Appendices and Single Verses

My longing has passed all limits, and my patience under the weight of missing you is gone, my love. Heal this maddened heart of mine by letting me be with you. No ordinary doctor understands the pain of those who yearn; only Layla can cure the grief of frantic Majnun. If you were never going to care for the grieving and the helpless, you should not have shown us that beautiful face at the start. Since you showed yourself and stole all steadiness from my mind and all patience from my heart, now you must find a remedy for this restless soul. I never carried a passion for beautiful faces before this, but the moment I saw you, I chose the road of love and longing. All I want from this world and the next is to be with you; without you, faith and the world hold no value at all. I long so much to see you, my beloved, that from this separation a sigh rises from my heart hot enough to burn seven seas. Come, let us be happy together in private for one moment today, for no one in this world knows what tomorrow holds. You speak sweet words, Saadi, in spite of your enemies; but what does a man sick with unquenchable thirst know of the delight of sweets?

I don't know how to handle these tricks of mine to win over that beloved so full of tricks. With the sword of cruelty he spills the blood of my heart, just to dye his own hands with my heart's blood. Poor and empty-handed as I am, I fear that union will never fall into the hands of the empty-handed. If one day I catch the hem of his union, I'll never let it go from my grasp until Judgment Day. The parrot of my nature can never capture his qualities, no matter how much it describes that eloquent nightingale. My heart craves him; but what can I say if my short reach can't touch that tall cypress? His drunken narcissus eyes hunt for my heart's torment, the eyes that, in their quarrel, set even the sober reeling. If I see his beautiful face I have no wish for the garden, for no rose in the orchard is like his cheek. Anyone who has seen my adorned beloved in all his life will never go to gaze at any gallery of paintings. This blow means nothing to Sadi, and no wonder, if the grief of parting from him wipes out all that exists.

Muslims, I cry out against those bewitching eyes, for in a single glance they stole my patience, calm, and endurance. Her face is fair as a Roman's, her curls and beauty mark dark as an African's, and her brow arches like a Central Asian archer's bow, full of reproach. Of all the wonders of the world, thirty-two rare marvels I see gathered plainly in her face, with nothing hidden from me. Moon and Pleiades, Mercury and Venus, sun and rainbow, pine and ivory, myrtle and narcissus, ruby and rose, fresh green and wine, union and deceit. Willow and hollyhock, candle and sandalwood, milk and tar, light and fire, honey and sugar, musk and amber, pearl and jewel, pomegranate and apple. The miracles of five prophets appear in her face: Ahmad and David and Jesus, Khizr and the son-in-law of Shu'ayb. My idol, if I die without tasting those lips, the Just One will demand justice from you on the Day of Reckoning. Sa'di, have you never truly heard this saying? Every valley has its peak, and every peak its valley.

Leaving the beloved's homeland is like doomsday itself; and fate has always handed me my share of such days. What does someone sleeping in comfort know of how a person aching with separation spends the night, especially a stranger far from home? I leave in bitter defeat, and there is no chance I can set foot again in my love's city because of my rival. My father kept urging me to be patient, saying, 'Son, enough of these disorderly days.' I answered this way: 'Father, my pain will not yield to any cure, no matter how hard the doctor tries.' Do not expect repentance from me, for even in the mosque I would rather listen to the sound of the harp than the preacher's sermon. You sent me to school, but it did no good; my fingernails were worn down by the teacher's beating stick, yet my heart still strums its own tune. Even now the scent of love rises from my dust, though in the grave my body falls apart, joint by joint. Saadi does not set out on this journey by his own choice; strange cruelty is no surprise from such a strange age.

Your eye is an eternal spell, or the great temptation of the world's end. When it lowers its lids against the evil eye, it still hides another flirtation within. With a single coy glance you have hunted me down; your eye is like the eyes of gazelles. In this city, faced with the army of your seductive looks, ( ... ) there is no safety left. The arrowhead of your flirting glance, no doubt, is poison that needs no bow. From the sugar-scattering ruby of your lips, one kiss is worth a hundred thousand lives. Your kiss has grown cheap; and what is cheaper than something given for free? All year I sit with my hand pressed to my head, for separation stands between us. They tell me, Be patient, Sadi; but this is easy to say for those who don't feel it.

My condition, when I try to describe my grief for you, becomes a legend; my eye, from the reflection of your face, has turned into a temple full of idols. Wherever there is a worthless stone in the world, it lies beside a pearl as rare as you. Hoping for your hair that falls in chains, how many a wise man ends up acting like a madman. I asked her, what kind of curling locks are these? She said, well, in short, they are... From her lips comes a single subtle point... and from her wine cup, a single drop is a whole measure. Before the blazing sun of her beauty, the candle of the sky is less than a moth. My darling, why do you hide your face from me? After all, this poor wretch is not less than a stranger. They tell many tales of Azar's idol, but my own idol is this, from... The heart is no fitting place for you, so what can I do? In all my world it is only this one ruin. This they should not call a heart... this is not love, from...

I am wounded by the blade of separation, aching with longing beyond all measure. Breeze, what would it cost you to show me a moment's kindness? Pass through my beloved's street and carry the state of my heart, just as you heard it from me, tell the tale to that one who stole my heart. Retell to that darling one story of what I have been through, though my complaint about the pain of parting is long. Breeze, comfort of my soul, when you reach the place you know, do me this one favor too, if you can. Tell that idol of China and Khotan, that faithless beauty: for God's sake, show your lover a little care. The watchman of your absence plunders my patience every moment; I would claim justice for myself if union with you would defend me. You take lives, you steal hearts, then you seek separation from me; your nurse must have fed you on the milk of faithlessness. The complaints I hold against you, I bring them to you as well. But why speak, when the story of parting has no end? Longing for your bound locks, caught in the lure of your drunken eyes, even the devout ascetic takes up residence in the tavern. Everyone has a heart-stealer they hover around like a speck of dust; each person turns toward some direction, but Saadi's whole direction is you.

I leave your land with pain and longing: farewell. I lay down my life in the service of your memory: farewell. I cannot lift my head before you to ask for anything; I am too ashamed before your flower-like face: farewell. Wherever I am, I will keep praying for your good fortune. May God bless your days: farewell. If life gives me a reprieve, I will see your face in the end; and if I die far away, waiting for you: farewell. If even a trace of your curling hair reaches my dust, I will rise alive from that musky scent: farewell. If you remember me, write a few lines there. Saadi, those sweet words of yours: farewell.

I gave up my head to be free of headaches; let nothing live in my mind or heart but the thought of my beloved. On every white surface I saw a dark spot; there is no color that ranks above black. The color true men accept is green and white; the imprint of her face is not found in every face. The eye that beholds union is an eye set on guidance; the secret it holds is not in every gaze. I wandered through all creation and found no equal to you; a beauty like yours exists nowhere on earth. No one can describe you, no one can recite your praise; there is no moon-faced one like you on land or sea. For no reason could Saadi ever take his eyes off you; whatever might come of looking, what is not in sight cannot rise.

Luck and prosperity came flowing back to me like a running stream, and from good fortune the graceful cypress, my beloved, returned to me. Every day I grew old longing for the sight of that lovely face; now in my old age my young luck has come back again. The friend returned and the enemy fled from me; thanks be for this blessing, that life came back into my weary body. Bring me good news, dear friend, for the suffering has passed; the blessing of victory and ease has arrived in due time. Prosperity came to my side, luck and good fortune arrived; out of joy, Jupiter, the star of blessing, came back to its arc. The sun of generosity and the moon of light both arrived; the crown of good fortune and grace appeared plainly before me. Sa'di, the crown of happiness has arrived once more, for the one who had gone came back like a running stream.

Gone are the days when you had time for me, when my greeting still earned an answer from you. Out of pride and out of your beauty, you scolded me sweetly with every breath. You kept giving me your lovely promises, as if those promises were only a mirage. Now that the time of union has passed, it seems those days were nothing but a dream. In my hand, from the cupbearer of the feast, there was a full cup of wine with every breath. I am left wounded, and you never ask how this ruined, broken soul is doing. Blessed were the days when, from the charity of your lips, your lovers received their rightful share. Saadi, how did the season of union slip away? What a pity, it was nothing but a mirage.

I remember there was a time when I had someone to ease my sorrow. With my love's lips near, held in my sweetheart's arms, every moment brought some sweet occupation. My cup of joy held not a single dreg, and the rose of union had no thorn for me. That lion-taming, fox-playing gazelle of a beloved made my helpless heart its willing prey. The soft down around that sun-bright face was like a bed of violets by the water of life. Everything I needed for delight was ready. God, what days those were! Even if the world raised its waves of rivals against him, Sadi still had a choice and precious companion.

When my king steps out into his court, cries and shouts rise up from all his army. The true lover flees his home and household, and the rich man walks away from wealth and rank. Gaze on the street where he lives, and you will see a thousand Josephs of Egypt rise from the bottom of the well. The dawn is so honest in its longing for him that out of desire for his face it rises early. When those who keep to their cloisters... a cry of 'what a scandal!' goes up from everyone. His glance is drunk and... whoever steps out steps out of all shelter. If, say, he rises later than usual from sleep, then on that day the morning breaks at noon. If a mirror caught his reflection from afar, a thousand sighs would rise from its stony heart. If a dead man remembered him in the heart of the dust, plenty of grass would sprout over his grave. Be patient, my heart... the work gets done as the years and months roll by. When someone sins in the secret of his love, the scent of worship rises out of that very sin. Sadi's heart, do not... bow down there where...

The spring wind blows in from the meadow, and once again the cry of every longing bird rises to the heavens. The cypress stands tall, the garden is arranged, and the cuckoo sings out over the willow and the plane tree. A flower blooms in the garden; is it the moon, or the sun? The cypress sways in a dance along the streambank. The branch heavy with fruit gets pelted with stones, while the willow, bearing nothing, is spared such cruel abuse. Look at the way of the narcissus, sit beside the violet, choose the graceful lily, and let the yellow poppy rain down its petals. Rise and treasure it all: the stirring of the spring breeze, the bird's measured song, the sweet scent of the tulip field. Every flower and leaf that exists remembers God. What does the nightingale, what does the turtledove sing? The praise of the Lord. For the mind that understands, each green leaf on the trees is a page, and every page a book of knowing the Creator. It is springtime, so rise, let us go and take in the sight; there is no relying on time to bring the spring back again. Nightingale, sing your tunes; sweet-voiced bird, take up your song; sugar-scattering parrot, bring your sweets to the gathering. Along the mountains and the plains, this is a day for wandering and roaming; the spring season has passed, so recite the words of Saadi.

Dawn breeze, bring me the scent of my love's hair; from those restless curls bring my heart some rest. Carry a greeting from wretched me to that graceful cypress; bring back a message from that rose-cheeked, moon-faced one. Deliver the tale from the lips of a helpless Farhad; and bring me back a comforting greeting from her. Whisper it in secret to my one true friend, listen for the answer, then bring it to me openly. As a cure for my soul and a balm for my spirit, bring me the fragrance of those two coiled, musk-scented locks. The springtime of my eyes is nothing but the reflection of her face; be kind, and bring me that reflection of spring. To brighten my eyes, which are far from her face, bring me some dust from her direction, some earth from her land. Carry countless blessings from me to my beloved; and, in your kindness, bring back some news of reunion with her. Keep the words I told you and carry them along; hold in mind whatever answer she gives, and bring it back. Waiting for you, Saadi says it always: dawn breeze, bring me the scent of my love's hair.

Though it gave itself to someone else, my heart is still mine. I swear by that person's life: my heart still holds to its faith. I don't know why, after all the cruelty done to me, the mark of loving that person still lingers in my heart. I whispered to my heart: let that one go, forget. It answered: that beloved is still ours. Even when I'm dead, if that one passes over my grave, I will rise with a shout: that soul is still mine. The hostility comes from the side of the one who broke the pact; as for me, the same pure devotion still remains. My idol, don't turn your face from me, take my hand, for your turmoil and unrest still fill my head. Where is the judge's house? In the case of love the dispute between lover and beloved is still open. My need cannot be captured by any pen. I have measured it, and it lies beyond all thought. Morning breeze, carry my greeting to the beloved and say that Sadi has still not abandoned his vow to you.

What heartache is this that has struck me, falling into the trap of your love, my darling? What wrong had I done, that so suddenly I fell into the hands of you, playful tyrant? With a heart like mine, I had no choice in the game of love, yet still I fell. Onto the field of your love, riding the horse of longing, I galloped hard and was thrown headlong. I never fell quite like this before, though in this way I have fallen a hundred times. From the flood of this sorrow I find no escape, for I sank like an anchor into the waves of my tears. I imagined her lips, her face, her beauty mark, and fell headfirst into flowers, musk, and sugar. My hand slipped from that dark, musky hair, and into what a fragrant dust I fell. My soul landed happily in that well, yet through my own bad luck I fell at the door. All his life Saadi has cursed his fortune: you stayed carefree, and I was left to grieve.

I never broke away from you, for you are my beloved friend; I became like your servant, ready to gird myself for your command. You are a swift, nimble rider, and you tied my heart to your saddle; how blessed and sweet is the heart that becomes my beloved's prey. With such beauty and such purity your face reveals, I have chosen you above all; I want no love but you. In hope of you I am full of joy, in your love I burn; sometimes I weep from delight, sometimes I laugh from longing. I have tasted much bitterness since the moment I saw your face; in your words and on your lips, my love, you are my sugar, you are my sweetness. In your love I am wretched and bewildered, undone by helpless daze; out of jealousy I have torn the very root of jealousy from my heart at once. The sapling of love, my beloved, in the garden of my heart, is why I have scattered talk of tenderness across the world. I wrote down my own tale as I heard those words; since I sowed love for you in my heart, may my bond be blessed. Though I have no peace, I am still your unripe lover; burn me like wild rue, sweetly, in love. I became your servant, an Ayaz to your Mahmud; draw me close to you, as you draw yourself near.

This letter that I'm writing to you now, I write it with tears mixed with blood. I've written to you from this door before, but never with the burning pain I feel as I write now. To Azra I show the ache that Vameq bore; to Layla I describe the state of Majnun. My love, I don't even know how to set down the story of my own heart for you. Accept it, though I have no excuse to offer; read it kindly, though what I write is poor.

Did you see, my heart, what has come to me again? What can I do, who can I tell, what thought can I even hold? I wish love's cruelty had never pitched its tent on me, for now I'm left helpless with my aching heart. My love, you never laid a hand on the snake of your own curls; so how much more must the scorpion of your absence sting me? Like a drum, I take blow after blow from your cruelty; like a harp, I bow my head low under the grief of losing you. Why disgrace me? Just put out the fire of love in me. I'm less than dust already, so don't scatter me to the wind. Take pride in your beauty as you like, but I won't beg to your face, so you'll know my heart is rich even when I'm penniless. Again and again the urge rises in me to speak words of unbelief, since I'm caught heart and soul by those infidel locks of yours. Reason itself lost its mind over crazy Saadi; that's why, wrecked and scattered, I still cling to my state.

Come, come, for your love has left me so shattered that even my grief spills out on my tongue in confusion. You are free of me, while I wander lost in longing for you. Come and see what grief has done to break me apart. I have neither the strength to stay with you nor the will to let go. Broken hearted, I am caught helpless between the two. I cannot reach a single lock of your hair, so like your curling tresses I am scattered, night and day. My heart and eyes have never once been on my side, so I am forever ruined at their hands. No one has ever been so wrecked by heart and eyes as I am, the most broken soul in all the world. How can my mind find peace, telling myself you will come, when your cruelty, unkind one, tears me apart? I have not caught even a trace of the perfume of union with you, so the fire in my heart leaves me scattered like smoke. Though the promise of union gladdens Saadi's heart, as long as I stay in separation I remain undone.

Worn out, I can't rest for a single breath without you. With what heart could I find patience, my love, without you? How could I choose the path of patience when I've given my heart to the wind? My soul can find no peace at all without you. By the dust of your feet, my idol, if I sit in this corner of grief, it's only out of necessity, never by choice, without you. If they dragged me off toward hell, I'd go along gladly; but I would never set foot in paradise without you. What joy could a garden or an orchard give me, my love, when the whole world looks fake and gilded to my eyes without you? To breathe in for even a moment the scent of being with you is better, my dear, than living a whole lifetime like this, heartbroken, without you. Don't imagine that Saadi chose you as just one companion among many: by your own life, he has no desire for any companion without you.

My restless love, why are you upset with me? You are my ache and my cure, why are you upset with me? My graceful cypress, my beautiful sweetheart, your ruby lips are my sweetness, why are you upset with me? Look how your absence has left me, spinning lost like the sky, bloodied by your arrows, why are you upset with me? If I die in your sorrow, my idol, my blood is on your neck; tomorrow I will cling to your skirt, why are you upset with me? I am Saadi at your door, in love with your moon-like face, I wish you only good, why are you upset with me?

You are so beautiful, so heart-stealing, that you would grudge showing yourself to just anyone. It isn't in my interest, yet it's better that you stay veiled and never come out in public. I turned faithfulness into my enemy the day I made my pact with you, once I saw that you, my ruin, are the faithless one. I have grown so distant from myself, so estranged, ever since I came to know you. If it weren't for the hope of reaching you, I would drive the light right out of my eyes. You feel no grief at all for my broken heart; but who ever saw a villager without his own holiday? From now on it's just me and sorrow, far from your face, what would it cost you to come to me for a single night?

Every night, with an aching heart and endless weeping, it is just me, my tears, and my sleeplessness. No moisture is left inside me, my eyes have shed so many pearls of grief. What does your heart know of sorrow? How could you understand what it means to grieve? You will finally know how I feel only when, like me, you drag a single night through to morning.