Muntakhab al-tawarikh 293: LXXXII. Tifli.

293

He is the son of Mulla Darvish of Fathpur, and his uncle, Mulla Salih, is now the teacher appointed to the monastery of Fathpur. Tifli in his thirteenth year was reading the Sharh-i-Shamsiyyah. He has a most generous nature and an admirable taste in poetry. He is in the service of the eldest prince, and obtained the poetic name of Tifli from him. The following couplets are from a laudatory ode which he composed in honour of the prince:—
“O King, in whose just reign strife itself has become the guardian of the world against the robbers of confusion, The hope of thy favour is such that the very sins of sinners protect them from the fire of hell. Thou art he, to the war-horse of whose resolution in the day of battle Victory is the standard-bearer and success the fellow. Last night the bird of glory brought the record of thy success, That bird the fame of whose pinions comes from the uttermost parts of space beyond our ken. The scribe of thy dignity has written passages of which we hope for a translation and for which we earnestly desire a translator.”
He also wrote the following verses:—
“If the beauty of the Idol were to display itself in the monastery The following couplets are by him —
“Cupbearer, how long can the grief of this world be borne? Bring wine, that I may banish grief from my heart.”
“Every moment she afflicts my heart, that she may make it weary of her. When will my heart weary of her, however much she afflicts it?”
“I wish for no companion but thee, my darling, I desire thee, and there is none in the world that I desire beside thee.”
“If, when I have suffered a thousand griefs, she listens to a word from me, She hears but the speech of a self-seeker, and straightway forgets it.”
“She is enraged if I speak to her but a word of my sad state, How strange is this, that I cannot speak of my sad state to her!”
A quatrain.
“The devotee boasts of his virtue and piety, The lover expends the cash of his life for his love; Each lives in hope of a glance from the eye of his Friend, Each wonders towards whom the Friend will cast that glance.”
Another quatrain.
“Summon contentment, if thou art wise, Thou mayst thus, perchance, slay the dog of base desire. See that neither water nor broth be too plentiful. Drain not the cup, For it will rebuke thee in a hundred draughts of iced water and acid.”
“How should my pain be assuaged by lint and ointment, The bird of whose wounded heart breathes forth flame?”
The following few couplets are from a tarji‘-band by Tifli:
“My tears, rejoice, for this night My heart’s blood surges up in my eyes. O reunion, plead for me, for my desire for her Has devastated the abode of reason. Speak not to me of delight, For the lancet has become the companion of my wound, It is useless to say to anybody, ‘Scatter diamond-dust in your wound but do not cry out.’”
It is marvellous that a lad of Tifli’s years should understand and speak Persian; much more so that he should be able to compose poetry in the language. It may be hoped that he will outstrip many of these old men who have wasted their lives.