CHAPTER IX.
ON REPENTANCE.

1 OH, thou whose age has passed to seventy years! Come;
Thou wast, perhaps, asleep that thy life went to the wind.

Thou didst prepare every requisite of being (in this
world);
Didst not engage thyself in the thought of going (to the
next world).

On the Resurrection Day, when they lay out the market of
heaven,
They give dignities for good deeds.

Stock in trade, as much as thou bringst, thou takest
away;
And, if thou art poor, thou takest away shame.

5 For, the more full the market, just so much,
The more distressed (is) the heart of the one of empty hand.

If out of fifty dirams, five become wanting,
Thy heart, with the grasp of grief, becomes torn.

When fifty years have gone forth from thy hand,
Consider it gain that there is a space of five days.

If the wretched corpse had possessed a tongue,
He would have raised a shout, in lament and cry,

Saying:—“Oh living one! when there is the power of
speech,
“Let not the lip sleep (cease), corpse-like, from uttering
the name of God.

10 “Since our time, in carelessness passed,
“Do thou, at least, reckon a few moments,—opportunity.”*

One night, in youth and the pleasure of affluence (of
youth),
We, young men, sate sometime together.

Nightingale-like, singing; rose-like, fresh of face;
From hilarity, clamour cast into the street.

An old man, world-experienced, apart from us,
The blackness of his hair white, through the violence of
Time,

Was tongue-bound, as to speech, nut-like;
Was unlike us, lip from laughter, pistachio-nut-like.

15 A youth went before him, saying:—“Oh old man!
“Why sittest thou, with sorrow, in the corner of regret?

“Raise once thy head from the collar of grief;
“Move jauntily, with ease of heart, with the young men.”

He year-stricken raised his head from concealment,
Behold his answer! how like an old man, he spoke:—

“When the morning breeze blows over the garden,
“It befits the young tree to move to and fro.

“The green corn, so long as it is young and the head
green,—waves;
“When it reaches mellowness, it becomes broken.

20 “In the spring-time, when the wind brings (the fragrance
of) the musk-willow,
“The ancient tree sheds its dry leaves.

“It does not beseem me to move jauntily with young men,
“When the morning of old age has blossomed on my
cheek.

“The male falcon (of my soul), which was within my
bonds,
“Wishes, from time to time, to snatch the end of the
thread (of life).

“Yours is the time to sit at this tray (of enjoyment);
“For, we have washed our hands of luxurious enjoyment.

“When the dust of venerability sits on the head,
“Look not again for the pleasure of youth.

25 “Snow rained on my raven feathers (hair),
“The spectacle of the garden, nightingale-like, is not suit-
able to me.

“The peacock, possessed of beauty, makes display;
“What desirest thou of the hawk, feather-stripped?

“For me, the reaping of the corn is near;
“For you, now the fresh verdure (of the beard) grows.

“The freshness of our rose-garden has passed;
“Who binds the rose-bouquet, when it has become
withered?

“Oh soul of father! my reliance is on a staff;
“Further reliance on life is a mistake.

30 “For the young man, it is reserved to leap on his feet;
“For old men prefer a request for aid to the hands (of
others).

“Behold the red rose of my face,—pure yellow;
“When the sun becomes yellow, it descends.

“To entertain lust, on the part of an immature youth,
“Is not so odious, as on the part of an old man.

“It is proper for me to weep, like children,
“For shame of my sins; not to live, child-like (in sport).”

Lukmân spoke well saying:—“Not to live
“Is better, than to live years in sin.”

35 Even, to shut the shop-door in the morning
Is better than to give from the hand (to squander) the
profit and capital of life.

While the young man causes the blackness (of hair) to
attain to light (whiteness),
The wretched old man takes his whiteness to the grave.

One of ancient years came to a physician,
From his weeping, near to dying,

Saying:—“Oh one of good judgment! place thy hand on
my vein;
“For my foot rises not from its place.

“This my bent stature resembles that,
“That thou mayst say,—I have descended into the clay (of
the grave).”

40 He said to him:—“Part asunder from the world,
“That thy foot may, in the Resurrection, issue from the
clay.”

Seek not the joy of youth from old men;
For the running stream returns not to the rivulet.

If, in the time of youth, thou didst exercise hand and foot
(in lust);
In the season of old age, be sensible and reasonable.

When the revolution of age exceeds forty (years),
Exercise not hand and foot in lust; for the water (of life)
has passed over thy head.

Joy began to be afraid of me, at that time,
When my evening (black hair) began to blossom as the
down (white hair).

45 It is necessary to put lust out of the head,
When the season of lustfulness comes to an end.

How may my heart with freshness become green,
When verdure will spring from my clay?

Sporting in lust and concupiscence,
We passed over the dust of many.

Those who are yet invisible (unborn)
Will come, and pass over our dust.

Alas! that the season of youth has departed;
Life, in sport and pastime, has departed.

50 Alas! time, soul-cherishing, in such a way,
Passed over us as the lightning of Yaman.

From the passion for this I wear, and that I eat,
I became not free, that I might suffer care for religion.

Alas! we became engaged in falsehood;
We remained far from God, and became careless.

How well spoke the teacher to the boy,
Saying:—“We did not a single work; but, time passed.”

Oh young man; to-day (in youth), take the path of salva-
tion;
For, to-morrow, youth comes not from old age.

55 Thou hast leisure of mind, and strength of body;
When the plain is spacious, strike the ball (of life).

I understood not the value of that day (of youth);
Now I know it, when I have played it away.

Fate snatched for me such a time,
Every day of which was a night of power.*

What effort may the old ass (of the body) beneath the
load (of devotion) make?
Do thou go; who art a rider on a wind-footed steed.

If they cleverly piece together the broken goblet,
It will not fetch the price of the perfect one.*

60 Since the cup fell, in negligence, from thy hand,—now,
There is no way save to fasten anew.

Who said to thee:—“Throw thy body into the Jihún?
“When thou hast fallen, strike (in swimming) hand and
foot.”

Thou didst, in carelessness, give pure water (honour) from
thy hand,
What remedy now, except purifying with dust?

When, from those expert in running,—the wager,
Thou didst not carry off, go (on the path of religion) even
falling and rising (as a cripple).

If those wind-footed steeds (pious men) went quickly,
Do thou, footless and handless, arise from sitting.

65 One night, in the desert of Faid, sleep
Bound down my foot of running with fetters.

A camel-driver came, with fear-inspiring and rancour,
He struck the camel-rein on my head, saying:—“Arise!

“Perhaps, thou hast fixed thy heart on dying in rear (of the
káfila),
“Since thou risest not, at the sound of the bell (of de-
parture)?

“To me as to thee, sweet sleep is in the head;
“But, the desert is in front.

“When, from sweet sleep, at the sound of—Al rahíl! Al
rahíl! thou
“Risest not, when wilt thou again reach the track (of the
káfila)?”

70 The camel-driver (death) beat the camel-drum (of de-
parture),
The first of the káraván reached the stage.

Happy, those sensible of auspicious fortune,
Who, before the drummer, bound up their chattels.

When those sleeping on the road raise their heads,
They see not a trace of those who have travelled the road.

That wayfarer excelled, who arose quickly;
To be awake, after translation (to the next world),—what
profit?

A certain one scatters barley, in the spring;
How may he take wheat, at reaping-time?

75 Oh sleeping one! how it is necessary to be awake;
When death fetches thee from sleep,—what advantage?

When on the face of youth, white hair comes forth,
The night (black hair) becomes day (white hair),—pluck up
the eye from sleep (of carelessness).

That day, I plucked up hope of life,
When, within my blackness (black hair), white occurred.

Alas! precious life has passed;
These few moments will also pass.

Whatever passed; in non-rectitude, passed;
And, if thou takest not advantage of this, it will also pass.

80 If thou art solicitous, now is the seed-time;
If thou hast hope, that thou mayst take the harvest.

Go not empty of hand to the city of Resurrection;
For, there is no reason to sit in regret.

If to thee be an eye to wisdom, and deliberation as to the
grave,—
Act now, when the ant (of the grave) has not devoured
thine eye.

Oh son! one can make profit, with capital;
What profit comes to that one, who enjoyed his capital?

Strive now, when the water possesses (only) thy waist;
Not, when the torrent passes over thy head.

85 Now, when thou hast an eye,—rain a tear;
The tongue is in thy mouth,—bring forth excuse (for sin).

The soul is not always in the body;
The tongue turns not always in the mouth.

Now, it is necessary to utter excuse for sin;
Not when the spirit of articulation sleeps (rests) from
speaking.

To-day, from the learned, hear the word (of Nakír and
Munkir);
For, to-morrow, Nakír may question thee with terror.

Reckon this precious soul,—gain;
For the cage, birdless, has no value.

90 Waste not thy life, in regret and sorrow;
For opportunity is precious; and, time, a sword.

Fate cut the vein of Life of one living;
Another, through grief, rent his collar.

A beholder, with sharp sense, thus spoke,
When complaint and lament reached his ear:—

“With your hand, the corpse, on its own body,
“Would have rent the shroud,—if there had been to it a
hand,

“Saying:—‘Writhe not so much, through care and sorrow
for me,
“‘That I prepared (for the next world), a day or two,
before thee.

95 “‘Thou didst, perhaps, forget regarding thy own death,
“‘Since my death has made thee powerless and wounded?’”

When the teacher of truth lets fall clay on the corpse,
His heart will burn, not for it,—but for himself.

In separation from that child, who went into the dust (of
the grave),
Why lamentst thou? for he came pure, and departed pure.

Thou camest pure (into this world); be firm as to caution
and purity;
For, it is a shame to go unclean to the dust (of the grave).

Now, it is necessary to bind the foot of this bird (of the
soul);
Not, at the time when it takes the end of the string from
thy hand.

100 Thou didst sit much in another's place;
Another one will sit in thy place.

If thou art a warrior; or, if a swordsman,
Thou wilt only carry the shroud (out of the world).

If the wild ass causes the noose to snap,
He becomes foot-bound, when he sticks in the sand.

Thou also hast such arm-power,
For, thy foot has not gone into the sand of the grave.

Place not thy heart on this year-stricken house (of the
world);
For, a walnut rests not a dome.

105 When yesterday passed; and, to-morrow comes not to the
hand,
Make reckoning of this one moment that is.

A certain delicate one (a son) of (King) Jamshíd descended
(to the grave),
A shroud of silk, he made him, like the silk-worm.

After a few days, he came to the tomb,
That he might, with lament and heart-burning, weep over
him.

When he beheld the silken shroud, rotten,
He thus, in thought, spoke to himself:—

“I had plucked it (the silk), with force, from the silk-
worm;
“The grave-worms plucked it again from him.”

110 One day, two couplets made my liver (as it were) roast meat;
When the minstrel, with the stringed instrument, kept
saying:—

“Alas! without us, many a time,
“The rose will grow; and, the fresh spring blossom.

“Many a fourth, tenth and second month
“Will appear,—when we are dust and brick.”*

As to one of devotee-disposition, God-worshipping,—
A golden brick fell to his hand.

His wise head became as stupid
As his illumined heart became obscure through phrensy.

115 All night, in thought, saying:—“This treasure and pro-
perty,
“To it, so long as I live, the way of decline will come not.

“Again, for begging, my weak stature
“It is unnecessary to make bent and straight (in bowing)
to any.

“I may make a house,—its foundation, marble;
“The timber of its roof,—all native aloe.

“A special room for friends;
“The chamber-door in the garden-mansion.

“I am wearied of stitching rag on rag;
“The effulgence of others has burned (with envy) my eyes
and brain.

120 “In future, inferiors may cook my food;
“In ease, I may give sustenance to my soul.

“This woollen bed has slain me with its hardness;
“I go after this, and spread a gorgeous bed.”

Imagination made him a dotard and crazy-like,—
A crab's claw plunged in his brain.

For him,—leisure for prayers and secrets (with God) re-
mained not;
For him,—eating and sleeping, and reciting the name of
God, and prayers remained not.

Head intoxicated with consequential airs he came to a
desert,
For, he had no place for sitting at ease.

125 A certain one, at the head of a grave, kneaded clay,
That he might get bricks from that clay of the grave.

The old man descended, for a while, in thought,
Saying:—“Oh soul of little vision! take advice (from the
brick-maker's action).

“Why attachest thou thy heart to this golden brick,
“When one day he will make a brick out of thy clay?

“Of avarice, the mouth is not open to such a degree,
“That avarice causes it to sit (tranquil) with one morsel.

“Oh mean one! restrain thy hand from this (gold) brick;
“For, it is impossible to dam the Jíhún (of avarice) with a
single brick.”

130 Thou art careless as to thought of profit and wealth,
While the capital of life becomes trodden under foot.

The morning breeze will pass over this dust, in such a way,
As will carry every atom of us to some place, or other.

The dust of lust stitched up wisdom's eye;
The simúm (hot wind) of desire consumed the sown field
of thy life.

Make clean from the eye, the antimony of carelessness;
For, to-morrow, thou wilt become collyrium, in the eye of
the dust.

Between two persons, there was enmity and strife,
Through pride, head above the other, panther-like.

135 Flying from the sight of each other, to such a degree,
That the sky used to appear narrow for both.

Death brought his army to the head of this one;
Days of ease arrived at an end for him.

The heart of his enemy became joyful;
He passed, after a while, by his grave.

He saw the bed-chamber of his grave, clay-plastered;
But, he once saw (in life) his house gold-plastered.

He came, proudly-walking opposite to his pillow;
Kept saying to himself, lip open with laughter;—

140 “Oh happy is the tranquil time of that one, who is
“After an enemy's death, in the friend's embrace.

“It is unnecessary to weep for the death of that one,
“Who lived a single day, after his enemy's death.”

By way of enmity, with a powerful arm,
He plucked up a plank, from the surface of his grave.

He beheld—his crowned head, in the pit;
His two eyes, world-seeing, dust-stuffed;

His existence, a captive in the prison of the grave;
His body, the food of worms, and the plunder of ants;

145 His bones tightly stuffed with dust, just as
The collyrium-casket of ivory, full of collyrium:

From the sky's revolution, the full moon of his face,—the
new moon;
From Time's violence, his cypress stature,—a tooth-pick:

The palm of the hand of powerful grasp;
Time-separated, joint from joint.

From his heart, pity for him came to him, in such a way,
That he made clay, with weeping on his dust.

He became penitent, as to his deeds and bad disposition;
He ordered them to write on his tomb-stone;—

150 “Rejoice not at any one's death;
“For, after him, thy time remains not long.”

A holy wise man heard this speech.
He bewailed, saying:—“Oh powerful Omnipotence!

“Wonderful!—if thou awardst not mercy to him,
“Over whom, the enemy, with lamentation, wept.

“May our body also, one day, become so
“That the heart of enemies may grieve over it.

“Perhaps, in the heart of my Friend (God) pity may come,
“When He sees that my enemy forgave me.

155 “The head, slowly or quickly, reaches that state,
“In which—thou mayst say—there never was an eye.”

One day, I struck a mattock on a dust-heap;
A sorrowful lament came to my ear,

Saying:—“If thou art a man, take care (to strike) more
gently;
“For the eye, and lobe of the ear, and face, and head—are
here.”

One night, I had slept with the intention of making a
journey;
In the morning, I followed a káraván.

A frightful wind and dust arose,
Which made the world dark to the eyes of men.

160 The guide had a house-daughter
With the mi'jar, she wiped the dust from her father.

The father said to her:—“Oh dear face of mine!
“Who hast the love of my distracted heart,

“In this eye (after death) dust sits, not to such a degree,
“That one can, again, make it clean with the mi'jar.”

Thy beautiful spirit, like an impetuous animal,
Takes thee running to the marge of the bottom of the
grave.

Death will suddenly cause thy stirrup to break;
One cannot hold back the rein from the profundity (of the
grave).

165 Oh bone-cage! knowst thou
That thy soul is a bird; and its name, spirit?

When the bird departs from the cage (of the body), and
snaps its chain;
It becomes not, by effort, again, thy prey.

Take care of opportunity; for, the world is for a moment;
In the opinion of the wise, a moment (of life) is better than
a world.*

Sikandar, who held sway over a world,
Abandoned the world, at that time when he died.

To him, it was unattainable that—a world from him,
They might take; and give him, in return, a moment's
respite.

170 They departed, and every one reaped what he sowed;
There only remains—good and bad name.

Why place we the heart on this káraván-place,
From which, friends have departed; and, we are on the
road?

After us,—the garden gives this very rose;
Friends sit with one another.

Fix not the heart on this mistress of the world;
For she sate with no one, whose heart she ravished not.

When a man sleeps in the dust-place of the grave,
The Resurrection Day will scatter the dust from his face.

175 Bring forth, now, the head from the pocket of carelessness
That, to-morrow (the Resurrection Day) it may not remain
lowered in regret.

No; when thou desirest to enter Shíráz,
Thou wilt wash the head and body from the dust of travel.

Oh one dusty with sin! then, presently,
Thou wilt make a journey to a foreign city (in the next
world).

Urge a stream from the two fountains of the eye;
And, if thou hast impurity,—wash it from thyself.

I remember, in my father's time,
—The rain of mercy, every moment on him!—

180 That he purchased, in my childhood, a tablet and book;
He bought, for my sake, also, a gold ring.

Suddenly, a purchaser took off
The ring, from my hand, for a single date.

When the little boy understands not (the value of) a ring,
They can take it away from him, for a sweetmeat.

Thou, also, didst not recognise life's value,
When thou didst throw it away for sweet ease.

On the Resurrection Day, when the good attain to the
highest (dignity),
They rise from the bottom of the grave-ashes to the
Pleiades.

185 Thy head will, from shame, remain (lowered) before thee,
When thy (bad) deeds arise around thee.

Brother! have shame of the work of the bad;
For, thou wilt become ashamed in the presence of the good.

On that day, when they ask of thy deeds and words,
The body of the lords of resolution (the prophets) will
tremble from fear.*

In the place, where the prophets suffer fear,
—Come—what excuse for sin, hast thou?

Those women, who, with pleasure, perform devotions
Surpass (in rank) the non-devout men.

190 Does not shame come to thee of thy own manliness,
That there should be greater favour (in God's Court) for
women, than for thee?

By the established excuse, that exists for women,
They sometimes withhold the hand from devotion.*

Thou, excuseless, sittest apart, woman-like (excuse-pos-
sessing);
Oh less than woman! go; boast not of manliness.

I may not indeed have eloquence;
The poet 'Ansar, king of speech, thus spoke:—

“When thou passest out of straightness, it is crookedness;
“What kind of man is he, who is less than a woman?”

195 Suppose—lust cherished, with kindness and joy;
Accept—in the passing of time, a strong-made enemy.

A certain one cherished a wolf's whelp;
When it became fully matured, it rent its master.

When he slept on the brink of life—surrendering,
An eloquent one went to his head, and said:—

“When thou tenderly cherishst such an enemy,
“Knowst thou not that thou wilt, inevitably, suffer its
wound?”

No; Iblís expressed reproach as to us,
Saying:—“Only evil comes from these.”

200 Lament as to the evils that are in us;
For, I fear the opinion of Iblís is true.

The accursed one—when our punishment became agreeable
to him,
God drove him, for our sake, from the door.

How may we bring forth the head from this reproach and
shame,
When we are at peace with him; and, at war, with God?

Thy friend rarely glances at thee,
When thy face is towards the enemy's face.

If to thee be necessary, a friend, from whom thou mayst
enjoy profit,
It is improper that thou shouldst take the enemy's order.

205 He holds estrangement right from that friend,
Who chooses the enemy for a companion.

Knowst thou not that the friend seldom plants his foot
(within the house)
When he sees that an enemy is within.

Behold, what wilt thou buy with black silver (base deeds),
Who will sever thy heart for love for Joseph (God)?

If thou art wise, turn not from a friend,
That the enemy may be unable to glance at thee (to thy
injury).

A certain one used contention with a king;
He consigned him to his enemy, saying:—“Spill his
blood.”

210 A captive, in the power of that one, revenge-seeking,
He kept saying to himself, with lamentation and heart-
burning:—*

“If I had not vexed my friend the king against myself,
“How should I have suffered violence from the enemy's
hand?”

With his nails, his enemy's skin, he tore,
That friend, who vexed not a friend against himself.

With a friend, be thou of one heart, and of one speech;
For the friend brings forth the enemy's root from the
foundation.

I consider not this infamy good:—
For an enemy's pleasure, a friend's injury.

215 A certain one, by fraud, enjoyed a man's property.
When it arose (and departed), he cursed Iblís.

Iblís, on the path, thus spoke to him,
Saying:—“I have never seen a fool, like thee.

“To thee with me (there was) concord. Oh certain one!
“Why didst thou rise to battle with me?”

It is a pity that the deed ordered by the ugly demon
(Shaitán),
The hand of an angel (who is pure) should write against
thee.*

From thy ignorance and fearlessness, thou holdst it lawful,
That the pure ones (angels) should write unclean things
of thee.

220 Find a better path, and seek the peace (of God);
Raise an intercessor; and utter thy acknowledgment (of
sin).

For, safety, for a moment, appears not
When, by time's revolution the measure (of life) is full.

And, if thou hast not the hand of power, for a (good)
work,
Bring forth, like the helpless, the hand of lamentation.

And, if thy evil doing passed beyond limit,
When thou saidst:—“Evil went (from me),” thou wast
good.*

Rise; and come forward, when thou seest the door of
peace open;
For the door of repentance becomes suddenly shut.

225 Oh son! go not beneath the load of sin.
For the burden-carrier becomes wearied on a journey.

It is proper to hasten after good men;
For, whosoever sought for this happiness—found it.*

But, thou art in rear of the base demon (Shaitán),
I know not, when thou mayst arrive among the holy.*

The Prophet (Muhammad) is an intercessor for that one,
Who is on the highway of the law of the Prophet.

One clay-stained took the path to a masjid;
From fortune of reversed fortune, in astonishment.

230 One forbade him, saying:—“May both thy hands be
destroyed!
“Go not, skirt-stained, into a pure place.”

As to this matter, a tenderness entered my heart;
Because, lofty Paradise is pure and joyful.

In that place (Paradise) of the hopeful pure ones,
For one clay-stained with sin,—what business?

That one takes Paradise, who bears devotion,
To whom, ready money is necessary,—let him take his
trade-stock.

Do not;—wash the skirt from the dust of vileness;
For, from above, they suddenly close the stream (of puri-
fication).

235 Say not:—“The bird of wealth has leaped from my
bonds”;
Thou hast, yet, the end of the cord in thy hand.*

And, if there was delay (in repenting), be impetuous and
active;
A perfect work has no concern as to late coming.

Death has not yet bound thy hand of entreaty (to God);
Raise thy hand to the Court of the Omnipotent.

Oh one sin-committed, sleeping! sleep not; arise;
Pour out eye-water (tears), in acknowledgment of sin.

Since it is an order of necessity that, their reputation,
They (sinners) should spill; on this dust of the street (of
the world, let them spill it).

240 And, if water (of repentance) remains not to thee,—bring
an intercessor,
Whose reputation (before God) is greater than thine.

If God drives me, in anger from His door;
I may bring the souls of the great, as intercessors.

Recollection keeps coming to me of the time of childhood,
When, on an 'Íd, I came out with my father.

I became engaged in the pastime of the men;
I became lost as to my father, through the tumult of the
people.

Through restlessness, I raised a shout;
My father suddenly rubbed my ear,

245 Saying:—“Oh saucy one! at least, several times, to thee,
“Said I not:—Keep not thy hand from off my skirt.”

The little child knows not how to go alone;
For one can, with difficulty, travel the unseen road.

Oh fakír! thou also art a child of the road; with effort,
Go; seize the skirt of those road-knowing (spiritual-
guides).

Sit not with mean men;
When thou dost, wash thy hand of respect.

Affix thy grasp to the saddle-strap of the pure;
For the holy one has no shame of beggary.

250 The disciples are, in strength, less than children;
The shaikhs are like a strong wall.

Learn motion from that little child;
How he prefers a request for aid to the wall!

He escaped from the chain of the impure,
Who sate in the circle of the devout.

If thou hast any need,—take this society (of the devout);
For, the sultán (even) has no flight from this door.

Go; be an ear-of-corn gatherer, like Sa'dí,
That thou mayst gather the harvest of the knowledge of
God.*

255 Ho! oh revellers in the prayer-niche of affection,
When, to-morrow, you sit at the holy table,*

Turn not away the face from the beggars of the tribe;
For, the lords of generosity turn not away the humble
companion.

Now, it is proper to become a partner with wisdom;
For, to-morrow, the path of returning remains not.

A certain one heaped up the corn of the autumn month
Mardad;
He set his heart at ease, as to the care of the spring month
Dai.*

One night, he became drunk; he kindled a fire;
The foolish one of reversed fortune burned his harvest.

260 The next day, he sate gleaning ears of corn,
For, a single grain of his harvest remained not to him.

When they saw the poor man afflicted,
One said to his own cherished one,

Thou wishst not, that thou shouldst be of such dark days?
Burn not thy harvest, in madness.

If thy life passed from thy hand, in evilness,
Thou art he, who set fire to his own harvest.

It is a disgrace to gather ears of corn (to beg),
After burning thy own harvest.

265 Oh my soul! do not; sow the seed of religion and
justice;
Give not the harvest of good fame to the wind.

When one of reversed fortune falls into bonds,
Those of happy fortune take warning from him.

Before punishment, beat thou the door of pardon;
For, lament, beneath the rod, has no profit.

Bring forth thy head from the collar of carelessness;
That shame may not remain, to-morrow, in thy breast.

A certain one was consenting to a forbidden deed;
One of good qualities passed by him.

270 He sate, perspiring as to his face, through shame,
Saying:—“Have I become ashamed of the shaikh of the
street?”

The shaikh of illumined soul heard this speech,
He was confounded at him, and said:—“Oh youth!

“Does not shame come to thee of thyself,
“That God is present; and thou hast shame of me?

“Have such shame of the lord of self,
“As shame is to thee of strangers and relations.

“Thou restst not at any one's side;
“Go; look towards God only.”

275 When Zulaikhá became intoxicated with the wine of love,
She fixed her hand on the skirt of Yúsuf.

The demon of lust had given consent, to such a degree,
As when the wolf had fallen upon Yúsuf.

The lady of Egypt (Zulaikhá) had an idol of marble,
She was, morning and evening, assiduous in its devotion.

At that time, she covered its face and head,
Lest that her act might, in its sight, be disagreeable.

Yúsuf, grief-stricken, sate in a corner,
Hand over the head, through the lust of the tyrant (Zulai-
khá).

280 Zulaikhá kissed both his hands and feet,
Saying:—“Oh one of sluggish covenant, perverse!

“Contract not thy face, with anvil heart;
“Waste not the sweet time, in harshness.”

From his eye, a stream went running on his face,
Saying:—“Return; and, seek not this uncleanness from
me.

“Thou didst become ashamed, in the face of thy stone
idol;
“Does not shame come to me of Omnipotence?”

What profit,—if repentance comes to hand,
When thou hast squandered the capital of life.

285 They drink wine, for the sake of a ruddy face;
But, they bear, in the end, through it, a yellow face.

Make entreaty, to-day, with supplication for pardon for
sin;
For, to-morrow, (the Resurrection Day), the power of
speech remains not.

The cat makes pollution, in a pure place;
When it appears filthy, he covers it with dust.

Thou art free (from fear) of filthy deeds,
Thou fearst not, that the eyes (of men) may fall on them.

Reflect on that sinful slave,
Who is, sometimes, disobedient to his master.

290 If he returns, in truth and supplication,
They bring him not back to chains and fetters.

Thou art, in malice, in strife with that Person (God),
From whom, there is for thee remedy (for ills), or flight.

It is necessary to make reckoning of thy deeds, now,
Not, at the time when the Book (of Deeds) becomes spread
open.

Although, a person did evil,—he did not evil,
When, before the Judgment Day, he suffered grief for
himself.

Although the mirror becomes obscured by a sigh;
The heart's mirror becomes bright by a sigh.

295 Be afraid of thy sins, this moment,
That thou mayst fear no one, in the Judgment Day.

I came a traveller into a city of Abyssinia;
Heart, from care, free; head, through ease, happy.

On the road, I beheld a lofty prison;
In it, some wretched ones foot-bound.

I immediately prepared for journeying;
I took to the desert, like a bird from the cage.

One spoke, saying:—“These fettered ones are night-
prowlers;
“They take not advice; and hear not truth.”

300 When oppression comes to no one from thy hand;
If the watchman seize the world,—to thee what care?

No one takes captive the one of good name;
Fear God; but, fear not the amír.

The agent, treachery unused in business,
Cares not for the deciding of court-officials.

But, if there be deceit beneath his (apparent) integrity,
The tongue of his account-giving becomes not bold.

When thou performst approved service,
Thou thinkst not of the malignant enemy.

305 If the slave exerts himself, slave-like,
The lord holds him dear.

But if he be, in service, dull of judgment,
He falls from soul-guarding to ass-slaving.

Plant the foot (of devotion) forward, that thou mayst
surpass the angels;
For, if thou remainst behind, thou art less than a rapa-
cious animal.

The King of Damighán, with a chaugán, a certain one,
Struck, so that his cry, drum-like, came forth.

At night, from restlessness, he could not sleep;
A devotee passed by him, and said:—

310 “If, at night, he had borne his heart-burning (for crime) to
the watchman,
“In the day, the crime would not have taken his repu-
tation.”

On the day of the place of assembling (Judgment Day)
that one becomes not ashamed,
Who, nights, preferred his heart-burning to the Court (of
God).

Still, if thou hast desire for peace (with God), what fear?
The Merciful One (God) fastens not the door against those
pardon-seeking.

If thou art wise,—of the ruler (God), desire
Forgiveness for the sin of the day, on the night of re-
pentance.*

That Merciful One (God), who brought to thee existence,
from non-existence,
Will seize thy hand, if thou shouldst fall. Oh wonderful!

315 If thou art a slave,—bring forth the hand of need, (at
God's Court);
And, if ashamed,—rain the water of repentance (weep).

There came to this door, pardon-asking, no one,
Whose sin the water of penitence washed not away.

God spills the honour of none,
Whose sin pours forth much eye-water (tears).

In Sin'á, a child of mine passed away (in death);
Of that which passed over my head,—what may I say?*

Fate drew not a picture of beauty, Yúsuf-like,
Which the fish of the grave devoured not, Yúnas-like.

320 This garden (of the world), that cypress became not lofty,
Whose root, the wind of death plucked not from its foun-
dation.

It is not wonderful, if the rose blossoms on his dust;
For, many a rose-limb sleeps in the dust.

To my heart, I said:—“Oh shame of men! die;
“For, the boy goes pure (to God); and, the old man,
stained.”

Through madness and perturbation regarding his stature
(of body),
I uplifted a stone from his tomb.

In that place, dark and narrow,—through fear,
My state became confounded, and complexion changed.

325 From that changed state, when I returned to sense;
From the son, heart-binding, there came to my ear:—

“If fear comes to thee, of the dark place (of the grave),
“Be wise; and, enter endowed with light.

“Thou wishst the night of the grave, illumined day-
like?
“Here (in this world), kindle the lamp of (good) deeds.”

The body of the work-performer trembles with fever (of
anxiety),
Least that his date-tree should not bring forth dates.

A multitude of excessive avarice entertain the idea,
That they may, wheat unscattered, take up the harvest.

330 Oh Sa'dí! that one enjoyed the fruit, who planted the
root;
That one took the harvest, who scattered the seed.