FROM THE ‘ĀSHIQ PASHA DĪWĀNI
All the Universe, one mighty sign, is shown;
God hath myriads of creative acts unknown:
None hath seen them, of the races jinn and men,
None hath news brought from that realm far off from ken.
Never shall thy mind or reason reach that strand,
Nor can tongue the King’s name utter of that land.
Since ’tis his each nothingness with life to vest,
Trouble is there ne’er at all to his behest.
Eighteen thousand worlds, from end to end,
Do not with him one atom’s worth transcend.
‘Āshiq Pasha.
FROM THE ISKENDER-NĀMA
Up and sing! O ‘anqā-natured nightingale!
High in every business doth thy worth prevail:
Sing! for good the words are that from thee proceed;
Whatsoever thou dost say is prized indeed.
Then, since words to utter thee so well doth suit,
Pity were it surely if thy tongue were mute.
Blow a blast in utt’rance that the Trusted One,
When he hears, ten thousand times may cry: “Well done!”
Up and sing! O bird most holy! up and sing!
Unto us a story fair and beauteous bring.
Let not opportunity slip by, silent there;
Unto us the beauty of each word declare.
Seldom opportunities like this with thee lie;
Sing then, for th’ occasion now is thine, so hie!
Lose not opportunities that thy hand doth find,
For some day full suddenly Death thy tongue shall bind.
Of how many singers, eloquent of words,
Bound have Death and Doom the tongues fast in their cords!
Lose not, then, th’ occasion, but to joy look now,
For one day thy station ’neath earth seek must thou.
While the tongue yet floweth, now thy words collect;
Them as Meaning’s taper ’midst the feast erect,
That thy words, remaining long time after thee,
To the listeners’ hearing shall thy record be.
Thy mementoes lustrous biding here behind,
Through them they’ll recall thee, O my soul, to mind.
Those who’ve left mementoes ne’er have died in truth;
Those who’ve left no traces ne’er have lived in sooth.
Surely with this object didst thou come to earth,
That to mind should ever be recalled thy worth.
“May I die not!” say’st thou, one of noble race?
Strive, then, that thou leavest here a name of grace.
Ahmedī.
FROM THE ISKENDER-NĀMA
Once unto his Vezīr quoth the crownèd King:
“Thou, who in my world-realm knowest everything!
With my sword I’ve conquered many and many a shore;
Still I sigh right sorely: ‘Ah! to conquer more!’
Great desire is with me realms to overthrow;
Through this cause I comfort ne’er a moment know.
Is there yet a country whither we may wend,
Where as yet our mighty sway doth not extend,
That we may it conquer, conquer it outright?
Ours shall be the whole earth—ours it shall be quite.”
Then, when heard the Vezīr what the King did say,
Quoth he: “Realm-o’erthrowing Monarch, live for aye!
May the Mighty Ruler set thy crown on high,
That thy throne may ever all assaults defy!
May thy life’s rose-garden never fade away!
May thy glory’s orchard never see decay!
Thou’st the Peopled Quarter ta’en from end to end;
All of its inhabitants slaves before thee bend.
There’s on earth no city, neither any land,
That is not, O Monarch, under thy command.
In the Peopled Quarter Seven Climes are known,
And o’er all of these thy sway extends alone!”
Ahmedī.