English
In Praise of Sultan Mahmud
May God bless that king in whom the crown, the throne, and the royal ring take pride.
His treasury groans from all his giving, while greatness grows taller with his name.
From sea to sea his army stretches; the world lies beneath the glory of his crown.
Master of fame, master of treasure, master of the sword, the armor, and the hardship of war.
No gold remains in any mine on earth that his decree of generosity has not claimed.
At the feast he pours out his treasure; when battle comes, he makes hardship plain to all.
He brings the branch of faith and reason to fruit; his very thought nurtures wisdom with knowledge.
In his planning he is beyond all harm, for his refuge has always been in God.
When he seizes a frontier with his sharp sword, he raises up a day of judgment across the world.
He takes from the enemy and gives to the friend; the victorious Lord is his helper.
With that sword-wielding, jewel-scattering hand, he seeks nothing from the world but a lasting mark.
At the feast the heavens call him an ocean; in battle, a lion with the face of the sun.
The earth and water of the ground bear witness, and so does the fountain of the sun in the sky,
that no king has been seen like him in war, nor in giving, striving, honor, and pride.
If he mixed his love with anger, the very stars would flee his wrath.
His body is mighty, and his army so vast that even the wind finds no path through its ranks.
Behind his host march seven hundred great elephants, with the Lord of the world and Gabriel as his allies.
He demands tribute from every chieftain, from every renowned man and every land.
If they refuse the tribute, they surrender their country, along with its treasure, throne, and crown.
Who would dare break his covenant, or turn his head away from his command?
At the feast the world is bright because of him; in battle he is a mountain clad in mail.
Abul-Qasim, that bold sovereign, who could snatch a wild ass from the lion's claws.
The world-ruler Mahmud, who in combat drags the heads of the defiant into the dust.
May he be king as long as the world endures; may his high star wear the moon as a crown.
He is the ornament of the turning sky; at the feast he is the generous, giving cloud.
He has wisdom, a good name, and justice; may the world never be without his rule and crown.
He has an army, courage, treasure, and a minister; likewise battle and feast, wine and celebration.
A carpet has been spread across the world whose pattern will never fade from sight.
Where that carpet has its cushion and its couch is the seat of Nasr son of Ahmad.
For through him the peace of kingship is secured; wisdom sits well in the minds of the renowned.
No king has had a steward like him, in devotion to faith, in generosity, and in counsel.
Ready in speech, open of heart, clean of hand, a servant of the God-worshipping king.
Through that wise and just minister my scattered labor came at last to fruit.
I wove together this ancient book, chosen from the record of the truthful,
so that in my old age it would bear fruit for me, granting greatness, gold, and a crown.
I had not seen a generous world-ruler, one shining upon the throne of kings.
I kept watching for when there might appear a giver whose giving needs no key.
Guardian of faith and guardian of the crown, the one who makes the diadem and ivory throne blaze.
In the battle of brave men he was strong, and in reasoning why and how he was wise.
So I passed sixty-five years like this, in poverty and a life of toil.
When five years settled onto the sixty, I was on the downward slope, my head bowed low.
My tulip-red face turned pale as straw, and the black of my musk-dark hair went white as camphor.
By the time the year was fifty-seven, I grew feebler as my youth departed.
Fereydun of the wakeful heart came alive again; time and the earth became his servants.
He took this world through justice and giving; his crown rose higher than that of all kings.
The record of his reign began to shine; may his root and stock endure forever.
After my ear had heard that clamor, I bent my hearing toward that ringing sound.
I bound this book to his name; may his end be all greatness.
In the end the living body belongs to the dust, and the soul belongs to its pure origin.
The same spear-bearing, just and generous king through whom art itself is revealed in the world,
may he be my support in old age, the master of the sword, the crown, and the throne,
master of India and master of China, master of the land of Iran and Turan,
the handsome master of lofty spirit, far from him be all reproach and blame.
At his voice the stone mountain splits apart, the crocodile in the sea and the leopard on land.
Before his feast, gold and dust are the same; his heart feels no fear in giving.
The world-ruler Mahmud, radiant as the sun, in battle a lion drawing his sword.
May he free me from need of the world and grant me honor among the heroes.
May his person and his throne endure forever, and the turning of fortune serve his heart's desire.
Who in this world could truly praise him? Only one whom he praises dares to be heard.
For the king is beyond guess and reckoning, like a crown set upon the brow of Jupiter.
I have performed one act of service, my king, that will leave my memory alive in the world.
Well-built structures crumble in the end from the rain and the burning of the sun.
I have laid the foundation of a lofty palace of verse that neither wind nor rain can harm.
Years will pass over this book, and everyone with a mind will read it,
and will bless the world-ruling king, without whom may no one behold the seat of power.
His own deeds are his praise; the whole world lies under the marks he has left.
Since I lack the means to praise him fully, I offer my prayer to the dust of his feet.
May the whole age live through him; may wisdom keep his throne shining.
May his heart stay glad as joyful spring through all the turning of these days.
Through him the assembly's heart is happy, victorious in every task and eloquent in every word.
As long as the wheel of heaven keeps turning and Jupiter has its passage within it,
may our king of kings live in glory and comfort, far from the evil eye and free of all want.
Now, from here on, I will weave the ancient book from the words of the truthful.
When I set before you the turning of the times, I need no teacher's counsel.
When the battle of Kay Khosrow appears, you must hear wonders from me.
In this tale I pour down like rain; I plant tulips even in solid stone.
Now I have found a finer pen than the one with which I wove the heart of speech before.
You who keep both eyes fixed on the test of life, at times in joy, at times in pain and rage,
it is strange that under this deep-blue dome a heart should stay so full of scars and grief.
So it has been for as long as time has turned; do not marvel as if it were something new.
For one, the whole share is honey and sweetness, ease, luxury, and lofty fortune;
for another, every year is pain and toil, a heart made narrow in this passing house.
For one, the whole of his going is dread, now on the heights, now in the depths.
This is how the age rears us; the pain of the thorn came out greater than the color of the rose.
Whenever your years reach sixty, you must draw back your hand from wanting more.
Few people pass beyond seventy; I have tested the turning of the wheel many times.
And if a man passes it, all the worse; that kind of living is a thing to weep over.
If your sixtieth year were a fisherman's net, the wise would find a way to slip free of it.
We find no path to the turning sky, nor to the works of the Maker of sun and moon.
However hard the world-ruler struggles and toils, galloping in vengeance, glorying in his treasure,
he too must go to the other world, and all his striving will be left behind here.
Take the measure from the tale of Kay Khosrow; take the world's old story as something fresh:
how he sought vengeance for his father from his grandfather, by the sword, by cunning, and by craft.
He killed his grandfather, yet did not remain here himself; the world no longer read out his decree.
Such is the way of this passing house; strive so that you may stay far from suffering.