English
The Story of Kalila and Dimna
Listen to what the cheerful Borzin said, in the moment he brought his hidden secret out into the open.
At the court of King Nushirvan, may his name endure forever.
From every field of knowledge he sought out a learned sage, so that his court was adorned by such men.
Eloquent physicians and skilled warriors, great men and experienced leaders.
For every craft a famous master, so that every head wore its own crown.
The physician and poet was Borzuya, a man of great power and eloquent speech.
He had a share of every science, and in each of these he was renowned throughout the world.
It happened one day, at the hour of audience, that he came before the famous king.
He said: O king who welcomes knowledge, a seeker, a finder, and a keeper of what he learns,
Today I was studying the books of the Indians with a clear and attentive mind.
It was written there that on a mountain in India grows a Chinese herb, delicate as Roman silk.
When a guide gathers it, blends it, and applies knowledge to it,
And sprinkles it upon a dead body, without doubt that body will speak again at once.
Now, with the king's permission, I will travel this hard road as though it were easy.
I will bring back many a learned guide, hoping to accomplish this wonder.
If a dead body comes back to life, it is only fitting, for Nushirvan rules over the whole world.
The king said to him: This cannot simply be believed; it must be put to the test.
Carry my letter to the sage of India; take care to find the one who is India's guiding light.
In this task seek helpers for yourself, and ask all your help from a wakeful fortune.
If a new wonder appears in the world, then this saying held a secret hidden within it.
Take to that sage whatever is needed, for from him you will surely require guidance.
Nushirvan opened his treasury, bringing out what was worthy of kings.
Gold coins and brocade, fine furs and silk, jewels and crowns, musk and fragrant ambergris.
The king loaded three hundred camels, and the envoy took it all and set out on the road.
He came before the sage and delivered the letter, and opened the loads of gifts before him.
When the Indian sage read the king's letter, he said: O man of pure and noble judgment,
Khosrow has not given me his treasure; all this army and kingship are one and the same to us.
With the king's justice, his glory, and his throne, with that bright fortune and that great power,
It would be no wonder from the pure Lord of the world if He were to raise the dead up from the dust.
Every Brahmin who lives up on that mountain agrees with you and supports this idea.
You are my splendid adornment and my auspicious minister,
you are that treasure itself, and my rich treasurer.
All of India, its good and its bad, lies before you;
my greatness rests in your handling of every matter, great or small.
They prepared a fine, well-known lodging for him near the king, just as it should be.
The steward sent food as well, along with elegant garments and furnishings.
That night he went and took counsel with the wise men, with the great ones and the sages of Kanauj.
When the shining day lifted its head over the mountain, that world-illuminating candle appeared.
The king summoned the learned physicians, anyone who could guide with knowledge.
When Borzuy set out toward the mountain, a crowd of physicians went with him.
They crossed the mountains all on foot, measuring the way with a wise guide.
He selected herbs, both dry and fresh, from the withered ones and from those he saw glowing.
Every kind of remedy, dry and fresh, he scattered over the dead body.
But no dead man came alive from the herbs; it seems that this elixir proved feeble.
He tramped over the whole mountain, step by step, yet his hardship bore no fruit.
He realized that this was the work of that King who lives forever and rules over all.
His heart burned with shame before the king, and from the great men and from the pain of the journey.
And also over the wealth he had brought; he was wounded by that idle talk.
He grew heavy-hearted over what was written, for that man had been ignorant and hard of heart.
Why had he foolishly written something to the wind, whose fruit was this hardship and ugly rumor?
After that he said to the wise men: 'O experienced and praiseworthy sages,
whom do you know who is wiser than yourselves, who stands tallest in this gathering?'
The assembly answered with one voice: 'There is an old and learned sage here.
In years and wisdom he is greater than us, and in knowledge he is better than any master.'
Then Borzuy said to the Indians: 'O renowned ones of bright souls,
add a little more to all these efforts and lead me to him.
Perhaps that eloquent, learned old man will be my helper in this task.'
They led Borzuy to him, his heart full of thought, his head full of questions.
When the eloquent man reached him, he recounted all his hardships before him:
about the matter of the writing that had emerged, and the words he had heard from the experts.
The wise old man opened his tongue to him and spoke of every branch of knowledge before him.
He said: 'I too found such things written, and rushed eagerly after that same desire.'
When nothing came of all those hardships, he had no choice but to listen to more counsel.
The plant is like an eloquent speaker, and knowledge is like a mountain that keeps its majesty forever.
A body dead is like the ignorant man; the wise man everywhere lives in joy.
Beyond all doubt, it is knowledge that keeps a man alive; if a person has no knowledge, do not circle around him.
When people grow weary in the search for wisdom, the plant is like Kalila and knowledge is the mountain.
A book that shows the road to knowledge: if you seek it, you will find it in the royal treasury.
When Borzuy heard this, he grew glad; all his suffering vanished before his eyes like wind.
He praised the man and set off for the king, crossing the road as swift as fire.
He came before the ruler with words of homage: 'May you endure as long as the world endures.'
'There is a book, O king of wide desire, that in the Indian tongue is called Kalila.'
'It lies sealed and locked away in the king's treasury, a guide to wisdom and to knowledge.'
'Let the king command the treasurer to hand it over to me, if it is no trouble.'
The king's soul darkened at that request; for a while he wrestled with himself.
He said to Borzuy: 'No one has ever asked this of us, not now, and not in the earliest days.'
'And yet, if the world-ruler Nushinravan should demand of us our body or our soul,'
'we would keep nothing from him of all we have, whether high in rank or low.'
'But you shall read it in our presence, so that my suspicious heart'
'will not tell itself that someone has copied it. Read it, understand it, and see it front to back.'
Borzuy replied: 'O king, I ask for nothing more than what you have said; hold to it.'
The king's treasurer brought out Kalila, and it became his guide upon the road.
Every chapter he read from the book he turned over in his heart all day long.
More than he could commit to memory of the book, he read again until the dawn.
He remained glad of heart and sound of body, and with knowledge he washed his spirit clean and bright.
Whenever a letter went from him to the king of the world, he secretly copied out a chapter of Kalila.
By this device he sent the book of the Indians all the way to Nushinravan.
In this way, until at last he saw the reply: 'The ocean of knowledge has reached us.'
He came from the palace to the ruler, asking leave to return to his own land.
The ruler's heart opened, and he honored him, having an Indian robe of honor made for him.
Two precious bracelets and two earrings, and a jeweled torque fit for a king,
along with fine Indian cloth and an Indian sword, its blade patterned with rippling steel from edge to edge.
Barzuy came back from Kannauj rejoicing, having stored much new knowledge in his mind.
When the road brought him to that royal court, he went with words of praise up to the king.
He told what he had seen and heard from the sages: in place of the herb, knowledge had appeared.
The king said to him, 'You admirable man, Kalila has given my soul new life.'
'Now take the key from my treasurer and choose whatever you desire.'
The wise man went toward the treasury, but gave the treasurer little trouble.
Coins and jewels lay to left and right, yet he asked for nothing but the king's own robe.
He put on that precious garment and left, then hurried swiftly to Khosrow's throne.
When he came up close to the throne, he praised the king and bowed before him.
Then the renowned monarch said to him, 'Without a purse of gold or a royal gem,
why did you leave the treasury, you who have suffered so? The treasure suits the one who has known the toil.'
Barzuy answered the king like this: 'You whose crown rises higher than the moon's sphere,
whoever receives the garment of the king has found his way to fortune and to greatness.
Besides, when a hostile man sees me wearing the royal robe,
the heart of my ill-wishers grows dark and narrow, while the friend's face keeps its color and its glow.
I ask one wish of the king: that some memorial of me remain in the world.
When Bozorgmehr writes down this book, let him reveal Barzuy's face upon this labor.
Let him make the first chapter a memorial of me, by the command of the victorious king,
so that after my death, in the world, my toil will not be hidden from the wise.'
The king said to him, 'This is a great wish, worthy of a man of noble nature.
It befits your labor well, though the request stands higher than one's station.'
Then the king said to Bozorgmehr, 'This wish should not be kept concealed.'
The writer sharpened his reed into a pen and set at the head of the book one chapter about Barzuy.
He wrote it in that royal book; in those days there was no script but Pahlavi.
It stayed with honor in the king's treasury, and no unworthy person looked upon it.
It remained so until they told the tale in Arabic, and they called it 'the heroic book.'
When Mamun refreshed his bright spirit anew, he set the day's sun to a different measure.
He had the heart of the priests and the vision of kings, girded up to master every branch of knowledge.
Kalila passed from Pahlavi into Arabic, in the very form you now hear it.
It stayed in Arabic until the time of Nasr, until Shah Nasr rose in the world.
The noble Abolfazl was his minister, the treasurer of his words and eloquence.
He ordered that it be written in Persian and Dari, and so the matter was quickly settled.
After that, when his resolve grew firm, wisdom became his guide toward knowledge.
He wished that, openly and secretly, some memorial of him would remain in the world.
They seated a narrator before them and read the whole book aloud to Rudaki.
The eloquent one wove together its scattered parts and strung these gathered pearls into a fine order.
Know that whoever speaks with grace brings adornment; but if he is a fool, then he deserves pity.
He scattered the scattered tale wider still; once it was joined, it filled the soul and mind with meaning.
May the ruler of the world live forever; may time and the earth remain his servants.
Do not let worry cramp your heart at all, for you stand far from a lasting, unchanging age.
Sometimes on the heights, sometimes in the depths; sometimes with your wish fulfilled, sometimes struck by fear.
Neither of these two states lasts forever; in mere existence there is no road of hope for you.
Look now at the fate of Bozorgmehr, who rose from the dust up to the turning heavens.
The very one who lifted him to the high clouds brought him down again to the wretched dust.