Bahrām on Thursday sits in the Sandal-coloured Dome, and the daughter of the king of the Sixth Clime tells him a story.

A happy day is Thursday, and ascribed to Jupiter in its auspiciousness.
When early dawn diffused the scent of musk, (and) sandal-braying earth*1703 burnt aloes-wood*1704,
In concord with the sandal-coloured earth, the king used dress and wine-cup sandal-hued.
(Then) from the Azure Dome he issued forth, and to the Sandal-coloured Dome he went.
Wine he received not from a Chinese doll*1705, but Kausar’s nectar*1706 from a ḥūrī’s hand.
In happiness he spent the day till night, and drinking wine he drank of joyousness.
When this collyrium-coloured ocean’s shells poured pearls into the water-dragon’s jaws*1707,
Of her in China nurtured, narrow-eyed, he asked (a tale) to free his heart from care.
The Chinese princess, with a brow composed, let flow a stream of honey from (sweet) dates*1708.
She said, Life of the world alive through you! King most exalted of the kings (of earth)!
Greater (are you) than (all) the desert-sands, rocks of the mountains, water of the seas.
(As) Fortune is your friend, (so) live you long! May you be happy in your life and fate!
Giver of light like the resplendent sun! sovereign, bestower too of sovereignty!
She (then) said, I am apprehensive e’er of this (so) halting, stammering a tongue;
Then too before the basil-scented wine*1709 should now be scattered pearls (of eloquence).
Still as the king a story-teller seeks,—saffron requests for his enlivenment*1710,
A bag of babble I will open (now), and (by it) add a smile to cheerfulness.
The radiant Moon, the adorer of the Sun*1711, this homage offered, kissed the monarch’s hand.


She said, Once on a time from their own town two youths departed for another town.
Each one into a corner of his bag had put his food, provision for the road.
The name of one was Good, the other’s Bad; the acts of each accorded with (his) name.
When they had travelled two or three short days, the food which they had with them (for the road)—
Good had consumed (his), Bad kept (his intact): the former reaped the corn, the latter sowed.
Until, proceeding side by side, they reached a desert waste that seethed with fever-heat.
A furnace hot as oven-pit of fire, where iron would be (melted) soft as wax.
A hot and arid tract from water far, which made the north wind like the (hot) simoom.
Good, confident of water on the way, knew not there was no water, but a pit*1712.
But Bad, aware that that waste desert tract, extending far, no water had (in it),
Had secretly with water filled a skin, and kept it in his bag like (costly) pearls.
In the hot desert and the drawn-out road in utmost haste and hurry ran the two.
When the sun reached full heat, grew scorching hot, Bad had his water, that of Good was gone.
Bad, who the water had concealed from Good, spoke not a word to him of bad or good.
When Good saw that by evil nature led (the other), having water in his glass,—
From time to time that comrade secretly was drinking it like basil-scented wine;
Though he was burning in the heat of thirst, no word of suppli­cation did he speak.
Thirsty he gazed on water, whilst his mouth was watering with water from his heart*1713.
So much so that his heart became all dry*1714, his eyes incapable of opening.
’Twixt prayers of morn and even he remained thirsty, without endurance, power to bear.
He had with him two rubies fiery-hued; water they had, their water in the stones*1715.
From those two hidden rubies water flowed,—but water of the eyes, not of the mouth*1716.
Those rubies of pure water he took out, and laid before that water-prisoning rock*1717.
He said, With thirst I perish, help me, (pray), and with a drop of water quench my fire.
A draught from that pure limpid fount of life give as a favour, or sell (at a price).
(Come), freely these two jewels put away; my being with your water gratify.
(Then) Bad—upon him be the wrath of God!—opened the pages of his name to him*1718.
He said, Hew not a fountain out of stone*1719; I’m proof against this trick, (so) give it up.
You give me jewels in a desert place, to take them (from me) in a peopled land.
What man am I that I should so be gulled? More (craftily) than demon I gull men.
When in devices I display my skill, your stratagems will fall far short of mine.
Countless such wiles and frauds as this I’ve used; (so) hope not to excel me in this art.
I will not let you drink my water (here), and when you reach the town asperse my name*1720.
How can I take with pleasure gems from you, which you at last will take again from me?
Those jewels I must have that in no way you will be able to take back from me.
Good said, Tell (me) what jewels those (you) seek, that to the jewel-seeker them I hand.
Bad said, (I mean) those jewels twain (your) eyes,—each one more precious than the other one.
For water sell (your) eyes to me, or else, from this (pure) fountain turn your face away.
Good said, Have you no shame (then) before God, that you would sell cold water for hot fire*1721.
I speak of fountain, which is wholesome, sweet; what kind of business this, to pluck out eyes?
When I become deprived of eyes, what gain that founts, though hundred, be in front of me?
How for the Fount of Life*1722 could one exchange one’s (precious) eyes? The water sell for gold.
The rubies take, and everything I have: I’ll also sign a deed for what I have.
By the God of the world I’ll take an oath, that with such settlement I’ll rest content.
Leave me my eyes, O worthy man; be not, as to a trifle of cold water, cold.
Bad said, An idle fiction are these words, many such pretexts do the thirsty show.
I want the eyes, the gems are of no use; those gems may (far) exceed these (gems in worth)*1723.
Good, dazed and helpless, knew not what to do; for the pure water of the fount he wept.
He saw that he would (shortly) die from thirst; that he could not escape that place with life.
His anxious heart was by cold water lured: when from cold water have the thirsty kept?
He said, Arise, a sword or dagger take; a draught of water to the thirsty bring.
Put out my eyes, (my eyes, a fount) of fire, and with some pleasant water quench my fire.
He thought that such concession being made, he would have hope after so great a dread.
Bad, who saw this, drew out (his) dagger keen, and like the wind went to that thirsty clay*1724.
He struck the lamp, his two eyes, with the point; compunc­tionless in putting out the lamp.
He made narcissi*1725 rose-hued with the blade, (and) from the crown plucked out the (precious) gems*1726.
The thirsty man’s eyes having ruined (thus), giving no water, he resolved to go.
He took away (Good’s) baggage, clothes, and gems, (and) left the sightless man (quite) destitute.
When Good perceived that Bad had left his side, he had no knowledge (more) of good and bad.
He rolled about among the dust and blood;—best that he had no eyes to see himself.
If with his eyes he had perceived his state, he had so feared that he had died with grief.—
There was a Kurd, a great and mighty chief; he had a flock free from the plague of wolves.
He also had fine herds, (full) many (a head), such herds as no one (ever) had beheld.
Seven or eight tents of kinsmen were with him; he had (much) wealth, the others (all) were poor.
The Kurd in deserts dwelling, crossing mounts, scouring, as do their denizens, the wastes,
Traversed the desert wastes in search of grass, to pasture led his flocks from plain to plain.
Whatever grass and water might be found, there for two weeks his dwelling he would fix.
When the grass was consumed he’d leave the place, and to another region drive his flocks.
By chance, no longer than two days before, like desert-king*1727 he’d seized upon that spot.
He had a daughter fair of face, whose eyes with those of Turks, whose moles with Hindūs vied*1728.
A cypress watered with the blood of hearts, a charmer bred in love (bestowed by all).
Honey, like silver in its purity, enclosed in most transparent Syrian glass*1729.
(Her) ropes of locks (hung) lower than (her) skirt; she bound ropes round the neck of the (bright) moon*1730.
Lock upon lock like garden violets, in blackness blacker than the raven’s wing.
The magic of her glances, drunk with guile, excelled the power of Fortune to delude.
The smallness of her sugar-dealing lips had closed the road of kisses ’gainst her mouth.
The night had gained (its) blackness from her moles; the moon was radiant through her radiancy.
By reason of her Babylonian*1731 spells each one resigned his heart to loss of heart.
With graceful, airy gait that radiant Moon for water went, like fish, (intent on it).
Far from the track was water on a side: a part with which she was acquainted well.
She filled (her) jug with water pure and sweet, to carry it unnoticed to the tent.
(When) suddenly she heard a groan far off, which came from the afflicted, wounded man.
She followed up the sound on hearing it, and saw a youth who lay in dust and blood;
Who threw his arms and feet about in pain, with humble supplication God invoked.
The charmer thought no more of charming arts; she went up to the wounded man (at once).
She said, Alas for you! Who can you be, so abject in the dust, and stained with blood?
Who has been so unjust to one so young? Who has betrayed, conspired against you so?
Good said, O envoy (of) celestial (mien), whether an angel, whether angel-born,
My case involves some wondrous play (of Fate); the story (I might tell) is somewhat long.
(But) I from thirst and want of water die; try (if you can) to help a thirsty man.
Go, if there is no water, I must die; but if there is a drop I save my life.
The sweet-lipped cupbearer, to safety key, gave him some water fine as Life’s (pure) Stream*1732.
Of the cold lymph the anguished, thirsty man drank as much as was fitting (then) to drink.
His fainting soul became alive again; and that lamp of his eyes*1733 was full of joy.
The eyes (half) torn out which she saw misplaced,—calling on God,—she put again in place.
Although the outer membrane had been scratched, the humours in the eyeballs still remained.
Sufficient strength was left still in his legs to let him be raised up from where he lay.
His eyeballs, put in place, she bound (with care), and with humanity she took his hand.
She used great effort (then) to raise him up, and guiding, led him straight along the way.
Until the place wherein lay her abode, the sightless man went on the way with her.
A servant, one of those about the house,—into his hand she gave the (patient’s) hand.
She said, Conduct him to (my) mother now slowly and gently, that he be not hurt.
She quickly to (her) mother went herself, and set forth the event which had occurred.
(Her) mother said, Why did you leave (him there), coming (yourself), not bringing (him) with you?
For then perhaps some means might have been found, by which a little ease would have accrued.
She said, I brought him, though in desperate plight; I hope that he directly will be here.
The servant who had (then) come to the house, to a bed­chamber took the wounded man.
They made a place for him, and set a tray; they gave him broth and roasted meat cut small.
The anguished man ate, with a bitter sigh, a morsel, and in pain laid down his head.
The Kurd, who came at night-time from the plain, to take some food with which to break his fast*1734,
Saw something of a kind not usual, (and at the sight) his bile was further stirred.
He saw a man unconscious lying down, like one who, wounded, has resigned his life.
He said, From what place is this feeble man? How weak and wounded thus comes he to be?
As to what happened to the man at first, none could with truth an explanation give.
They told the tale of how his eyes were torn: how onyx*1735 had been bored by adamant.
When the Kurd saw that the afflicted man was sightless (there), and with his eyes bound up,
He spoke thus, A few leaves should have been plucked from branches of a certain lofty tree;
The leaves (well) pounded, till the juice exude, (then) steeped, and taken to the man (at once).
If such a salve as this had been prepared, (his) eyes would once again have gained (their) light.
A wound to eyes, although severe, is cured by juice from a few leaves of that (high) tree.
Then he told where the tree was (found), and said, (There) in that watering-place, our oasis,
There grows a noble, excellent old tree, the scent of which gives comfort to the brain.
Its trunk, two branches rising from its root, the separation ’twixt those branches wide.
The leaves of one branch, like the ḥūrīs’ robes, would bring back light again to sightless eyes.
The leaves of the other, like the Fount of Life*1736, would epileptics cure of their complaint.
When from the Kurd his daughter heard those (words), she gave her mind to seeing to the cure.
She coaxingly petitioned, begged her sire to make provision for a man in need.
The Kurd on hearing this (her) earnest prayer, departing took the road towards the tree.
(Then) from the (lofty) tree he plucked some leaves,—an antidote to (save) the sick from death.
The charmer took them on her sire’s return, and pounding them extracted all the juice*1737.
She strained (the essence) till no dregs remained, and poured it then into the sick man’s eyes.
She bound the medicine on the patient’s eyes, who when he knew sat up a moment’s space.
Upon propitious fortune fixed his eyes, (then) on the pillow laid (his) head again.
His head was (kept) bound up till five days (passed), and placed upon his eyes the liniment.
(When) the fifth day (had come) they set him free; they took off from his eyes the remedy.
The eyes (which had been) lost were sound (again), and were exactly as they were at first.
The sightless man unclosed his eyes again like two narcissi blossoming at dawn.
Good, who received this good, gave grateful thanks that his eyes, like a mill-ox, had been bound*1738.
The household (then) were free from care of him; their hearts rejoiced, affection they conceived.
From all the trouble she had borne for him, the daughter of the Kurd had fallen in love.
When the tall cypress ope’d narcissi twain*1739; (when) the pearl casket (too) became unlocked*1740,
That one of fairy-birth grew more in love with all the beauty of the noble youth.
Good, from the acts of kindness she conferred, became in love too from her love (thus shown).
Although he had not fully seen her face, still he had seen her when (with grace) she moved.
Her honeyed accents he had often heard, her delicate, soft hand had touched him oft.
That lovely one had fixed her heart on him, he his on her— wondrous relationship!—
Good every dawn in the old Kurd’s behalf would gird himself to do him service (leal).
In (his) charge of the camels and the flocks he used great gentleness and kindness e’er.
He kept the plague of wolves far from the flocks; with care he guarded all, both small and great.
The desert wanderer, the nomad Kurd, gaining such ease of body through his care,
Gave power to him, by taking him as friend; made him controller of his house and wealth.
When Good had grown familiar in the house, the Kurd asked many questions (on the past).
They sought intelligence about his eyes, (and asked) from whom the wrong which he had borne.
Good did not keep the history concealed; all that had happened, good and bad, he told.
The story of the gems, (his) wish to buy water when tortured by the plague of thirst.
And Bad’s demanding eyes to pluck them out; the base man’s injuring these (noble) gems.
He sought these gems, and carried off those gems, (then) left the thirsty man, no water given.
The Kurd when he had heard the tale laid down his face upon the ground like convent-monk*1741.
For he was so rejoiced that a base man had not done (real) harm to one of worth.
When they heard what that angel-natured man had borne of evil from that vile hell-fiend,
Good became still more famous than (his) name; became to them more precious than (their) lives.
They treated and maintained him as they should; the charmer let no other wait on him.
With face inveiled she tended him herself, she gave him water whilst she suffered fire*1742.
Good gave entirely (all) his heart to her, to her gave up the life from her received.
In honour of that dear and precious pearl he ministered to cattle, camels, flocks.
(But) said, That fair one—is it possible she be united with so poor a man?
One cannot marry without land and wealth a girl so perfect and so beautiful.
I who in poverty eat from their hands,—how fix my eyes upon relationship?
’Tis best that I, such peril to escape, astutely feign a journey to be made.
When after this a week had passed away, he wended home one even from the plain;
By thoughts of (his) beloved pained in heart, like to a beggar seated near a hoard;
A thirsty man, with limpid water close, more thirsty still than in the former case.
On that night from the wound which rent his heart his clay with tears (of pearly whiteness) bloomed*1743.
He thus addressed the Kurd, O strangers’ friend, much trouble from a stranger you have borne*1744.—
Through you my eyes have gained again their light, my heart and soul by you have been restored.
My life I have sustained (but) by your bread, good things in plenty eaten from your tray.
Your brand*1745 is as a light upon my brow; thanks (due) my (power to) bless you far exceed.
If you look to my mind or to my frame, the odour of your tray comes from my blood.
If you cut off my head I’ll hinder not; desire it laid upon (your) tray,—it’s (there).
No longer (truly) should I be your guest; my (wounded) heart should not be rubbed with salt*1746.
Not as your hospitality demands can fitting thanks to you be given by me,
Unless God by His grace afford the means to acquit myself of what is due to you.
Although by parting I am seeking grief, for leave to quit your service I must ask.
Long time I’ve been away from my own land, my business and such work as I may do.
I’ve now resolved to-morrow at the dawn to set out on the way to (my) abode.
Though I in body separate from you, in mind I shall be near your threshold’s dust.
My hope in one like you, a fount of light, is that you will not drive me from your heart.
That you will (too) encourage my design, and make as lawful all I have received.
The speaker having finished (thus his) words, the household of the Kurd was fired (by grief).
Loud weeping from among the Kurds arose, tumultuous cries arose on left and right.
The Kurd was weeping and his daughter more; (their) brains (were) dry, (their) eyes (were) all bedewed.
(Depressed), they after weeping hung their heads, (immovable) as water turned to ice*1747.
(Then) the clear-sighted Kurd upraised his head, and sending all the servants from the place,
He spoke to Good (as follows), Modest youth, smart, hand­some, friendly, and intelligent,
Think of yourself as gone to your own town, some new distress endured from some (new) friend*1748,
When comfort, wealth, good fortune, here are yours, and over all, both good and bad, full power.
Good, worthy men do not incline to ill, they do not give up friends for enemies*1749.
I have in my possession ample wealth, besides the one dear daughter whom I have:
A daughter amiable, disposed to serve,—’twere bad were I to say she is not good:
Although the musk is hidden in the pod, the scent of it is patent to the world*1750.
If on my daughter and on me your heart should fix—you’re dearer than (my) life to me.
For such a daughter I, with thankfulness, would choose you as my son-in-law (from all).
Whate’er I have of camels and of flocks I’d give, that you might have abundant wealth.
(Whilst) I with you in ease and affluence would live until the time that I depart.
Good hearing from the Kurd this joyous news, did (him) such homage as was meet he should.
Having these words of happy import spoken, they went to sleep in ease and cheerfulness.
The true dawn fastened on its (silver) zone, the bird (of dawn)*1751 complained like golden bells.
Auspiciously as fits the kingly lot, the eastern sultan sat upon (his) throne*1752.
The joyous Kurd (then) rising from (his) place, made fit arrangements for the wedding rites.
With such a wedding as the union bade, whose offspring should be fortunate and blest,
He gave his daughter to the care of Good, joined Mercury and Venus in one course*1753.
Dying of thirst (Good) found the Fount of Life; the solar light upon a blossom shone*1754.
The honey-lipped cupbearer gave a draught from Kausar’s*1755 water to the thirsty man.
First she had life-sustaining water given, lastly she gave him of the Fount of Life.
They both together lived in happiness; nothing was wanting of the things required.
Bearing in mind the times had gone before, that which they had they cheerfully enjoyed.
All of the riches which the Kurd possessed, all he relinquished to his precious ones.
So thus it fell that house, effects, and herds devolved in (their) entirety to Good.
When from the meadows, water, and the trees they set off on their journey for the plain,
Good (went) up to the sandal-scented tree, from which the people sought for remedies.
Not from one branch, but from the two-fold wood, he gathered full abundance of the leaves.
He filled two bags full of those (precious) leaves, and placed them in the load a camel bore:
One to cure colds and epilepsy too; one for the eyes a perfect remedy.
No person did he tell about the leaves; he hid these remedies from (people’s) eyes.
Until they journeyed to a town whose king had a (fair) daughter epilepsy-stricken.
Though they had many remedies employed, she got no better; they were full of grief.
Each one possessed of knowledge and of skill from one town or another came in hope;
Thinking by means of remedies applied to free a fairy from demoniac plagues*1756.
All in their efforts and attempts lost hope; the torments of the demon (but) increased.
The king had made a stipulation first that whosoever should restore her health,—
On him he would bestow her thankfully, and make him honoured as his son-in-law.
But that whoe’er his daughter’s beauty saw, (and) did not use a fitting remedy,—
He would attack him with the scimitar and with the scimitar strike off his head.
Whoever saw the face of that sick girl through (his) attendance was distressed and dazed*1757.
Thousand physicians had their heads cut off, both people of the town and strangers too.
This matter spread abroad throughout the land, but everyone in hope of the reward
(Still) to the wind (of death) would give his head, pursue the path that led to loss of life.
(Then) Good, who from the people heard this news, seeing he had the special remedy,
Sent someone to the king, and (through him) said, I from the path can sweep away this thorn.
I will remove her trouble by God’s grace, and thus fulfil my compact with the king.
But, with your leave, it must be understood that I am free of all desire of gain.
This treatment that I purpose to employ, I shall employ it for the sake of God;
That God may, in a blest and favoured time, grant me the means to carry out this aim.
When his communication reached the king, the king allowed him access to kiss hands.
Good went, and paid (the monarch) homage meet; the latter asked him, saying, Worthy man,
What is your name? He said, My name is Good, because my star displayed auspiciousness.
The monarch found his name of omen blest; he said, Good man, devising remedies,
Of such a work of happy aim as this may the result be good as is your name!
Then he consigned him to an intimate*1758, to take him to (his) daughter’s private room.
He saw a sun-like face, a cypress tree, to a willow turned from epilepsy’s blasts*1759.
With eyes of ox*1760, like lion all perturbed, by night not resting, sleeping not by day.
Some leaves of that (most blest), auspicious tree he had with him, tightly, securely tied.
He brayed them, from the essence made a draught, a comfort to the thirsty, cool and sweet.
He caused the princess (then) to drink the draught; and from her brain the trouble was dispelled;
That tumult, which was madness, she escaped; as soon as she had drunk the draught she slept.
When Good perceived that she, a flowery Spring, slept quietly, from trouble’s onslaughts saved,
He came from that celestial ḥaram forth, and towards his house returned with joyous heart.
And she of fairy face slept on three days, her father unacquainted with her state.
On the third day when she upraised her head, she ate such food as she found suitable.
The king who on his couch heard the good news, with feet unshod into the ḥaram sped.
His daughter in her senses he beheld within the ḥaram (seated) on her couch.
The king fell prone*1761, (then) to his daughter said, O you whom no one can in marriage mate,
(Say) in (your) malady how fare you (now)?—May all sore trials from your door be far!
At the king’s majesty she, full of awe, observed the duty of thanksgiving too.
When the king from the ḥaram’s precincts went, his grief was lessened, and his joy increased.
Then to an intimate*1762 his daughter gave a message, saying to the illustrious king,
I’ve heard that in the register of acts*1763 the king’s (recorded) compact is upheld.
Since at the time when heads should be struck off the king fulfilled the compact (he had made),
Towards such a head as would become a crown his compact he should (also) carry out;
Since as regards the sword his faith was kept, it should not slacken as regards the crown.
By the sharp sword a hundred heads have fallen, when not one by the crown has been upraised.
That one by whom my cure has been achieved, through whom this fastened lock has found a key,—
His business should not be neglected now, none in the world should be my mate but him.
’Tis best that in the compact we behave frankly and such an obligation meet.
The monarch also felt the will arise to carry out the compact (he had made).
By the king’s leave the noble-minded Good they sought around, and found him on the road.
They counted him a pearl which has been found, and brought him (then) at once before the king.
The king said, You, so noble in the world,—why from your fortune do you hide your face?
He doffed his royal robe and gave it him, in value greater than a province ’twas.
Some other ornaments he gave besides; a belt of gold, a baldrick of (fine) gems.
Round town and palace were pavilions raised; the townsmen decked (the town) in festive guise.
The girl came from (her) arched room on the roof; she saw the bridegroom like a (bright) full moon:
Active, of cypress stature, handsome face, comely, with galia down and musky hair*1764.
The bride consenting, willing too (her) sire, Good became bridegroom in despite of Bad*1765.
A king was master of the treasure-door, he broke the seal of that which was intact*1766.
Thenceforth he happy lived as he could wish, viewing designs of beauty and delight.
The monarch had a powerful vazīr, a good protector of the people he;
Who had a daughter of alluring grace, (whose) face was like a lamp upon the snow.
The plague of small-pox to the Moon had come; (and) by (the effects of) it her eyes were blind.
(Then) of the monarch the vazīr asked leave to let Good to her eyes restore the light.
On those conditions which the king had made at first, Good’s remedy restored the Moon.
That idol was united with him too; ecce margaritam quæ nonnullas margaritas perforavit!
Good found from the delight of those three brides both Kisrá’s crown, and Kai-Kā’ūs’s throne*1767.
Sometimes he with the vazīr’s daughter sat, and over every wish he gained full sway.
Sometimes the princess fair illumed his eyes: a (bright) Sun he, a (lustrous) Moon was she.
In the Kurd’s daughter he rejoiced at times: from the world at three games of “nard” he won*1768.
Good nature, graciousness and wisdom too gained him a place in all the people’s hearts.
Till so it happened that through fortune’s grace (his gifts) brought him to empire and the throne.
To rule the city he was reckoned fit; on him was settled the supreme control.
One day by chance he towards the garden went, a king and an illumer of the world.
Bad who had been companion on his road, and been acquainted with his good and bad*1769,
Traded with Jewish craft and stinginess; Good saw that Jew, and recognized him (soon).
He said, Bring to the garden after me that person with (all) harshness and contempt.
Good to the garden went, and sat at ease; the Kurd sat (there) before him, sword in hand.
Bad (then) came up with open brow assumed, and kissed the ground (there) with no thought of Good*1770.
Good said to him, Tell (me) what is your name, O you, whose head must (soon) weep over you*1771.
He said, Mubashshir*1772, a passed master I in all the finest work of skill and art.
Good said (again), Tell me your proper name; (beware)! wash not your face with your own blood!
He said, I have no other name than this; show me the sword, or cup, just as you will.
Good said to him, Vile robber that you are, the law forbids no man to shed your blood.
You are the worst of men, your name is Bad; worse than your name (too) is your temperament.
Are you not he whose torturing hand tore out for water once a thirsty person’s eyes?
The gems, his eyes, the gems (too) in his belt,—you took out both, and burnt his heart (with grief).
And what was worse, in such a (desert) place you took the water off and gave him none.
I am that thirsty man whose gems were taken; (yet) is my fortune good, your fortune bad.
You (wished to) kill me, but God let me live; happy is he who has support from God!
Since God’s support good fortune gave to me, see, it has given me kingly crown and throne!
Woe to the life of a base man like you! You sought to take life, yours you shall not save.
Bad looked at Good’s face, which he recognized; he cast himself (before him) on the ground.
He said, Have mercy, though I have done ill; ’tis I who did it, therefore see it not.
To this look, that the swiftly-rolling sky gave Bad as name to me, and Good to you.
If on that former day I did to you that which the name of one like me entails,
In such a state of peril do to me what fits the name of one renowned like you.
Good, by that point reduced to helplessness, from execution freed the man at once.
When Bad had gained deliverance from the sword, he went away and ran through joyousness.
The Kurd, bloodthirsty, followed, and behind with the sword struck him and cut off his head.
He said, Though Good has good and kindly thought, to you who’re Bad may happen naught but bad.
On searching him he found those two (fine) gems, placed (for security) inside his belt.
He (then) returned, and brought the gems to Good; he said (to him), Gem has returned to Gem.
Good kissed (them), and returned (them) to the Kurd; a Jewel with a jewel gratified.
He put his hand upon his eyes and said, It is from you I have these two twin gems.
Those jewels are conferred on you for these; those jewels are your own you know full well.
When Good’s affairs were settled as he wished, (his) people from him naught but good received.
Since (his) good fortune gave to him the throne, and iron became gold, his sackcloth silk,
He settled justice on a basis firm, and (so) secured the empire to himself.
(And since) those leaves which from the tree he brought had given him from his grievous pains relief,
From time to time, to ward off injury, he used to ride off to that lofty tree.
He used (then) to dismount beneath the tree, and greet and bless the land (in which it grew).
In his love of the sandal-scented tree he (always) dressed in sandal-coloured clothes.
He thought of nothing else but sandal-wood*1773; he put on naught but sandal-coloured dress.
Headache by powdered sandal-wood is cured, and palpitation, hepatitis, too.
The mind is quieted by sandal-wood, the spirits are enlivened by its scent.
Sandal is (almost) free from colour,—strange! on this account the earth is sandal-hued*1774.
After the Chinese Turk had told the tale, with stammering tongue had swept the dust away*1775,
The king gave her a place within his soul; that is, he hid her from the evil eye.
Both night and day he held her for his soul, and from all good and bad kept her concealed*1776.