Muntakhab al-tawarikh 362.2

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.