The Persian poet Sa’di, generally known in literary history as
Muslih-al-Din, belongs to the great group of writers known as the
Shirazis, or singers of Shiraz. His “Gulistan,” or “Rose Garden,” is the
mature work of his life-time, and he lived to the age of one hundred and
eight. The Rose Garden was an actual thing, and was part of the little
hermitage, to which he retired, after the vicissitudes and travels of
his earlier life, to spend his days in religious contemplation, and the
embodiment of his experience in reminiscences, which took the form of
anecdotes, sage and pious reflections, bon-mots, and exquisite lyrics.
When a friend visited him in his cell and had filled a basket with
nosegays from the garden of the poet with roses, hyacinths, spikenards,
and sweet-basils, Sa’di told him of the book he was writing, and
added:–“What can a nosegay of flowers avail thee? Pluck but one leaf
from my Rose Garden; the rose from yonder bush lasts but a few days, but
this Rose must bloom to all eternity.”
I will post selection of Hikayat from Gulistan a Sa’di here.
I have read parts of Gulistan and Bostaan in urdu.
My father was fortuante enough to actually read both in Farsi as his text books back in the days..... I learnt a lot about the books from him later in life.. and still we discuss them when we get together every after few months.
I have heard of a king who decreed to put a captive to death. The
poor captive, in that state of desperation, began to abuse the king in
his own language , , as has been
said; whoever shall wash his hands of life will utter whatever he may
harbor in his heart:--"When a man is desperate he will give a latitude
to his tongue, like as a cat at bay will fly at a dog"--"at the moment
of compulsion when it is impossible to fly, the hand will grasp the
sharp edge of a sword." The king asked "What does he say?" One
of the Vizirs and a well-disposed man,
answered, "O my lord! he is expressing himself and saying, (paradise is
for such) as are restraining their anger and forgiving their
fellow-creatures; and God will befriend the benevolent." The king felt
compassion for him, and desisted from shedding his blood. Another
nobleman, and the rival of that vazir, said, "It is shameful for us all if we do not tell the truth in the presence
of kings; this man abused his majesty, and spoke what was unworthy of
him." The king turned away indignant at this remark, and replied, "I was
better pleased with his falsehood than with this truth that you have
told; for that bore the face of good policy, and this was founded in
malignity; and the intelligent have said, 'A peace-mingling falsehood is
preferable to a mischief-stirring truth':--Whatever prince may do that
which he (his counsellor) will recommend, it must be a subject of regret
if he shall advise aught but good."
They had written over the portico of King Feridún's palace:--"This
world, O brother! abides with none. Set thy heart upon its maker, and
let him suffice thee. Rest not thy pillow and support on a worldly
domain which has fostered and slain many such as thou art. Since the
precious soul must resolve on going, what matters it whether it departs
from a throne or the ground."