If thou art wise, incline towards the essential truth, for that remains, while the things that are external pass away.
He who has neither knowledge, generosity, nor piety resembles a man in form alone.
He sleeps at peace beneath the ground who made tranquil the hearts of men.
Give now of thy gold and bounty, for eventually will it pass from thy grasp. Open the door of thy treasure to-day, for to-morrow the key will not be in thy hands.
If thou would not be distressed on the Day of Judgment, forget not them that are distressed.
Drive not the poor man empty from thy door, lest thou should wander before the doors of strangers.
He protects the needy who fears that he himself may become needful of the help of others.
Art not thou, too, a supplicant? Be grateful, and turn not away them that supplicate thee.
A woman said to her husband: “Do not again buy bread from the baker in this street. Make thy purchases in the market, for this man shows wheat and sells barley,[12]and he has no customers but a swarm of flies.”
“O light of my life,” the husband answered, “pay no heed to his trickery. In the hope of our custom has he settled in this place, and not humane would it be to deprive him of his profits.”
Follow the path of the righteous, and, if thou stand upon thy feet, stretch out thy hand to them that are fallen.
The wife of an officer of a king said to her husband: “Arise, and go to the royal palace, that they may give thee food, for thy children are in want.”
“The kitchen is closed to-day,” he answered; “last night the Sultan resolved to fast awhile.”
In the despair of hunger, the woman bowed her head and murmured: “What does the Sultan seek from his fasting when his breaking the fast means a festival of joy for our children?”
One who eats that good may follow is better than a Mammon-worshipper who continuallyfasts. Proper it is to fast with him who feeds the needy in the morning.
A certain man had generosity without the means of displaying it; his pittance was unequal to his benevolence. (May riches never fall to the mean, nor poverty be the lot of the generous!) His charities exceeding the depth of his pocket, therefore was he always short of money.
One day a poor man wrote to him saying: “O thou of happy nature! Assist me with funds, since for some time have I languished in prison.”
The generous man would have willingly acceded to the request, but he possessed not so much as the smallest piece of money. But he sent someone to the creditors of the prisoner with the message: “Free this man for a few days, and I will be his security.”
Then did he visit the prisoner in his cell and say: “Arise, and fly with haste from the city.”
When a sparrow sees open the door of its cage, it tarries not a moment. Like the morning breeze, the prisoner flew from the land. Thereupon, they seized his benefactor, saying: “Produce either the man or the money.”
Powerless to do either, he went to prison, for a bird escaped is ne’er recaught. Long theredid he remain, invoking help from none, nor complaining, though he slept not at nights through restlessness.
A pious man came to him and said: “I did not think that thou wert dishonest; why art thou here imprisoned?”
“No villainy have I committed,” he replied. “I saw a helpless man in bonds and his freedom only in my own confinement. I did not deem it right that I should live in comfort while another was fettered by the legs.”
Eventually he died, leaving a good name behind.
Happy is he whose name dies not! He who sleeps beneath the earth with a heart that lives is better than he who lives with a soul that is dead, for the former remains for ever.
In a desert a man found a dog that was dying from thirst. Using his hat as a bucket, he fetched water from a well and gave it to the helpless animal. The prophet of the time stated that God had forgiven the man his sins because of his kindly act.
Reflect, if thou be a tyrant, and make a profession of benevolence.
He who shows kindness to a dog will not do less towards the good among his fellows.
Be generous to the extent of thy power. Ifthou hast not dug a well in the desert, at least place a lamp in a shrine.[13]
Charity distributed from an ox’s skin that is filled with treasure counts for less than a dinar given from the wages of toil.
Every man’s burden is suited to his strength—heavy to the ant is the foot of the locust.
Do good to others so that on the morrow God may not deal harshly with thee.
Be lenient with thy slave, for he may one day become a king, like a pawn that becomes a queen.
A poor man complained of his distressed condition to one who was rich as well as ill-dispositioned. The latter refused to help him, and turned roughly upon him in anger.
The beggar’s heart bled by reason of this violence: “Strange!” he reflected, “that this rich man should be of such forbidding countenance! Perhaps he fears not the bitterness of begging.”
The rich man ordered his slave to drive the beggar away. As a result of his ingratitude for the blessings that he enjoyed, Fortune forsook him, and he lost all that he possessed. His slave passed into the hands of a generous man of enlightened mind, who was as gladdened at the sight of a beggar as the latter is at the sight of riches.[14]
One night a beggar asked alms of the latter, and he commanded his slave to give the man to eat. When the slave took food to the supplicant he involuntarily uttered a cry, and went back weeping.
“Why these tears?” his master asked.
“My heart is grieved at the plight of this unfortunate old man,” the slave replied. “Once was he the owner of much wealth, and I his slave.”
The master smiled and said: “This is not cause for grief, O son. Time, in its revolutions, is not unjust. Was not that indigent man formerly a merchant who carried his head high in the air through pride? I am he whom that day he drove from his door. Fate has now put him in the place that I then occupied. Heaven befriended me and washed the dust of sorrow from my face. Though God, in His wisdom, closed one door, another, in His mercy, did He open.”
Many a needy one has become filled, and many a Plutos has gone empty.
Some one saw a fox that was bereft of the use of its legs. He was wondering how the animal managed to live in this condition when a tiger drew near with a jackal in its claws. Thetiger ate the jackal, and the fox finished the remains. The next day also did the Omnipotent Provider send the fox its daily meal.
The eyes of the man were thus opened to the light of true knowledge. “After this,” he reflected, “I will sit in a corner like an ant, for the elephant’s portion is not gained by reason of its strength.”
So did he sit in silence, waiting for his daily food to come from the Invisible. No one heeded him, and soon was he reduced to skin and bones. When, at last, his senses had almost gone through weakness, a voice came out from the wall of a mosque, saying:
“Go, O false one! Be the rending tiger, and pose not as a paralytic fox. Exert thyself like the tiger, so that something may remain from thy spoil. Why, like the fox, appease thy hunger with leavings? Eat of the fruits of thine own endeavours; strive like a man, and relieve the wants of the needy.”
Seize, O youth, the hand of the aged; fall not thyself, saying, “Hold my hand.” In the two worlds does he obtain reward who does good to the people of God.
In the remote regions of Turkey there lived a good and pious man, whom I and some fellow-travellersonce visited. He received us cordially, and seated us with respect. He had vineyards, and wheat-fields, slaves and gold, but was as miserly as a leafless tree. His feelings were warm, but his fireplace was cold. He passed the night awake in prayer, and we in hunger. In the morning he girt his loins and recommenced the same politeness of the previous night.
One of our party was of merry wit and temper. “Come, give us food in change for a kiss,”[15]he said, “for that is better to a hungry man. In serving me, place not thy hand upon my shoe, but give me bread and strike thy shoe upon my head.”
Excellence is attained by generosity, not by vigils in the night.
Idle words are a hollow drum; invocations without merit are a weak support.
Hātim Tai possessed a horse whose fleetness was as that of the morning breeze. Of this was the Sultan of Turkey informed.
“Like Hātim Tai,” he was told, “none is equal in generosity; like his horse, nothing is equal in speed and gait. As a ship in the sea it traverses the desert, while the eagle, exhausted, lags behind.”
“From Hātim will I request that horse,” theking replied. “If he be generous and give it to me, then shall I know that his fame is true; if not, that it is but the sound of a hollow drum.”
So he despatched a messenger with ten followers to Hātim. They alighted at the house of the Arab chief, who prepared a feast and killed a horse[17]in their honour.
On the following day, when the messenger explained the object of his mission, Hātim became as one mad with grief. “Why,” he cried, “didst thou not give me before thy message? That swift-paced horse did I roast last night for thee to eat. No other means had I to entertain thee; that horse alone stood by my tent, and I would not that my guests should sleep fasting.”
To the men he gave money and splendid robes, and when the news of his generosity reached to Turkey, the king showered a thousand praises upon his nature.
One of the kings of Yaman was renowned for his liberality, yet the name of Hātim was never mentioned in his presence without his falling into a rage. “How long,” he would ask, “wilt thou speak of that vain man, who possesses neither a kingdom, nor power, nor wealth?”
On one occasion he prepared a royal feast, which the people were invited to attend. Someone began to speak of Hātim, and another to praise him. Envious, the king despatched a man to slay the Arabian chief, reflecting: “So long as Hātim lives, my name will never become famous.”
The messenger departed, and travelled far seeking for Hātim that he might kill him. As he went along the road a youth came out to meet him. He was handsome and wise, and showed friendliness toward the messenger, whom he took to his house to pass the night. Such liberality did he shower upon his guest that the heart of the evil-minded one was turned to goodness.
In the morning the generous youth kissed his hand and said: “Remain with me for a few days.”
“I am unable to tarry here,” replied the messenger, “for urgent business is before me.”
“If thou wilt entrust me with thy secret,” said the youth, “to aid thee will I spare no effort.”
“O generous man!” was the reply, “give ear to me, for I know that the generous are concealers of secrets. Perhaps in this country thou knowest Hātim, who is of lofty mind and noble qualities. The king of Yaman desires his head, though I know not what enmity has arisenbetween them. Grateful shall I be if thou wilt direct me to where he is. This hope from thy kindness do I entertain, O friend.”
The youth laughed and said: “I am Hātim; see here my head! strike it from my body with thy sword. I would not that harm should befall thee, or that thou shouldst fail in thy endeavour.”
Throwing aside his sword, the man fell on the ground and kissed the dust of Hātim’s feet. “If I injured a hair on thy body,” he cried, “I should no longer be a man.” So saying, he clasped Hātim to his breast and took his way back to Yaman.
“Come,” said the king as the man approached, “what news hast thou? Why didst thou not tie his head to thy saddle-straps? Perhaps that famous one attacked thee and thou wert too weak to engage in combat.”
The messenger kissed the ground and said: “O wise and just king! I found Hātim, and saw him to be generous and full of wisdom, and in courage superior to myself. My back was bent by the burden of his favours; with the sword of kindness and bounty he killed me.”
When he had related all that he had seen of Hātim’s generosity, the king uttered praises upon the family of the Arab chief and rewarded the messenger with gold.
A certain man, in the ceiling of whose house some bees had built their hives, asked his wife for a butchers’ knife so that he might destroy them. “Do not so,” the woman said, “for the poor creatures will be greatly distressed when turned out of their homes.”
Accordingly, the foolish man left the bees in peace.
One day the woman was stung by one of the insects and stood wailing on the doorstep. Hearing her cries, the husband left his shop and hurried towards the house. Angered, he said: “O wife! show not such a bitter face to the world; remember thou didst say to me, ‘Kill not the poor bees.’”
How can one do good to the evil? Forbearance with the wicked but increases their iniquity.
What is a dog that a dish of viands should be set before him? Command that they should give him bones. A kicking animal is best well-burdened.
If the night-watchman display humanity, no one sleeps at night for fear of thieves.
In the battle-field, the spear-shaft is worth more than a hundred thousand sugar-canes.
When thou rearest a cat, she destroys thy pigeons; when thou makest fat a wolf, he rends one who is dear to thee.
Raise not a building that has not a strong foundation; if thou dost, beware.
Protect him whose father is dead; remove the dust from his raiment, and injure him not. Thou knowest not how hard is his condition; no foliage is there on a rootless tree. Give not a kiss to a child of thine own in the sight of a helpless orphan. If the latter weep, who will assuage his grief? If he be angered, who will bear his burden? See that he weeps not, for the throne of God trembles at the orphan’s lament. With pity, wipe the tears from his eyes and the dust from his face. If the protecting shadow of his father’s care be gone, cherish him beneath the shadow of thy care.
Upon my head was a kingly crown when it reposed upon the bosom of my father. Then, if a fly settled upon my body, many were distressed on my behalf. Now, should I be taken in captivity, not one among my friends would come to aid me. Well do I know the orphan’s sorrow, for my father departed in my childhood.
Happy are the days of them that are infatuated by love for Him, whether they be sorrowed by separation from Him or made joyous by His presence.
They are mendicants who fly from worldly sovereignty; in the hope of meeting Him they are patient in their mendicity. Oft have they drunk of the wine of anguish; be it bitter, they remain silent. In the remembrance of Him patience is not bitter, for wormwood is sweet from the hand of a friend.
They that are captive in the coils of His love, seek not to escape; they suffer reproach, but are monarchs in the seclusion of their meditation, and their way is not known. They are like the temple of Jerusalem, splendid of which is the interior, but whose outer wall is left in ruin.
Like moths, they burn themselves in the fire of love. Their beloved is in their breasts, yet do they seek Him; though near a fountain, their lips are parched.[18]
Thy love renders thee impatient and disturbed. With such sincerity hast thou placed thy head at her feet that thou art oblivious to the world.
When in the eyes of thy beloved riches count not, gold and dust are as one to thee.
Thou sayest that she dwelleth in thine eyes—if they be closed, she is in thy mind.
If she demand thy life, thou dost place it in her hand; if she place a sword upon thy head, thou holdest it forward.
When earthly love produces such confusion and such obedience demands, dost thou wonder if travellers of the road of God remain engulfed in the Ocean of Reality?
In the remembrance of their Friend they have turned their backs upon the world; they are so fascinated by the Cup-bearer that they have spilled the wine.
No medicine can cure them, for no one has knowledge of their pains.
With their cries of longing do they root up a mountain; with their sighs they dismember a kingdom.
Such is their weeping at dawn that the tears wash the collyrium of sleep from their eyes. Night and day are they immersed in the sea of love; so distracted are they that they know not night from day.
So enamoured are they of the beauty of the Painter that they care not for the beauty of His designs.
He drinks of the pure wine of Unity who is forgetful of both this world and the next.
I have heard that, at the singing of a musician, one of fairy-face began to dance. Surrounded by distracted hearts, the flame of a candle caught her skirt. She was distressed and angered.
One of her lovers said, “Why agitate thyself? The fire has burned thy skirts—it[19]has entirely consumed the harvest of my life.”
One who loved God set his face towards the desert. His father, being grieved at his absence, neither ate nor slept.
Some one admonished the son, who said: “Since my Friend has claimed me as His own, no other friendship do I own. When He revealed to me His beauty, all else that I saw appeared unreal.”
They that love Him care for no one else; their senses are confused and their ears are deaf to the words of them that reproach.
They wander through the desert of Divine Knowledge without a caravan.
They have no hope of approbation from their fellow-men, for they are the chosen of the elect of God.
An old man begged at the door of a mosque. Some one said to him: “This is not the place to beg; stand not here with impudence.”
“What house is this,” the man inquired, “from which no pity comes upon the condition of the poor?”
“Silence!” was the reply. “What foolish words are these? This is the house of our Master!”
The beggar raised a cry: “Alas,” he said, “that I should be disappointed at this door. I have not gone hopeless from any street; why should I go thus from the door of God? Here will I stretch forth my hand of want, for I know that I shall not depart empty-handed.”
For a year he remained devoutly employed in the mosque. One night, through weakness, his heart began to palpitate, and at daybreak his last breath flickered like a morning lamp. Thus did he exclaim with joy: “And whoever knocked at the door of the Bounteous One, it opened.”
He who seeks God should be patient and enduring; I have not heard of an alchemist being sad. Much gold he reduces to ashes so that hemay one day turn copper into gold. Gold is good with which to buy—and what couldst thou wish to buy better than the face of thy Friend?[20]
An old man spent the night in worship and the morning in prayer. A guardian angel whispered to him: “Go, take thy way, for thy prayers are not acceptable at this door.”
The next night again he passed the night in devotion; and a disciple, being informed of his circumstances, said: “When thou seest that the door is shut, why dost thou thus exert thyself?”
Weeping, he replied: “O my son! Dost thou suppose that although He has torn my reins I shall keep my hands from off his saddle-straps? When a supplicant is repelled at one door, what is his fear if he know of another?”
While thus he spoke, with his head upon the ground, the angel uttered this message in his ear: “Although there is no merit in him, his prayers are accepted, for except Me he has no refuge.”
Some one found fault with the king of Ghazni, saying: “Ayāz, his favourite slave, possesses no beauty. It is strange that a nightingale should love a rose that has neither colour nor perfume.”
This was told to Mahmūd, who said: “My love, O sir, is for his virtues, not for his form and stature.”
I have heard that in a narrow pass a camel fell and a chest of pearls was broken. The king gave the signal for plunder, and urged on his horse with speed. The horsemen did likewise, and, leaving the king behind, gathered up the pearls. Not one of them remained near the king but Ayāz.
“O thou of curly locks!” said Mahmūd, “what hast thou gained of the plunder?”
“Nothing,” he replied. “I walked in haste behind thee: I do not occupy myself with riches away from thy service.”
If an honourable place in the court be thine, be not neglectful of the king on account of gain elsewhere.
A village chief passed with his son through the centre of the imperial army. In the presence of such pomp and splendour the man displayed humility and fled, through fear, into a corner.
“After all,” observed his son, “thou art a village chief, and in chieftaincy greater than the nobles. Why dost thou tremble like a willow tree?”
“True,” replied his father. “I am a chief and a ruler, but my honour lies as far as my village.”
Thus are the saints overwhelmed with fear when they stand in the court of their King.
Perhaps thou mayest have seen the fire-fly shine like a lamp in the garden at night.
“O night-illuminating moth!” some one said, “why comest thou not out in the day-time?”
The fly gave an answer full of wisdom: “Because I am not visible before the sun.”
Some one said to a moth: “Go, thou contemptible creature, and make friendship with one worthy of thyself; go where thou seest the path of hope. How different is thy love from that of the candle! Thou art not a salamander—hover not around the fire, for bravery is necessary before combat. It is not compatible with reason that thou shouldst acknowledge as a friend one whom thou knowest to be thine enemy.”
“What does it matter if I burn?” the moth replied. “I have love in my heart, and this flame is as a flower to me. Not of my own accord do I throw myself into the fire; the chain of her love is upon my neck. Who is it that finds fault with my friendship for my friend? I amcontent to be slain at her feet. I burn because she is dear to me, and because my destruction may affect her. Say not to the helpless man from whose hands the reins have fallen, ‘Drive slowly.’”
One night, as I lay awake, I heard a moth say to a candle: “I am thy lover; if I burn, it is proper. Why dost thou weep?”
The candle replied: “O my poor friend! Love is not thy business. Thou fliest from before a flame; I stand erect until I am entirely consumed. If the fire of love has burned thy wings, regard me, who from head to foot must be destroyed.”
Before the night had passed, some one put the candle out, exclaiming: “Such is the end of love!”
Grieve not over the grave of one who lost his life for his friend; be glad of heart, for he was the chosen of Him.
If thou art a lover, wash not thy head of the sickness of love; like Sadi, wash thy hands of selfishness.
A devoted lover holds not back his hand from the object of his affections though arrows and stones may rain upon his head.
Be cautious; if thou goest down to the sea, give thyself up to the storm.
Thou, O creature of God, wast created of the dust; therefore, be humble as the dust. Be not covetous, nor oppressive, nor headstrong. Thou art from the dust; be not like fire. When the terrible fire raised his head in pride, the dust prostrated itself in humility.
And since the fire was arrogant and the dust was meek, from the former were the demons formed, and from the latter mankind.
A raindrop fell from a spring cloud, and, seeing the wide expanse of the sea, was shamed. “Where the sea is,” it reflected, “where am I? Compared with that, forsooth, I am extinct.”
While thus regarding itself with an eye of contempt, an oyster took it to its bosom, and Fate so shaped its course that eventually the raindrop became a famous royal pearl.
It was exalted, for it was humble. Knocking at the door of extinction, it became existent.
A sagacious youth of noble family landed at a seaport of Turkey, and, as he displayed piety and wisdom, his baggage was deposited in a mosque.
One day the priest said to him: “Sweep away the dust and rubbish from the mosque.”
Immediately, the young man went away and no one saw him there again. Thus, did the elder and his followers suppose he did not care to serve.
The next day, a servant of the mosque met him on the road and said: “Thou didst act wrongly in thy perverse judgment. Knowest thou not, O conceited youth, that men are dignified by service?”
Sorrowfully, the youth began to weep. “O soul-cherishing and heart-illuminating friend!” he answered; “I saw no dirt or rubbish in that holy place but mine own corrupt self. Therefore, I retraced my steps, for a mosque is better cleansed from such.”
Humility is the only ritual for a devotee. If thou desire greatness, be humble; no other ladder is there by which to climb.
When Bāyazīd was coming from his bath one morning during the Id festival, some one unwittinglyemptied a tray of ashes from a window upon his head. With his face and turban all bespattered, he rubbed his hands in gratitude and said: “I am in truth worthy of the fires of hell; why should I be angered by a few ashes?”
The great do not regard themselves; look not for godliness in a self-conceited man. Eminence does not consist in outward show and vaunting words, nor dignity in hauteur and pretension.
On the Day of Judgment thou wilt see in Paradise him who sought truth and rejected vain pretension.
He who is headstrong and obdurate falleth headlong; if thou desire greatness, abandon pride.
Expect not him who is possessed of worldly vanities to follow the path of religion, nor look for godliness in him who wallows in conceit.
If thou desire dignity, do not, like the mean, regard thy fellows with contemptuous eyes.
Seek no position more honourable than that of being known to the world as a man of laudable character.
Thou deemest him not great who, being of equal rank, is haughty towards thee; when thou makest a similar display before others, dostthou not appear before them as the arrogant appear before thee?
If thou art eminent, laugh not, if thou art wise, at them that are lowly. Many have fallen from high whose places have been taken by the fallen.
Though thou be free from defect, revile not me who am full of blemishes.
One holds the chain of the Kába temple in his hands; another lies drunken in the tavern. If God call the latter, who can drive him away? If He expel the former, who can bring him back? The one cannot implore the divine help by reason of his good deeds, nor is the door of repentance closed upon the other.
A poorly-clad doctor of law and divinity sat one day in the front row of seats in a Cādi’s court. The Cādi gave him a sharp look, whereupon the usher took the man by the arm and said: “Get up; dost thou not know that the best place is not for such as thee? Either take a lower seat, or remain standing, or leave the court altogether. Be not so bold as to occupy the seat of the great. If thou art humble, pose not as a lion. Not every one is worthy of the chief seat; honour is proportionate to rank, and rank to merit.”
He who sits with honour in a place lower thanthat of which he is worthy falls not with ignominy from eminence.
Fuming with anger, the doctor moved to a lower seat. Two advocates in the court then entered into a spirited discussion, and flew at each other with their tongues like fighting-cocks with beak and claw. They were involved in a complicated knot which neither could unravel. From the last row of seats the tattered doctor roared out with the voice of a lion in the forest.
“It is not the veins of the neck that should stand out in argument,” he said, “but the proofs, which should be full of meaning. I, too, have the faculty of argument.”
“Speak on,” they answered.
With the quill of eloquence that he possessed, the doctor engraved his words upon the minds of his listeners like inscriptions on a signet-ring; and, drawing his pen through the letters of pretension, he invoked applause from every corner. So hard did he drive the steed of speech that the Cādi lagged behind like an ass in the mire. Removing his cloak and turban, the latter sent them to the doctor as a token of his respect.
“Alas!” he said, “I did not discern thy merit, nor welcome thee on thy arrival. I regret to see thee in this condition with such a stock of knowledge.”
The usher then approached the stranger courteously in order that he might place the Cādi’s turban upon his head. But the doctor repelled him with his hands and tongue, saying:
“Place not upon my head the fetters of pride, for to-morrow this fifty-yarded turban would turn my head from those in jaded garb. Those who called me ‘lord’ and ‘chief’ would then appear insignificant in mine eyes. Is pure water different whether it be contained in a goblet of gold or an earthen ewer? A man’s head requires brain and intellect, not an imposing turban like thine. A big head does not make one worthy; it is like the gourd, void of kernel. Be not proud because of thy turban and beard, for the one is cotton and the other grass. One should aim at the degree of eminence that is conformable with one’s merit. With all this intellect, I will not call thee man, though a hundred slaves walk behind thee. How well spoke the shell when a greedy fool picked it out of the mire: ‘None will buy me for the smallest price: be not so insane as to wrap me up in silk.’ A man is not better than his fellows by reason of his wealth, for an ass, though covered with a satin cloth, is still an ass.”
In this way the clever doctor washed the rancour from his heart with the water of words. Thus do those who are aggrieved speak harshly. Be not idle when thine enemy has fallen. Dashout his brains when thou art able, for delay will efface the grudge from thy mind.
So overcome was the Cādi by his vehemence that he exclaimed, “Verily, this day is a hard one.” He bit his fingers in amazement, and his eyes stared at the doctor like the two stars near the pole of the lesser bear. As for the latter, he went abruptly out and was never seen there again. They in the court clamoured to know whence such an impertinent fellow had come. An official went in search of him, and ran in all directions, asking whether a man of that description had been seen. Some one said: “We know no one in this city so eloquent as Sadi.”
A hundred thousand praises to him who said so; see how sweetly he uttered the bitter truth!
A man of smiling countenance sold honey, captivating the hearts of all by his pleasant manner. His customers were as numerous as flies around the sugar-cane—if he had sold poison people would have bought it for honey.
A forbidding-looking man regarded him with envy, being jealous of the way his business prospered. One day he paraded the town with a tray of honey on his head and a scowl on his face. He wandered about crying his wares, but no one evinced desire to buy. At nightfall, havingearned no money, he went and sat dejectedly in a corner, with a face as bitter as that of a sinner fearful of retribution.
The wife of one of his neighbours jokingly remarked: “Honey is bitter to one of sour temper.”
It is wrong to eat bread at the table of one whose face is as wrinkled with frowns as the cloth on which it is served.
O sir! add not to thine own burdens, for an evil temper brings disaster in its train.
If thou hast not a sweet tongue like Sadi, thou hast neither gold nor silver.
I have heard that a debased drunkard caught a pious man by the collar. The latter received his blows in silence, and in forbearance lifted not his head.
A passer-by remarked: “Art thou not a man? It is a pity to be patient with this ignorant fellow.”
The pious man replied: “Speak not thus to me. A foolish drunkard collars one by the neck in the thought that he is fighting with a lion; there is no fear that a learned man will contend with an inebriated fool.”
The virtuous follow this rule in life—when they suffer oppression they display kindness.
A dog bit the leg of a hermit with such violence that venom dropped from its teeth, and the poor man could not sleep all night through pain.
His little daughter chided him, saying: “Hast thou not teeth as well?”
The unfortunate parent wept, and then smilingly replied: “Dear child! Although I was stronger than the dog, I restrained my anger. Should I receive a sword-blow on the head, I could not apply my teeth to the legs of a dog.”
One can revenge oneself upon the mean, but a man cannot act like a dog.
An eminent man, famous for his many virtues, possessed a slave of evil disposition, who in ugliness of feature surpassed every one in the city. He closely attended his master at meal-times, but he would not have given a drop of water to a dying man. Neither reproof nor the rod influenced him; the house was in a constant state of disorder through him. Sometimes, in his bad temper, would he litter the paths with thorns and rubbish; at other times, throw the chickens down the well. His unhappy temperamentwas written on his face, and never did he perform a task successfully.
Some one asked his master: “What is there that thou likest in this slave—his agreeable manners, or his skill, or beauty? Surely, it is not worth while to keep such an unruly knave and burden thyself with such an affliction. I will procure for thee a slave of handsome appearance and good character. Take this one to the slave-market and sell him. If a pice is offered for him, do not refuse it, for he would be dear at that.”
The good-natured man smiled and said: “O friend! Although the character of my slave is certainly bad, my character is improved by him, for when I have learned to tolerate his manner I shall be able to put up with anything at the hands of others. It were not humane to sell him and thus make known his faults. And it is better to endure his affliction myself than to pass him on to others.”
Accept for thyself what thou wouldst accept for others. If distressed thyself, involve not thy fellows.
Forbearance is at first like poison, but when engrained in the nature it becomes like honey.
No one follows the path of Marūf Karchi who does not first banish the idea of fame from his head.
A traveller once came to Marūf’s house at the point of death—his life was joined to his body by a single hair. He passed the night in wailing and lamentation, sleeping not himself nor permitting any one else to sleep by reason of his groans. His mind was distressed and his temper was vile; though he died not himself, he killed many by his fretting. Such was his restlessness that every one flew from him. Marūf Karchi alone remained. He, like a brave man, girt his loins and sat up many nights in attendance at the sick man’s bedside. But one night Marūf was attacked by sleep—how long can a sleepless man keep up?
As soon as the invalid saw him asleep he began to rave: “Cursed be thy abominable race!” he cried: “what knows this glutton, intoxicated with sleep, of the helpless man who has not closed his eyes?”
Marūf took no notice of these words, but one of the women of the harem, overhearing them, remarked: “Didst thou not hear what that wailing beggar said? Turn him out, and tell him to take his abuse with him and die elsewhere. Kindness and compassion have their occasions, but to do good to the evil is evil; only a fool plants trees in barren soil. A grateful dog is better than an ungrateful man.”
Marūf laughed: “Dear woman,” he replied, “be not offended at his ungracious words. If herave at me through sickness, I am not angered. When thou art strong and well thyself, bear gratefully the burdens of the weak. If thou cherish the tree of kindness, thou wilt assuredly eat of the fruits of a good name.”
They attain to dignity who rid themselves of arrogance.
He who worships grandeur is the slave of pride; he knows not that greatness consists in meekness.
An impudent fellow begged of a pious man, but the latter had no money in his house. Otherwise, would he have showered gold upon him like dust. The infamous rascal, therefore, went out and began to abuse him in the street.
The eye of the fault-finder sees no merits. What regard has he who has acted dishonourably for the honour of another?
Being informed of his words, the pious man smiled and said: “It is well; this man has enumerated only a few of my bad qualities—only one out of a hundred that are known to me. The evil that he has supposed in me I know for certain that I possess. Only one year has he been acquainted with me; how can he know the faults of seventy years? None but the Omniscient knows my faults better than myself. Neverhave I known one who has attributed to me so few defects. If he bear witness against me in the Day of Judgment, I shall have no fear. If he who thinks ill of me seek to reveal my faults, tell him to come and take the record from me.”
Be humble when the veil is torn from off thy character. If a pitcher were made of the dust of men, the calumnious would shatter it with stones.
A certain man knew something of astronomy and his head, in consequence, was filled with pride. Journeying far, he visited Kūshyār,[23]the sage, who turned his eyes from him and would teach him nothing. When the disappointed traveller was on the point of leaving, Kūshyār addressed him with these words:
“Thou imaginest that thou art full of knowledge. How can a vessel that is full receive of more? Rid thyself of thy pretensions, so that thou mayest be filled. Being full of vanity, thou goest empty.”
Some one heard the barking of a dog in the ruined hut of a pious man. Reflecting upon the strangeness of the fact, he went and searched,but found no traces of a dog. In truth, the devotee alone was in the house.
Not wishing his curiosity to be revealed, the man was departing, when the owner of the house cried out: “Come in; why standest thou upon the door? Knowest thou not, O friend, that I it was who barked? When I discerned that humility was acceptable to God, I banished pride and vanity from my heart, and clamoured with barks at the door of God, for I saw none more lowly than a dog.”
If thou desire to attain to dignity, let humility be thy path.
Behold, when the dew lies low upon the earth, the sun doth raise it to the skies.
The slave of a king escaped, and, though a search was made, was not discovered. Later, when the fugitive returned, the king, in anger, ordered that he should be put to death.
When the executioner brought out his scimitar, like the tongue of a thirsty man, the despondent slave cried out:
“O God! I forgive the king the shedding of my blood, for I have ever enjoyed his bounty and shared in his prosperity. Let him not suffer for this deed on the Day of Judgment, to the delight of his enemies.”
When the king heard these words his anger was appeased, and he appointed the slave to be an officer of the standard.
The moral of this story is that soft speech acts like water on the fires of wrath. Do not the soldiers on the battle-field wear armour consisting of a hundred folds of silk?
O friend! be humble when thou dealest with a fierce foe, for gentleness will blunt the sharpest sword.
Many writers affirm the falsity of the idea that Hātim was deaf.
One morning his attention was attracted by the buzzing of a fly, which had become ensnared in a spider’s web. “O thou,” he observed, “who art fettered by thine own avarice, be patient. Wherever there be a tempting bait, huntsman and snare are close at hand.”
One of his disciples remarked: “Strange it is that thou couldst hear the buzzing of a fly that hardly reached our ears. No longer can they call thee deaf.”
The Sheikh replied: “Deafness is better than the hearing of idle words. Those that sit with me in private are prone to conceal my faults and parade my virtues; thus, do they make mevain. I feign deafness that I may be spared their flattery. When my assumed affliction has become known to them they will speak freely of that which is good and bad in me; then, being grieved at the recital of my faults, I shall abstain from evil.”
Go not down a well by a rope of praise. Be deaf, like Hātim, and listen to the words of them that slander thee.
A certain man, whose heart was as pure as Sadi’s, fell in love. Although taunted by his enemies in consequence, he showed no anger.
Some one asked him: “Hast thou no sense of shame? Art thou not sensible to these indignities? It is abject to expose oneself to ridicule, and weak to endure patiently the scoffs of enemies. To overlook the errors of the ignorant is wrong, lest it be said that thou hast neither strength nor courage.”
How elegantly did the distracted lover make reply! His words are worthy to be writ in letters of gold:
“Alone in my heart there dwelleth affection for my loved one; thus, it contains no room for malice.”
I have heard that Luqman was of dark complexion and careless of his appearance. Some one mistook for him a slave, and employed him in digging trenches at Baghdad. Thus he continued for a year, no one suspecting who he was. When the truth was known the master was afeared, and fell at Luqman’s feet, offering excuses.
The sage smiled and said: “Of what use are these apologies? For a year my heart has bled through thine oppression. How can I forget that in one hour? But I forgive thee, good man, for thy gain has caused to me no loss. Thou hast built thy house; my wisdom and knowledge have increased. I, too, possess a slave, and frequently set him to arduous labour. Nevermore, when I remember the hardships of my toil, will I afflict him.”
He who has not suffered at the hands of the strong grieves not at the frailness of the weak.
If thou be sorrowed by those above thee, be not harsh with thine inferiors.
Happiness comes from the favour of God, not from the might of the powerful.
If the heavens bestow not fortune, by no valour can it be obtained.
The ant suffers not by reason of its weakness; the tiger eats not by virtue of its strength.
Since the hand reaches not to the skies, accept as inevitable the fortune that it brings.
If thy life is destined to be long, no snake nor sword will harm thee; when the fated day of death arrives, the antidote will kill thee no less than the poison.
In Isfahan I had a friend who was warlike, spirited, and shrewd. His hands and dagger were for ever stained with blood. The hearts of his enemies were consumed by fear of him; even the tigers stood in awe of him. In battle he was like a sparrow among locusts; in combat, sparrows and men were alike to him. Had he made an attack upon Faridun, he would not have given the latter time to draw his sword. Neither in bravery nor magnanimity had he an equal.
This warrior formed a liking for my company; but as I was not destined to remain in Isfahan, Fate transferred me from Iraq to Syria, in which holy land my staying was agreeable. After some time the desire for my home attracted me, so I returned to Iraq.
One night, the memory of the sepoy passed through my mind; the salt of his friendship opened the wounds of my gratitude, for I had eaten salt from his hand. To meet him, I went to Isfahan, and inquired as to where he lived.
I chanced upon him. He who had been a youth had become old; his form, once erect as an arrow, had become as a bow. Like a hoary mountain, his head was covered with snowy hair; Time had conquered him and twisted the wrist of his bravery. The pride of his strength had gone; the head of weakness was upon his knees.
“O tiger-seizer!” I exclaimed, “what has made thee decrepit like an old fox?”
He laughed and said: “Since the day of the battle of Tartary, I have expelled the thoughts of fighting from my head. Then did I see the earth arrayed with spears like a forest of reeds. I raised like smoke the dust of conflict; but when Fortune does not favour, of what avail is fury? I am one who, in combat, could take with a spear a ring from the palm of the hand; but, as my star did not befriend me, they encircled me as with a ring. I seized the opportunityof flight, for only a fool strives with Fate. How could my helmet and cuirass aid me when my bright star favoured me not? When the key of victory is not in the hand, no one can break open the door of conquest with his arms.
“The enemy were a pack of leopards, and as strong as elephants. The heads of the heroes were encased in iron, as were also the hoofs of the horses. We urged on our Arab steeds like a cloud, and when the two armies encountered each other thou wouldst have said they had struck the sky down to the earth. From the raining of arrows, that descended like hail, the storm of death arose in every corner. Not one of our troops came out of the battle but his cuirass was soaked with blood. Not that our swords were blunt—it was the vengeance of stars of ill fortune. Overpowered, we surrendered, like a fish which, though protected by scales, is caught by the hook in the bait. Since Fortune averted her face, useless was our shield against the arrows of Fate.”
One night a villager could not sleep owing to a pain in his side. A doctor said: “This pain is caused by his having eaten the leaves of the vine. I shall be astonished if he lasts through the night, for the arrows of a Tartar in his breast were better for him than the eating of such indigestible food.”
That night the doctor died; forty years have since passed, and the villager yet lives.
The ass of a villager died, so he set the head upon a vine in his garden in order that it might ward off the Evil Eye.
A sage old man passed by and laughingly remarked: “Dost think, O friend, this will effect thy purpose? In life, the ass could not protect itself from blows; so, in weakness, did it die.”
What knows the physician of the condition of the sick, when, helpless, he himself will die through illness?
A poor man dropped a dinar in the road. He searched much, but at last, despairing, abandoned the attempt.
Some one came along and found the coin by chance.
Good and ill fortune are predestined. Our daily portion depends not upon our strength and efforts, for those who are strongest and strive the most stand often in the direst need.
There was once a rich and prosperous man named Bakhtyār. The wife of one of his neighbours, who was in the other extreme of poverty,upbraided her husband one night when he went to her empty-handed, saying: “No one is so poor and unfortunate as thee. Take a lesson from thy neighbours, who are well-to-do. Why art thou not fortunate, like them?”
The man replied: “I am incapable of aught; quarrel not with Fate. I have not been endowed with the power to make myself a Bakhtyār.”[25]
A darwesh remarked to his wife, who was of ill-favoured countenance: “Since Fate has made thee ugly, do not encrust thy face with cosmetic.”
Who can attain good fortune by force? Who, with collyrium, can make the blind to see?
Not one among the philosophers of Greece or Rome could produce honey from the thorn.
Wild beasts cannot become men; education is wasted upon them.
A mirror can be freed from stain, but it cannot be made from a stone.
Roses do not blossom on the branches of the willow; hot baths never yet made an Ethiop white.
Since one cannot escape the arrows of Fate, resignation is the only shield.
A vulture said to a kite: “No one can see so far as I.”
“Possibly,” replied the kite; “but what canst thou see across the desert?”
Gazing down, the vulture exclaimed: “Yonder do I see a grain of wheat.”
Thereupon, they flew to the ground. When the vulture settled upon the wheat he became caught in a trap. He had not known that, through his eating the grain, Fate would ensnare him by the neck.
Not every oyster contains a pearl; not every archer hits the target.
“Of what use,” the kite inquired, “was it to see the grain when thou couldst not discern the trap of thine enemy?”
“Caution,” said the captive vulture, “availeth not with Destiny.”
When the decrees of past eternity are brought to action, the keenest eyes are rendered blind by Fate.
In the ocean, where no shore-line appears, the swimmer strives in vain.
A young camel said to its mother: “After thou hast made a journey, rest awhile.”
“If the bridle were in my hands,” was the reply, “no one would ever see me in the string of camels with a load upon my back.”
Fate is the helmsman of the ship of life, no matter though the owner rend his clothes.
O Sadi! look not for aid from any man. God is the giver, and He alone. If thou worship Him, the door of His mercy sufficeth thee; if He drive thee away, no one will ease thee. If He make thee to wear a crown, raise thy head; if not, bow thy head in despair.
Who knows that thou art not pledged to God even though thou standest in prayer without ablution?
That prayer is the key to hell which thou performest only before the eyes of men.
If the high-road of thy life lead to aught but God, thy prayer-mat will be thrown into the fire.
He whose heart is good and makes no outward show of piety is better than one of outward sanctity whose heart is false.
A night-prowling robber is better than a sinner in the tunic of a saint.
Expect not wages from Omar, O son, when thou workest in the house of Zaid.
If in private I am bad and mean, of what avail is it to pose before the world with honour? How much will the bag of hypocrisy weigh in the Scales of Justice?
The outside of the hypocrite’s coat is neater than the lining, for the one is seen and the other is hidden.