English
Why I Wrote This Book
The wise and fortunate minister said to me:
Unseal this hidden secret, set it free.
Now that the chance to speak is yours at last,
and you have ties with those who know the past,
it is best you draw the sword of your pen,
and turn its edge upon ancient history.
Shake off the dust of legends from your sleeve,
and write a single book that tells the truth.
From the history of Greece, Chaldea, and Rome,
from ruins and from lands still thriving,
bring forth a kingly book that stays behind,
left in this world as a keepsake from us.
In every task I will lend you my help,
and deepen still my friendship toward you.
He gave me so much encouragement of this kind
that my whole soul was filled with hope.
My heart grew warm with all those words he spoke,
and my spirit brimmed with reverence and respect.
When for a year I labored at this task,
this famous treasure finally reached its end.
Though verse was not within my reach,
for no one has matched the Shahnameh in song,
in prose I cast a grand design,
one that makes the sound stand clear from the false.
By the power of God the victorious,
I fashioned a treasure full of jewels.
From the Zand, the Avesta, and the Pahlavi texts,
I gathered material in a fresh new style.
From ancient relics and old scripts,
I left out not a single word I found.
When this old tale at last came to its close,
I named it 'The Book of Antiquity'.
When I had adorned its preface well,
I stripped it clean of every flattery.
Except for Nazem-od-Dowleh,
I mentioned no other famous name in it.
I thought that the reward for this
would be nothing but provisions and praise.
There was a man, ugly, sinister, and foul,
his face was black, his hair was white.
The lowly wretch had an unclean name,
malicious, shameless, and reckless.
He spoke nothing but ugly words throughout,
and for no reason his heart turned against me.
His whole aim in all of this was simply
to squeeze a few gold coins out of me.
He does not know I loathe that very way;
a curse on him and on his fortune.
The precious minister, a noble free man,
his heart for no good cause grew sore at me.
By the words of that unclean, sinister man,
told to the king of Iran and to bloody Rome,
that famous man of high birth
spoke ill of me and made foul reports.
He called me of bad faith and bad creed;
I was a fierce lion, and he called me a ewe.
From this speech he gained nothing at all,
except that he added to my renown.
I spoke no word of evil against him;
I kept to the way of wisdom and good sense.
In the end he regretted what he had said,
and wished that I would come back to him.
I did not go to him, nor beg his favor,
for pride and grace suit even the poor man well.
When he left Rome for the land of Iran,
his brother came and took his place.
He was wise, sharp, and full of judgment,
but he was not the right man for the seat.
He could not tell error apart from right,
failing to recognize the noble man.
At the time when, near and far,
he stirred up turmoil against me in Rome,
he went before the king and schemed his words,
beginning his evil talk against me.
I will not say the king grew cold toward me,
but at times his speech misled him.
They drove me out of the capital;
toward Trabzon I carried my belongings.
Along with several other well-born men,
worldly-wise and free-spirited souls.
On this fine shore of chosen, pleasant air,
nothing came to me sweeter than this:
to set in verse a concise book
on the history of Iran in another fashion.
In the auspicious name of Abdul Hamid,
from whom fine works have come to light,
for the king of glory, justice, and fairness,
I opened with a lovely preface.
Like Ferdowsi, that man without friend or mate,
who sang the Shahnameh in memory of Mahmud.
But I fear that afterward, out of need,
I may have to write satire against him.
It is best we leave these words aside,
and bring up tales of Jamshid and the kings.
Blessed is the one who gladdened hearts,
so that his name is remembered with goodness.