Muntakhab al-tawarikh 362: Another ode
Muntakhabu-t-tawārīkh (Ranking, Lowe, Haig) 362
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Another ode
362.1
"Before thy arrow is drawn from my wounded heart My grief worn life will leave me a hundred times Thy heart piercing arrow has entered my wounded breast With ease, but will with difficulty be drawn thence To the end of her street I, helpless in my weakness Go a hundred times, hoping to see her come out but once O Nuvidi, from within thy patched woollen robe If thou art a Musalman why does the idolater's sacred thread appear?" But, when sleep sees that my heart still wakes in its grief for me, sleep quickly flees.” In imitation of this couplet I composed the following:— Fired by a hundred hopes I send a messenger to that cruel one, I flee to God for refuge from the hour in which he will return from her without hope.” 351 (The following couplet is Hishani’s):— “Since my bosom was wounded by the arrow of thy cruelty I have not treated it with ointment, nor have I dressed the wound.” At the time when Gujarat was conquered he engraved a coindie for the emperor, and submitted it to him with the following chronogram:— “O king! The coinage of Gujarat is now struck in thy name, May the shadow of thy justice be over the head of that country. Happy will be that moment when thou wilt ask of me the date (of its conquest) And I shall reply, ‘May the coinage of Gujarat be auspicious!’” The following couplets are also by him:— “It is a matter of life and death with me, and the beloved has not come. My life, which is valuable to me, has become of no account.
362.2
“I have a wounded heart and the lovely ones bear salt (wit) on their lips; This wound of mine will not be healed till eternity. is an ardent seeker after knowledge, and is marvellously proficient in all scripts, and in prose composition and orthography he is unrivalled. Had he been a man of one pursuit many examples of his flowing verse would have been left on the page of time. He sometimes exercises his brilliant intellect and keen perception in the composition of verse, and has chosen a poetical name in consonance with his occupation. Since from the early days of my youth to the time of writing this selection, which is the period of my middle age, or rather of my old age, I have been bound to him, to a greater degree than can be imagined, by the bonds of intimacy, confidence, friendship, and companionship, it is not unfitting that I should quote with appreciation, and at some length, some of his profitable pieces of verse and prose. The following couplets are from his poems:— “Until the down grew above thy life-giving lip Masīḥ alone was there. Now that it has grown Khiẓr is in company with Masīḥ.” “The censor yesterday broke the wine jar, and poured forth the fiery water which it contained. He gave my dust to the wind, and poured my blood on the dust.” “The wind brought news to my sad heart of my beloved. Alas, no trust can be placed in the word of the wind.” “Sleep comes on me each night like a robber, my eyes become moist.
362.3
Owing to thy absence the blood lodged in my heart, every moment. Rises to my neck like liquid in a bottle ; Every breath burns with the fire of grief And at each respiration throws forth from my bosom a flaming banner. Now my eyes contend with the blood of my heart And shed, instead of tears, sparks of fire. These are not eyelashes that encircle my eyes, They are the soot of my heart’s fire around its chimney. O thou of angelic disposition, from this sad journey Which has carried the lives of my dear friends away on the breeze Such languor has become the lot of my body and my heart That I pay no heed to my body or my heart. My body is disturbed by the pains of fever, My heart within it is like fire in a furnace.” In reply to that boastful poem of Shaikh Faizi’s, which begins : — “Thanks be to God that the love of beautiful ones is my guide. I am of the religion of Brahmans and of the faith of the fire-worshippers.” He wrote a qasidah , from which the following couplets are excerpted : —
362.4
“ Thanks be to God that I am a follower of the faith of the prophet, The love of the prophet and of the race of the prophet is my guide. I am disgusted with Brahmans, prayer-gongs, and Ahriman, I am a denier of the faith of monk, priest, and fire-angel, “Outward form, and inward truth are not united in every king, Akbar the emperor is the king both of outward form, and inward truth He is the emperor at whose court, when he holds it, King after king falls down in fear before the doorkeeper’s staff.” “The heart in my bosom is not broken by the stone of calamities For the glass of my (heart) is made of a diamond.” When the imperial camp was on its way to Kashmir for the first time and I, having taken leave, went to Basawar, my birthplace, Nishani wrote the following verses, and sent them to me from that country (Kashmir). God knows whether he wrote (the same verses) with the same warmth of feeling to several others, and pleased them also, but until another claimant appears I have made the verses my own.