PERSIA

TO HIS LOVE INSTEAD OF A PROMISED PICTURE-BOOK

The greater and the lesser ills:

He waved his grey hand wearily

Back to the anger of the sea,

Then forward to the blue of hills.

Out from the shattered barquenteen

The black frieze-coated sailors bore

Their dying despot to the shore

And wove a crazy palanquin.

They found a valley where the rain

Had worn the fern-wood to a paste

And tiny streams came down in haste

To eastward of the mountain chain.

And here was handiwork of Cretes,

And olives grew beside a stone,

And one slim phallos stood alone

Blasphemed at by the paroquets.

Hard by a wall of basalt bars

The night came like a settling bird,

And here he wept and slept and stirred

Faintly beneath the turning stars.

Then like a splash of saffron whey

That spills from out a bogwood bowl

Oozed from the mountain clefts the whole

Rich and reluctant light of day.

And when he neither moved nor spoke

And did not heed the morning call,

They laid him underneath the wall

And wrapped him in a purple cloak.

From the Modern Persian.

TOO SHORT A NIGHT

Lily of Streams lay by my side last night

And to my prayers gave answers of delight;

Day came before our fairy-tale was finished,

Because the tale was long, not short the night.

From the Persian of Abu-Said (978-1062).

[THE ROSES]

Roses are a wandering scent from heaven.

Rose-seller, why do you sell your roses?

For silver? But with the silver from your roses

What can you buy so precious as your roses?

From the Persian of Abu-Yshac (middle of the tenth century).

I ASKED MY LOVE

I asked my love: "Why do you make yourself so beautiful?"

"To please myself.

I am the eye, the mirror, and the loveliness;

The loved one and the lover and the love."

From the Persian of Abu-Said (978-1062).

A REQUEST

When I am cold and undesirous and my lids lie dead,

Come to watch by the body that loved you and say:

This is

Rondagui

, whom I killed and my heart regrets for ever.

From the Persian of Rondagui (tenth century).

SEE YOU HAVE DANCERS

See you have dancers and wine and a girl like one of the angels

(If they exist),

And find a clear stream singing near its birth and a bed of moss

(If moss exists),

For loving and singing to the dancers and drinking and forgetting hell

(If hell exists),

Because this is a pastime better than paradise

(If paradise exists).

From the Persian of Omar Khayyam (eleventh century).