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BioGraphy Of Saadi
MUSHARRIF OD-DIN MUSLIH OD-DIN,
Persian poet, one of the greatest figures in classical Persian
literature. He lost his father, Mosleh od-Din, in early childhood;
later he was sent to study in Baghdad at the renowned Nezamiyeh
College, where he acquired the traditional learning of Islam. The
unsettled conditions following the Mongol invasion of Persia led
him to wander abroad through Anatolia, Syria, Egypt, and Iraq. He
refers in his work to travels in India and Central Asia, but these
cannot be confirmed. In North Africa he was held captive by the
Franks and put to work in the trenches of the fortress of Tripoli.
When he reappeared in his native Shiraz he was an elderly man. He
seems to have spent the rest of his life in Shiraz. Sa'di took his
nom de plume from the name of the local Atabeg, or prince, Sa'd
ibn Zangi. His best known works are the Bustan (1257; The Orchard,
1882) and the Gulistan (1258; The Rose Garden, 1964). The Bustan
is entirely in verse (epic metre) and consists of stories aptly
illustrating the standard virtues recommended to Muslims (justice,
liberality, modesty, contentment) as well as of reflections on the
behaviour of dervishes and their ecstatic practices. The Gulistan
is mainly in prose and contains stories and personal anecdotes.
The text is interspersed with a variety of short poems, containing
aphorisms, advice, and humorous reflections. The morals preached
in the Gulistan border on expediency--e.g., a well-intended lie is
admitted to be preferable to a seditious truth. Sa'di demonstrates
a profound awareness of the absurdity of human existence. The fate
of those who depend on the changeable moods of kings is contrasted
with the freedom of the dervishes.
For Western students the Bustan
and Gulistan have a special attraction; but Sa'di is also
remembered as a great panegyrist and lyricist, the author of a
number of masterly general odes portraying human experience, and
also of particular odes such as the lament on the fall of Baghdad
after the Mongol invasion in 1258. His lyrics are to be found in
Ghazaliyat ("Lyrics") and his odes in Qasa'id ("Odes"). He is also
known for a number of works in Arabic. The peculiar blend of human
kindness and cynicism, humour, and resignation displayed in
Sa'di's works, together with a tendency to avoid the hard dilemma,
make him, to many, the most typical and lovable writer in the
world of Iranian culture.
The tomb of
Saadi, the poet and mystic of 7th century Iranian, 13th century
western (about 1207-1291).
Marble tomb dates from 1860s, an octagonal shaped building, walls
inscribed with Saadi work in tile.
An underground pool where people throw coins into the water and
make a wish. Can purchase food and drink near the entrance.
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Saadi Tomb |
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Selected Stories
story1
A dervish's wife was pregnant. The dervish prayed,"if God will
give me a son, I'll distribute all I have to the poor, all but the
robe I'm wearing." God accepted his prayers and the wife gave
birth to a son so dervish gave everything he had to fulfill his
vow. Several years later, I asked a friend about the dervish.
"He's in Jail." "Why, "I asked. "His son got drunk, killed a man
in a fight and fled. As you know when that happens the father is
put in chains." The dervish brought this upon himself with his
praying! It would of been better if this child had been a snake,
rather than this ungrateful son who does not take resposibility
for his actions.
Story2
A person had not seen his friend for a long interval. At last he
met him and said, "Where wert thou? for I longed after thee." He
replied, "Better longing than loathing."
COUPLET
Gay idol of my soul! late
comest thou!
Not soon will I release thy garment now.
VERSE
"Tis better that our friend
we seldom see,
Than to behold him to satiety.
SENTIMENT
When a fair one comes
attended by companions, she comes only to torment us; because,
in that case, there must arise the jealousy and discord of
rivals.
COUPLET
Comest thou attended, then
thou comest me only to distress;
Thou comest truly to make war, though peace thy looks express.
STANZA
But for an instant should
my friend prefer
To be with others, envy would me slay.
"Saadi!" he smiling cried, "Would this deter
Me this assembly's beacon? what, I say,
Imports it that in me moths quench life's ray!"
One of the kings of Khorasan
had a vision in a dream of Sultan Mahmud, one hundred years after
his death. His whole person appeared to have been dissolved and
turned to dust, except his eyes, which were revolving in their
orbits and looking about. All the sages were unable to give an
interpretation, except a dervish who made his salutation and said:
He is still looking amazed how his kingdom belongs to others.
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Many famous men have been buried
under ground
-
Of whose existence on earth not a
trace has remained
-
And that old corpse which had been
surrendered to the earth
-
Was so consumed by the soil that
not a bone remains.
-
The glorious name of Nushirvan
survives in good repute
-
Although much time elapsed since he
passed away.
-
Do good, O man, and consider life
as a good fortune,
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The more so, as when a shout is
raised, a man exists no more.
Story 4
I saw at the palace-gate of Oglimish the son of a military officer
who was endued with marvellous intellect, sagacity, perception and
shrewdness; also the signs of future greatness manifested
themselves on his forehead whilst yet a small boy.
In short, he pleased the sultan because he had a beautiful
countenance and a perfect understanding; and philosophers have
said: �Power consists in accomplishments, not in wealth and
greatness in intellect, not in years.� His companions, being
envious, made an attempt upon his life and desired to kill him but
their endeavours remained fruitless.
What can a foe do when the
friend is kind?
The king asked: �What is the
cause of their enmity to thee?� He replied: �Under the shadow of
the monarchy of my lord I have satisfied my contemporaries except
the envious, who will not be contented but by the decline of my
prosperity, and may the monarchy and good fortune of my lord be
perpetual.�
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I may so act as not to hurt the
feelings of anyone
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But what can I do to an envious man
dissatisfied with himself?
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Die, O envious man, for this is a
malady,
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Deliverance from which can be
obtained only by death.
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Unfortunate men sometimes ardently
desire
-
The decline of prosperous men in
wealth and dignity.
-
If in daytime, bat-eyed persons do
not see
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Is it the fault of the fountain of
light, the sun?
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Thou justly wishes that a thousand
such eyes
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Should be blind rather than the sun
dark.
Story5
A padshah was in the same boat with a Persian slave who had never
before been at sea and experienced the inconvenience of a vessel.
He began to cry and to tremble to such a degree that he could not
be pacified by kindness, so that at last the king became
displeased as the matter could not be remedied. In that boat there
happened to be a philosopher, who said: �With thy permission I
shall quiet him.� The padshah replied: �It will be a great favour.�
The philosopher ordered the slave to be thrown into the water so
that he swallowed some of it, whereon be was caught and pulled by
his hair to the boat, to the stern of which he clung with both his
hands. Then he sat down in a corner and became quiet. This
appeared strange to the king who knew not what wisdom there was in
the proceeding and asked for it. The philosopher replied: �Before
he had tasted the calamity of being drowned, he knew not the
safety of the boat; thus also a man does not appreciate the value
of immunity from a misfortune until it has befallen him.�
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O thou full man, barley-bread
pleases thee not.
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She is my sweetheart who appears
ugly to thee.
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To the huris of paradise purgatory
seems hell.
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Ask the denizens of hell. To them
purgatory is paradise.
There is a difference between
him whose friend is in his arms And him whose eyes of expectation
are upon the door.
Story6
A dervish, whose prayers met with answers, made his appearance,
and Hejaj Yusuf, calling him, said: �Utter a good prayer for me�,
whereon the dervish exclaimed: �O God, take his life.� He replied:
�For God�s sake, what prayer is this?� The dervish rejoined: �It
is a good prayer for thee and for all Musalmans.�
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O tyrant, who oppressest thy
subjects,
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How long wilt thou persevere in this?
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Of what use is authority to thee?
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To die is better for thee than to
oppress men.
Story 7
An unjust king asked a
devotee what kind of worship is best? He replied: �For thee the
best is to sleep one half of the day so as not to injure the
people for a while.�
-
I saw a tyrant sleeping half the day.
-
I said: �This confusion, if sleep
removes it, so much the better;
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But he whose sleep is better than his
wakefulness
-
Is better dead than leading such a
bad life.�
Story8
It is related that, whilst some game
was being roasted for Nushirvan the just during a hunting party,
no salt could be found. Accordingly a boy was sent to an adjoining
village to bring some. Nushirvan said: �Pay for the salt lest it
should become a custom and the village be ruined.� Having been
asked what harm could arise from such a trifling demand, Nushirvan
replied: �The foundation of oppression was small in the world but
whoever came augmented it so that it reached its present
magnitude.�
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If the king eats one apple from the
garden of a subject
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His slaves will pull him up the tree
from the roots.
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For five eggs which the sultan allows
to be taken by force
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The people belonging to his army will
put a thousand fowls on the spit.
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A tyrant does not remain in the world
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But the curse on him abides for
ever.
selected Poems
Ralph Waldo
Emerson - Saadi
Trees in
groves,
Kine in droves,
In ocean sport the scaly herds,
Wedge-like cleave the air the birds,
To northern lakes fly wind-borne ducks,
Browse the mountain sheep in flocks,
Men consort in camp and town,
But the poet dwells alone.
God who gave to him the lyre,
Of all mortals the desire,
For all breathing men's behoof,
Straitly charged him, "Sit aloof;"
Annexed a warning, poets say,
To the bright premium,—
Ever when twain together play,
Shall the harp be dumb.
Many may come,
But one shall sing;
Two touch the string,
The harp is dumb.
Though there come a million
Wise Saadi dwells alone.
Yet Saadi loved the race of men,—
No churl immured in cave or den,—
In bower and hall
He wants them all,
Nor can dispense
With Persia for his audience;
They must give ear,
Grow red with joy, and white with fear,
Yet he has no companion,
Come ten, or come a million,
Good Saadi dwells alone.
Be thou ware where Saadi dwells.
Gladly round that golden lamp
Sylvan deities encamp,
And simple maids and noble youth
Are welcome to the man of truth.
Most welcome they who need him most,
They feed the spring which they exhaust:
For greater need
Draws better deed:
But, critic, spare thy vanity,
Nor show thy pompous parts,
To vex with odious subtlety
The cheerer of men's hearts.
Sad-eyed Fakirs swiftly say
Endless dirges to decay;
Never in the blaze of light
Lose the shudder of midnight;
And at overflowing noon,
Hear wolves barking at the moon;
In the bower of dalliance sweet
Hear the far Avenger's feet;
And shake before those awful Powers
Who in their pride forgive not ours.
Thus the sad-eyed Fakirs preach;
"Bard, when thee would Allah teach,
And lift thee to his holy mount,
He sends thee from his bitter fount,
Wormwood; saying, Go thy ways,
Drink not the Malaga of praise,
But do the deed thy fellows hate,
And compromise thy peaceful state.
Smite the white breasts which thee fed,
Stuff sharp thorns beneath the head
Of them thou shouldst have comforted.
For out of woe and out of crime
Draws the heart a lore sublime."
And yet it seemeth not to me
That the high gods love tragedy;
For Saadi sat in the sun,
And thanks was his contrition;
For haircloth and for bloody whips,
Had active hands and smiling lips;
And yet his runes he rightly read,
And to his folk his message sped.
Sunshine in his heart transferred
Lighted each transparent word;
And well could honoring Persia learn
What Saadi wished to say;
For Saadi's nightly stars did burn
Brighter than Dschami's day.
Whispered the muse in Saadi's cot;
O gentle Saadi, listen not,
Tempted by thy praise of wit,
Or by thirst and appetite
For the talents not thine own,
To sons of contradiction.
Never, sun of eastern morning,
Follow falsehood, follow scorning,
Denounce who will, who will, deny,
And pile the hills to scale the sky;
Let theist, atheist, pantheist,
Define and wrangle how they list,—
Fierce conserver, fierce destroyer,
But thou joy-giver and enjoyer,
Unknowing war, unknowing crime,
Gentle Saadi, mind thy rhyme.
Heed not what the brawlers say,
Heed thou only Saadi's lay.
Let the great world bustle on
With war and trade, with camp and town.
A thousand men shall dig and eat,
At forge and furnace thousands sweat,
And thousands sail the purple sea,
And give or take the stroke of war,
Or crowd the market and bazaar.
Oft shall war end, and peace return,
And cities rise where cities burn,
Ere one man my hill shall climb,
Who can turn the golden rhyme;
Let them manage how they may,
Heed thou only Saadi's lay.
Seek the living among the dead:
Man in man is imprisoned.
Barefooted Dervish is not poor,
If fate unlock his bosom's door.
So that what his eye hath seen
His tongue can paint, as bright, as keen,
And what his tender heart hath felt,
With equal fire thy heart shall melt.
For, whom the muses shine upon,
And touch with soft persuasion,
His words like a storm-wind can bring
Terror and beauty on their wing;
In his every syllable
Lurketh nature veritable;
And though he speak in midnight dark,
In heaven, no star; on earth, no spark;
Yet before the listener's eye
Swims the world in ecstasy,
The forest waves, the morning breaks,
The pastures sleep, ripple the lakes,
Leaves twinkle, flowers like persons be,
And life pulsates in rock or tree.
Saadi! so far thy words shall reach;
Suns rise and set in Saadi's speech.
And thus to Saadi said the muse;
Eat thou the bread which men refuse;
Flee from the goods which from thee flee;
Seek nothing; Fortune seeketh thee.
Nor mount, nor dive; all good things keep
The midway of the eternal deep;
Wish not to fill the isles with eyes
To fetch thee birds of paradise;
On thine orchard's edge belong
All the brass of plume and song;
Wise Ali's sunbright sayings pass
For proverbs in the market-place;
Through mountains bored by regal art
Toil whistles as he drives his cart.
Nor scour the seas, nor sift mankind,
A poet or a friend to find;
Behold, he watches at the door,
Behold his shadow on the floor.
Open innumerable doors,
The heaven where unveiled Allah pours
The flood of truth, the flood of good,
The seraph's and the cherub's food;
Those doors are men; the pariah kind
Admits thee to the perfect Mind.
Seek not beyond thy cottage wall
Redeemer that can yield thee all.
While thou sittest at thy door,
On the desert's yellow floor,
Listening to the gray-haired crones,
Foolish gossips, ancient drones,—
Saadi, see, they rise in stature
To the height of mighty nature,
And the secret stands revealed
Fraudulent Time in vain concealed,
That blessed gods in servile masks
Plied for thee thy household tasks.
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