Book A0The Prelude

In the name of Lord of wisdom and mind,Beyond whom thought no higher way can find.

Lord of the name, of all things near and far,Source of our daily needs, our Guide, our farr.

Lord of high Saturn, the sphere that is spun,Who lights the moon and Venus and the sun.

Beyond all name and sign and guess is He,Who made the heart of all the things we see.

The Maker’s self no mortal eye can trace,So torment not your eyes in that vain chase.

Nor can our thought discover any trail;He stands past name and place, where all words fail.

Man’s soul and wisdom try with subtle speech;Past their core, all is far beyond their reach.

If wisdom choose its words and try to speak,It speaks but of the things its eyes can seek.

None knows to praise Him as He truly stands,So bind yourself to serve with heart and hands.

Our souls and wisdom on His scale are laid;How shall the weighed presume to weigh who weighed?

These feeble three: our judgment, soul, and tongue.How shall the Maker’s praise by these be sung?

Confess that He exists, and hold it fast,And let all idle speech from you be cast.

Be worshipper and seeker of the road,And deeply mark the law His will bestowed.

Whoever has knowledge, also has the power;By wisdom’s light old hearts renew their flower.

Speech cannot pass the veil it stands before;Thought only knows “He is”—and nothing more.

Speak, sage, of wisdom! Raise your noble voice,And make the hearts of those who hear rejoice!

Bring forth whatever wisdom you may share,That listening ears may heed what you declare.

Wisdom is God’s best gift, our guiding light;It shows the path and leads our footsteps right.

In joy and grief, in loss and fleeting gain,By wisdom weighed are all their joy and pain.

But when its light is darkened or withdrawn,All joy departs and hope itself is gone,

Thus speaks the virtuous man, the sage of lore,Whose words the thoughtful ponder evermore:

“Who spurns the counsel wisdom would impartShall, by that scorn, bring anguish to his heart;

The prudent mark him lost beyond retrieve,And those who once were close will turn and leave.”

Through wisdom, honor follows where you go;Without it, chains will bind you here below.

It is the eye of mind; if you are blind,You grope through darkness, leaving joy behind;

Know wisdom as the first of God’s design;It guards the soul and keeps three gates in line.

The eye, the ear, the tongue are sentinels;Through these come good and ill, this truth compels.

What tongue can speak the worth of wisdom’s name?What ear can hold the breadth of wisdom’s claim?

If I should speak, who listens to the end?Who comprehends what words like these intend?

Yet you, O seeker after wisdom’s way,Speak what you know and cast all doubt away;

Declare creation’s course as you have learned,And share the righteous wisdom you have earned.

You are yourself the World-Creator’s art;The seen and unseen lie before your heart.

Attend the words that ancient sages gave,And rise above the terror of the grave;

Seek out the wise wherever they may dwell,And store each truth they have the grace to tell.

When you hear a wise man speak aloud,Be not as one who stumbles with the crowd;

Whatever words of knowledge reach your ear,Know learning has no bounds within life’s sphere.

First learn what needful knowledge must bestow:The primal sum of elements below,

Which He who fashioned all from nothing made,That through His work His power be displayed.

At first, the elements were four and plain;They rose to being, free of toil and strain.

Fire shone above, and in the middle layWind joined with water in an ordered way,

While dusky earth beneath them held its ground,The lowest base to which the rest were bound.

Of these, the fire first showed its potent might,And from its heat came dryness into sight.

Where fire withdrew, the cold began to reign,And after cold came moisture in its train;

When these four roots assumed their ordered place,They formed the transient dwelling of our race.

Then each with each was mingled and combined,And countless forms arose of every kind.

Then heaven’s turning vault revealed its face,Displaying wonders in its circling space;

The Seven Planets ruled the Twelvefold Signs,Each set within its proper place and lines;

Then portion, order, justice came to be;The Wise One gave each station its degree.

The spheres, fast bound to spheres in ordered chain,Once formed, began to move through their domain.

And earth took form with mountain, vale, and deep,And, like a lamp, shone bright across its sweep.

The mountains grew, the waters flowed and spread,And plants rose upward from their earthy bed.

Yet earth had no high place, no rising ground;A dark and blackened center there was found.

But overhead the stars their splendor showed,And on the world a growing brightness flowed;

Then fire rose upward, water sought its place,And round the earth the sun began its race.

The plants and trees in varied kinds arose,Each root and branch spread outward as fate sows.

No sense had they, nor faculty of mind,But growth alone was written in their kind.

Then beasts appeared, endowed with power to roam,Above the plants they made the world their home.

They sought their food, their sleep, their rest each day,And took from life what pleasure in it lay.

No tongue for speech, no searching mind they knew;From earth and herbage all their nurture grew.

They knew no good or evil from the deed;Nor did the Maker ask their worship’s need.

The Wise One, mighty, just, revealed His art;Its seen and hidden lie beyond our heart.

A further step, and man came forth, the last,For whom the whole creation had been cast.

All things were formed, a lock without a key,Till man arose, and man that key would be.

With head held high, like cypress straight and tall,Endowed with speech and reason over all,

With knowledge, wisdom, judgment at his hand,He ruled the creatures placed in his command.

Now look with wisdom: what does “human” mean?Seek more than merely what the name may seem.

Call none a man by outward name alone;Seek signs by which his inward worth is known.

From two great worlds your nature has been raised,Through many stages formed, sustained, and phased.

Though made the last, you stand the first in worth;Then hold not cheap your own high place on earth.

For who can know what God has made His own?What secrets rest with Him, and Him alone?

Look on your end, and see it as it stands;Find a good work, and take it in your hands.

Rightly you give your body toil each day;For toil in search of knowledge brings its pay.

If you would flee misfortune’s binding snare,Then guard your steps with vigilance and care.

In both worlds seek release from evil’s blight;Do good before the Maker, just and right.

Then gaze upon the swiftly turning sphere;From it come both the remedy and fear.

No turn of time can wear that circle thin,No toil nor care can work its hurt therein.

It does not rest, nor does its course decay,Nor fade like us who die and pass away.

From it come increase, measure, and degree;And good and ill unfold by its decree.

This azure dome is ruby, pure and bright,No wind, no water, dust, nor smoke unite.

With ordered lamps and torches burning clear,Like gardens dressed when bright Nowruz draws near.

Within it moves the heart-enkindling stone,From which the day has all its brightness known.

Each dawn it lifts a golden shield on high,And from the East it lifts its shining eye.

It robes the earth in garments made of light,And turns the darkened world to splendor bright.

When westward now the sun begins its flight,From out the East now comes the dark of night.

Yet neither ever gains or falls behind;No course is straighter than the roads assigned.

O Sun, what change has turned your light away?Why does your glory leave me dark today?

The moon gives light through every darkened night;So turn from evil while you have the light.

For two full days and nights its face is gone,Worn by the turning course that bears it on.

Then thin and yellow, curved, it comes in view,Like one whom grief for love has bent in two.

If from afar you glimpse it in the sky,It fades at once, evades the seeking eye.

But on the next night more of it appears,And gives a fuller light to one who peers.

Through fourteen days it rounds to full and sound,Then turns back to the first shape it had found.

It lessens as the nights succeed their run,And draws each night still nearer to the sun.

Thus did the Just Lord set it in its way;So it has been, and shall be, and shall stay.

Faith joined with knowledge, each a steadfast guide,Seek out salvation’s gate and there abide.

If you would keep your heart from grief and fear,And spare your soul from sorrow year by year,

Then seek your road in what the Prophet taught,And wash your heart’s dark stains in what he brought.

What said Yazdan who gave the sacred bidding,Yazdan of all command and all forbidding?

That after all the Prophets, none we findMore blest than Abu Bakr among mankind.

Umar gave Islam glory, spread it wide,And decked the world like spring in blooming pride.

Then Uthman came, the third by all revered,In modesty and faith alike endeared.

The fourth was Ali, Fatima’s dear lord,For goodness by the Prophet’s tongue adored.

“I am the city of all knowledge; knowThat Ali is its gate, through which men go.”

I bear this witness: these were words he said;Those words still echo clearly in my head.

Thus he spoke of Ali, and of the rest;Through all of them the faith grew firm and blessed.

The Prophet is the sun, their source of light;Like moons, his friends pursue the path of right.

I am the Prophet’s household’s servant sworn,And praise the dust the Wasi’s feet have worn.

With others I have neither claim nor care;No other creed or path will I declare.

The wise have called this world a restless deep,Whose waves the unseen winds forever sweep.

On it sail seventy great ships in all,Their masts upreared, their sails hung broad and tall.

One broad ship, like a bride adorned, went by,Bright-figured as the rooster’s shining eye.

Mohammad is within it, Ali too,His Wasi and the Prophet’s household true.

The sage who watched that sea could see no shore,No bottom to it, and no ocean floor.

He knew the waves would strike; he knew that noneWould come out from that drowning, no, not one.

He said in heart: “If drowning be my lot,Prophet and Wasi leave me friendless not.

Surely my hand shall find a helper known:Yazdan of crown, of banner, and of throne.

His is the honey-brook, the wine’s own stream,The spring of milk, the water’s limpid gleam.”

If on the other dwelling you would gaze,Keep near the Prophet and Ali always.

If this displeases you, the fault is mine;Such is my faith, the path I hold divine.

In this faith born, in this faith let me die;Dust beneath Haidar’s foot; that dust am I.

Your heart, if it strays, is your fiercest foe,No enemy can bring your soul as low.

The foe of Ali is of birth defiled,Whose body Yazdan’s fire shall burn, exiled.

Who keeps in soul a hatred of Ali,Who is more wretched in the world than he?

So take this world in earnest, not in jest,Walk with the just, and follow what is best.

Let righteousness be yours in all you do,If you would stand among the honored few.

Why should I linger, speaking without end?This theme outruns all words that I could spend.

The tale is told; no telling thing is new;Of all once said, I take one up with you.

All have passed on through wisdom’s ancient field,And what I now speak, sages have revealed.

Yet though I gain no place upon that tree,Nor strive to climb its heights for all to see,

Still one who rests beneath its spreading shadeWill find much peace within the shelter made.

Perhaps I too may find a place to rise,Beneath that shade-cypress that seeks the skies.

By leaving here this record of the kings,I set my name among these offerings.

Do not suppose these tales are empty lies,For truth may hide beneath a fabled guise.

Accept what reason finds both sound and true;And through its symbols seek the deeper view.

In bygone days there lived, and spread, and grew,An epic cycle that the ancients knew.

Scattered it lay in every Mobad’s hand,Each sage preserved a portion through the land.

At last a Pahlevan of dehqan line,Brave, wise, and generous in his grand design,

A seeker skilled in tracing ancient lore,Who searched the past and all its hidden store,

Resolved to learn what truth might yet remain,And summoned aged Mobadan from each plain.

He asked what annals told of crown and throne,Of heroes famed whose deeds were widely known,

How once they held the world in ages past,And left it so diminished at the last.

How fortune favored them in days of might,And how those days of valor passed from sight.

The sages spoke of all the vanished years,Of kings and worlds, their triumphs and their tears;

He bent his ear to every learned tongue,And from their words this present work was sprung.

That work endures, a monument in time,Praised by the humble and the most Sublime.

When from the book these ancient tales were read,Their fame through gathered circles widely spread.

The world had set its heart upon this theme,The wise and truthful held it in esteem.

A gifted youth arose with ardent mind,In verse and eloquence of taste refined.

“I will retell these tales in rhyming line,”He said, and joy arose at his design.

But evil temper shadowed all his youth,And set him ever against good and truth.

Then sudden death assailed him, swift and keen,And crowned his head with helm of sable sheen.

Through that ill nature he gave up his breath,And knew no joyful day before his death.

Piece after piece his fortune turned and spun;Then by a servant’s hand his life was done.

The book remained untold when he was gone;His wakeful fortune slumbered on and on.

O God, forgive the faults that marked his way,And raise his rank upon the Judgment Day.

When from Dakiki turned my brightened mind,The throne of world-kings drew my heart inclined.

“This book to speech I will bring forth,” I vowed,And shape its written words before the crowd.

From countless men I sought the book each day,And feared that time would sweep my life away.

I feared my life might fail before the close,And leave to other hands the work I chose.

Besides, my wealth bore little fruit or gain,And none would pay the price of all my pain.

So time went on; my purpose stayed concealed,My secret aim to no one was revealed.

The age was harsh, with war on every side,The world grew narrow where the seekers tried.

I saw no man deserving of the task,None who would help me with the speech I ask.

For what on earth is finer to recallThan noble words that echo through us all?

If God had not such worthy words bestowed,How would the Prophet show the rightful road?

I had a friend, as close as friends can be,As though one skin enclosed both him and me.

One day he said, “Your purpose I endorse;Continue on, you tread the righteous course.

I have the Pahlavi book, written, stored;I will bring now the book you have implored.

Delay no more! You have both youth and art,And heroic speech already fills your heart.

Retell the stories of our kings of state,And so win honor from the good and great.”

He brought the book to me! And in that hourThe darkness left my heart and gave me power.

When to this book I first had set my hand,A noble patron rose within the land.

He, young in years, yet of Pahlevan line,Bright-souled and wise, in judgment clear and fine,

A man of counsel, modest, soft in speech,Whose gentle voice brought wisdom within reach,

Said: “What from me would turn your heart to song,And keep your spirit steadfast, firm, and strong?

Whatever lies within my power to give,I shall provide, so you need none to live;”

He guarded me as one with anxious careGuards a fresh apple from the harmful air;

Through him from lowly dust I rose so high,I reached the sphere of Saturn in the sky.

To him dust, silver, gold were all the same;His hand made generosity his fame.

The entire world was worthless in his sight,A loyal lord, his honor burning bright.

One day he vanished from the gathering-place,As from a garden cypress leaves no trace.

No living trace, no sign in death remained;By man-killing nahangs his life was claimed.

Alas his hero’s frame, his kingly height,That proud broad form now vanished from our sight.

Bereft of him, my hopes were cast aside,My trembling spirit like a willow sighed.

One counsel stayed when he had gone from view,And turned me from the crooked to the true.

“If this great Book of Kings is brought to speech,Entrust it to the kings whose courts you reach.”

My heart grew calm to hear him speak that word;My spirit gladdened at the counsel heard.

I set my hand upon this book to write,Invoking King of Kings, supreme in might.

Lord of the crown is he, and Lord of throne,World-Holder, victor, wakeful fate his own.

Since first the Maker brought the world to birth,No king like him has risen on the earth.

When on the sphere the sun displayed its crown,An ivory radiance clothed the world around.

You say, “the sun!” but can the sun compare?His light exceeds all radiance anywhere.

Abul-Qasim! this all-victorious kingHas set his throne above the sun’s own ring.

From East to West he beautified the earth;His farr revealed the golden mines of worth.

My slumbering star awoke and gave me cheer,And thoughts came surging, swift and bright and clear.

I said: “Now is the hour to speak the truth,The worn-out age is made again like youth.”

With this great monarch filling all my thought,I slept one night, with praise and wonder fraught.

My lips were still, yet inwardly I burned,My silent heart with hidden brightness turned.

And in my dream a dazzling brilliance broke,A gleaming candle from the waters woke.

It filled the gloom with brilliance like a gem,And lit the world: a ruby diadem.

The desert shone like woven cloth of gold,And reared a turquoise throne, bright to behold.

Upon that throne a moonlike lord was set,His brow beneath a jeweled coronet.

Two mil his army stretched across the plain,Seven hundred elephants formed the leftward train.

Before him stood a minister upright,Who led the Shah in justice, faith, and right.

By all those ranks, that splendor spread so wide,My senses failed, my reason swept aside.

And as I gazed upon that royal face,I spoke to those assembled in that place:

“Is this the sphere and moon, or crown and throne?Are those stars there, or armies of his own?”

One answered: “This is he whose rule extendsFrom Rum to Hind, where every border bends;

From Ghanooj’s lands up to the Sind’s stream,His sovereignty fulfills each subject’s dream.

In Turan and in Iran all obey,All nations bound beneath his sovereign ray.

With justice he adorned the waiting earth,Then placed upon his head the crown of worth.

Great Mahmud rules with justice everywhere;At one same water wolf and lamb may share.

From Kashmir to the Sea of Chin he reigns;Each ruler praises him through their domains.

The child just weaned from mother’s milk will frameFrom cradle first great Mahmud’s honored name.

None turns his head against the Shah’s command;None dares to break the covenant of his hand.

Then you as well must speak his praise aloud,And seek through him a glory long endowed.”

I woke at once and sprang up from my bed,And long that night his praise was all I said.

No wealth had I, no coin abroad to send,But poured my soul out till the night’s dark end.

I told my heart: this dream shall be made plain,For blest his fame over all the world shall reign.

Then praise the one who praises such a king,Whose wakeful fortune makes the whole land spring.

His glory clothes the earth in living green,Where bloom and beauty grace each changing scene.

At season’s call the clouds their bounty bear,Till all the world seems Iram’s garden fair.

All good in Iran springs from justice rare;Wherever people dwell, his fame they share.

At feasts his hand rains gold like falling showers,In war he strikes with all a dragon’s powers.

His body elephantine, great in might;His soul, Gabriel; cloud-hand, Nile-heart bright.

Before his wrath, a foeman’s luckless headSeems like a worthless coin beneath his tread.

He does not vaunt his crown or treasure-store,Nor flinches from the sternest test of war.

All those who serve him, be they great or small,Stand armed and ready at their master’s call.

Foremost his brother stands, though young in years,His courage matchless among his peers.

A seeker of all glory and renown,He joys beneath the Great King’s sheltering crown.

His father bore the Nasir al-Din name;Above his throne the Pleiades crown his fame.

Next stands the lord of Tus, in battle tried,Who mocks the lion raging in its pride.

Whatever wealth the world bestows, he gives;And through the world in praise his honor lives.

He leads men Godward in both word and deed,And prays the Shah long life and fortune speed.

May earth not see that royal head laid low,May he in health and triumph ever go,

Secure in crown and throne, and free from pain,And fortune’s hand confirm his just domain.

Now to the work’s beginning I proceed,And turn toward that famed Shah’s recorded deed.