[Pramāṇa](https://indike.org/pramana/) › [Indian literature](https://indike.org/pramana/in) › [Dark Ages](https://indike.org/pramana/in.darkages) › [General histories](https://indike.org/pramana/in.darkages.general) › [Muntakhab al-tawārīkh](https://indike.org/pramana/in.darkages.general.muntakhab-al-tawarikh) › [Muntakhabu-t-tawarikh (Ranking, Lowe, Haig)](https://indike.org/pramana/in.darkages.general.muntakhab-al-tawarikh~en-ranking-lowe-haig) › 176 # Muntakhab al-tawarikh 176: Ode. Muntakhabu-t-tawārīkh (Ranking, Lowe, Haig) 176 - **Language:** English ### [176](https://indike.org/pramana/in.darkages.general.muntakhab-al-tawarikh~en-ranking-lowe-haig.176) “ At the moment when I was writing this letter, My tears were flowing, mingled with blood, All the writing which was set forth by my pen, The letter of my longing for you, has been blotted out from my heart. The bitterness of separation is medicine. Sarfi, so great is the flood of my tears that the nine oceans to me Seem but as the dropping of rain,” To be brief I may say that one so feeble and so devoid of the graces of speech as I has not the power to recount fully the excellent qualities and perfection of the noble Shaikh. The noble works which he has left behind him, and which have, as one may say, put a girdle round the day of resurrection, are a sufficient witness to what he was. On the 18th of Zi-qa‘dah, in the year H. 1003 (July 25, 1595) the bird of his soul, whose nest was holiness, escaping from the cage of this world of confinement, flew to that of liberation, and the words “ He was the Shaikh of nations ” were found to give the date of his death. Verse. Peace be to the world, for pleasant are its blessings. As though Yusuf were sitting in it. Verses. Seek not in this waste spot the road to the treasure-house of your desire, For this ruined abode is nought but the place of toil and grief, Fate has laid, at every step herein, a snare of calamity. Who is there that has set his foot in this region of snares who has not also left his head here? \* \* \* The vanished heart of the rose has left behind it a record of hope, But what can that profit us who are unable to read? The days of man's life are exceeding short. Be not deceived, For no sooner have you drawn a breath than you give your life to the wind. - [Previous: 175.5](https://indike.org/pramana/in.darkages.general.muntakhab-al-tawarikh~en-ranking-lowe-haig.175.5) - [Next: 177](https://indike.org/pramana/in.darkages.general.muntakhab-al-tawarikh~en-ranking-lowe-haig.177) --- Source: [https://indike.org/pramana/in.darkages.general.muntakhab-al-tawarikh~en-ranking-lowe-haig.176](https://indike.org/pramana/in.darkages.general.muntakhab-al-tawarikh~en-ranking-lowe-haig.176) · Pramāṇa