Ghazals

At the start of the book, in the name of the wise God: the Maker, the Sustainer, the Living, the Powerful. Greatest and most exalted, God of the world and of Adam, who shaped fine forms and gave them a beautiful nature. Out of pure generosity and care for his creatures, he gives the birds of the sky and the fish of the sea their share. The rich man and the beggar each eat their allotted portion; the gnat and the great phoenix both receive their daily bread. By his knowledge of the unseen he knows even an ant's need, deep at the bottom of a well, beneath a solid rock. He draws a living creature out of a drop of seed, sugar from the reed, fresh leaves from dry wood, and a spring from hard stone. He created sweet honey from the honeybee, and raises a towering palm tree from a single date. In need of no one, yet tender toward all, hidden from the whole world, yet plain to all of it. The radiance of the light behind the curtains of his glory is, in its greatness, beyond the reach of even the wisest thought. It is not only the tongue in the mouth of the awestruck mystic that praises him: every hair on his body praises him too. Whoever fails to give thanks for today's blessings forfeits any right to tomorrow's mercy. My Lord, you are the Protector and the Governor of all, pure and free of every flaw. We could never voice the praise you truly deserve, not even with all the angels of the world above. Saadi has spoken only as far as his understanding reaches; otherwise, how could imagination ever grasp your perfection?

Sweet breath of the morning breeze, you have come from my love's side, welcome! Caravan of the night, what news did you hear of the dawn? Solomon's bird, what word from Sheba? Is my beloved still angry, or is there now some talk of being pleased with me? Have you come with peace or with quarrel? Should I step forward in fear or in hope? If once more you pass by the street where my love lives, messenger of the morning wind, tell her only a breath of life is left in this weakened body; how long can a lifeless form endure? All those kind words, those vows, those promises, you did no good, for you kept none of them. Yet if a time of reunion should come, peace will make me forget the whole ordeal. Until the hand of death reaches my throat, I will not let go of the hem of your robe. In truth, no one is a real friend who forgets a friend in times of trouble. To grow weary in the search for you is itself a comfort, to bear the pain in hope of a cure. I cannot lift my head like the harp, even if, like the drum, my skin is torn along the neck. Each dawn I breathe a sigh of love, and the next day I hear it spoken openly by everyone. The tale of my pain has filled the whole world; whom does a familiar breath fail to touch? If Saadi's cry reaches the mountain, the mountain will wail back in the voice of an echo.

Your face looks beautiful in our mirror, for the mirror is clear and your face is lovely. Like bright wine in a spotless glass, your fine nature shines out from the beauty of your face. Anyone who spends a moment with you, or walks a single step beside you, can never bear to be apart from you. The wild creature of the desert struggles to slip free of the snare, yet we, on purpose, stay tangled in yours. The poor bird that gives its heart to one place will not leave for another, even if they kill it there. My jealous love keeps me from complaining about you to anyone; I do not carry the ache of loved ones to any doctor. Let me be a sacrifice for your life, you, before whom the candle of the horizon and the lamp of the Pleiades would die out. If you smile sweetly and do not shake your sleeve to drive them off, every fly will turn into a parrot nibbling at sugar. If the sweet idol does not sit with a sour face, her suitors will lust after her like sweets. Saadi has come only to gaze at the garden of your beauty, while base men reach out to plunder it.

Even if you feel no concern for your friends, my love, we can never find peace or freedom from you. If you saw your own beautiful face in the mirror, you would understand what has driven the restless one to distraction. Come, it is spring now, so that you and I can be together and leave the garden and the meadow to everyone else. Instead of the tall cypress standing at the water's edge, why not look at your beloved, graceful and straight as it is? A figure so perfect in the traits of its beauty that even the most eloquent tongue is left speechless before it. Who said that gazing at a lovely face is a sin? The real sin is failing to see a beautiful face at all. I swear by our friendship, if poison came from your hand, I would swallow it with such loving delight, as if it were sweet halva. Only someone who has never seen Azra's face, my love, would foolishly blame Vameq for his love. Suppose you have no news of the fire hidden within me; can you not even see the tears plainly streaming from my eyes? Didn't I warn you, Saadi, that your heart would be plundered once you handed it to those thieving, heart-stealing beauties? Even with all my pain, I still hope for a cure, for even the longest night of winter finally comes to an end.

On the night of separation I want no silk coverlet, for the bed of the lonely makes the night endless. The wise understand how the lover loses his mind, for no patience is left in one who cannot bear the wait. If you saw her and couldn't tell your own hand from a citron, you'd have every right to stop blaming Zulaikha. Young and lovely as you are, lower a veil over your face; if not, even the old and steady will lose their hearts. You are that flowering tree whose balanced height puts to shame the value of the tall cypress. From now on I'll oppose nothing you say, for without you no joy is possible for me. All night I sit with both eyes wide open, like the twin stars, watching the Pleiades. A night, a candle, a gathering, how sweet till dawn, gazing at your face, a blow to the eyes of my enemies. To whom should I complain of you? In the law of love they pardon the beloved even for deliberate murder. With a single glance you steal a whole city's heart, as the servants of the Bani Sa'd raid the plunder-table. In this way of yours you could wound a thousand like Sa'di with cruelty and injustice; but please, my love, don't.

Breaking a vow of loyalty was never our way. For God's sake, don't forget the times we shared. Whoever won't carry the weight of hardship, whose vows are weak, knows nothing of love's worth and has no honest foothold. If on Judgment Day I were given the choice of what I want: our beloved for me, and all the delights of paradise for you. Even if my head is taken, I will not turn from my promise to you, so that after I'm gone they'll say: he kept his faith to the end. Blessed is the sickness that brings my love to visit my bedside; those sick with such a longing want no cure at all. If you can't believe what you've done to me, just look in the mirror, and you'll see what has caught this poor soul in its trap. If the morning breeze could ever touch the curls of your hair, it would give up forever the tresses of every bride in the meadow. Reason bites its finger in sheer astonishment when it dwells on this face that everyone points to. I long, like a candle burning before your presence, to have this helpless self consumed from head to foot. On the page that holds a lovely face, the shallow eye sees only lines, but the wise one sees the pen of God's own craft. Everyone's eyes are fixed upon your face, and yet the self-worshippers can't tell true love from mere desire. Learn tenderness from me, and if no life is left in me, come to Saadi's grave and look for the herb of love that grows there. No sober mind should blame our drunkenness. Say to the sober one: leave people be, for ecstasy has made them drunk.

My longing and my patience have both gone past all limits, my love. Even if you can endure, I have no strength left. Just once, look on my state with kindness, for even a beggar finds comfort at a king's table. A king may grow angry at those who serve him, and his word rules, but even cruelty has its bounds. Without you I want no life at all, for without friends there is no ease in simply living on. If I die of thirst, what good will it do then to pour water from your eyes on the grass over my grave? My need cannot be put into words; when you come back, I will tell you everything. Come back and take my sweet life in your service; what else does a penniless beggar have to give? God, keep the beloved safe and grant them time, long enough to see the face of the one they love again. In the eyes of the beautiful, brother, a king's realm counts for nothing, and neither does the piety of the devout. If only the veil would fall from Layla's face, so no pretender could rival the stricken Majnun. Saadi's pen has written hardship, and good fortune too; so whatever comes to you, bow your neck to fate.

I am thirsty beyond all measure; cupbearer, bring that water. Quench me first, then serve the others. Once I too could not lift my eyes from sweet sleep, but on the day I parted from my friends I said goodnight to sleep for good. Any devout man, when that idol of beauty passes before the mosque, forgets his prayers the moment he glances at her brows. I am no wild prey trying to save my own life; if she shoots her arrows at me, I stand still and wait for them. No one knows the worth of a beloved companion the way I do; only a fish thrown onto dry land learns the value of water. Once I splashed hand and foot in water no deeper than my waist, and I mistook this bottomless sea for the same shallow pool. Now I am drowning; let me first reach some shore, then I will tell you the heartache of one lost in the flood. Had I been the one who broke faith, I would take my case to the great king, for that faithless one kills her enemies while this stone-hearted one kills her friends. The rival cries out against the crowd of her admirers; the singer's voice in the hall is a torment to the doorkeeper. 'Saadi, since you can't bear her cruelty, don't go near her again.' You blind man! Do I go on my own? She is the one reeling me in.

If my moon-faced love lifts the veil from her face, the sun itself would draw a curtain over its own beauty. It's as if her two enchanting eyes, that lead even the pious astray, cast a spell and shut sleep out of my eyes. At the first glance I lost the reins of reason, and once reason is gone, how can a person tell right from wrong? I thought union might set me free from love, but it's useless: a man sick with thirst can never be satisfied by water. Your claim of love is false if, from that lovely hand, you won't drink pure poison as gladly as sweet syrup. Love is what makes us human; if you don't feel this delight, then you're no better than the beasts that only eat and sleep. Bring fire and burn down the harvest of the free spirits, so the king won't demand taxes from a ruin. The crowd is drunk on wine and blind to what truly matters; I am so drunk on her that I want no wine at all. Saadi, didn't I tell you not to step into love's snare? One shot of her glance could bring down even Afrasiab.

This reckless old man still feels giddy for youth, but it is foolish for the old to wrestle with the young. Strange: I who lack the strength to snap even a single hair have fallen for someone who could break through iron chains. When that silver-bodied, cypress-tall figure lifts the bow into his arms, I wish I could be the target for his arrow. The prey walks straight into the snare on its own feet, if once it glimpses that hand and that bow. No one has ever seen a human sweeter in speech than you. Did you drink sugar from your mother's breast, or milk? The market of youth stays open no more than a few short days. Take the cash in hand, my boy; delay brings only ruin. You told me to shut my eyes to those idol-faced beauties. Whatever you name, I can manage a cure, except for fate. For a long time my piety was on show while my heresy stayed hidden; now I have torn the veil from all that pretense. Sadi, even if you lay your head at your beloved's feet in service, you will still have to beg pardon for falling short.

In a moment of joy I found that playful, teasing beloved. Cupbearer, bring that cup of wine; musician, strike up that song. Tonight, when the gathering of the wise is lit by the candle of your face, keep it quiet, so the pleasure-seeking rogues never catch wind of it. Last night, boy, you had been drinking; your eyes give you away. For once, look for a companion who can keep a secret. A lovely face and a lovely voice each hold their own delight; imagine, then, the delight of a sweet-voiced beloved who has both. Those Turkish eyes and those brows shoot arrows straight into the soul. God, who handed a bow like that to such a Turkish archer? The passion and grief of loving him: what a shame to keep it hidden. Whisper a hint into the reed flute, and let it lift its voice. Shiraz is in an uproar over the mischief of your lovely eyes; I fear your sweet turmoil will turn the whole city upside down. I am a little bird with clipped wings, and so I sit in the cage. If you were to break that cage, I would show you how I could fly. Sa'di, you are a clever bird, yet I have lured you into my snare; it is hard for anyone to catch a royal falcon like you.

I love this tender, burning weeping of mine, so that, however I can, I get through the day. All night long I wait for the dawn of a face, for this world-lighting morning holds no such sweetness. Oh, if I could see her tender, loving face again, I would thank my lucky fortune until the end of time. If I turned away from the stones of blame, so be it; brave men have made their souls a shield for the piercing arrow. Those who chase pleasure must taste failure too; whoever longs for spring must endure the winter. The clever ones who glean the field ignore Layla's secret; this grace belongs only to Majnun, who burns his own harvest. Lovers who gamble away faith and world have a virtue the pious hoarders of wealth and rank will never know. Catch someone else in your snare, for I am already your slave; no rope is needed on the foot of a tame, willing bird. Saadi, yesterday is gone and tomorrow is not yet here; between the two, count today as your only chance.

Oh, if I could see my love's face once more, I would thank my Maker until judgment day. They left behind the one whose load had fallen in the caravan, those faithless friends who tied up their own bundles and rode on. People take care to keep a stranger's feelings, yet our friends wounded their own companion. Still I keep hoping that after the wound of parting they will lay a healing balm on this hopeful heart. The choice is yours: war if you want it, or peace, I have crossed out my own will with a pen. Whoever gets stuck fast in the soil of a foreign land, tell him he will only see his homeland now in a sweet dream. If you want safety, do not gaze at the beautiful, and if you do, say farewell to your sleep and your peace. The fire-worshipper, the Christian, the Muslim, each in his own faith has a direction of prayer; ours is our lovely one. I wanted to become the dust at her feet, then I stopped myself: I will not let my dust settle on that hem of her robe. Last night I saw one lovely as an angel who, hidden from the rival, was whispering among friends to the one she loved. If you want your own desire, say goodbye to our union; and if you want me, give up having your own way. Better to keep your heartache hidden until your liver fills with blood than to show your wretched state to an enemy. Even if you carry a thousand sorrows, tell no one, beware, my brother, until you find someone who will truly share your grief. You, walking cypress, at last turn and look my way, so that I may lay my need before you in service. My friends say: Sadi, why did you give your heart to love, and lose your dignity among people? We have found our own good in being penniless and free; let each person decide what is best for his own affairs.

Tonight they beat this untimely drum more softly, or the rooster on the roof mistook the hour to wake us. Was this a single moment, or a whole night plundered from our lives? And still, lips pressed to lips, we never tasted our fill. I am fresh-faced and ashamed, joyful and heartsick at once, for I can never repay such a gift. If you set your foot on my head, you honor me with your nearness; I know no apology for this boldness but to offer my head. Since good fortune has made complete peace with me, let the ill-wishing gossip die of his own spite. Sadi has become known across the world; let Sufi and layman say what they will: yes, we worship idols, when the idols are this beautiful.

Rise, so we can set aside this blue-dyed monk's cloak, and gamble away this idolatry that goes by the name of piety. Every hour a new shrine is set up for idol-worship; show us true oneness, so we can smash these idols. For once, I long to drink wine among the young, so the children will trail after this old dreg-drinker. From sheer misery, a dog like Qitmir became like a human; from the delirium of greatness, a Balaam turned into a dog. From this cramped, lonely corner my heart pulls toward the open plain, where the dawn breeze brings sweet news from the garden. Don't be careless if you have sense; seize the moment if you have a heart; such days as these may never come again. Where the garden cypress sways on its wooden foot, let us too set that silver-bodied cypress dancing. My beloved, that breaker of promises, the one my calm eyes long for, no, don't call her heart's ease, for she stole all ease from my heart. World, faith, patience, and reason, all left me in grief for her; where the sultan pitches his tent, no commotion of common folk remains. My tears fall like rain, yet fire leaps from my clouded eyes; speak this to those who are ripe; the raw ones feel no burning. Saadi will not heed blame, even if his life goes out in this pursuit; take away the heavy-souled Sufi, cupbearer, and bring the cup.

As long as the weight of your sorrow rests on my dazed heart, the fire of your love will never let my burning blood settle. The memory of rose and hyacinth will never cross my mind as long as those curls and that fair neck stay in my thoughts. It would take a drink more bitter than the poison of parting from you to make me forget the sweetness of being with you. Every night I lay my head on the pillow grieving your absence, since no day ever brought your embrace into my arms. If they hand me a hundred cups of sweet wine without your lips, I swear by your mouth that even that honey tastes like poison to me. Caught in the hands of your sorrow, its executioner, Saadi says: I am your slave, put me to death but do not sell me off.

What can a servant do but bow to the command? What can the ball do but yield helplessly to the mallet? If that tall, arch-browed beauty shoots an arrow, the true lover is the one who takes the arrowhead in his own eye. Take my hand, for my helplessness has passed all limits; hold my head, so I can pour out my life at your feet. If only the veil would drop from that vision of beauty, so all the world could see this living gallery of loveliness. Then everyone's eyes would be lost in wonder at your qualities, and no one would blame me for being dazed. But the image I see in your face, not everyone has the eyes to see it. I told the doctor about my weeping eyes; he said, just once, kiss that smiling mouth. I said, then surely I will die of this pain, for it is impossible for me to obtain that cure. It was not wise to wrestle with that silver forearm; to punch an anvil is the height of foolishness. Saadi does not fear the reproach of people, not at all; why would someone already drowned in the river worry about rain? Lay down your head, if you want to enter the field of devotion; in this arena you have no choice but to be the ball.

Cupbearer, hand me that jug of liquid ruby wine. Why speak of rubies? Give me that soul-sustaining strength. Let the old father drink cup after cup first, so the young challengers have nothing to boast about. Unless you are drunk, you cannot carry the burden of a lover's grief. Yes, only an intoxicated camel can bear the heavy load. Your face is the peace of every heart in the world; without your face, people might as well not look at the world at all. What can be said of the beauty and depth you possess? Your loveliness has left every tongue too stunned to praise you. The bee stores up its honey, yet the sweetness of your lips outshines what the bee makes. The way the sight of you steals my heart away, I fear that in the end I will not carry my life out of your hands. Either strike my wounded heart with the arrow of death, or take my life so you may hand me the arrow of mercy. And when you do shoot me, tell me first, so I can kiss your hand and your bow beforehand. Saadi has not suffered so lightly from being apart from you that the joy of reunion could ever make him forget it. And even if a wound heals with medicine, you can never erase the scar it leaves behind.

Who handed a heavy bow to those delicate arms? A single glance from you is arrow enough to hunt the deer. A thousand hearts fall prey before that arrow, when you draw the bow that is the arch of your brow. You need no armor, no war-quilt of chain mail, no day of battle where you strap on steel. The lands of India and the realms of the Turks would surrender the moment they saw your Turkish eyes and your dark Indian hair. Those fire-worshippers who bow to idols in the temple can never have seen beauties with faces like yours. Don't storm the rebel fortress with a catapult; just throw the lasso of your hair over the palace roof. I who lived a whole life hidden away like the phoenix, you snared me the way a falcon takes a partridge. I saw your lips, and my rubies lost all their worth; you spoke, and every pearl was suddenly worthless. The price of your face crashed the market of moon and sun, as Moses' miracle broke the spell of the sorcerers. No treasure is won by pointless struggle; it is luck, not the strength of your arm, that brings the prize. Only one who can bear an ugly temper behind a lovely face, Sadi, should give his heart to loving a beautiful face.

What use is the book of wisdom to a reckless heart? A head full of longing has no patience for sermons. If your word could ever mix water with fire, then it might make love and patience live together. The eye is good for one thing: seeing the beloved. If it can't do that, what use is sight at all? Why should lovers care about the blame of friend or foe? Whoever suffers for love must also suffer disgrace. Everyone knows the tender down on your cheek is what I love, not the wild grass of the plains, like some grazing animal. I surrendered my heart and my patience to plunder the very day I fell captive to that ravishing beauty. Forget the cypress and its graceful stature; tell it to come watch the elegant way you come and go. Drive it off and it won't leave; if it does, it comes back. The fly can't stay away from the sweet shop's stall. No one can add to my words or to your beauty: this is the limit of eloquence, and of loveliness. Saadi, tonight the dawn drum never sounded its watch; or perhaps for a lonely night there is no morning at all.

It costs a king nothing at all, no loss to his worth, to spare a kind glance for the lowliest beggar. By your dear life, even an enemy would not agree that the door be shut in a friend's face. Surely it cannot be right for the servants of a court to drive the destitute away from the household. Even if you treat us cruelly, our mind will not change; we will offer a thousand thanks for every wrong you do. Everyone wishes for peace and safety of soul, unlike me, who buy affliction with my very life. No one can speak of love who, in a whole lifetime, has never battered his head against a beloved's door. My imagination roamed the entire world and came back, having found no place sweeter than your presence. Bow your head a little toward the company of the helpless, if only so they may kiss the dust of your feet. No finer robe could ever grace a body; no body could ever fill a robe more beautifully. If you do not veil a face this delicate and lovely, you will not find a single pious soul left in Fars. By your life, do not lay the burden of separation on my wounded heart; a gnat cannot carry off a millstone. You will not find another as faithful as I am, one who never abandons his pact with the faithless. You lose nothing by hearing Sadi's prayer, for it just may be that a prayer is answered.

I have never seen a face this lovely and this fair, and no hair could ever hold such power to steal the heart. Even if that hard hearted, silver bodied one hides the face, the fragrance gives it away; musk cannot conceal its scent. You who match in beauty inside and out: as long as I have eyes, I have seen no face more beautiful, no nature more sweet than yours. If I spin about helplessly, do not blame me; when you swing the mallet, the ball is not at fault. Anyone who has ever known a moment of ecstasy or burning pain loves the moan of the drunk and the uproar of their cries. In the marketplace of love we seek out blame with our very souls, leaving the quiet safe corner to the cautious ascetics. The garden needs nothing more to be beautiful, except a cypress like you beside the stream. O sweet scented flower, even if spring returns for a hundred ages, you will never again see a sweet singing nightingale like me. Saadi, if you cannot manage to kiss her hand, the answer, I think, is to lay your face down at her feet.

If our company has worn you out, we will go. Just name any service we can do for you. We rose to leave, but your image is so fixed in our breath that wherever we go, without you it is no place to rest. If you must wrestle, pick someone your own strength. We are already broken; what is one more defeat to us? I have committed no crime deserving punishment, yet the law will not spare our drunken Turk from killing people. Thank God that idol proved faithless; perhaps now this idol worshipper of ours will finally repent. Saadi, didn't I tell you? Reaching that tall cypress is beyond the low reach of a small one like us.

Once, when my longing heart would wander through the gardens, the scent of roses and sweet basil would carry me out of myself. The nightingale would cry out, the rose would tear its own robe; but when I thought of you, I forgot all of that. Your love lives in every heart, your seal is on every lip, your passion in every head, your secret in every soul. The moment I made my vow to you, I broke my vows to all others; after you, breaking every other promise is only fair. While the thorn of longing for you clings to the hem of my robe, it would be shallow of me to go strolling among the flowerbeds. Whoever is brought to his knees by a pain like this must wash his hands of every cure. If seeking you brings me hardship, so be it; when the love is for the sanctuary, the desert crossing is easy. Every arrow in the quiver, if it strikes this wounded heart, let me too be counted among your sacrifices. Anyone who sets his eyes on a lover with brows like a drawn bow must be ready to be a shield before all the arrows. They say, 'Enough, Saadi, stop speaking of her love'; yet I keep speaking, and after me they will speak of it for ages.

If you dropped your veil in the middle of the city, you would send a thousand devout believers straight to their punishment. Who could bear to look upon your blessed beauty, when you steal hearts like this even from behind a veil? Not for a single moment do I stop thinking of you. Now that you have conquered the city, do not let it fall to ruin. You bound my heart with a curl of your hair; now that you have twisted that hair, my fortunate one, do not turn your face away. The story of my suffering sounds trivial to your ears, for you do not know the thirsty one's state, you well-watered rose. If a lamp dies out, what does the morning breeze care? If the linen burns, why should the moonlight grieve? I gave you my blessing, and even if you curse me it is easy, for with sweet-lipped ones both question and answer are a pleasure. Where are you, you who reproach and mock me? You stand safe on the shore while I am drowning in the flood. What place is there for scolding a captive bound in the trap of grief? If you can lend a hand, then help. Though I cannot bear to be parted from my friend's face, I endure it out of necessity, the way a fish endures being out of water. Yet again you claim to keep away from love, Sadi, saying you'll give your heart to no one: every claimant is a liar.