1. Autobiography
Almighty God, my Creator,
I thank Thee for Thy favours
for in my dotage I have no cure for grief
but such gratitude to Thee.
A hundred thanks that I have no work
but to compose these pious and devotional poems.
Help me not to sow in my heart
any seed but that of Thy good pleasure.
Thou knowest the secret of all souls
and that my hart ails within me
that here in Yamgan I am alone
weak, abandoned and afflicted.
The world venerates a happy drunkard, but I
a teetotaller, am sad and despised.
In fear of my oppressors I am helpless
and hide within my mountainous fort
condemned by them as a sinner
for my love of Thy Messenger;
in love of him and his Household
I remain in misery and trouble.
On the Day of Reckoning judge between me
and that herd of stray cows
with which I can never wander -
for I am not a donkey.
Even though for my sweet and virtuous words
I deserve to be compared
with the delicious fruit of the datepalm
the blind eyes of the rabble
see me as a despicable thorn.
O my God, I take refuge with Thee
from this herd of ravenous wolves.
I dare not be your friend
O friend of the Grape,
the harp and the jug,
for I do not love, I do not share your taste
for these three evil companions.
Drunkards need drunkards - why do you
quarrel with me because I am sober?
Go, follow your own caravan, for I
am not of your breed of camel.
Ride forth and seek the world, leave me
to canter on the steed of Reason.
You may be a king, but I
have the precious pearl of my words;
you may rule the realm of Balkh, but I
am a monarch in my own domain.
I shall never accept the burden of your rule
just for an ass-portion of hay.
My inner and outer natures are equally manifest:
sometimes I am soft, sometimes
sharp as a thorn - yes, to the ignorant and unwise
sharp as brambles; to the wise
soft and forbearing. I do not want you
any more than you want me.
I am unacquainted with perfidy: my warp and weft
are of the same thread.
If you re ready to apologise
I m ready to forgive and forget.
My tongue is clean of obscenity,
my trousers unstained by fornication;
I pay no attention to evil and cunning,
I do not churn the cream of falsehood.
I do not need to boast of my virtues -
others will point them out
while I, living as I do,
discharge my duties towards the virtuous.
In my past, I slept in ignorance
and the world seized me in its talons,
plundered me while it embraced me
and coo d in my ear.
One moment it promised the harvests of Autumn,
next the green pains of Spring,
and seeing that I was an easy prey to love
perfumed my face with roses and musk.
Today you see me enfeebled and bent
but in those times you would have thought me
straight as a pine. Ah, the stars
tugged gently at my bridle
like a camel to pasture. Robust and happy . . .
and today I tremble and lament,
my ruby red cheeks gone bilious
my jetblack hair grown white as a milk.
I drank so much wine those days
I m still breathing out fumes!
But when I learned the ways of the world
I grew grey and downcast;
I awoke from my slumber . . . .no -
it was my Lord Who woke me.
I soon polished the intelligence-rust
from my eyes, blew the mist from my brain,
washed the dust of wantonnes
from my face and cheeks,
uprooted the tree of ignorance and aberration
from my riverbank garden.
Many the battle I fought with the world
till I was saved,
till I became the chosen one of the
Imam of the Time
(since I had chosen faith and devotion
for myself).
Now, ask me a difficult question
and I will not scratch my head;
my ear is sharp, for knowledge
hangs from it like a ear-ring;
my eye is clear because I have gazed
on Truth and Certainty.
I will no more be prey in the hunt
of the falcons and panthers of this world.
In the old days I boasted of my ancestors
but today my ancestors, and indeed
all the world s inhabitants, boast of me.
Then I was worth no more
than a chamber-pot - today
I am gold.
You don t believe me?
Try it yourself
and test the worth of my poem -
read it and memorise it!
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