PAUL LOSENSKY
Kamal al-Din Muhtasham was born in the city of Kashan in central Iran around 1528. The son of a cloth merchant, he soon gave up the family business to pursue a literary career, and he became the dominant Persian poet of the middle half of the sixteenth century. Hobbled by chronic foot pain, Muhtasham rarely left his native city, where he died in February 1588, but was well placed to respond to the major trends in religion, politics, and culture of his age. Muhtasham’s court poetry articulates the authority and ideological values of the ruling Safavid dynasty during the heyday of the reign of Shah Tahmasb (r. 1524–1576). But the poet also participated in a dynamic literary scene outside the court. His occasional poetry reflects the architectural and human landscape of Kashan’s cultural elite, and his lyric poetry participates in the world of amorous desire and intrigue among the high society of the lesser nobility, the bureaucratic class, and wealthy merchants. These selections from Muhtasham’s collected works offer glimpses of his vivid poetic portrait of his life and age.
FIRST STANZA OF MUHTASHAM’S SEVEN-STROPHE (HAFT-BAND) ODE TO ʿALI IBN ABI TALIB
Although poetry written in praise of the Prophet’s cousin, son-in-law, and the first Shiʿite imam, ʿAli ibn Abi Talib, have a long history in Persian poetry, it took on a new importance after the emergence of the Safavids, for whom Shiʿism and devotion to the descendants of the Prophet Muhammad was a central component of state ideology. According to a well-known anecdote, Shah Tahmasb rejected a panegyric poem that Muhtasham had written in his honor, instructing the poet to write instead in veneration of the imams. Muhtasham returned with his famous “Seven-Stanza Ode to ʿAli” (the first stanza of which is translated here).1 He was amply rewarded for his efforts and set a model for the expression of both religious devotion and commitment to the state.
Peace be upon the world of secrets,
the lord of the worlds,
heir to the Prophet’s knowledge,
knight in the arena of faith.
Peace be upon you! Your court
is a refuge for creation.
The Holy Spirit sweeps
your threshold with his sleeve.
Peace! Your body lies beneath the earth,
a comfort to pilgrims,
a buried treasure to purchase
paradise for humankind.
Peace! The iron bulwark
of your sword became
a strong fortress surrounding
the citadel of Islam.
Peace, o Deputy of the Prophet
at the end of days,
leader of the first
and vanguard of the last.
Conquering king of Khaybar,2 dragon destroyer,
Imam of land and sea,
Champion of truth, unconditional victor,
Amir al-mu’minin—Commander of the Faithful.
King of the realm of faith,
appointed by the Sultan of prophets,
by the clear text of the Qurʾan,
the successor of the Chosen One.3
The forearm of your succor—
the pillar of victory for the Messenger of God.
The thread of your love—
the firm rope for the people of God.
Whoever reads a chapter about you
from the foundation of theology
realizes instantly that you dwell
in the place of the Chosen One.
Since your title became Bu Turab4—
Father of the Soil—heaven’s face
is smudged with sorrow like an orphan’s
out of envy for the soil.
When the dog on your street
sets foot on the ground,
gazelles in China open wide
their eyes watching its path.
Your pure light became the yeast
in kneading Adam.
How else did the mixture
of water and clay take form?
He who put the ring of God’s hand
on your finger
carved its bezel with the words
Since you are the hand of God
and the nephew of God’s Messenger,
the Lord gave you a place
above everyone seated on high.
The hand of God,
the nephew of God’s Messenger—
only one is not under his control—
God’s Messenger.
CHRONOGRAM ON THE COMING OF KING HUMAYUN, RULER OF INDIA, AND SULTAN BAYAZID, SON OF THE CEASAR OF THE OTTOMAN REALM, TO THE FOOT OF THE MOST LOFTY THRONE OF HIS FLOURISHING MAJESTY SULTAN KING TAHMASB, DESCENDANT OF HUSAYN
On other occasions, Tahmasb welcomed Muhtasham’s ability to celebrate his temporal power and position in global politics in verse. This poem utilizes a literary device for which Muhtasham was famous—the chronogram. The letters of the Perso-Arabic alphabet each carry a numerical value, and in the chronogram, the letter-values of a memorable phrase are added together to yield the year when an important event occurred, a rhetorical technique impossible to replicate in English. The chronograms in this poem provide the dates for two events that placed Tahmasb at the center of the Muslim political world in the sixteenth century. In 1544, the Mughal king Humayun was chased out of India and took refuge at the Safavid court; after Tahmasb equipped him with arms, advisers, and cash, Humayun returned to India to reestablish the Mughal dynasty, which would rule most of India until the eighteenth century. About sixteen years later, the rebellious Ottoman prince Bayazid (“the offspring of the ruler of Anatolia,” Suleiman the Magnificent) also sought shelter with the Safavids. Bayazid, however, proved to be a troublesome guest, and he and his retinue were eventually killed, no doubt helping to assure diplomatic peace between the Safavids and Ottomans. Though the two events did not coincide, Muhtasham brings them together by including the same act of submission, kissing the feet, in both chronograms.6
When Fortune raised its head to the zenith
of victory and conquest, and safety
and security unveiled their faces,
the blessed king, firm on the throne of joy,
Darius on the sun-throne in heaven’s court,7
who pacifies discords at the end time,
and washes the dust of revolution
from the face of victory—Tahmasb Khan,
the refuge of the world, the royal king,
guiding the compass at the center point
of the cosmos, an Abu Turab present here—
there came to him from one direction
the imperial eagle of Humayun,
who sought his temporal desires
by kissing his stirrup and was triumphant.
From the other direction, the offspring
of the king of Anatolia rubbed
his head against the clouds by kissing his foot.
I sought from Reason the first year
of this convergence, and it said,
“The seeker of worldly desire
kissed the king’s stirrup.” (= 951/1544).
When I asked for the date
of its conjunct, it said,
“A foreign moon arrived
to kiss the foot of the sun.” (= 967/1559–60)
PANEGYRIC TO PARI KHAN KHANUM
Muhtasham’s primary patron in the Safavid royal family, however, was not Shah Tahmasb, but his daughter, the cultured and powerful Pari Khan Khanum. This praise poem records a central event in Muhtasham’s literary career.8 The “sealed decree” delivered by the messenger was probably an edict that gave Muhtasham the power to review and approve of all poems submitted to the royal court, making him in effect the official arbiter of literary production and patronage of the imperial court.
A messenger came last night to the humble home
of this feeble man. His arrival brought my soul
great glad tidings. His courtesy indicated good news,
filling the heart with promises of eternal joy.
The smell of ambergris spread all around him
and wafted on the breezes to gardens far and wide.
In his dulcet phrases, my heart tasted honey,
a taste sweeter to my soul than words can say.
The dust from his journey was like a soothing balm,
giving comfort and ease to my sleepless eyes.
In exchange for his words, which rang loud in my ears,
I made my boundless thanks resound throughout the world.
What words were those? He said: “Come now, rouse yourself
from sorrow’s company. The arrows of your prayers
have hit their target. Throw off the rags of grief.
A special honor comes to you from the sun
dwelling in heaven, the prosperous Queen Bilqis,9
Pari Khan, whose command extends to the fourth throne
of heaven. Worshipped on land and sea, her threshold
is worn smooth so often have khans and sultans
politely touched their heads down upon it. Last night,
a thousand kings of royal demeanor came to touch
the saddle cover of the least rider in her retinue.
A thousand angels sent from heaven came to bow
down their heads at the furthest barrier of her court.
When she musters her army, its width and breadth
reach from one horizon to the other like sunlight.
Where she spreads the table of bounty, its blessings
reach one and all like God’s universal sustenance.
For anyone whom she aids, a mirage gushes up
with springs of living waters, rushing like gales.
At the feet of anyone whom she wishes well,
the riches of oceans and mines surge like floods.
Which sea gave rise to the cloudbanks of her gifts?
The effects of their bounty traversed both space and time.
Which gardens gave nurture to her lofty date palm?
Its life-bestowing fruits come to young and old.”
Among her gifts, he brought along a sealed decree.
A scrip for the Provider’s bounty came to me
redeemable anywhere. Her chain of justice
was linked to the horizons, so all eyes can behold
the equity of Anushirvan.10 When her justice crushed
oppression under foot, wolves bowed to shepherd’s feet.
Now that her governance has humbled cruelty,
guard dogs inflict thieves with multiple wounds.
When she asks those informed directions to the house
of her enemy, sudden death always comes calling.
Unknowing, like fate, each arrow from disaster’s bow
directed itself, certain and sure, to her foes.
O king of kings, if I set forth with due dignity
the things that enemies have done to feeble me,
and how when the gift warrant and robe of honor
arrived from that sunbeam torch, the moon’s guardian,
and how that flood of sorrow rushing after me
has passed over me and has swamped my enemies,
her Excellence will be more happy for her kindness
than one could ever reach the end of reckoning.
Perhaps inspiration came from the All-Knowing
King in heaven to your most august mind and said:
“O Princess, take note of broken-hearted Muhtasham,
driven to despair by his enemies’ malice,
so ample sustenance comes to him morning and night
from heaven’s round table by the Provider’s decree.”
May your bounteous table be spread, for in this world,
its largesse reaches oppressed and destitute multitudes.
IN PRAISE OF THE GREATEST AMIR YUSUF BAYK IBN MUHAMMAD KHAN AND ONE OF HIS SECLUDED LADIES
After the death of Tahmasb in 1576, a prolonged and violent struggle erupted among his children and the tribal leaders who had supported his rule. Attempting to keep afloat on these shifting political currents, Muhtasham wrote poems in honor of all the major contenders for power as their fortunes ebbed and flowed. This poem celebrates the marriage of Yusuf Bayk, who was charged with defending the Turkmen tribe’s base of power in Kashan, and the daughter of another tribal leader, Amir Khan.11 The poem begins by identifying Kashan with Egypt, which naturally welcomes the arrival of its savior, Joseph/Yusuf. The grandiose praise for this relatively insignificant figure resounds with the aging poet’s desperate plea for stability, a futile hope as Yusuf Bayk was killed by a musket ball fired by his own men shortly after this poem was written. By the end of the poem, Muhtasham can rely only on his own literary craftsmanship.
Such did Kashan—Egypt on the face of the earth—
desire in the friendship of a Joseph such as this:
namely, the lamp of the eye, the mighty amir,
the sun on earth, lighting up the moon in the sky,
namely, the chosen deputy of the renowned king,
a successful Darius, the Turkmen’s leader and head,
namely, the resident in the court of rulership,
whose place is beyond the view of the placeless,
the new risen sun, the prosperous seizer of worlds,
the new Jamshid, successful in youthful fortune,
quick rider in the arena of state, whose onrush
snatches heaven’s golden orb with its mallet,12
hunter of beasts in thickets of fury, whose fearsomeness
drains the life from the bodies of a thousand lions—
When that amir tests his sword, instantly
the plains are filled with severed heads.
A hint of the eyebrow, the bow in his hand,
throws troops of riders from their saddles to the dust.
When haughty winds leave the tyrant’s head,
the belligerent wolf bows down to the shepherd.
When he wishes to transform the state of bodies,
mountains are light-weight, and straw grows heavy.
When he seeks to change the form of the planets,
the sun appears moon-like, and the moon like the sun.
If he launches across the heavens on horseback,
the heads of stars are in debt to his horse’s hooves.
Day and night, sun and moon are in the vanguard
around his court like enslaved guards.
Upright men who bow at his threshold lord
it over the heavens in their pride and pomp.
The phoenix of his ambition has its nest
atop the ninth heaven, making the world look small.
When he dips his hand into the purse of largesse
to scatter gold, beggars’ skirts stretch as wide as their sleeves.
The garden of his generosity, a spring without autumn,
yields such fruit that the eye of greed is sated.
If the sea of his bounty begins to seethe,
it casts up worlds of kingly pearls on the shore.
Since being without a partner, unique and single, is
reserved for the Unique One, adored by man and jinn,
youthful Bilqis came out from the veil of the sultanate
for the sake of that praiseworthy Solomon.
No, not Bilqis, but Khadija,13 veiled by the sun,
a hint of the angels who reside in heaven,
the concealed and chaste, whom the Veiler14
has hidden from the world behind seven veils,
light of the world, the plaque above the portico of rule,
the daughter of the great family of Amir Khan,
No purity is greater than hers except for
the chaste Sayyida at the end of time.
In short, when those two new moons
of happy ascent found in each other
a homogeneous conjunction,
on the page of imagination—
may it be preserved from decay—
the genius of the historian,
with the aid of rhetoric’s pen,
incited this kingly, flowing couplet
each line of which gives
the date of this conjugal union:
“They were united in soul like two moons as one, (=993/1585)
prosperous Bilqis and successful Solomon.” (=993/1585)
Your genius, Muhtasham,
while knotting these verses,
uttered this chronogram couplet,
after settling the rhyme
and the meter’s demands,
for these two make one world
after this date. Now say:
“Boast of magic—one can claim,
a miracle in your age
with these remote ideas.”
TWO CHRONOGRAMS ON THE DEATH OF AN ENEMY AND THE DEATH OF A FRIEND
Aside from his engagement with major and minor political figures, Muhtasham played a prominent public role in the broader cultural life of Kashan, the literary and cultural center of sixteenth-century Iran. His high status, privilege, and talent assured that he would have both friends and detractors, and chronograms on the deaths of two of them testify to the deep affection and animus that characterized relationships in this often cutthroat artistic world.15
Chronogram on the Death of the Poet Maqsud When He Was Murdered in Yazd
Despicable dog,
the lowly and mean Maqsud,
an enemy of religion,
created out of spite,
a piece of shit
more putrid than dog shit,
like a dog ate a corpse
and out he shat.
What a blessed night was the night
when his murderer ripped out his guts
with the point of a dagger.
Hell’s landlord grabbed his collar
and dragged him across Hades’ plaza.
Wisdom knocked on thought’s door
and brought to mind two splendid chronograms
in these two lines:
“He kept the soil of Hell soiled.” (= 987/1579)
“Even shit was stained by his foul spirit.” (= 987/1579)
Chronogram on the Death of the Unique One of the Age, Sheltering in God’s Mercy and Forgiveness, the Calligrapher Mir Mu’izz al-Din
O Heaven, so hostile,
so faithless, o heart of stone!
His friends’ affairs in shambles:
Where is the finest among them?
Where is the renowned amir,
Mu’izz al-Din Muhammad,
who conquered the world the way
sunlight embraces the earth?
Where are the magical motions
of those fingers? The beauty
of his calligraphy once plundered
his friends’ tranquil hearts.
Do you demand I show fortitude
in the face of this hardship?
No, this is cause for lamentation,
no place for etiquette.
I sometimes resolve
to be less edgy and restless,
but what can ease the heart?
I expect he will come to me later
from time to time in dreams,
but how will my eyes sleep
for tears mourning him?
Since this treasure of beauty
now adorns paradise,
this cry falls over land and sea:
“Where is that peerless pearl?”
When the scribe of spirits asked me
for his chronogram, I said,
“Where is the model calligrapher?” (= 990/1582)
for that is who he was.
POEMS ON ARCHITECTURE
As the preceding poem on the death of a calligrapher indicates, Muhtasham was engaged in many art forms beyond poetry, architecture in particular. Not unlike poems, public buildings, fountains, and homes are products of careful design and craftsmanship, and a poem could be recited in the setting of the structure described or inscribed on its surface.16 In the second of these poems, the house with its red entryway “speaks” for itself as a loving and yearning host welcoming its beloved guest, and personification melds the architectural structure with its human creators and inhabitants.17
Quatrains on a Fountain
(1) Such water! Khizr18 asked it for immortality
and the envious water of life receded.
This water does not rise up from the force
of the fountain. It stands tall to honor you.
(2) The waters of Zamzam sink into the ground,
embarrassed by this effulgent font of Kawsar.19
Is it strange if it bubbles up from the basin?
The fiery reflection of your face makes it boil.
(5) The designer who laid this building out
has integrated various crafts as one.
He has sown a magical garden, it seems,
where shoots of plants sprout up from the water.
(6) This water rising upward like a flame
and clinging to the winds’ skirts in desire
is like Muhtasham’s tears that bubble up
from the heart’s fire and gush out from within.
Ghazal for Inscription on a House
Awaiting a dear friend,
my eye sockets are a portico
painted red with tears.
My dear treasury
of loveliness,
why dwell so long
in another’s heart?
Come. I, too,
have a treasure
buried in the ruins.
Come to the tulip bed
of my scarred heart.
Time cannot recall
such a garden of roses.
Would it be so awful
if a sultan just once
reposed free of pomp
in a beggar’s abode?
My king, by my life
(or what’s left of it),
is it any wonder
a host is ashamed
before someone like you?
The party that you perfume
with the dust
from your clothes
needs no burning incense.
come on inside.
Without you, Muhtasham
is like a lifeless body
or a painting on the wall.
SELECTION FROM THE LOVER’S CONFECTION (NUQL-I ‘USHSHAQ)
The homes and streets of sixteenth-century Iranian cities were the setting for a refined cult of amorous desire. The pursuit of the love of both women and young men developed into an elaborate mode of behavior that was part social display and part erotic obsession. The lyric ghazal was a crucial instrument in this play of passion. In The Lover’s Confection, Muhtasham embeds thirty-eight ghazals in a prose narrative that gives a fictionalized autobiographical account of his purported love affair with a high-class courtesan.20 In the following selection from near the end of the work, the poet-narrator is working to repair a rift in their relationship caused by a rash and angry poem he had sent to his beloved earlier. A concerned go-between judges her reaction to both this poem and a poem of apology Muhtasham wrote immediately afterward and advises the narrator on his next move in this delicate amorous negotiation, which he executes in the concluding poem.
Translation
That courier, the sympathetic go-between who had diligently undertaken from the first to forge the chain of affection between that beauty and me, was by chance present when she read those two ghazals. By the power of his long-standing intimacy, he ascertained every detail of her changing moods and attitudes toward me, a heartsick prisoner of love, toward those disreputable, frivolous pretenders, and toward those occupied with their own self-interests, who were ignorant of the motives of a temptress busily working to stir up her suitor’s jealousy and whose filthy minds and shriveled souls that sultan of loveliness considered to be stones or inert clods, keeping herself strictly secluded from such fawning beggars due to the contempt and disrepute they had in her eyes. Then, that very night, he sped over to my humble residence out of his compassion for the miserable, and after describing the circumstances with fabulous, spellbinding words, he boldly ventured to offer this advice: “Although you burst like a rue seed on the fire of anxiety and are prone to burn down the ruined remains of your own prosperity, take heed henceforth to sit silent and still and to pull back completely from talking wildly and irritating the one you love, for as soon as the sensitive nose of that musky gazelle caught a whiff of the conciliatory breeze that wafted from your last ghazal, she left estrangement and bickering a thousand miles behind because of her natural forbearance, delicately appreciative of acts of kindness, for it is her innate character to overlook faults and forgive sins.”
So, I exerted myself to the utmost in seeking to make that mood fully manifest and to explicate perfectly those astonishing mysteries. I opened the lids on many a private jewel box, each worth more than myriad precious pearls,21 to give voice at each moment to her kind soul that was fully aware of my intimate affairs. In composing this ghazal, suitable to the taste of those sweet lips, I strove to array the instruments of peace, and I multiplied yearning by yearning breath by breath and solicitude by solicitude moment by moment:
Why don’t you string me along
with your lovers anymore
or destroy my life with your jokes?
Why don’t you light the fire of love
that you first kindled in my heart
and make me smolder deep inside?
To drive me crazy, why don’t you
set aside your innocence
and inflict endless disgrace on me?
Why not take up beauty’s ways again
and bring home all my gathered wares,
more loving than at any time?
Why don’t you call me your cur
anymore and bring me panting to kiss
the feet of the dog at your door?
I will cling to your skirts again,
if I’m sure you won’t be quick
to notice every stain I leave on them.
I will be, like Muhtasham, a dog
on your street, if I now you won’t bring
screaming rivals down around my ears again.
THREE LOVE POEMS (GHAZALS)
Muhtasham’s free-standing ghazals often present single encounters between lovers, crucial moments in a drama of illicit romance and seduction. In the first two poems, the speaker engages not only with his beloved but indirectly with his rival (“the other,” “that someone else”), as well as with onlookers and gossips from whom the affair should be kept decorously concealed. The third ghazal presents a rare moment of union and fulfillment, poised in a dream world between fantasy and reality.22
Ghazal 72
They let something you said slip out clearly
last night. Your hidden anger, praise God, is now
out in the open. Throughout history, lovers
used to hide their murders. In your age
at last, this secret custom has
gone public.
You’ve flung the veil far aside. Craving wine
your words tonight ring clearly in my ears.
Drunk last night, you explained clearly every
word of those notes that your heart kept hidden.
One who kept your route to the mosque secret
last night revealed your path to the tavern
in public.
The other’s enmity even toward you
was made plain today so often did he swear
falsely (but clearly) on your very life.
By innuendo you spoke of someone’s sins.
By your eloquence, Muhtasham’s sin was
made public.
Ghazal 199
I kept my eyes so fixed tonight
on his flirtatious eyes
that I kept him from looking
at someone else. That someone else
was just grazed by an arrow
of feigned indifference from his bow,
so closely did I keep my watch
on his caressing gaze. Sidelong
I kept the corner of one eye
trained on his half-coquettish look
so he couldn’t glance at my rival
half-meaning to lead him on.
With all these furtive signs
to keep my rivals at bay,
my secret was revealed.
He relieved me of the need
to flirt with other darlings,
and I kept him from needing
to need anyone else.
Behold my day of love:
that cavalier galloped by,
and I pulled on passion’s
lasso and held him back.
Mohtasham was only toying
with his fantasy, but my fingers
were working the chains
of his flowing tresses.
Ghazal 209
The night I dreamt of the silver limbs
of that cypress, I watched my own body
quiver clearly like quicksilver.
In the dark of that night,
I saw flames of moonglow
stream out through the window
from the bright moon of her face.
I could not see her diaphanous body,
but I watched her face in the mirror
like an autumn leaf on the water.
The light of the eyes of the wakeful—
what a shining star she was!
Beside her I saw the moon shine
to be lusterless and dull.
Truly, her precious body
was the water of life-giving moisture
to the garden of the spirit.
undulated in my embrace,
I saw the flanks of my torso
fill with pure silver.
Don’t lift the lid on the jewel box
of poetry, Mohtasham, more than this.
No one dares say what I saw in my dream.
FOUR STANZAS FROM AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF HIS BROTHER, KHVAJAH ʿABD AL-GHANI
Muhtasham was a prominent public figure whose poetry deeply engaged in all aspects of the social life of his age, but one of his most famous poems was written in response to a profoundly personal event. Safavid Iran and Mughal India were closely linked commercially, politically, and culturally, and many Iranian emigrants took advantage of the opportunities that the wealth of India offered. Muhtasham’s younger brother, ʿAbd al-Ghani, was less fortunate. Probably traveling on family business, he died unexpectedly in India far from home. Muhtasham’s strophic elegy (of which the first and last three stanzas are translated here)23 expresses the poet’s profound sorrow and sense of loss over the death of a brother and the death of part of himself.
Stanza 1
Cruel and unjust, bellicose heavens!
Alas for the malice of the hypocrite spheres!
You made me drink the chalice of injustice
to remind me of death until doomsday.
You made me listen to words of cruelty
to forget forever words to my good health.
I writhe between the fire and the flood.
Where is the gale of death
to carry off the dust of my mortal clay?
Is there no kind friend to destroy me?
No companion to help in my demise?
Is there no messenger to bring greetings
from my heart, a broken-wing bird,
to the palm tree that grows in paradise?
My head be your sacrifice,
O morning breeze! Arise and go
to the world of spirits from this ruined abode.
Seek a sign of my lost one among the noble and the wise.
Track down my Joseph among the slaves and the free.
When you come to that place
where chaste youths walk proud,
dismount from the steed of resolve
and set up a lamentation.
When you catch a glimpse of my ʿAbd al-Ghani,
deliver from my tongue a cry of pain:
“O light of your brother’s eye,
he sends you this message:
‘Your death has forbidden me life.’”
Stanza 8
Is any part of my body left unscarred by grief?
Any part my heart left unwounded by your absence?
Are the rivers of my tears not in full flood?
Do houses not burn like furnaces from my sighs?
Are not the clothes of my life rent in despair
like a tulip’s petals from collar to hem?
Do the beams of sun or moon light up my eyes
when they are dark without the glow of your face?
What pleasure do I get from the melody
of song, harp, or lute,
when my only songs are dirges and threnodies?
The wings of my joy are so broken
that it will have no perch but nests of sadness.
Like the sea, I beat my own head over a lost pearl,
a jewel to be found in no quarry or mine.
I cry like a nightingale: in my meadow, a rose
that grows nowhere else
has blown away on the wind.
Seek out his equal in my soul,
for his only chronogram is this:
“The brother who equals my life.” (= 959/1552)
Those brothers know my state
whose lives commune together in love.
Stanza 9
In your absence, O brother,
what should I do in this world?
What make of my heart?
What should I do with my feeble soul?
Like a bow, my body is bent by the weight of grief,
but there’s no fighting the arched heavens.
What should I do?
With patience, one might bear the burden of absence,
but your absence is too heavy a load.
What should I do?
The night of your absence
burned me to the bone, and still
it will not leave the marrow.
What should I do?
I live, and death does not take life from me.
I’m stuck in this business. By my life,
what should I do?
Searching for you, my soul is slipping
from my lips, and no one
can direct me to the road to oblivion.
What should I do?
The heavens cover their ears from my sad lament,
and still death won’t seal my lips.
What should I do?
Friends who speak my language come,
but what should I do
with those who speak my language
when I have nothing to say?
It’s better for Muhtasham to die than to live,
but death keeps holding back.
What should I do?
Grieving for you, my sea of tears has no shore
I flounder in this boundless sea.
What should I do?
If my body is not extinguished like a candle
in this storm of tears, it is right to kill me.
Stanza 11
May you sit in the shade of Tuba and Sidrah.24
May the tidings of the verse
Beatitude is theirs be yours.25
As long as the limpid waters of God’s mercy
flow in paradise,
may your limpid spirit dwell in highest heaven.
Though you gave your brother over
to the clutches of sorrow,
may your heart, dear brother, be free of grief.
Though you lit in me
fires of alienation,
may your soul swim in the sea of God’s mercy.
Though you have left me to burn
in the scorching sun of sorrow,
in the shade of Muhammad’s green banner,
may your soul rest.
Since you found the taste of the world bitter,
may purifying wine be yours
to drink from the munificent palm of ʿAli.
Since the Prophet said that anyone who dies
in a foreign land is a martyr,
may you enjoy the blessing of Karbala’s martyrs.26
When they summon forth the exiles,
may your fate be
the intercession of ʿAli ibn Musa al-Riza.27
When the sinful wail,
may the fount of intercession
cure you from the torment and pain.
When you turn toward paradise,
may this call ring in your ears
on every side from the King of Mercy:
“O you who drank the wine of death
in your youth, come and drink
purifying wine from the hands of angels.”
NOTES
1. Persian text in Muhtasham Kashani, Haft Divan, ed. ʿAbd al-Husayn Nava’i and Mahdi Sadra (Tehran: Miras-i Maktub, 2001), 1:288–90.
2. A crucial battle in the establishment of Muslim power in the Arabian peninsula, in which ʿAli demonstrated exceptional bravery and prowess in battle.
3. The Chosen One, like God’s Messenger in the next verse, refers to the Prophet Muhammad.
4. Bu Turab, Father of the Soil, is a nickname given to ʿAli by Muhammad.
5. The italicized phrases come from the Qurʾan 48:10: “Those who pledge allegiance to you pledge allegiance to God himself. The hand of God is placed upon theirs.” In the Qurʾan, “you” refers to Muhammad; here it is used to refer to ʿAli.
6. Persian text: Muhtasham, Haft Divan, 2:1537–80.
7. Darius is the name of several ancient, pre-Islamic kings of Persia, a personification of political power and successful rulership.
8. Persian text: Muhtasham, Haft Divan, 1:365–67.
9. Bilqis is the name of the Queen of Sheba, King Solomon’s one-time rival and later bride. She represents the ideal of the woman in a position of political power.
10. Anushirvan is another pre-Islamic king of Persia, known especially for his fairness and equity. A chain hung outside his palace that any passer-by could pull to demand justice from the king.
11. Persian text: Muhtasham, Haft Divan, 1:570–71.
12. This line is based on the game of polo, a common pastime among the military-political elite.
13. Muhtasham here replaces the pre-Islamic figure of Queen Bilqis with Khadija, the Prophet Muhammad’s first wife, as an archetypal model for Yusuf Bayg’s wife.
14. The Veiler is one of the attributes of God.
15. Persian text for both chronograms is from Muhtasham, Haft Divan, 2:1531–32 and 2:1588–89.
16. Persian text for “Quatrains on a Fountain,” is from Muhtasham, Haft Divan, 1:820–21.
17. Persian text for “Ghazal for Inscription on a House,” is from Muhtasham, Haft Divan, 1:799–800.
18. Khizr is a legendary figure who attained immortality after drinking from the water of life.
19. Zamzam is the sacred well located in the sacred precinct, here “embarrassed” by the water in the fountain, which is likened to Kawsar, the river that runs through paradise.
20. Persian text: Muhtasham, Haft Divan, 2:1454–55.
21. Pearls are a common metaphor for lines of verse, and the jewel box here is the poet’s poetic genius.
22. Persian text for all three poems is from Muhtasham, Haft Divan: Ghazal 72, 2:923; Ghazal 199, 2:1024; Ghazal 209, 2:1031–32.
23. Persian text: Muhtasham, Haft Divan, 1:626–36.
24. Tuba and Sidra are the names of two trees growing in paradise.
25. The italicized phrase comes from Qurʾan 13:29: “Those who believe and do good works, beatitude is theirs and a beautiful homecoming.”
26. “Karbala’s martyrs” refers to ʿAli’s son Husayn, whose martyrdom at Karbala is the foundational event in Shiʿite history, and his supporters.
27. ʿAli ibn Musa al-Riza is the eighth Shiʿite imam whose shrine is a major Shiʿite pilgrimage site in the city of Mashhad.
FURTHER READING
Browne, E. G. A Literary History of Persia. 4:172–77, 241. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1902–1924.
——. “Poetics and Eros in Early Modern Persia: The Lover’s Confection and The Glorious Epistle by Muhtahsam Kashani.” Iranian Studies 42 (2009): 745–64.
Massé, Henri. “Le chant funèbre de Mohtacham-e Kachani en mémoire de son frère Khadjè Abd-al-Ghani.” In Yadnama-ye irani-ye Minorsky, ed. Mojtaba Minovi and Iraj Afshar, 131–38. Tehran: Danishgah-i Tehran, 1969.