me:
- Since my memory never faltered,
- And with joy I kept unaltered
- All the Koran’s sacred verses,
- And amid my many mercies
- Never with the evil paltered
- That the faithful were offended,
- Who the seed-word of the prophet
- Treasure as it was intended:
- Therefore am I bearer of it.
- Poet.
- Hafis, as I thus behold us,
- Is it well to stay anigh thee;
- For the thoughts of others mould us
- To resemble them; and I thee
- Must resemble wholly,
- Who have in my bosom minted
- Impress of our Scripture holy,
- As the Saviour’s face was printed
- On the wondrous napkin. Joyance
- Fills me, spite of all annoyance,
- Spite of hindrance, loss, negation,
- For I have Faith’s consolation.

THE GERMAN RETURNS THANKS.

HOLY EBUSUUD, thou hast fathom’d
All the holy things the poet covets!
For it is indeed the thousand trifles
Not within the sacred Law’s dominions
Where his portion lies, and where with boldness,
Joyous e’en in grief, he finds his duty.
Serpent venom and the theriaca
He must take without discrimination:
Poison kills not, antidote is helpless,
For true life consists in guileless action
Tempered by the everlasting wisdom,
Harming self but never harming others:
Thus the aged poet hopes the houris
To the joys of paradise will take him,
As a youth with vision clarified:—
Holy Ebusuud, thou hast reach’d it!

THE UNLIMITED.

- THAT thou canst never end doth make thee great,
- And that thou ne’er beginnest is thy fate.
- Thy song is changeful as yon starry frame,
- End and beginning evermore the same;
- And what the middle bringeth but contains
- What was at first, and what at last remains.
- Thou art of joy the true and minstrel-source,
- From thee pours wave on wave with ceaseless force.
- A mouth that’s aye prepar’d to kiss,
- A breast whence flows a loving song,
- A throat that finds no draught amiss,
- An open heart that knows no wrong.
- And what though all the world should sink!
- Hafis, with thee, alone with thee
- Will I contend! joy, misery,
- The portion of us twain shall be;
- Like thee to love, like thee to drink,—
- This be my pride,—this, life to me!
- Now, Song, with thine own fire be sung,—
- For thou art older, thou more young!

TO HAFIS.

HAFIS, straight to equal thee,
One would strive in vain;
Though a ship with majesty
Cleaves the foaming main,
Feels its sails swell haughtily
As it onward hies;—
Crush’d by ocean’s stern decree,
Wreck’d it straightway lies.
Tow’rd thee, songs, light, graceful, free,
Mount with cooling gush;
Then their glow consumeth me,
As like fire they rush.
Yet a thought with ecstasy
Hath my courage mov’d;
In the land of melody
I have liv’d and lov’d.

FETWA.

- THE Mufti read Misri’s verses cherish’d!—
- Each one deliberately in succession,
- And gave them to the flames’ possession;
- And thus the costly book entirely perish’d.
- “May flames consume the man whoe’er believeth
- And speaketh as this Misri! He alone”—
- Thus spoke the judge severe—“shall not atone
- In fire: the poet gifts from God receiveth,
- And if in traffic of his sins he use them,
- Let him beware lest he shall sadly lose them.

Uschk Nameh.

BOOK OF LOVE.

THE TYPES.

Hear and in memory bear
These six fond loving pair.
Love, when arous’d, kept true
Rustan and Rodawu!
Strangers approach from far
Jussuf and Suleika;
Love, void of hope, is in
Ferhad and Schirin.
Born for each other are
Medschnun and Leila;
Loving, though old and gray,
Dschemil saw Boteinah.
Love’s sweet caprice anon,
Brown maid and Solomon!
If thou dost mark them well,
Stronger thy love will swell.

ONE PAIR MORE.

LOVE is indeed a glorious prize!
What fairer guerdon meets our eyes?—
Though neither wealth nor power are thine,
A very hero thou dost shine.
As of the prophet, they will tell
Wamik and Asra’s tale as well.—
They’ll tell not of them,—they’ll but give
Their names, which now are all that live.
The deeds they did, the toils they prov’d
No mortal knows! But that they lov’d
This know we. Here’s the story true
Of Wamik and of Asra too.

Love’s torments sought a place of rest,
Where all might drear and lonely be;
They found ere long my desert breast,
And nestled in its vacancy.

MYSTERY.

- IN my sweetheart’s eyes the people
- Find perpetual cause for wonder.
- I who know the meaning of it
- Can explain it without blunder.
- For it means: “This is my lover,”
- Not to this and that one turning:
- Therefore, worthy people, hearken,
- Cease your wonder, cease your yearning
- Yea, with secret force prodigious
- Round the circle she is glancing,
- Yet she only seeks to tell him
- Of the coming hour entrancing.

IT WAS SHE.

YES, the lips that kiss’d me were her lips,
Hers the eyes that shone upon me.
Body round and slender hips,—
All of Eden’s joyance won me.
Was she there? where has she fled?
Yes! ’twas she, my soul enraptur’d,
Gave me life, and as she sped
Held my life forever captur’d.

MOST MYSTERIOUS.

- “WE assiduous gossip-mongers
- Fain would know thy sweetheart’s hiding,
- And if thou deceivest also
- Many husbands too confiding.
- “For we see thou art a lover,
- And thy fortune we would covet;
- But that thou could’st find a mistress,
- Not a word believe we of it!”
- Seek her, if ye please, my masters,
- None will hinder; yet this learn ye:
- Ye will tremble at her presence;
- Gone, her loss will much concern ye.
- If ye know how Shehab-ed-din
- Dropp’d on Arafat his raiment,
- Ye would never call him foolish
- Who for wisdom was a claimant!
- If thy name before thou diest
- Should be spoken to thy monarch,
- Should be spoken to thy mistress,
- Count it ’mid thy honors highest!
- Thus it show’d the bitterest sorrow,
- When the dying Medschnun will’d it
- That his name henceforth for Leila
- Should be dead, and men fulfill’d it.

Teskir Nameh.

BOOK OF CONTEMPLATION.

- HEARKEN the word the harp sings! Yet unless
- Thou art well skill’d, thou need’st not try.
- The wisest counsel is foolishness
- To the hearer who hears awry!
- “What sings then the harp?” Its counsel is plain:—
- “The fairest bride is not the bride to gain;
- Yet will we not reckon thee among the choicest
- Unless at Fairest and Best thou rejoicest!”

FIVE THINGS.

WHAT makes time short to me?
Activity!
What makes it long and spiritless?
’Tis idleness!
What brings us to debt?
To delay and forget!
What makes us succeed?
Decision with speed!
How to fame to ascend?
Oneself to defend!

For woman due allowance make!
Form’d of a crooked rib was she,—
By Heaven she could not straight’ned be.
Attempt to bend her, and she’ll break;
If left alone, more crooked grows madam;
What well could be worse, my good friend, Adam?—
For woman due allowance make;
’Twere grievous, if thy rib should break!

TO SHAH SHEDSHAA AND HIS LIKE.

THROUGH the Trans Oxus throng,
With arms victorious,
In boldness seeks our song
Thy pathway glorious!
We have no fear of wrong
If thou defend us!
Long be thy life and long
Thy reign tremendous!

HIGHEST FAVOR.

THOUGH I was untam’d and wild,
Yet a master I have found;
Years had pass’d ere I grew mild,
Yet a mistress I have found;
They have put me to the test,
Faithful I have still been found;
With their care I have been bless’d
As the treasure they had found.
No one ever served two lords
And a decent fortune found;
Master, mistress each affords
Proof in me their joy is found;
And my joy’s too deep for words,
That I both of them have found.

Through many countries I have been,
And mostly throngs of men have seen;
But the hidden corners I ever have sought,
And every holm great joy has brought,
The blessed city, none seen besides;
Houris and houris, brides and brides.
Whence come I hither? ’tis a puzzling story.
My earthward path is scarcely known to me,
But now and here this day of heav’nly glory
Like bosom friends meet joy and misery.
O blissful Fate, if they are wedded only!
Laughter and tears who can enjoy when lonely?

FIRDUSI SPEAKS.

O world, with what baseness and guilt thou art rife!
Thou nurturest, trainest, and killest the while.
He only whom Allah doth bless with his smile
Is train’d and is nurtur’d with riches and life.

What then is wealth? A sun that is warming.
The beggar enjoys it as we find our joyance;
So let not the opulent find annoyance
In a joy, the beggar’s property forming.

DSHELAL-ED-DIN RUMI SPEAKS.

WHILE thou art here the world flies like a dream,
Thou journeyest, space all bewitched doth seem.
Or cold or heat thy pow’r it cannot hold;
Thy flowers will wither and joys grow old.

SULEIKA SPEAKS.

THE mirror tells me, I am fair!
Thou sayest, to grow old my fate will be.
Naught in God’s presence changeth e’er,—
Love Him, for this one moment, then, in me.

Rendsch Nameh.

BOOK OF GLOOM.

- IT is a fault oneself to praise,
- And yet ’tis done by each whose deeds are kind;
- And if there’s no deceit in what he says,
- The good we still as good shall find.
- Let, then, ye fools, that wise man taste
- Of joy, who fancies that he’s wise;
- That he, a fool like you, may waste
- Th’ insipid thanks the world supplies.

- Thou wilt never find a rhymer,
- His things not the best averring;
- Nor a fiddler who in playing,
- His own melodies not preferring.
- And I cannot blame them harshly:
- If we give the praise to others,
- We must lower ourselves to do it,
- Do we live as live our brothers.
- So I found it very fitting,
- In some ante-rooms, bystanders
- Could not easily distinguish
- Mouse-dung from the corianders.
- What has been stirs up vast hatred
- In new brooms so full of vigor,
- For they can help the impulse,
- Acting towards the old with rigor.
- And when nations come in conflict,
- Each new schemes of war contriving,
- Neither of them will acknowledge,
- Each for one same thing is striving.
- And men blame their fellows harshly
- For their brutal selfishness;
- While themselves cannot endure it
- If another win success.

Hikmet Nameh.

BOOK OF PROVERBS.

TALISMANS throughout the book I’d scatter,
For an equipoise they make.
Who the credulous pin will take,
Opening will find, surely find good matter.

From this day, from this night
Ask for naught,
Only what the yesterdays have brought.

The sea is flowing ever,
The land retains it never.

Be stirring, man, while yet the day is clear;
The night when none can work fast draweth near.

When the heavy-laden sigh,
Deeming help and hope gone by,
Oft, with healing power is heard,
Comfort-fraught, a kindly word.

How vast is mine inheritance, how glorious and sublime!
For time mine own possession is, the land I till is time!

Enweri saith,—ne’er lived a man more true;
The deepest heart, the highest head he knew,—
“In ev’ry place and time thou’lt find availing
Uprightness, judgment, kindliness unfailing.”

Though the bards whom the Orient sun hath bless’d
Are greater than we who dwell in the west,
Yet in hatred of those whom our equals we find,
In this we’re not in the least behind.

Would we let our envy burst,
Feed its hunger fully first!

To keep our proper place,
We’ll show our bristles more;
With hawks men all things chase,
Except the savage boar.

By those who themselves more bravely have fought
A hero’s praise will be joyfully told.
The worth of man can only be taught
By those who have suffer’d both heat and cold.

- “Wherefore is truth so far from our eyes,
- Buried as though in a distant land?”
- None at the proper moment are wise!
- Could they properly understand,
- Truth would appear in her own sweet guise,
- Beauteous, gentle, and close at hand.

Why these inquiries make,
Where charity may flow?
Cast in the flood thy cake,—
Its eater, who will know?

Once when I a spider had kill’d,
Then methought: was’t right or wrong?
That we both to these times should belong,
This had God in His goodness will’d.

- A man with households twain
- Ne’er finds attention meet;
- A house wherein two women reign
- Is ne’er kept clean and neat.
- Bless, thou dread Creator,
- Bless this humble fane;
- Man may build them greater,—
- More they’ll not contain.

Let this house’s glory rise,
Handed to far ages down,
And the son his honor prize,
As the father his renown.

O’er the Mediterranean sea
Proudly hath the Orient sprung;
Who loves Hafis and knows him, he
Knows what Calderon hath sung.

If the ass that bore the Saviour
Were to Mecca driven, he
Would not alter, but would be
Still an ass in his behavior.

The flood of passion storms with fruitless strife,
’Gainst the unvanquish’d solid land.
It throws poetic pearls upon the strand,
And thus is gain’d the prize of life.

When so many minstrels there are,
How it pains me, alas, to know it!
Who from the earth drives poetry far?
Who but the poet!

Timur Nameh.

BOOK OF TIMUR.

THE WINTER AND TIMUR.

SO the winter now clos’d round them
With resistless fury. Scatt’ring
Over all his breath so icy,
He inflam’d each wind that bloweth
To assail them angrily.
Over them he gave dominion
To his frost-ensharpen’d tempests;
Down to Timur’s council went he,
And with threat’ning voice address’d him:—
“Softly, slowly, wretched being!
Live, the tyrant of injustice;
But shall hearts be scorch’d much longer
By thy flames,—consume before them?
If amongst the evil spirits
Thou art one,—good! I’m another.
Thou a graybeard art—so I am;
Land and men we make to stiffen.
Thou art Mars! And I Saturnus,—
Both are evil-working planets,
When united, horror-fraught.
Thou dost kill the soul, thou freezest
E’en the atmosphere; still colder
Is my breath than thine was ever.
Thy wild armies vex the faithful
With a thousand varying torments;
Well! God grant that I discover
Even worse, before I perish!
And by God, I’ll give thee none.
Let God hear what now I tell thee!
Yes, by God! from Death’s cold clutches
Naught, O graybeard, shall protect thee,
Not the hearth’s broad coalfire’s ardor,
Not December’s brightest flame.”

TO SULEIKA.

- FITTING perfumes to prepare,
- And to raise thy rapture high,
- Must a thousand rosebuds fair
- First in fiery torments die.
- One small flask’s contents to glean,
- Whose sweet fragrance aye may live,
- Slender as thy finger e’en,
- Must a world its treasures give;
- Yes, a world where life is moving,
- Which, with impulse full and strong,
- Could forebode the bulbul’s loving,
- Sweet, and spirit-stirring song.
- Since they thus have swell’d our joy,
- Should such torments grieve us, then?
- Doth not Timur’s rule destroy
- Myriad souls of living men?

artist: f. simm.

SULEIKA.

Suleika Nameh.

Once, methought, in the night hours cold,

That I saw the moon in my sleep;

But as soon as I waken’d, behold

Unawares rose the sun from the deep.

BOOK OF SULEIKA.

THAT Suleika’s love was so strong
For Jussuf, need cause no surprise;
He was young, youth pleaseth the eyes,—
He was fair, they say, beyond measure
Fair was she, and so great was their pleasure.
But that thou, who awaitedst me long,
Youthful glances of fire dost throw me,
Soon wilt bless me, thy love now dost show me,
This shall my joyous numbers proclaim,
Thee I forever Suleika shall name.

HATEM.

- NOT occasion makes the thief;
- She’s the greatest of the whole;
- For Love’s relics, to my grief,
- From my aching heart she stole.
- She hath given it to thee,—
- All the joy my life had known,
- So that, in my poverty,
- Life I seek from thee alone.
- Yet compassion greets me straight
- In the lustre of thine eye,
- And I bless my newborn fate,
- As within thine arms I lie.

SULEIKA.

THE sun appears! A glorious sight!
The crescent moon clings round him now.
What could this wondrous pair unite?
How to explain this riddle? How?

- Hatem.
- May this our joy’s foreboder prove!
- In it I view myself and thee;
- Thou callest me thy sun, my love,—
- Come, my sweet moon, cling thou round me!
- Love for love, and moments sweet,
- Lips returning kiss for kiss,
- Word for word, and eyes that meet;
- Breath for breath, and bliss for bliss.
- Thus at eve, and thus the morrow!
- Yet thou feelest, at my lay,
- Ever some half-hidden sorrow;
- Could I Jussuf’s graces borrow,
- All thy beauty I’d repay!

HATEM.

OH, say, ’neath what celestial sign
The day doth lie,
When ne’er again this heart of mine
Away will fly?
And e’en though fled (what thought divine!)
Would near me lie?—
On the soft couch, on whose sweet shrine
My heart near hers will lie!

HATEM.

- HOLD me, locks, securely caught
- In the circle of her face!
- Dear brown serpents, I have naught
- To repay this act of grace,
- Save a heart whose love ne’er dies,
- Throbbing with aye-youthful glow;
- For a raging Etna lies
- ’Neath its veil of mist and snow.
- Yonder mountain’s stately brow
- Thou, like morning beams, dost shame;
- Once again feels Hatem now
- Spring’s soft breath and summer’s flame.
- One more bumper! Fill the glass;
- This last cup I pledge to thee!—
- By mine ashes if she pass,
- “He consum’d,” she’ll say, “for me.”

THE LOVING ONE SPEAKS.

- AND wherefore sends not
- The horseman-captain
- His heralds hither
- Each day, unfailing?
- Yet hath he horses,
- He writeth well.
- He writeth Talik,
- And Neski knows he
- To write with beauty
- On silken tablets.
- I’d deem him present,
- Had I his words.
- The sick One will not,
- Will not recover,
- From her sweet sorrow;
- She, when she heareth
- That her true lover
- Grows well, falls sick.

THE LOVING ONE AGAIN.

- WRITES he in Neski,
- Faithfully speaks he;
- Writes he in Talik,
- Joy to give, seeks he:
- Writes he in either,
- Good!—for he loves!
- These tufted branches fair
- Observe, my lov’d one, well!
- And see the fruits they bear
- In green and prickly shell!
- They’ve hung roll’d up, till now,
- Unconsciously and still;
- A loosely-waving bough
- Doth rock them at its will.
- Yet, ripening from within,
- The kernel brown swells fast;
- It seeks the air to win,
- It seeks the sun at last.
- With joy it bursts its thrall,
- The shell must needs give way:
- ’Tis thus my numbers fall
- Before thy feet, each day.

SULEIKA.

- WHAT is by this stir reveal’d?
- Doth the East glad tidings bring?
- For my heart’s deep wounds are heal’d
- By his mild and cooling wing.
- He the dust with sports doth meet,
- And in gentle cloudlets chase;
- To the vineleaf’s safe retreat
- Drives the insect's happy race;
- Cools these burning cheeks of mine,
- Checks the sun's fierce glow amain;
- Kisses, as he flies, the vine,
- Flaunting over hill and plain.
- And his whispers soft convey
- Thousand greetings from my friend;
- Ere these hills own night’s dark sway,
- Kisses greet me, without end.
- Thus canst thou still onward go,
- Serving friend and mourner too!
- There, where lofty ramparts glow,
- Soon the lov’d one shall I view.
- Ah, what makes the heart’s truth known,—
- Love’s sweet breath,—a newborn life,—
- Learn I from his mouth alone,
- In his breath alone is rife!

THE SUBLIME TYPE.

- THE sun, whom Grecians Helios call,
- His heavenly path with pride doth tread,
- And, to subdue the world’s wide all,
- Looks round, beneath him, high o’er head.
- He sees the fairest goddess pine,
- Heaven’s child, the daughter of the clouds,—
- For her alone he seems to shine;
- In trembling grief his form he shrouds,
- Careless for all the realms of bliss,—
- Her streaming tears more swiftly flow:
- For every pearl he gives a kiss,
- And changeth into joy her woe.
- She gazeth upward fixedly,
- And deeply feels his glance of might,
- While, stamp’d with his own effigy,
- Each pearl would range itself aright.
- Thus wreath’d with bows, with hues thus grac’d,
- With gladness beams her face so fair,
- While he, to meet her, maketh haste,
- And yet, alas! can reach her ne’er.
- So, by the harsh decree of Fate,
- Thou movest from me, dearest one;
- And were I Helios e’en, the Great,
- What would avail his chariot-throne?

SULEIKA.

- ZEPHYR, for thy humid wing,
- Oh, how much I envy thee!
- Thou to him canst tidings bring
- How our parting saddens me!
- In my breast, a yearning still
- As thy pinions wave, appears;
- Flowers and eyes, and wood, and hill
- At thy breath are steep’d in tears.
- Yet thy mild wing gives relief,
- Soothes the aching eyelid’s pain;
- Ah, I else had died for grief,
- Him ne’er hop’d to see again.
- To my love, then, quick repair,
- Whisper softly to his heart;
- Yet, to give him pain, beware,
- Nor my bosom’s pangs impart.
- Tell him, but in accents coy,
- That his love must be my life;
- Both, with feelings fraught with joy,
- In his presence will be rife.

THE REUNION.

- CAN it be! of stars the star,
- Do I press thee to my heart?
- In the night of distance far,
- What deep gulf, what bitter smart!
- Yes, ’tis thou, indeed, at last,
- Of my joys the partner dear!
- Mindful, though, of sorrows past,
- I the present needs must fear.
- When the still-unfashion’d earth
- Lay on God’s eternal breast,
- He ordain’d its hour of birth,
- With creative joy possess’d.
- Then a heavy sigh arose,
- When He spake the sentence:—“Be!”
- And the All, with mighty throes,
- Burst into reality.
- And when thus was born the light,
- Darkness near it fear’d to stay,
- And the elements with might
- Fled on every side away;
- Each on some far-distant trace,
- Each with visions wild employ’d,
- Numb, in boundless realms of space,
- Harmony and feeling-void.
- Dumb was all, all still and dead,
- For the first time, God alone!
- Then He form’d the morning-red,
- Which soon made its kindness known:
- It unravell’d from the waste
- Bright and glowing harmony,
- And once more with love was grac’d
- What contended formerly.
- And with earnest, noble strife,
- Each its own Peculiar sought;
- Back to full, unbounded life
- Sight and feeling soon were brought.
- Wherefore, if ’tis done, explore
- How? why give the manner, name?
- Allah need create no more,
- We his world ourselves can frame.
- So, with morning pinions bright,
- To thy mouth was I impell’d;
- Stamp’d with thousand seals by night,
- Star-clear is the bond fast held.
- Paragons on earth are we
- Both of grief and joy sublime,
- And a second sentence:—“Be!”
- Parts us not a second time.

SULEIKA.

- WITH what inward joy, sweet lay,
- I thy meaning have descried!
- Lovingly thou seem’st to say
- That I’m ever by his side;
- That he ever thinks of me,
- That he to the absent gives
- All his love’s sweet ecstasy,
- While for him alone she lives.
- Yes, the mirror which reveals
- Thee, my lov’d one, is my breast;
- This the bosom where thy seals
- Endless kisses have impress’d.
- Numbers sweet, unsullied truth,
- Chain me down in sympathy!
- Love’s embodied radiant youth,
- In the garb of poesy!
- In thousand forms may’st thou attempt surprise,
- Yet, all-beloved-one, straight know I thee;
- Thou may’st with magic veils thy face disguise,
- And yet, all-present-one, straight know I thee.
- Upon the cypress’ purest, youthful bud,
- All-beauteous-growing-one, straight know I thee;
- In the canal’s unsullied, living flood,
- All-captivating-one, well know I thee.
- When spreads the water-column, rising proud,
- All-sportive-one, how gladly know I thee;
- When, e’en in forming, is transform’d the cloud,
- All-figure-changing-one, there know I thee.
- Veil’d in the meadow-carpet’s flow’ry charms,
- All-chequer’d-starry-fair-one, know I thee;
- And if a plant extend its thousand arms,
- O all-embracing-one, there know I thee.
- When on the mount is kindled morn’s sweet light,
- Straightway, all-gladd’ning-one, salute I thee;
- The arch of heaven o’erhead grows pure and bright,—
- All-heart-expanding-one, then breathe I thee.
- That which my inward, outward sense proclaims,
- Thou all-instructing-one, I know through thee;
- And if I utter Allah’s hundred names,
- A name with each one echoes, meant for thee.

Safi Nameh.

THE CONVIVIAL BOOK.

ALSO in the wine-room have been sitting,
They serv’d me like the others as was fitting.
Men gossip’d, shouted, told the day’s event,
Gayly or sadly as the day was spent.
But I sat, inwardly with all content;
I thought about my love. How does she love?
I do not know, but why should that concern?
I love her all things else on earth above,
As truly as a heart can ever burn.
Where is that parchment, where that precious style,
That give me power? This was the thought! I smile!

THE INN.

- MAIDEN with the dark-brown ringlets,
- Crafty maiden, prithee leave me!
- If I serve my lord with favor,
- He would kiss my brow, believe me.
- Thou, however, I would wager,
- Art not with me well contented;
- But I know my friend will weary
- Of thy cheeks, thy breasts, sweet-scented.
- That thou shamefaced turnest from me,
- Dost thou reckon to deceive me?
- By the door-sill I will slumber,
- And awaken if thou leave me.
- Because we yield to drunkenness,
- They cover us with blame,
- Their words about our drunkenness
- Forever are the same.
- Men oftenest in drunkenness
- Have slept ’till daylight came;
- But all night long my drunkenness
- Drove me without an aim.
- My trouble is love’s drunkenness,
- It plagues me without shame.
- From day till night, from night till day
- It knows my heart to claim,—
- Though buried deep in drunkenness
- The songs that flash and flame,
- And which no jejune drunkenness
- Could ever dare to tame.
- Love, song and Bacchic drunkenness,
- In night and day the same;
- But the divinest drunkenness
- Fills me with joy and shame.
- Can the Koran from Eternity be?
- ’Tis worth not a thought!
- Can the Koran a creation, then, be?
- Of that, I know naught!
- Yet that the book of all books it must be,
- I believe as a Mussulman ought.
- That from Eternity wine, though, must be,
- I ever have thought;
- That ’twas ordain’d, ere the angels, to be,
- As a truth may be taught.
- Drinkers, however these matters may be,
- Gaze on God’s face, fearing naught.

THE INN.

- THIS last glass, I gladly drain it;
- That I think must now suffice thee:—
- Here enjoy these fresh-pluck’d almonds,
- Then the wine once more’ll entice thee.
- Then I’ll lead thee to the terrace,
- With cool breezes gently blowing,
- And perchance thou’lt kiss thy servant,
- As I catch thy eye in going.
- See, the world is not delusion,
- Birds and nests mark her endeavor,
- Breath of roses, oil of roses,
- And the bulbul sings forever.

Mathal Nameh.

BOOK OF PARABLES.

IN the Koran with strange delight
A peacock’s feather met my sight:
Thou’rt welcome in this holy place,
The highest prize on earth’s wide face!
As in the stars of heaven, in thee,
God’s greatness in the small we see;
For he whose gaze whole worlds hath bless’d
His eye hath even here impress’d,
And the light down in beauty dress’d,
So that e’en monarchs cannot hope
In splendor with the bird to cope.
Meekly enjoy thy happy lot,
And so deserve that holy spot!

From heaven there fell upon the foaming wave
A timid drop; the flood with anger roar’d,—
But God, its modest boldness to reward,
Strength to the drop and firm endurance gave.
Its form the mussel captive took.
And to its lasting glory and renown,
The pearl now glistens in our monarch’s crown,
With gentle gleam and loving look.

Bulbul’s song, through night hours cold,
Rose to Allah’s throne on high;
To reward her melody,
Giveth he a cage of gold.
Such a cage are limbs of men,—
Though at first she feels confin’d,
Yet when all she brings to mind,
Straight the spirit sings again.

All kinds of men, both small and great,
A fine-spun web delight to create,
And in the middle they take their place,
And wield their scissors with wondrous grace.
But if a besom should sweep that way:
“What a most shameful thing,” they say,—
“They’ve crush’d a mighty palace to-day.”

IT IS GOOD.

- IN Paradise while moonbeams play’d,
- Jehovah found, in slumber deep,
- Adam fast sunk; He gently laid
- Eve near him,—she, too, fell asleep.
- There lay they now, on earth’s fair shrine,
- God’s two most beauteous thoughts divine.—
- When this He saw, He cried:—’Tis Good!
- And scarce could move from where He stood.
- No wonder that our joy’s complete,
- While eye and eye responsive meet,
- When this bless’d thought of rapture moves us—
- That we’re with Him who truly loves us,
- And if He cries:—Good, let it be!
- ’Tis so for both, it seems to me.
- Thou’rt clasp’d within these arms of mine,
- Dearest of all God’s thoughts divine!

Parsi Nameh.

BOOK OF THE PARSEES.

THE BEQUEST OF THE ANCIENT PERSIAN FAITH.

- BRETHREN, what bequest to you should come
- From the lowly poor man, going home,
- Whom ye younger ones with patience tended,
- Whose last days ye honor’d and defended?
- When we oft have seen the monarch ride,
- Gold upon him, gold on ev’ry side;
- Jewels on him, on his courtiers all,
- Thickly strew’d as hailstones when they fall,
- Have ye e’er known envy at the sight?
- And not felt your gaze become more bright,
- When the sun was, on the wings of morning,
- Darnawend’s unnumber’d peaks adorning,
- As he, bow-like, rose? How each eye dwelt
- On the glorious scene! I felt, I felt,
- Thousand times, as life’s days fleeted by,
- Borne with him, the coming one, on high.
- God upon His throne then to proclaim,
- Him, the life-fount’s mighty Lord, to name,
- Worthily to prize that glorious sight,
- And to wander on beneath His light.
- When the fiery orb was all defin’d,
- There I stood, as though in darkness, blind,
- Beat my breast, my quicken’d members threw
- On the earth, brow foremost, at the view.
- Let this holy, great bequest reward
- Brotherly good-will and kind regard:
- Solemn Duty’s daily observation.—
- More than this, it needs no revelation.
- If its gentle hands a new-born one
- Move, then straightway turn it tow’rd the sun—
- Soul and body dip in bath of fire!
- Then each morning’s favor ’twill acquire.
- To the living one commit the dead,
- O’er the beast let earth and dust be spread,
- And, so far as may extend your might,
- What ye deem impure conceal from sight.
- Till your plains to graceful purity,
- That the sun with joy your labors see;
- When ye plant, your trees in rows contrive,
- For he makes the Regular to thrive.
- E’en the floods that through the channel rush
- Must not fail in fulness or in gush;
- And as Senderud, from mountain high,
- Rises pure, in pureness must it die.
- Not to weaken water’s gentle fall,
- Carefully cleanse out the channels all;
- Salamander, snake, and rush, and reed,—
- All destroy,—each monster and each weed.
- If thus pure ye earth and water keep,
- Through the air the sun will gladly peep,
- Where he, worthily enshrin’d in space,
- Worketh life, to life gives holy grace.
- Ye, by toil on toil so sorely tried,
- Comfort take, the All is purified;
- And now man, as priest, may boldly dare
- From the stone God’s image to prepare.
- When the flame burns joyously and bright,
- Limbs are supple, radiant is the night;
- On the hearth when fire with ardor glows,
- Ripe the sap of plants and creatures grows.
- Dragging wood, with rapture be it done,
- ’Tis the seed of many an earthly sun;
- Plucking Pambeh, gladly may ye say:—
- This, as wick, the Holy will convey.
- If ye meekly, in each burning lamp,
- See the nobler light’s resplendent stamp,
- Ne’er will Fate prevent you, void of feeling,
- At God’s throne at morningtide from kneeling.
- This is Being’s mighty signet, then,
- God’s pure glass to angels and to men;
- Each word lisp’d the Highest’s praise to sound.
- Ring in ring, united there is found;
- From the shore of Senderud ascendeth,
- Up to Darnawend its pinions bendeth,
- As he dawns, with joy to greet his light,
- You with endless blessings to requite.

Chuld Nameh.

BOOK OF PARADISE.

THE PRIVILEGED MEN.

- LET the foeman sorrow o’er his dead,
- Ne’er will they return again to light;
- O’er our brethren let no tear be shed,
- For they dwell above yon spheres so bright.
- All the seven planets open throw
- All their metal doors with mighty shock,
- And the forms of those we lov’d below
- At the gates of Eden boldly knock.
- There they find, with bliss ne’er dream’d before,
- Glories that my flight first show’d to eye,
- When the wondrous steed my person bore
- In one second through the realms on high.
- Wisdom’s trees, in cypress-order growing,
- High uphold the golden apples sweet;
- Trees of life, their spreading shadows throwing,
- Shade each blossoming plant, each flow’ry seat.
- Now a balmy zephyr from the East
- Brings the heavenly maidens to thy view;
- With the eye thou now dost taste the feast,
- Soon the sight pervades thee through and through!
- There they stand, to ask thee thy career:
- Mighty plans? or dangerous bloody rout?
- Thou’rt a hero, know they,—for thou’rt here,
- What a hero?—This they’ll fathom out.
- By thy wounds soon clearly this is shown,
- Wounds that write thy fame’s undying story;
- Wounds the true believer mark alone,
- When have perish’d joy and earthly glory.
- To chiosks and arbors thou art brought,
- Fill’d with chequer’d marble columns bright;
- To the noble grape-juice, solace-fraught,
- They the guest with kindly sips invite.
- Youth! Thou’rt welcome more than e’er was youth!
- All alike are radiant and serene;
- When thou tak’st one to thine heart with truth,
- Of thy band she’ll be the friend and queen.
- So prepare thee for this place of rest,
- Never can it now be chang’d again;
- Maids like these will ever make thee bless’d
- Wines like these will never harm thy brain.

THE FAVORED BEASTS.

- OF beasts there have been thosen four
- To come to Paradise,
- And there with saints for evermore
- They dwell in happy wise.
- Amongst them all the Ass stands first;
- He comes with joyous stride,
- For to the Prophet-City erst
- Did Jesus on him ride.
- Half timid next a Wolf doth creep,
- To whom Mahomet spake:—
- “Spoil not the poor man of his sheep,
- The rich man’s thou may’st take.”
- And then the brave and faithful Hound,
- Who by his master kept,
- And slept with him the slumbers sound
- The seven sleepers slept.
- Abuherrira’s Cat, too, here
- Purrs round his master bless’d,
- For holy must the beast appear
- The Prophet hath caress’d.

THE SEVEN SLEEPERS.

- SIX among the courtiers favor’d
- Fly before the Cæsar’s fury,
- Who would as a god be worshipp’d,
- Though in truth no god appearing,
- For a fly prevents him ever
- From enjoying food at table.
- Though with fans his servants scare it,
- They the fly can never banish.
- It torments him, stings, and troubles,
- And the festal board perplexes,
- Then returning like the herald
- Of the olden crafty Fly-God.
- “What!”—the striplings say together—
- “Shall a fly a god embarrass?
- “Shall a god drink, eat at table,
- Like us mortals? No, the Only,
- Who the sun and moon created,
- And the glowing stars arch’d o’er us,
- He is God,—we’ll fly!”—The gentle,
- Lightly shod, and dainty striplings
- Did a shepherd meet, and hide them,
- With himself, within a cavern.
- And the sheep-dog will not leave them,—
- Scar’d away, his foot all-mangled,
- To his master still he presses,
- And he joins the hidden party,
- Joins the favorites of slumber.
- And the prince, whom they had fled from,
- Fondly-furious, thinks of vengeance,
- And, discarding sword and fire,
- Has them wall’d-up in the cavern,
- Wall’d-up fast with bricks and mortar.
- But the others slumber ever,
- And the Angel, their protector,
- Gives before God’s throne this notice:
- “To the right and left alternate
- Have I ever car’d to turn them,
- That their fair and youthful members
- Be not by the mould-damp injur’d;
- Clefts within the rocks I open’d,
- That the sun may, rising, setting,
- Keep their cheeks in youthful freshness.”
- So they lie there, bless’d by Heaven.
- And, with forepaws sound and scatheless,
- Sleeps the dog in gentle slumber.
- Years come round, and years fly onward,
- And the youths at length awaken,
- And the wall, which now had moulder’d,
- From its very age has fallen.
- And Jamblika says,—whose beauty
- Far exceedeth all the others,—
- When the fearful shepherd lingers:—
- “I will run, and food procure you,
- Life and piece of gold I’ll wager!”—
- Ephesus had many a year now
- Own’d the teaching of the Prophet
- Jesus (Peace be with the Good One!)
- And he ran, and at the gateway
- Were the warders and the others.
- Yet he to the nearest baker’s,
- Seeking bread, went swiftly onwards.—
- “Rogue!” thus cried the baker—“hast thou,
- Youth, a treasure, then, discover’d?
- Give me,—for the gold betrays thee,—
- Give me half, to keep thy secret!”
- And they quarrel.—To the monarch
- Comes the matter; and the monarch
- Fain would halve it, like the baker.
- Now the miracle is proven
- Slowly by a hundred tokens.
- He can e’en his right establish
- To the palace he erected,
- For a pillar, when pierc’d open,
- Leads to wealth he said ’twould lead to.
- Soon are gather’d there whole races,
- Their relationship to show him.
- And as great-grandfather, nobly
- Stands Jamblika’s youthful figure.
- As of ancestors, he hears them,
- Speaking of his son and grandsons.
- His great-grandsons stand around him,
- Like a race of valiant mortals,
- Him to honor,—him, the youngest.
- And one token on another
- Rises up, the proof completing;
- The identity is proven
- Of himself, and of his comrades.
- Now returns he to the cavern,
- With him go both king and people.—
- Neither to the king nor people
- E’er returns that chosen mortal;
- For the Seven, who for ages—
- Eight was, with the dog, their number—
- Had from all the world been sunder’d,
- Gabriel’s mysterious power,
- To the will of God obedient,
- Hath to Paradise conducted,—
- And the cave was clos’d forever.

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West-eastern Divan. - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Goethe’s Works, vol. 1 (Poems) [1885]

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West-eastern Divan.

Moganni Nameh.

BOOK OF THE MINSTREL.

HEGIRA.

DISCORD.

TALISMANS.

THE FOUR FAVORS.

SONG AND STRUCTURE.

CREATION AND VIVIFICATION.

Hafis Nameh.

BOOK OF HAFIS.

THE NEW NAME.

THE GERMAN RETURNS THANKS.

THE UNLIMITED.

TO HAFIS.

FETWA.

Uschk Nameh.

BOOK OF LOVE.

THE TYPES.

ONE PAIR MORE.

MYSTERY.

IT WAS SHE.

MOST MYSTERIOUS.

Teskir Nameh.

BOOK OF CONTEMPLATION.

FIVE THINGS.

TO SHAH SHEDSHAA AND HIS LIKE.

HIGHEST FAVOR.

FIRDUSI SPEAKS.

DSHELAL-ED-DIN RUMI SPEAKS.

SULEIKA SPEAKS.

Rendsch Nameh.

BOOK OF GLOOM.

Hikmet Nameh.

BOOK OF PROVERBS.

Timur Nameh.

BOOK OF TIMUR.

THE WINTER AND TIMUR.

TO SULEIKA.

Suleika Nameh.

BOOK OF SULEIKA.

HATEM.

SULEIKA.

HATEM.

HATEM.

THE LOVING ONE SPEAKS.

THE LOVING ONE AGAIN.

SULEIKA.

THE SUBLIME TYPE.

SULEIKA.

THE REUNION.

SULEIKA.

Safi Nameh.

THE CONVIVIAL BOOK.

THE INN.

THE INN.

Mathal Nameh.

BOOK OF PARABLES.

IT IS GOOD.

Parsi Nameh.

BOOK OF THE PARSEES. THE BEQUEST OF THE ANCIENT PERSIAN FAITH.

Chuld Nameh.

BOOK OF PARADISE.

BOOK OF THE PARSEES.

THE BEQUEST OF THE ANCIENT PERSIAN FAITH.