Nazms: The Surge of Roses, Joining a Gathering, Saqi-nama, The Coming Down of Revelation, The Graves of the Strangers

Nazms

The Surge of Roses

It is the season when the beauties of the garden adorn themselves;
such is the scene, as if colours were being filled into pictures.

Where the grass lies sleeping in the mirror-house of the dew,
the gusts of the morning breeze pass by holding their breath.

The parrot's wing is mistaken for the peacock's tail
when rose petals, blown by the wind, scatter on the grass.

What a verdigris colour the young grass has received,
whose touch of air heals the wounds of the tulip's heart!

Shedding blossoms, the branches make one drunk,
so that drinkers think the flasks are coming down from the shelf.

With delicacy and grace, swaying, the rose branch says:
"Just so, after a single cup, the drunkards' colour brightens."

The cheerfulness of the rose's face says, look here:
"Just so the cups laugh in the gathering when they are filled."

Growing tall, the garden's branches throw flowers at the cloud;
the peacocks hold up mirrors to the roses.

One fancies the spring wind has led out an army:
the water puts on armour when the clouds pass over.

The breath of the spring dawn veils the face of the sun,
as threads of breath spread across a mirror.

The caravan of tulip and rose too will halt only there
where the gusts of the morning breeze go and stop.

The saplings of the garden will take hold of the whole world;
they never move from where they set their feet.

The hyacinth's tresses have spread a net for miles over the ground;
these days the nightingales are afraid to come into the garden.

The warmth of the garden's festival answers the feast of Jamshid,
for the fairies come down on thrones carrying boats of wine.

The nightingales who have already mixed with the dust, what do they know
that the branches sway and the flowers are scattered on their graves?

Joining a Gathering

You always go about frowning, with a gloomy heart;
then for God's sake do not go to anyone's party.

You are weary of your own life; be fair:
how then will the gathering be pleased with you?

One should go into the company of friends
as the morning breeze comes gladly into the garden.

The branch sways to make the sign of welcome,
and the buds burst open with a cry of "Welcome!"

Whatever tree it passed began to sway;
whatever drooping bud it reached began to laugh.

Whatever passes over the heart, let it pass; why should anyone know?
God, greater than all, knows the state of the heart.

Since joy and grief alike do not last in the world,
for God's sake pass your time laughing and talking.

Saqi-nama (To the Cupbearer)

This is not that age, cupbearer;
it is the era of the Europeans, cupbearer.

They have made all the effort they wished;
they found the way to India after ages.

Taking such trouble to come so far,
their only aim was to spread wine.

The Muslims who are the community of the English
do not abstain from drinking.

The habit of drinking is in every house,
and toddy is like mother's milk.

Before, it was the Pasis and Chamars who drank; [TN: low castes of toddy-tappers and leather-workers.]
people of no standing drank.

Now the men of learning drink;
the abolishers of old customs drink.

The Coming Down of Revelation

When this Joseph set foot in the fortieth stage of his life, [TN: the Prophet Muhammad, who received the first revelation at the age of forty. The source gives this passage as a fragment, and this opening line has no partner.]

the caravan of revelation arrived as the sound of a bell,
so that the heart woke while the heedlessness of sleep lay on the eyes.

From it an ocean of divine knowledge surged in his breast,
whose ebb and flow human nature could not bear.

Its surge grew, and growing reached the shore of the heavens;
a wave rose from it and, rising, rattled the chain of the throne.

The Holy Spirit opened the window of the throne and looked,
and there was an old bond, an acquaintance of years.

Verses of light began to flow upon his tongue,
for which the melody of David and the breath of the Messiah would be sacrificed.

The Graves of the Strangers (from Gray's Elegy)

The farewell of the bright day: the gong of the strangers' evening; [TN: the opening stanza of Gray's "Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard" (1751), "The curfew tolls the knell of parting day…"; Wikisource gives only this stanza of Nazm's version.]
those caravans of dumb beasts have turned back from the pastures;
with what eagerness the ploughman's step rises toward home!
This is the wilderness, and here am I, and the birds of the nests.