Welcome to F.I.E.L.D.- the First Ismaili Electronic Library and Database.

10. Anti-Ode to Spring

How long have you praised the spring,when the dry stems

shall blossom and the almond bear fruit; when

the garden, like my beloved, shall blush

and its meadows grow fresh as her skin;

when dew shall polish the waxy petals

of the pomegranate, and the nightingale leave

his rose to fly and salute them. The songster

burns with love and haunts the garden

till the mournful raven comes to chase him away.

The rose rides upon its steed of ruby,

the tulip marches before, bearing its banner.

The garden was scattered with Winters white camphor

but now is strewn with Spring s pearls.

The moonfaced children of the rose,

with its uncles and cousins now join it for a picnic.

The willow signs a peace-treaty

with the boisterous wind, the tulip

embraces and kisses the narcissus. The garden

is a constellation from which Venus,

in the early dawn, peeps down upon earth . . .

Bah! Enough of such futile nonsense! Such blather

merely embarrasses me! Spring has returned

as my guest now sixty times - it will be the same

if I live to be six hundred. Those whom Fate

has stripped of all adornment can take no joy

in the garden s decorations; to me its loveliness,

this Spring of your, is but a daydream

concealing pain beneath its charming robes,

poison in its sugar, thorns in its roses.

The cheerful day will come after the sorrows

of stygian night - but when mad Winter

cannot drive away your bile, what use

are Spring and its blossoming meadows?

The changing seasons are but ravenous lions

which steal forth each night to stalk us -

whoever raises his head will have it

bitten off. These beasts are not filled even

with the blood of thousands of victims.

Yes, the world is a sweet place to fools

but to me disagreeable and hateful. Whatever

character of a man, the world offers him

the same portion. Everything s proper

in its proper place - wetness from water,

corrosion fro acid - and even the tasteless thorn

seem moist and toothsome to the mouth of

an ass. We must learn to compromise

with the habitual injustice of the world,

when evil always follows after good,

and (I suppose) good after evil - for they make

a pulpit and a gallows from the same tree.

Sometimes you need defences, a strong castle

with a dungeon and chains - but then again

you are blamed for being toosensitive !

One day the shrewd spheres raise an army

against you, the next they smile and pat you

on the back . .

Ah, now I have shocked you.

Go away you shout,you irreligious maniac

and just wait till Judgement Day!

But to me, my forelocks are blades of sweet basil

even if to you, coiled black rattlesnakes.

To the children of Fatimah I am a branch

laden with fruit, even if to you I seem

a sterile weeping willow. How can I take pride

in religion when you too claim to be a Muslim?

I choose the friendship of Ali, whose sword

brings dark night to his foes, bright day

to his Partisans. Light is far superior

to smoke, even if both come from fire.

A neighbour can never take the place

of a brother, even if he comes with you

to the mountains and caverns. Test gold and flint

with the same touchstone, they cannot posses

the same value. Islam is a palace built for all

to take rest therein, by the Prophet himself.

Ali and his children are its gates. Welcome, O you

who enter here, and hail to him who has rolled out

the red carpet of knowledge and action.


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