Original content

English translation

O light-giver of insight, You are the treasure of the talisman of creation. You are the treasure, and the world is full of gems from You; The sphere and the cosmos are full of stars from You. Pour gems from the treasure of love upon the world, Pour the wine of mystical knowledge into the throat of the soul. Make the world's people of one color, Make the world narrow for the blind-eyed. Bring forth light from this single color, Make the two worlds acquainted with each other. Like a candle, learn to burn yourself; Do you burn, and light up the world. Since you possess the power of clean speech, That you speak both with one color and chastely, You have a share of every science that is needed, And you have the courage of heart in the arena of speech. If a mention of you remains in time, It will be in exchange for eternal life. What is better for a man than a remembrance That remains after him for an age? Now spread a tale from the beginning, For a whole world is bound by your breath at this moment. Thus said he to whom, from the cloud of meanings, The scattering of pearls came naturally: That when Hormoz began that trickery, To rescue Gol from the Peri again, He asked forty days of respite from the Ispahani; He granted him respite as his heart desired. But the King of Ispahan, during those forty days, Suffered forty years of burning at the hand of his heart. He had no patience to see when it would arrive, When those endless forty days would end. He fell apart and melted from the burning; You would say he was keeping a forty-day fast of seclusion. Not a day did his heart rest from its burning, Not a night did he sleep until morning. A lover's eye never finds sleep, For his eye is never without tears. His entire thought day and night was, Until the forty days would bring that heart-inflamer back. 'When she returns, I will take the path anew, I will take off the boot from her foot at the door. I will not leave her away from myself for a single moment, I will make her averse to anyone who approaches. I will weigh her in the balance and then, at her request, I will see her rightly and happily in my own chamber.' That heedless king was making calculations Which no rational person would make. His intellect said to him of this raw work: 'O King, draw a line through it if you have intellect.' At last, when the forty days came to an end, The sorrowful king did not hear from Hormoz. The king sat early, his chest wet with blood, Waiting to see when Hormoz would enter his door. The king sat much and stood much, But no one appeared from that road. He said to his heart: 'I will be patient today, So that tomorrow my moon will emerge from the cloud. Hormoz will come to me early in the morning, Having made a moon follow him from the rose-cheeked one.' With this hope he brought the day to night, But until daybreak, he cried 'O Lord' all night. All night, his place of sleep was filled with blood, The ground taken by the Oxus of his tears. The door kept spinning in his eyes from that anxiety, The eyelashes became diamonds in his eyes. When tears appeared from his eyes, His lap became a sea because of those tears. Sometimes he would remember the face of the rose-cheeked one, Sometimes he would cry out from longing for her. Sometimes he became restless like a bird, Sometimes he went from the golden throne to the roof. Sometimes he leaped from the door like the morning breeze, Sometimes he bound his heart to the key of the morning. Sometimes he said: 'O unfaithful physician, Since forty days have passed, why do you not appear? His trickery too remained in the hands of the Peri, The Peri took her, and she remained separated from me.' Like a candle, he brought night to day with burning, But the next day was worse for him than that night. When they opened the door of the celestial dome, The stars prepared their houses. All of them ran to that door together, Disappearing when the morning breathed. When the disk of the swordsman opened its arm, Like a fire-filled oven in Libra, It boiled pleasantly from the fiery oven, The world became entirely filled with a storm of fire. When the peacock of the jeweled dome of heaven Hoisted its banner with thousands of splendors, The king sent someone to Hormoz: 'O master, what was agreed has passed, O master. Say, what is the reason for this long stay? Come, since your forty days have fully ended. My own heart is turned upside down with grief, Until these forty nights and days of mine ended. Set foot inside, wash your hands of talk, Do not make a snare of these forty like the lock of the rose-cheeked one. For another night and day, I have no work, Except sitting and counting days and nights. You bowed your neck to this covenant, Now do not turn your head from keeping the promise. Whether you are sitting or standing, Do not sit down until you come this very moment. If you have captured Gol, bring her before me, Make my heart happy, bring her along with you.' When that man heard these words from the king, He kicked up dust from the road with his feet. Like an arrow aiming for the target, That swift runner went towards Hormoz. When he reached near the door of Hormoz, He saw the door of Hormoz closed like iron. Gently he knocked the ring on the anvil of the door, When no one answered, he knocked harder. At a hundred doors, that wretched door-knocker knocked, The door did not open, and the wall trembled. For a while he stopped knocking, For a while he called out from outside. When he called out a lot from outside, An echo answered him back from inside. A shadowless neighbor suddenly Came out like a sun from a tent. She said: 'Do not knock at the door, O cold door-knocker, Do not beat cold iron, O iron-hearted one. For it has been forty days since Hormoz at dawn Went out from here like an arrow from a bow. He took three women and two other men, Perhaps he has handed the palace to someone else.' When the door-knocking man received the answer from the woman, He leaped from the place like millet from the threshing floor. Like the wind passing by the road, He went to the king and informed him of the situation. The king, at the man's words, leaped from his place, Like a drunk lion, he struck hand against hand. Sometimes he bit his lips with his teeth, Sometimes he tried to cure his soul with manliness. Sometimes he fell into madness from thought, Sometimes he fell into the hands of a hundred turmoils. Sometimes he grew hot like a lion from heat, Sometimes like a lion he spewed foam from his lips. A vein of his eye was cut without a lancet, His heart roared from sorrow, beside itself. A blood-stained sigh came up from the king, For he knew that Hormoz had deceived him. He opened his tongue: 'Well done, O sinister dog! This bad-bred Roman did a good deed. Since I did evil, evil befell me from myself; Whoever does evil, evil comes before him. I know for certain that this is no small thought, That he took this woman from the road in this manner. I do not know how he mixed deceit, That Gol mixed with him like wine with milk. I do not know what trickery and magic he did, That Gol acted with such housewifery towards me. I do not know what breath he blew upon my iron, That Gol took her steps like the wind. That dog made a pear out of a clod of earth with trickery, The clod came, perhaps, upon pomegranate breasts. Her heart had a clod in the path from him, Upon which he suddenly poured water. Perhaps a stone fell from him into her shoe, So that her shoe became like a clod, forgotten. Perhaps her shoe turned inward because of him, She left the shoe to me and leaped out of the door. So shoeless did that ill-omened child go, That the shoe-wearer walked on foot with her shoe in his lap. Perhaps Hormoz became like a shoemaker, Who stitched the piece on Gol and departed. Because of this shoemaker, my face is purple, For he is ungrateful and of a faithless banner. If he had eaten a slap from my shoe, He would have seated me under his shoe. An unchaste woman deserves the sword; If she eats daily bread, daily bread is a pity. A dog barks at a stranger, And is gladdened by the face of an acquaintance. A dog is better than her, for a dog does not leave Its housemate to go to a stranger. Alas, that that dog leaped out of my trap, And fire leaped out of my body because of her. Alas, if only I had known sooner, But what can I do, my news was late. To whom in the world did this ever happen? How wonderful is the work of the world, see the work of the world. I held that ill-omened woman dear, I nurtured my own calamity. I spoke no words except to her taste, For a year in separation from her I did not sleep. Since I chose her as a soul from the world, I then called her the comfort of my soul. If one night my hand reached her, For ten days fire would blow in the reed. Sharply she would tear her shirt, She would pluck her hair and throw dust on her head. She would wail from her heart in lamentation, And drive me out of the door with contempt. And if I stood far off on the road, When her eye fell upon the gateway, She would close two eyes to my eyes, Thus she would place medicine on this wounded one. She would cover her face with a veil from me, Running from me in every direction. As a child fears a dark-skinned person, She would deduce even more fear from me. Even though I was a king in words and deeds, In the eyes of Gol I was like Azrael. So did that tormentor fear me, That I feared her even more than she feared me. If she saw me in a vacant place, She would turn her face from me immediately. She wanted neither jewels nor garments of gold, Neither adornment nor tirewoman nor ornament. From my joy, she had sorrow; From my love, she had a hundred mountains on her heart. If she saw my face in water, At night she would dream of Hindustan. From myself, a hundred feats...