Ansari fulfilled his lord's behest, And loaded the camels and mules with the best And costliest presents, the value of which In propria persona he left at last The palace, when some three days had past, And with a general's banner red In front of the caravan he sped. At the end of a week to Thus came they; The caravan the western gate With shouts and noises entered straight. The trumpets sounded, the loud drums beat, La Illa Il Allah!" with joyous shout The camel-drivers were calling out. But through the east gate at the farther end The funeral train so full of gloom, That the dead Ferdusi bore to his tomb. Heinrich Heine. Tr. E. A. Bowring. I BRAHMA. ing sun; "Rest here!" I whisper the atom; I call to the orb, "Roll on!" I am the blush of morning, and I am the evening breeze; I am the leaf's low murmur, the swell of the terrible seas; I am the net, the fowler, the bird and its frightened cry, The mirror, the form reflected, the sound and its echo, I; The lover's passionate pleading, the maiden's whispered fear, The warrior, the blade that smites him, his mother's heart-wrung tear; I am intoxication, grapes, wine-press, and must and wine, The guest, the host, the tavern, the goblet of crystal fine; I am the breath of the flute, I am the mind of man, Gold's glitter, the light of the diamond, and the seapearl's lustre wan, The rose, her poet nightingale, the songs from his throat that rise, Flint sparks, the taper, the moth, that about it flies. I am both Good and Evil; the deed and the deed's intent, Temptation, victim, sinner, crime, pardon and punishment, I am what was, is, will be; creation's ascent and fall; The link, the chain of existence; beginning and end of all. Dschelaleddin Rumi. Tr. F. F. Ritter. IF BRAHMA. the red slayer think he slays, Far or forgot to me is near, Shadow and sunlight are the same. The vanished gods to me appear, And one to me are shame and fame. They reckon ill who leave me out; And I the hymn the Brahmin sings. The strong gods pine for my abode, Ralph Waldo Emerson. BRAHMA. I AM the dweller with the one high God, And God himself dwells here, unseen, with me! He is embodied in the meanest clod, And he exists in every stone and tree. Man thinks he slays me, saying, God is naught: "As milk to curd, as water is to ice," I am the sunshine and the raging storm. |