Page:Tales from the Gulistan (1928).pdf/23

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Preface

with small glass beads, whilst from its vines bunches like the Pleiads[1] were suspended.

A garden the water of whose river was limpid,
A grove the melody of whose birds was harmonious.
The former full of bright-coloured tulips,
The latter full of fruits of various kinds;
The wind had in the shade of its trees
Spread out a bed of all kinds of flowers.

The next morning, when the intention of returning had prevailed over the opinion of tarrying, I saw that my friend had in his skirt collected roses, sweet basil, hyacinths, and fragrant herbs, with the determination to carry them to town; whereon I said: "Thou knowest that the roses of the garden are perishable, and the season passes away,[2] and philosophers have said: 'Whatever is not of long duration is not to be cherished.'"

He asked: "Then what is to be done?"

I replied: "I may compose for the amusement of those who look,[3] and for the instruction of those who are present, a book of a Rose-Garden [Gulistân], whose leaves cannot be touched by the tyranny of autumn blasts, and the delight of whose spring the vicissitudes of time will be unable to change into the inconstancy of autumn.

Of what use will be a dish of roses to thee?
Take a leaf from my rose-garden.
A flower endures but five or six days,
But this Rose-Garden is always delightful.

xvii

  1. The bunches of grapes are here compared to the constellation of the 'seven stars.'
  2. Text: 'The season of the garden has no fidelity.
  3. By 'those who look' readers, and by 'those who are present' listeners, are meant.