The Flood of Qom: A Chronogram

Cry out against the hand of this disastrous flood, for by it the flower of catastrophe was watered to the full. A flood came pouring down from the mountain of grief, and from it the eye of upheaval lost all sleep. What a flood! A flowing sky that, in its rush, seized lives as hostage. It loaded heavy mountains onto its shoulders and quenched the thirst of mirage-like waves. Slow to leave the head like a hangover, quick to knock you off your feet like wine. The wide arena of the spinning sphere, with its broad embrace, whirled above it like a palace built of bubbles. Its chaos gripped the reins, and death set its foot in the stirrup. By it this rough world was made smooth, and the heavens, once unreckoned, came to be reckoned with. The city of Qom, which was the honor of the world, was left with lips parched dry, like a wave of mirage. In its fluid restlessness it slammed a plank like a gate down upon the water. From all the breaking, it brought the houses down, piling the dust of their walls upon their belongings. The school took a full immersion bath; the mosque and its prayer niche bowed down in prostration to the water. Everywhere the talk of walls had gone shaky, and the speech of doors was broken at every threshold. For the ship of life, amid the waves of calamity, there was no safe harbor except the whirlpool. The city of Qom, which was the envy of the world, the flood turned into a mere drawing upon water. The tears of lovers were tumultuous, risen up as if from a furnace of quicksilver. With what wrath of fire did the hand of fate wring rosewater from the flower of this land? What can I say of what the flood did to Qom? Qom was linen, and the flood was like moonlight bleaching it away. If you press your finger to the edge of any roof, it will tell you the whole story of the flood. I was searching for the chronogram of this date, as a circle of friends sought it too, for the good of it. A friend let out a fiery sigh and said: 'This water gave the dust of Qom to the wind.'