Next day, when Joseph in the early morn,
When from day's grace to all hearts joy is borne,
Arrayed himself in robes of royal pride,
And came outside with the intent to ride,
When in the stirrup one foot he had placed,
Said Gabriel to him: “Make no further haste.
“From deadly fate no surety canst thou gain,
“In other stirrup that thy foot remain.
“From hope and safety now draw back thy rein,
“And from life's stirrup now thy foot restrain.”
When Joseph's ear now these good tidings knew,
Glad from this being he his heart withdrew.
His skirt of courage gladly he spread wide,
And of his realm's heirs called one to his side.
King of that land in his own stead he willed,
Into his heart all excellence instilled.
Again he said, “Call ye Zuleikha here:
“To bid me now farewell let her appear.”
They said: “In sorrow's hand is she a prize;
“In blood and dust now overwhelmed she lies.
“Her grieving soul this load could never bear.
“Leave her alone in thy great pity there.”
He said: “I fear the scar of this great debt
“Till Judgment Day will lie upon her yet.”
They said to him: “God give her joy at length;
“In resignation ever be her strength!”
In Gabriel's hand there was an apple borne,
That Eden's grove with beauty would adorn.
In Joseph's hand as he the apple placed,
He smelt it and gave up his soul in haste.
Of life's fair garden as he knew the scent,
He with that perfume to life's garden went.
As Joseph yielded to that scent his soul
Burst from those present cries beyond control.
And as the voice of weeping went on high,
The sound rose upwards to the azure sky.
Zuleikha said: “What is this noise and cry,
“Resounding loud throughout the earth and sky?”
“That king of prosp'rous fortune,” then they said:
“From throne towards the bier has turned his head.
“To this world's narrow house he bids good bye,
“And makes his new abode above the sky.”
She heard these words and was of sense bereft,
And the bright light of sense her body left.
That active cypress at this dismal ale
Fell on the ground three days a shadow pale.
On the fourth day awoke from dreams at last,
Hearing, into unconsciousness she passed.
Three times three days she all unconscious lay,
With burning heart passed from her sense away.
On the fourth day when she returned to sense,
To ask for Joseph she would first commence.
Upon the pillow he no more reclined,
Nor on the earth his coffin could she find.
And she of him these tidings only found:
As treasure they had laid him in the ground.
At first as cruel fate her onwards bore,
As the pure dawn her collar then she tore.
Then with that fire at heart that hidden lay,
From that torn collar opened out a way.
Thus in her soul that fire would never cease,
But every moment farther would increase.
Holes in her fair cheeks with her nails she tore,
And made a river for her fount of gore,
That from that fountain flowed each stream within:
Arghván's bride-chamber made the jessamine.
With nail on rosy cheek she drew a line,
As vein through brilliant eyeballs coursing fine.
Upon her breast with stone she struck a blow;
And her fair cheek with many a slap would glow.
On silver there the fresh cornelian grew;
From this the tulip took the lotus' hue.
To her own head she raised her hand again,
And on that tender head inflicted pain.
The garden cypress of its green bereft,
The spikenard plucked, the grove was empty left.
Moaning in soul and with a heartfelt cry
From a sad breast she raised her voice on high:
“Oh! where is Joseph who adorned the throne,
“Who ever to the poor has mercy shown?
“When he on narrow steed the saddle tied,*
“And to the everlasting realm would ride;
“Such eager haste did he display in this,
“That even I his stirrup could not kiss.
“When from this vault of grief he went away,
“I was not present ‘Why dost go?’ to say.
“I saw no head that on his couch he threw,
“Nor gathered from his wild-rose face the dew.
“When that fierce wound upon his breast was seen,
“His back upon my breast he could not lean.
“From throne when on the bier he lay at rest,
“That bier by fortune as the throne was blessed.
“Rose-water from my eye I did not seek,
“Nor with that water did I wash his cheek.
“When on his body they the shroud had tied,
“And in his burial were occupied,
“Ropes I had never learnt the art to reeve,
“That sewn on him my thin form I might leave.
“When in my heart they broke of grief the thorn,
“And from this earthly stage his load was borne,
“So full of tuneless melody my tongue
“As bell upon his litter was not hung.
“When in the earth his place of sleep they found,
“And laid him as a rare pearl in the ground,
“The ground above, below, I did not sweep,
“Nor in his arms, as I desired, could sleep.
“Alas for this sad injury! Alas!
“Alas for this terrific grief! Alas!
“Come, my heart's wish: my disappointment see!
“On me oppress'd of heav'n the tyranny!
“Cut off from thee, nor in thy memory had,
“Thou didst not with thy presence make me glad.
“O faithful one, was this good faith in thee?
“Tow'rds friends should this the form of friendship be?
“Why, then, didst thou reject me from thy heart?
“In dust and blood why throw me and depart?
“Thou brokest in my heart a wondrous thron,
“Which from my clay alone can forth be borne.
“Thou didst prepare to travel to a place,
“Whence backwards no one ever turns his face.
“It would be better now to spread my wing,
“And in one flight myself to thee to bring.”
She spoke, and called her litter-bearers there,
And bade her litter for herself prepare,
And with one movement from that grief's abode,
To Joseph's halting-stage on earth she rode.
There of her jewel pure no sign she found,
Only a heap of moist earth on the ground.
That sunny foot, her face upon the mound,
Threw down herself like shadow on the ground—
A golden shade from her pale cheek she threw,
And tinged it with her tears with ruby's hue.
At times the foot she kissed, at times the head;
“Oh! and alas is me!” she cried and said.
“Thou hast gone down, as in the earth the rain,
“Whilst I as thorns and rubbish here remain.
“Like rose's root thou hidest in the mud,
“Whilst I as rose-branch am above and bud.
“Thou hast in earth as treasure found thy place,
“And I, gem-weighing cloud, am on its face.
“Upon my dust blood-waves thy image throws,—
“Through parting fire upon my rubbish glows.
“On my life's rubbish hast thou cast a flame:
“My smoke, thence curling, up to heaven came.
“None ever opened eye upon my smoke,
“That water from his eye did not evoke.”
Thus did she wail, and aye her wounded breast
With hundred griefs upon the earth she pressed.
And when her grief beyond all limit went,
To kiss the earth her head she lowly bent;
Up to her eyes her finger then she bore,
And her two eye-balls from their sockets tore.
From her head's cup these in his dust she pressed,
And said: “To sow narcissus were it best.
“When thy rose-face my eyes no more may see,
“Of what use in this world are eyes to me?”
Of those o'erwhelmed with grief it is the way
Upon the coffin almonds black to lay,
But as that wretch his coffin could not view,
But two black almonds on his grave she threw.
She laid her blood-stained face upon the grave;
Kissed the dust humbly and her spirit gave.
Happy that lover is who when he dies,
In hope of union with his loved one lies!
Then when her state her own companions knew,
Out of their hearts the loud lament they drew.
For ev'ry sigh that she on Joseph spent,
Two hundred times for her did they lament.
They made lament as hired mourners cry,
For that fair silver form, exceedingly.
Now as the sound of mourning grows more cold,
Their sleeves together they to wash her fold.
They wash her with the tear-flood of their eyes,
As wash the rose-leaves clouds in summer skies.
Like bud that from a branch of jess'mine grows,
In shroud of verdure they her form enclose.
They clean the dust of parting from her face,
And in the earth by Joseph's side they place.
None in his death such bliss may ever gain,
That his love's company he should obtain.