94. And in the year 658 H. Sulān Nāṣiru-d-Dīn Mahmūd, chastised the country of Mīwāt* and the rest of that district, and when he was fully established as Malik in the year 664 H. he fell sick and closed his eyes on the world of dreams and fancies, and went to the eternal kingdom.* He left no heir; the duration of his reign was nineteen years, three months and a few days. His tomb is well known in Dehlī, and every year crowds flock to visit it.
Verse.Come and cast one thoughtful look upon this dust.
For it is the dust of the resting-place of trusted kings.
And of the number of those who sounded the drum of poetry and attained the rank of Maliku-l-Kalām (Lord of Eloquence) during Nāṣiru-d-Dīn's reign, one was Shamsu-d-Dīn Dabīr* whose manifest excellencies and perfection are beyond description and need no narration and praise, and Mīr Khusrū,* may God sanctify him, who tested the genuineness of his own poems by the touchstone of their acceptability to that other (Shamsu-d-Dīn) used to boast of them, and in the preface to the Ghurratu-l-Kamāl and at the end of the Hasht Bihisht greatly embellished his words in the mention of the praiseworthy qualities and in spreading abroad the excellencies of (that friend of his). And Sulān Ghiyāu-d-Dīn Balban having at the end of his reign appointed him Secretary for the countries of Bangāla and Kāmrūd had left him in the service of his elder son Nāṣiru-d-Dīn* Bughrā Khān, and these few couplets are from an ode of his.
Oh thou* of whom this work of my heart is unworthy
though my ignorance; thou gavest me last night a false
promise of entertainment.
All night I kept my eyes awake and* I did not know that
that was longing of that kind which you know to be vain.
I keep my heart* exercised thinking of thy face, and wondering why thy colour is so ripe and thy forehead like virgin
silver.
95. I am overcome with idleness though it urges me on to strenuous endeavour—but there is a loose bond between me and
distraction.
Do not make me prepared with (the fire of) thy love* since I
am thy guest, because it is a great virtue to offer sacrifice of
unprepared flesh.
We said “no Muslim will eat raw flesh,” but look! thy grief
has devoured me raw. Is this your religious devotion.
* You call me “raw,” if I cut open my own breast, I will
shew you that the heart which thou considerest raw, is ready.
So amazed am I at thy beauty and the glory of the king that
my imperfect work remains raw from my amazement.
Since the king is a second Khusrū, my work will never remain unfinished, by reason of the kingdom of the second
Khusrū—
Conqueror of the world* and of religion, he in view of
whose sovereignty the desire of Emperors for the Kingdom
of Suleimān was vain.
The king Maḥmūd Shāh, that Sulān from whose father's
glory the cauldron of one single* desire, by reason of his
empire, is not left unfilled.
If the Sun of his benevolence shines in the direction of the
garden no fruit issues from the branches of the garden
unripe.*
What resource has the Sky if it does not support the burden
of thy dignity—how can you expect a raw baggage animal
to bear a heavy load!
Thy enemy deserves this that you should sew him in a raw hide*
for on the body of an inexperienced man of what use is
it for you to fit a raw-hide.*
Thy enemy bathes in blood,* instead of the collar of his 96.
garment the prisoner places on his neck every moment a
raw-hide.
Every deed of thine is like* perfected gold, and those who
wish thee evil are imperfect in their work from frivolity
and the assurance of shame.
Thy enemy is that naked demon* who has a skin made of
the whole of the Earth, and that too, if you take it off him
is a raw-hide.
If thou dost not spread thy table every day twice before the
people, they will perforce eat raw grain, since the hand of
despair from lack of bread has no other resource.
If thy enemy becomes ruined* what fear is there? although
he advances in a futile attack, like the lion of the flag he
is helpless though impotence.*
Of what avail* is the sorcery of Fara‘ūn since the dragon
of your standard will swallow the fictitious serpent.
Oh Khusrū! Shamsu-d-dīn* is thy secretary, strong and
well proved in speech—he is not like the worthless Scribes
an inexperienced scribbler.
He himself is experienced* and his verse is like purified
gold—his words are not like the best sayings of Khāqānī
still in the rough.
The sky has prepared a perfect kingdom* for thee—Oh Lord
in thy favour grant that his perfect work may never revert
to imperfection.
And the King of Kings and of Speech Amīr Fakhru-d-Dīn ‘Amīd Lūmakī* writes in a Qaṣīda of which this is the opening couplet.
When my loved one takes* the lute, and binds the plectrum
on her fingernail
Her nail strikes Nāhīd* with a hundred wounds in the heart
through envy.
97. Through envy of her harp fever seizes upon Nāhīd at that
instant.
Her nail becomes altogether blue from the effect of that
fever.*
Consider the henna on her nails to be like blood, which at the
time of the springing of the strings from the harp dry
as a reed, has spurted forth and made the nail moist.
If in play my nail has scratched your lip, do not be vexed* at
that,
Because now and then they dip the nail into sugar by way of
tasting it.
Keep the point of your nail as sharp as a glance my love, for
the harp has no confidence in the fingers save for the sharpness of their nails.
Bring me consolation by the tenderness of thy kindness,*
because compared with thy face, the bride of the moon
has brought blood to its nails through envy.
Give me wine red as the blood of a hare at the remembrance
of the assembly of the king, for his wrath has forced off
the claws from the paws of the male lions.
Shāhanshāh Nāṣir-i-Dunyā wa-Dīn Maḥmūd, by whose equity
the partridge with its beak has torn off the claws of the
swift-flying* hawk.
By the fate-like oppression of his enemy he has fallen in
danger of ruin,* just as one's nail is in danger in the hands
of an unskilled barber.*
His head is in danger of severance* by the sword of the daring,
like the nail at the time of paring, in accordance with the
Ḥadī.*
From the dread of the falcon of his equity it behoves that
they should take to flight* when the eagle with lancet-like
talons casts his feathers and talons (through fear).
Such a quarry do they see,* that from their absence of claws
and their distress, their claw demands as a loan from the
small-clawed partridge its claws.
98. For this reason that in the presence of his power, the sky
scratches his head for envy, and each month, because of that
power, displays the body of the* moon in the shape of a
nail paring (crescent).
Compared with the perfumed dust raised by his charger the
dust-like grains of the musk-bag have become valueless as
the dust which is found under every nail.
You would say his arrow is a finger from the hand of victory
because it appears as though his nail were like a willow-
leaf-bladed soul-destroying spear.
A finger which if he so wills it, like an Indian spear embeds
its nail in the mind of iron and the heart of separation.*
The sword of his wrath has imprinted such a scar on the
cheek of his enemy as remains on the cheek of the mother
from the anger* of the infant.
Grudging the life of his evil-disposed enemies, lo! the boars
of Fate have sharpened their tusks, and the lions of Destiny
their claws.
Power of the world! when the point of thy sword scratches
the hearts, it has carried away from the paws of the oppression of the dog-natured sky its claws.*
How can thy enemy be at all like thee, how can he approach
thy dagger, whereas when he brandishes his dagger it becomes at that moment* like a finger nail.
If his pride so misleads him that he finds fault with you, the
tip of his finger becomes as dust in his hand and his nail
as nothing.*
The edge of thy sword protects the face of the world,* if
there had not been the nail as a shield behind the back of
the finger tip it had not been well.
If the envier of the nail of thy bravery bears a grudge
against thee, perchance poor fellow it is because he does
not know that the nail is poisonous.
I have brought in the word nail (nākhun) as radīf* in this 99.
poem which is like a charm. Verily it is as useful in
magic, as the hair of the head or the tip of the nail.*
Oh king, do not desert me, so long as the spiteful heaven
strikes every moment one nail upon another by way of
producing the notes of my fate.