Quotes about sultan, page 7
Ch 01 Manner Of Kings Story 02
One of the kings of Khorasan had a vision in a dream of Sultan
Mahmud, one hundred years after his death. His whole person appeared
to have been dissolved and turned to dust, except his eyes, which were
revolving in their orbits and looking about. All the sages were unable
to give an interpretation, except a dervish who made his salutation
and said: 'He is still looking amazed how his kingdom belongs to
others.'
Many famous men have been buried under ground
Of whose existence on earth not a trace has remained
And that old corpse which had been surrendered to the earth
Was so consumed by the soil that not a bone remains.
The glorious name of Nushirvan survives in good repute
Although much time elapsed since he passed away.
Do good, O man, and consider life as a good fortune,
The more so, as when a shout is raised, a man exists no more.
Ch 01 Manner of Kings Story 19
It is related that, whilst some game was being roasted for Nushirvan the just during a hunting party, no salt could be found. Accordingly a boy was sent to an adjoining village to bring some. Nushirvan said: "Pay for the salt lest it should become a custom and the village be ruined." Having been asked what harm could arise from such a trifling demand, Nushirvan replied: "The foundation of oppression was small in the world but whoever came augmented it so that it reached its present magnitude."
If the king eats one apple from the garden of a subject
His slaves will pull him up the tree from the roots.
For five eggs which the sultan allows to be taken by force
The people belonging to his army will put a thousand fowls on the spit.
A tyrant does not remain in the world
But the curse on him abides for ever.
Azra
(A heartiest tribute of Sarwar Sultan to his deceased wife who a year after also passed away; the poem has been translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
It was December, she and I,
December has come again,
Who knows how many December
Will come and depart,
She can not come back
And I can not die yet.
It was December when I took her
On the fog-wrapped rocks,
It was December when I took her
On the bank of a blue lake,
It was December when I took her
On the high mountains
Amid the tall palm trees,
And it was December when I took her
On the bank of a rushing river.
Whatever the season is,
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poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Ch 02 The Morals Of Dervishes Story 06
A hermit, being the guest of a padshah, ate less than he wished when sitting at dinner and when he rose for prayers he prolonged them more than was his wont in order to enhance the opinion entertained by the padshah of his piety.
O Arab of the desert, I fear thou wilt not reach the Ka’bah
Because the road on which thou travellest leads to Turkestan.
When he returned to his own house, he desired the table to be laid out for eating. He had an intelligent son who said: ‘Father, hast thou not eaten anything at the repast of the sultan?’ He replied: ‘I have not eaten anything to serve a purpose.’ The boy said: ‘Then likewise say thy prayers again as thou hast not done anything to serve that purpose.’
O thou who showest virtues on the palms of the hand
But concealest thy errors under the armpit
What wilt thou purchase, O vain-glorious fool,
On the day of distress with counterfeit silver?
New Year Poem in Hindi by Deepak Kumar Deep
Aman chain ki pawan chale aur
Dharti par khushihali aaye
Khila rahe yun har ek gulshan
Kali koi na murjha paye.
Shans len saken sabhi chain ki
Gamon ke badal na mandrayen
abhishap bane na karm hamara
Chhod paap ko punya kamayen.
milkar rahenge hum sab sare
pal! chahe jaisa bhi aaye
Ghreena vair aur Nafrat taj ke
Hriday me bhi prem basayen.
Sath na jana kuch bhi yaron
Mahal ho jitna aalishan
sada raha na koi yahan par
rank ho chahe ya sultan.
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poem by Deepak Kumar deep
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Passage
In a great hall
flag draped a coffin stands.
Now at final rest
the great warrior lay.
With rising to setting sun
all through the day.
From every walk of life
his beloved public filed past.
The youngest to the most senior.
Dearest friend to complete stranger
Dignitary to the least known.
All came to bid this one adieu.
Stifled sob an abrupt cough
Sounds of mourning echo.
Shuffling feet passing
A whispered good bye prayer.
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poem by Kurt Hearth
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Feline in Winter
Some days you think the cat will stay till summer comes,
this Prodigal Son you've fed for years, this feral cat
who comes and goes and comes again when hunger strikes.
But he just eats and leaves your porch,
despite the pillows plumped for a Sultan's duff.
He disappears in falling snow
only to appear again outside your door at dawn,
his green eyes dancing when he sees you bring
his mound of kibble, topped with tuna,
and his bowl of milk. Some days he mounts
the pillows for a nap. At noon, however,
he begins to yowl. He wants out again
to parade triumphant down the walk,
his tail an exclamation point. He romps
across the snow and fits beneath the fence.
He's gone again. Out of sight.
He plans to spend another evening
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poem by Donal Mahoney
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Our Yankee Girls
LET greener lands and bluer skies,
If such the wide earth shows,
With fairer cheeks and brighter eyes,
Match us the star and rose;
The winds that lift the Georgian's veil,
Or wave Circassia's curls,
Waft to their shores the sultan's sail,--
Who buys our Yankee girls?
The gay grisette, whose fingers touch
Love's thousand chords so well;
The dark Italian, loving much,
But more than one can tell;
And England's fair-haired, blue-eyed dame,
Who binds her brow with pearls;--
Ye who have seen them, can they shame
Our own sweet Yankee girls?
And what if court or castle vaunt
Its children loftier born?--
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poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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The Nightingales Of Platres 3
So long as their lairs were buff and good
to serve as choirs from which to sing-
scorning birds of lesser skill
who did, after all, what they could and will.
For them, I guess, it was eternal spring
even in December, blear,
which all the world made pleasant
even when it very wasn't
to the pleasure and vexation of each listening thing.
And I found, from so high up, that just
as their wings lifted them to the skies
passing through the harp-strings of their song
lifted a listener into visions-
nothing, mind you, you could trust
or hold for very long:
hookahs amidst carpets stained with flower-colors,
saffron heaps and snow-clad peaks and dark-eyed houris,
dervishes a-whirl and dancing janissaries.
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poem by Morgan Michaels
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Ch 01 Manner Of Kings Story 14
One of the ancient kings neglected the government of his realm and kept the army in distress. Accordingly the whole of it ran away when a powerful enemy appeared.
If he refrains from giving treasure to the troops
They refrain from putting their hands to the sword.
What bravery will they display in battle array
When their hands are empty and affairs deplorable?
I was on terms of friendship with one of those who had acted treacherously and reproached him, telling him that it was base, ungrateful, despicable and undutiful to abandon an old master when his affairs have changed a little and to disregard the obligations incurred for benefits received during many years. He replied: "If I inform thee, perhaps thou wilt excuse me for my horse had no barley and my saddle-cloth was pawned. A sultan who grudges money to his troops, they cannot bravely risk their lives for him."
Give gold to the soldier that he may serve thee.
If thou witholdest gold, he will serve elsewhere.
When a warrior is full, he will be brave in fight but if his belly be
empty, he will be brave in flight.