Original content

English translation

When the winged bird of divine command, from the beginning, Does not take to flight by the power of praise, It sheds its feathers before reaching the goal, And falls in such a way that it never rises again.

Thousands of tales of praise and laudation from the tongue of the birds of the Baharestan (spring-garden) of love and fidelity, who from the pulpits of the boughs of grace and beneficence, with beauty of voice and sweetness of melody, sing perpetually, and convey them to the ears of those present in the assemblies of holiness and the beholders of the vistas of intimacy, throughout the months and years.

To a Maker for whom the rose garden of the heavens Is but a single leaf from the garden of His beauty; Or for whose praisers there is A tray full of scattered pearls and gems.

Great is the majesty of His glory and exalted is the word of His perfection, and a thousand blessings and greetings and songs from the throats of the nightingales of the garden-house of grace and existence, who are the minstrels of the assembly of witnessing and the singers of the pleasure-house of ecstasy and being.

Every rose of the garden of proclamation that exists— The rose of this garden is a leaf from its face; The birds have, from the leaves of the meadow, No lesson but the descriptions of His beauty.

And blessings upon his companions and family, who kindle their light from the niche of his knowledge and states. To proceed: it is hereby made known that, since at this pleasant time the esteemed son Ziya al-Din Yusuf—may God protect him from what leads to grief and regret—became occupied with learning the rudiments of Arabic speech and gathering the rules of the arts of letters,

And let it not remain hidden that upon newly-arrived children and youths who have not seen hardship, from learning terminologies unfamiliar to their nature and uncustomary to their hearing, a burden of desolation settles upon the heart and a dust of dismay upon the mind. So, for the refinement of his inmost being and the sharpening of his mind, from time to time a few lines from the book Gulistan—which is from the blessed breaths of the renowned Sheikh and great master Muslih al-Din Saadi of Shiraz, may God the Exalted have mercy on him—were read.

Not a rose garden, but a meadow from paradise, Whose dust and debris are of ambergris nature; Its chapters are the gates of paradise, Its tales bestow grace like the founts of Kawthar; Its subtle points, hidden behind a veil, Are the envy of the pampered houris; Its charming verses are lofty trees, From the moisture of grace, 'beneath them rivers flow.'

In that interval it came to mind—seeking blessing from his noble precious work and following his subtle verses—that a few pages should be composed in that style and a few sections arranged in that manner, so that it might be a tale for those present and a gift for those absent. And when this meaning was accomplished and this form was completed,

I said to reason: with what adornment shall I bedeck this new bride, So that in the eyes of her suitors her beauty and grace may increase? It said: with the pearls of praise of the victorious sovereign, Nusrat al-Dunya, Mu'izz al-Dawla, refuge of the two horizons, The star of the constellation of majesty, the gem of the casket of honor, The candle of the assembly of the house of Timur Khan, Sultan Husayn, A heaven of dignity such that, like the sun to the atoms of the world, To behold him with the eye of favor is an incumbent duty; Know that upon the pledge of his generosity rest all the needs of the people; His generosity little accepts upon its neck the disgrace of debt.

May God the Exalted make his helpers mighty and double his power and perpetuate his noble descendants under the shadows of his kingdom and sovereignty, and may all humankind be in the shelter of his justice and beneficence.

Although Saadi previously made the Gulistan And completed it in the name of Sa'd ibn Zangi, My Baharestan received its name from one Whose slave Sa'd ibn Zangi might well be.

Take a stroll in this Baharestan, That you may see within it many rose gardens; And through subtleties, in every rose garden Roses have grown and sweet basil has sprung.

And the arrangement of this Baharestan has been settled upon eight gardens (rawzas), each a paradise-fashioned garden containing a different hue of anemones and a different scent of sweet herbs—neither its anemones withered by the trampling of the autumn wind, nor its sweet herbs frozen by the pillaging cold of December.

Its meadow has sprung up on all sides, Its tulip-field has bloomed in every quarter; From the dew, the tulip has sweat upon its temples, From the rain, the bud has wine in its flask; Abundant in tears from the eye of the streams, Much-laughing from the mouth of the chamomiles; The narcissus gestures: 'Drink wine, For pardon is the eraser of slips;' I fear that, from the grace of its gesture, It may make the abstinent ones permit the forbidden.

The request from the beholders of these gardens—free from the thorn of objection and turning away and the debris of demanding recompense—is that when they pass over these with the foot of attention and gaze upon these with the eye of consideration, they remember the gardener, who has eaten the blood of his liver in cultivating them and brought his sweet life to his lips in nurturing them, with a prayer, and gladden him with praise.

Whoever among the fortunate, from these freshly grown trees, Sits in a shade or plucks a fruit, Better that he take up the custom of gratitude, Tread the path of generosity, and choose the practice of prayer, Saying: 'The servant Jami, who made this garden—O Lord, May he ever be full of God and empty of self, May he tread none but His path, seek none but union with Him, Speak none but His name, behold none but His face.'