Verses from the Persian of Sa'ib (1605-107)
Poet at the Court of the Grand Mogul. and later Poet Laureate to Abbas II. Shah of Persia ON A CANDLE GUTTERING THE Candle does not mourn the Moth Which found oblivion in her light: Although the dawn is near she weeps. Remembering her own dark night.
OUR HOST WITHIN this Tavern nought is wasted: Here delicious wines arc tasted: Then. while the guests prepare to sup, Our Host will put aside the cup, And from a handful of the clay That you or I might throw away, Upon his potter's wheel will spin A cooling Wine-jar for the Inn.
ON PASSING A GRAVEYARD TWIXT Death's dark shuttered mansion And Life's fair countryside Stands nothing save an emblem A hand's breadth wide ; And as I pass the graveyard, Where Death impatient stands, I see the dead men beckoning With bone-white hands. J. C. E. BOWEN.
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