English
Ode 18: In Praise of Khwaja Rukn al-Din Amid al-Mulk
The rose is showing off again, turning toward the open fields;
it is young, eager for pleasure and for being admired.
A thorn at its side, its feet stuck in mud, yet it laughs sweetly.
Look at the grace this freshly grown, elegant rose carries.
The water, ripple by ripple, weaves chain mail like David;
the breeze has the reviving power of the Messiah's breath.
The tulip dancing at the edge of the meadow seems
a new bride wearing a splendid, precious gown.
The tale of the cypress is long; it can't all be told,
for that is a story whose head reaches the Pleiades.
The way the nightingale wails so mournfully in the garden
bears a kinship with me, the love struck, heartbroken one.
The garden has every delight ready and prepared, but
truly happy is the one who has all his own means ready.
Count today's coin as a gift; don't let it slip away.
Unlucky is the man who frets about tomorrow.
If my idol passes through the garden, showing herself off,
with that face, who cares to look at rose or tulip?
What beauty is this that her form and features possess,
and what grace this that her stature and height command!
I said in jest, 'Your curls hold my heart captive.'
She said, 'Look at this good for nothing, what wild fancies he has!'
The teardrop of my wounded, aching heart in grief for her
is blood that belongs to the innermost core of the heart.
A whole world has become her servant, and she, in true sincerity,
longs to serve the wise and noble master.
Rukn al-Din, the lord the moon serves, the sun's slave,
with the heart and rank of Hatim and Darius.
In this world no peer or equal to him has been or is,
by the God who has no partner and no equal.
The enemy melts at the lightning of his spear, even if
his body were steel and his heart solid rock.
My lord, the dust of your feet, which dwells in our eyes,
has become the kohl that adorns the eye of the heavens.
Wise old mind is your companion, young fortune your friend.
Blessed is this elder who holds such youthful fortune.
Your pearl scattering, sea like hand at the hour of giving
is like a cloud that carries the bounty of the sea.
Before your judgment, how can anyone boast of radiance?
Who is the sun that it would have such daring and nerve?
It is the ring of your service that the new moon wears;
it is the belt of servitude to you that Gemini bears.
In truth, my lord, in this age it may be said of you
that through your generosity everyone enjoys a happy life.
Now and then, out of kindness and grace, some favor,
this servant longs for from the service of his master.
Keep favoring those who pray for you with your gifts,
for prayers offered in sincerity carry real effect.
Every patron who has a poet servant like me
will earn a good name in both worlds forever.
May you always have your wishes fulfilled, and pass your days in joy,
for a whole world holds allegiance to your court.