Why I Wrote This Book

I wandered far across the world, spending my days among all kinds of people. In every corner I found some pleasure; from every harvest I gathered an ear of grain. But I never saw people as humble and pure as the good folk of Shiraz, may mercy rest on this soil. My love for the noble people of this pure land drew my heart away from Syria and Anatolia. It felt wrong to leave that whole garden and return to my friends empty-handed. I said to myself: people bring sugar from Egypt to carry home as gifts for friends. Even if my hands held no such sugar, I have words sweeter than sugar. Not the sugar people eat in the ordinary way, but the kind that people of meaning carry on paper. When I raised this palace of good fortune, I built ten gates of moral instruction into it. The first chapter is on justice, wise counsel, judgment, caring for the people, and fear of God. For the second chapter I laid the foundation of kindness, that the prosperous may give thanks for God's grace. The third is on love, its intoxication and passion, not a love forced upon oneself. The fourth is humility, the fifth contentment with fate, the sixth speaks of the man who chooses to live on little. The seventh gate is on the world of self-discipline, the eighth on gratitude for well-being. The ninth chapter is repentance and the right road, the tenth is prayer, and it closes the book. On a blessed day and a fortunate year, on an auspicious date between two feasts, the year was six hundred and fifty five, when this famous treasure was filled with pearls. My lap is still full of gems, yet my head bows to my knees in shame. For in the sea that holds pearls there are also plain shells; in the orchard there are tall trees and short ones. So, wise reader of gentle nature, I have never known a truly wise person to go looking for faults. Whether a coat is silk or fine brocade, some coarse padding must lie inside it. If you do not find only fine brocade, do not fret; be generous, and cover over the padding. I do not boast of the capital of my learning; I have come with my hand held out, begging. I have heard that on the day of hope and fear, the Generous One forgives the wicked for the sake of the good. So if you find some flaw in my words, act as the Creator of the world acts toward his creatures. If out of a thousand lines one pleases you, be manly and hold back from reproach. No doubt my writing in Fars is like musk in Khotan, worth little where it is common. From afar I sounded fearsome like a booming drum; in absence my flaws stayed hidden. Sadi has brought roses to a rose garden, and cheekily brought pepper to India. Like a date, its skin coated in sweetness, but open it and there is a stone inside.