Our Master
Pahlavon Mahmoud
RUBAIS (quatrains)
1
To pound three hundreds of Ko’hi Qof with a truncheon,
With the blood of heart – to draw – from nature,
Or to be left for ages in a dungeon
Is better than to have talks with immature.
2
Come on, my heart, I’ll look for a sweetheart,
In the street, in every corner, any part,
Like Khayyam we are drunken every day,
The hell accepts a drunkard at long last.
3
The world’s a beauty and you are its face,
Mind’s a river and you’re water – base.
Don’t sit on flower leaf as dew,
In this orchard you’re a sign of grace.
4
When I look from afar, you are too attractive,
I was free before but again became your captive.
Every human will be glad from freedom
I’m happy that I am the same – your captive!
5
The Almighty created the sky and the earth,
A spotty soul and a grievous heart – he set forth.
Mixing fragrant hair and ruby lips with soil,
After all, he made sand of them both.
6
It wishes a true man were a head of world affair,
To make evil deeds a villain would not dare,
The world’s affair is like backgammon at all times,
A coward wins a brave man and it’s unfair.
7
I’m softhearted; I have neither arrogance nor cry,
I have many foes but I’m friend to all.
I’m a fruitful tree – every passer-by
Throws a stone at me but I don’t feel shy.
8
What to do now – of homeland – I’m not proud,
Love has killed me; love became my shroud.
Hermit, you may sit in paradise,
I’m drunken nightingale, hell’s my park, no doubt.
9
I asked: “Tell me, what is life in short?”
“It’s lightning, or a candle, or a moth”, she said.
I questioned: “Who’s a lover of this world?”
She said: “It’s naïve, a drunk man or a mad.”
10
The sun reddened horizon with bloody tear,
The moon scratched its face; Venus pulled its hair;
The night wore in black in morning mourning
And it suffered much as it couldn’t bear.
11
I said to my beloved: “Hey, coquette, why
Does your voice from mouth slowly fly?”
“Because my mouth’s tiny – every word
Being sliced goes out” was her reply.
12
Oh, my sick heart’s always become humble,
And my memory’s not free from trouble.
This existence didn’t give its fruits,
Thus my costly life, oh God, has crumbled.
13
The worst sorrow in the world is parting,
But estrangement’s the most devastating.
It’s beyond my power to leave you,
You’re my soul, to leave it means departing.
14
Our heart catches not dust from a stranger,
To other people we’re also not a danger.
Don’t go too far from shame and pride,
Be not pride and shame and nothing major.
15
Sometimes I think of beauteous face of belle,
At others, I think of eyes or hair smell.
What of your beauty gives me a delight,
That moment I will find it very well.
17
In the evening I wiped my looking-glass,
When it was clean I quickly cast a glance.
I saw so many faults of mine in it,
I forgot of other’s faults at once.
18
Being jealous a flower fades in the garden,
It fills a tulip petal with spots on a sudden.
In a place where blaze of your beauty shines,
Right away – a lamp will stop – to lighten.
19
From everywhere I see a grievous stone,
I open my eyes and catch a glimpse of frown.
Till when I see a head instead of knee,
Should I smash my bright ideas down?
20
So many years we thirst for knowledge and trade,
In pursuit of profusion we made the grade.
When we were aware of world secrets,
Being a hermit – ado – we could evade.
21
Find a man of wisdom to converse,
Or call a beauty to sit face to face.
If you cannot search out them both
Don’t waste time, sit yourself in this case.
22
I wish good seeing for those drunken eyes,
May trouble with that drinker never arise.
May God save her body every time,
I wish she never became a sacrifice.
23
We are surprised of living in the world,
As a lantern – rangers – we are called.
If the sun is light, the world’s a lantern,
At nights we knock about as a doll.
24
A man of note is a costly pearl,
Who thinks a little will remain to whirl.
Loveless one in this world can’t be perfect,
To make not pots but a potter is the goal!
Pahlavon Mahmud lived in the 13th century and was a local poet who emerged from humble craftsmen, and was also famous for his heroic strength as an unbeatable wrestler, and his ability to heal people. His grave was in the cemetery behind the Juma Mosque. Many details of Pahlavon Mahmud’s life and activities are described in local oral literature. He has been revered as the patron of the city since ancient times. (Google)