Khushḥāl Khān, Khattak: The Poems of Khushḥāl Khān, Kh

In Hind, O Khushḥāl! thou wilt not remain for aye; For the sinner, even, at last, will escape from the fire of Hell! p. 195 XLIV. I never will carry my face unto the mirror again, * Nor will I again anoint mine eyes with antimony! Never more will I dye red my white hands with ḥinnā, † Nor smoothe out, with the comb, my long hair any more! I will not arrange the little ringlets, in clusters round my face, Nor will I redden my lips with the betel-leaf ‡ again! For whom shall I deck out and ornament my person, When my beloved friend is not present the same to behold? My whole frame turneth into red flames and dense smoke, When, in my heart, I think of the secrets of our love. Though life is sweeter than aught else in the world besides, What shall I do with it? ’tis bitter now, from my love severed. May he be Happy, that dear friend, wherever he may be! Let him for his own happiness care—I alone will mourn! § p. 196 XLV. I am intoxicated! I am a worshipper of wine! I indulge! I indulge! Give ear, O censor! dost hear me? I drink wine! I drink wine! All other wine soever, I have given up to the world to drink of; But her lip is a wine that I will not resign—for it I die! I die! I shall not become satiated therefrom; for my thirst is unquenchable, Although, such overflowing cups I should quaff for ever! for ever! I, indeed, who on such a path as this, still journey on my way, Used not always to be in safety; for it is the path of love! love!

Used not always to be in safety; for it is the path of love! love! What askest thou me?—"What was thy state in separation?" Well—I knew nothing else, save that my heart was burning! burning! People say unto me, "Verily thy colour is become sallow—thou art in love!" I do not deny it: truly, my friends, I am in love! indeed, I am! With the lover it is customary, that in love he should brook censure; For this reason, I, Khushḥāl, undergo it—I suffer it, and endure! XLVI. I become quite astonished with the people of the world, To see what these dogs do, for the sake of the flesh's lusts. Such acts and proceedings are developed, and perpetrated by them, As the Devil would never have thought of, and never have uttered. The Ḳur’ān they always place before them, and from it they read; But none of their doings will be in conformity with the tenets thereof. p. 197 What road shall I follow in pursuit of them? where shall I seek? For, like unto Alchemy itself, the wise have become scarce indeed. Good men are like rubies and garnets—they can rarely be found; But like unto any common stones, the worthless are not a few. Do they belong to the afrīt, * the demon, or the goblin race? For, among the lineage of Adam, the Afghāns I cannot account. Notwithstanding thou mayest give one the best of counsel and advice; Still, even the counsel of his father is not acceptable to his heart. The whole of the deeds of the Pattāns † are better than those of the Mughals;

The whole of the deeds of the Pattāns † are better than those of the Mughals; But they have no unity amongst them, and a great pity it is. The fame of Bahlol, and of Sher Shāh too, resoundeth in my ears— Afghān Emperors of India, who swayed its sceptre effectively and well. ‡ For six or seven generations, did they govern so wisely, That all their people were filled with admiration of them. Either those Afghāns were different, or these have greatly changed; Or otherwise, at present, such is the Almighty's decree. p. 198 If the Afghāns shall acquire the gift of concord and unity, Old Khushḥāl shall, a second time, grow young therefrom. XLVII. Separation turneth sweet existence bitter unto man— It layeth the very vitals upon fierce, devouring flames! Whatever strength and energy the heart in the breast may possess, Separation, out of these eyes, expelleth them, every now and again. Than such existence as this, annihilation is preferable by far, When one's days and nights all pass away, in misery and woe. He faileth not to hit—he woundeth me to the very heart's core; For the archer of grief hath bent the knee, to take aim at me. The book of my heart is on the subject of constancy and love— It was torn up; but no one acquired the meaning thereof. If the gauze, which the moon rendeth, * can be again repaired, Then the restoration of my poor heart, may also be effected. Would to heaven such a person would appear—I am quite willing—

Would to heaven such a person would appear—I am quite willing— As would bring back my truant heart from the path of the beloved! In separation, if there were no hope of meeting once more, For the bewildered lover, there would be no possibility of existence. When thou placest thy foot on that path, thy head payeth the forfeit; Yet on such a dangerous road as this, I continually wend my way. p. 199 One succeedeth unto another's place; for such is the way of the world— And I, Khushḥāl, also, am the successor of poor Majnūn. * XLVIII. The carnality of my heart is an Afrīdī, † who, for religion, careth not— Its good thoughts are but few; but unto wickedness it is exceedingly prone. Like unto Akhūnd Darwezah, ‡ I point out godliness and piety to it; But the flesh teacheth it impiety and infidelity, like unto Pīr Ros’hān. § Two-and-sixty years, by computation, my own age hath now reached; And my black hair hath turned silvery, but my heart not the least white. There are not, in the red carnelian caskets, those white pearls now; §§ Neither do those narcissuses remain, nor those white roses of the parterre. ** p. 200 With my head on the soft pillow laid, I sleep without sorrow or care; Whilst those who shared it with me, are now in the cold grave laid! Very many boats have sunk in the Indus of mortality and death; And with them engulphed therein, were many companions and friends! What! is it the veil of wretchedness that hath fallen my sight before,

What! is it the veil of wretchedness that hath fallen my sight before, That with mine eyes I cannot perceive the truth, though ’tis manifest to me? With body in such agony, and so many physicians in the world, I die Malediction on such conduct as this, that I seek not my own cure! ’Tis past—’tis gone! his place is Hell, unless God have mercy on him; For along with Khushḥāl associated, are both the Devil and the flesh! XLIX. How handsome soever thou art, thou art not Canaan's Joseph! However wise thou art, with Lokmān * thou canst never compare! Notwithstanding thy pomp and state, and that thou art the ruler of the land, Remember well, in thy heart, what a magnificent king was Sulīmān. † p. 201 How many lovely-faced ones—how many sages and princes have there been? As they came, so they departed—in the world, do even their names remain? A good name will remain behind—naught else soever will survive: The wicked for evil are remembered—the good, for their virtues, in the memory live. Shouldst thou hear of Hujāj, * thou wilt also hear the name of Noshīrwān †— For justice, the unbeliever is venerated—for tyranny, the believer is cursed. If thou desire to practise goodness, now is the time, whilst of the living accounted— There will be neither advantage nor profit, shouldst thou regret its neglect, in the grave. The infidel is that man, who constantly followeth after the flesh's lusts—

The infidel is that man, who constantly followeth after the flesh's lusts— The true-believer is he, who is ever anxious about his religion and his faith. There is not the least doubt in this, that all will fall victims unto death; But in this there is uncertainty, as to who will obtain a graveyard to lie in. Happy, truly happy shall he be, who may die with piety's blessings attending— A grave in honour he obtaineth, and over him the blessed book is read. p. 202 The season of youth hath passed—now, O Khushḥāl, old age hath come! Then leave thou all other things, and the equipments of the grave prepare! L. Were thine heart a little compassionate, how good it would be! Were a little of thy love bestowed upon me„ how kind it would be! I, who through grief for thee, weep and lament at thy threshold— Were thine ear inclined to my complainings, how meet it would be! Whoso blame, and cry out against me for my love for thee— Were they aware of thy beauty's perfection, how proper it would be! They who now boast, before the world, of their austerity and self-control— Were they to refrain from looking at thee, how seemly it would be! After death, should my grave, in some such place be situated, Where the path of the beautiful may ever lie, how delightful it would be! In thy alley, many greyhounds and other dogs are lying about— Were I, too, accounted amongst them, how fortunate it would be!

Were I, too, accounted amongst them, how fortunate it would be! My grief for thee, cannot he quenched in this short existence— Were the life of Khushḥāl to be very, very long, how fitting it would be! LI. Both fair and rosy, too, are the Adam Khel Afrīdī maids; Indeed, amongst them, all sorts of pretty lasses there are— p. 203 With large eyes, long drooping lashes, and arched eyebrows— Honey lips, rosy cheeks, and moon-like faces, too, have they. Small mouths, like unto rose-buds, teeth regular and white— Their heads round, and covered with dark curls, of amber redolent. Their bodies soft and sleek, and like an egg, so smooth and glossy— Their feet diminutive, their heels round, their hips prominent. Thin stomached, broad chested, and small waisted In stature, straight, like the letter alif; * and of complexion fair. Although my peregrinations may, like the falcon's, be among the hills; Still, many pretty plump partridges my quarry I have made. Young and untaught, or old and trained, the falcon seeketh his prey; But more scientific, and more unerring, is the old bird's swoop. It is either the water of the Landdaey river, or of the Bārah stream, † That tasteth sweeter, and more delicious, than sherbet in my mouth. The hills in the Mātarī Pass ‡ shoot straight up into the sky; And one's corpulence soon diminisheth, climbing and ascending them. Along with the Adam Khels into the Ti-rāh country I came;

Along with the Adam Khels into the Ti-rāh country I came; And having dismissed them to Khwarrah, with regret I returned. Love's affairs, O Khushḥāl! are fraught with fire to excess; For shouldst thou conceal the flame, the smoke thou still wilt see. p. 204 LII. Say not unto me—"Why swearest thou by me?" If I swear not by thee, by whom shall I swear? Thou, indeed, art the very light of mine eyes; This, by those black eyes of thine, I swear! Thy countenance is the day—thy curls the night;— By the morn I swear! and by the eve I swear! In this world, thou art my life and my soul, And naught else besides; unto thee, my life, I swear! Thou art, in truth, the all-engrossing idea of my mind, Every hour—every moment—by my God, I swear! The dust of thy feet is an ointment for the eyes— By this very dust beneath thy feet, I swear! My heart ever yearneth towards thee, exceedingly— By this very yearning of mine, unto thee I swear! When thou laughest, they are nothing in comparison— Both rubies and pearls, * by thy laugh I swear! Truly, I am thy lover, and thine, thine only: And this, I, Khushḥāl, by thy sweet face, swear! LIII. By the laughter of the happy and the gay, I vow! And by the lamentations of the woe-begone, I vow! p. 205 By the inebriation of the intoxicated with wine; And by the piety and abstinence of the monk, I vow! By the hundred transports of meeting and association, And by the thousand miseries of separation, I vow!

And by the thousand miseries of separation, I vow! By the beautiful and fragrant roses of the spring, And by the sweet melodies of the nightingales, I vow! Compared to which the graceful cypress is as nothing, By that tall stature, and form symmetrical, I vow! That are tinged with the antimony of expression, By those dark narcissus-like eyes, I vow! That which is more slender, even, than a hair, By that delicately slight waist of thine, I vow! On account of which, lovers pine away and die, By that beauty, and by that elegance, I vow! By that which cometh from the direction of the beloved— By the balmy breath of the morning breeze, I vow! Who is the bearer of the message for an interview, By the footsteps of that bearer of glad tidings, I vow! In the which there is not the least insincerity, By the truthfulness of the true and sincere, I vow! With the whole of these many oaths and protestations, A hundred thousand times again and again, I vow That I love thee far more dearly than life itself; And this, by thyself, I, Khushḥāl, Khattak, vow! p. 206 LIV. The Afghāns have gone mad about posts and dignities; But God preserve me, from such plagues and troubles! Unto whom belongeth the gift of discretion: to the swordsman? Just the same as one learneth the Ḳur’ān, in the schools? Not one amongst them is gifted with the art of prudence; For, with the dispositions of all of them, I am well acquainted.

For, with the dispositions of all of them, I am well acquainted. The Afghāns have one very great failing, if thou but notice— That they, with the titles and dignities of the Mughals, coquet. Shame and reputation, fame and honour, are of no account; But, certainly, they talk enough about offices, rank, and gold. Look not towards the Mughals with the eyes of cupidity; Even, if in the habit of doing so, from any other cause! The trusty Khattakī sword is buckled round my waist; But not the custom of servitude, in village and in town. The dark night of Aurangzeb's prison, I hold in remembrance, * When all the night long, "O God! O God!" continually, I cried. If the Afghāns would but oppose the Mughals with the sword, Every Khattak, by the bridle-rein, should lead a Mughal away. Amongst the Khattaks, O Khushḥāl! no council of honour existeth; Hence, I cannot conceive from what lineage they have sprung. LV. A white beard is a mark of respectability among men; But the falling out of the teeth is a discredit and reproach. p. 207 When a man's teeth are in their place, though the beard be white, There is no old age in that; far from it, there is youthfulness. Let not the old man trouble himself concerning old age, If his eyesight be good, and free from all signs of failing. What is the sight of a sweetheart, unto an old man? Really and truly, it is mummy * for the wounds of the heart. Would the monk ever relinquish love entirely? No, no!

Would the monk ever relinquish love entirely? No, no! Unto it, he cannot attain; hence his devotion and piety. Although the age of Khushḥāl hath gone beyond seventy years; Yet, in his heart, are still, love and affection for the fair. LVI. When thou severest thyself from cupidity with regard to every one, it is sovereignty: If thou understandest silence, it is equal to the eloquence of Saḥbān. † Mention not a word, regarding Ḥātim's liberality and munificence; ‡ For, even in so Going, there are, indeed, indications of venality. How many different kinds do the attributes of friendship embrace? Lip-friendship—loaf-friendship—and friendship from the soul. Upon the altar of sincere friends, make all things an oblation; Indeed, for this alone, is the transitory world of any use. In the troubles and trials of the world, there is much gain; But in the gain of the world's wealth, there are misery and woe. p. 208 They, who treat both friend and foe, with gentleness and humanity, The lives of those men are, indeed, admirably and worthily passed. Whatsoever my dwelling contained, I entirely relinquished— Such is the extent of my hospitality, my own friends toward. The priest readeth, again and again, out of thousands of books; But if the true faith be his study, the letter alif * is enough. Even for the ignorant, O Khushḥāl! there is mercy Their ignorance and stupidity, are a sufficient excuse for them!

Their ignorance and stupidity, are a sufficient excuse for them! LVII. Altho’ happiness was a delicious food; lo, ’tis all passed away! Though lordly power was an elegant garment; lo, ’tis all passed away! Altho’ there were the ties of wife and child, this is their state now: Altho’ there were life and abiding amongst mankind; lo, ’tis all passed away! Altho’ I possessed both rank and dignity, chieftainship, and command Altho’ lands and possessions were mine; lo, they all have passed away! Altho’ in my houses were carpets and divans, embellishments and ornaments— Altho’ my couch, too, was perfumed with æat̤r; † lo, all have passed away! p. 209 When I used to return home from the chase, in pride and gaiety, My saddle-straps were ever red with the blood of the game; but, lo, ’tis passed away! Kinsmen and strangers—the good and the bad, from all directions, came: In my audience-hall were bustle and clamour; but, lo, all is passed away! Scattered and dispersed, the family of Akhorr Khel * struck camp, and departed: At this noise, my heart-strings broke; but, lo, ’tis all passed away! Unto him, ’tis now the day of mourning—of sackcloth and of ashes; For Sarā’e, † that was the home of Khushḥāl, is now all passed away! LVIII. The sword that is sharpened, without doubt, is for smiting; is it not? The locks that are curled, certes, are for one's own lover; are they not? Wherefore sayest thou unto me, "Cast not thine eyes upon the fair!"

Wherefore sayest thou unto me, "Cast not thine eyes upon the fair!" The eyes that have been given one, doubtless are for seeing; are they not? Let the monk fast and pray; but I will the flowing goblet seize: Every man is created to fulfil, each his own part; is he not? p. 210 Thou wast saying, that the kissing of thy lips is like unto an elixir— I stand in need of such: ’tis for the wounds of the heart; is it not? Thou drinkest my very heart's blood; but it is for none else besides— My heart was formed for thee, thou barbarous one! was it not? Why weepest and complainest thou about the dark curls of the beloved? Thy going before those black snakes, * is of thine own accord; is it not? They will themselves appear like unto mere weeds in comparison to it— Then, the tulip and the rose thou wilt bring before thy face; wilt thou not? There is wine, O Khushḥāl! there are harp and flute; therefore, with thy beloved, With thy tablets in thy hand, unto the garden thou wilt go; wilt thou not? LIX. Every misfortune that befell me, throughout the whole period of my life, When examined carefully, I found it was all the work of my tongue. That, which in a single hour, turneth prosperity unto desolation, When well looked into, I found it was precipitancy in affairs. p. 211 With these eyes of mine, I have beheld the friendship of every one; And, truly, he who was my friend proved a source of misfortune unto me.

And, truly, he who was my friend proved a source of misfortune unto me. He would never experience any perfidy or duplicity, at any time, If a man's own intentions were conformable unto honesty and truth. Fortune showeth not severity towards the submissive and resigned— Those, who are impatient and unsteady, the persecutions of destiny pursue. Within this garden, very many roses have passed before mine eyes; But at the side of every rose, I perceived there was a thorn also. The heart, that nourished the hope of constancy from the unfaithful, Was unto itself, indeed, its own tyrant, and its own oppressor too. Since it healeth not at all, although ointment is applied unto it, What sort of grief-wound was there the heart of Khushḥāl, upon? LX. Whoso acquireth wealth, spendeth it, and bestoweth it, a man is he: Whoso hath a sword in his possession, the lord of the sword is he. A mine of rubies, of garnets, and of other gems, what is it after all? That, from which bounty and beneficence are obtained, is a mine. Whatsoever thou eatest for the belly's sake alone, is thrown away; But what is eaten, in sociability and companionship, is the fare. Whether it is the power of wealth, of lands, or of authority, what then? If unto any one their power becometh useful, that is power indeed. p. 212 Throughout the whole night and day—throughout both month and year, The time that passeth in the remembrance of the Almighty, is time truly.

The time that passeth in the remembrance of the Almighty, is time truly. Though people run before thee, and others follow after, what is that? When in the individual person there is dignity, that dignity is real. Call none else besides degenerate and undone, O Khushḥāl! Whose word and promise are broken, undone and degenerate is he! LXI. The call of the mu’azzin * is not to be heard throughout Tī-rāh, † Unless thou listen unto the crowing of the cock, at the dawn of day. As to the Wurakzīs, they are, altogether, from orthodoxy astray; And the Afrīdīs, ‡ than those erring ones, are more heretical still. They neither say prayers over the dead, nor ministers have they; Nor alms, nor offerings, nor the fear of God within their hearts. Excellent is he, who is steadfast in the laws and precepts of the Prophet; But wicked is he, who is unsteady and wavering in their observance. p. 213 The affairs of the world are all of them transitory and fleeting: O If there is anything eternal, verily, ’tis the name of the Most High. Whoso is wholly sunk in the cares and concerns of the world, As for that son, remiss and reckless, alas! alas! we can only say. By means of water, impurity is from the person cleansed; But by contrition and repentance alone, is sin washed away. The believers in Ṣūfi mystics, * and the unbelievers are all one; For they both account, as iniquity, the laws and precepts of Muḥammad.

For they both account, as iniquity, the laws and precepts of Muḥammad. Now and then, upon an occasion, this much they ejaculate Some few among them—that, "There is, than God, none other God." Whoso at all times commit sin, and no repentance show, Refuge and protection, from such a people, is what Khushḥāl asketh. LXII. Everywhere, throughout the world, I am become dishonoured and humiliated House by house, my dissoluteness, and my profligacy, are manifest grown. That which I kept closely covered up, concealed within my sleeve, † The people of the world have come, the spectacle of that goblet to behold. This is no heart at all, that now entertaineth kindness towards me; But that adamantine stone, towards me, path somewhat softer grown. p. 214 That which was the capital stock of life, I renounced entirely; And the country of happiness and felicity, became farmed to me. Wherefore, now, should I regret or complain? for I triumphed, When the marplot became a fugitive, from the door of the beloved. I appreciate his worth, and I will make myself a sacrifice unto him, Who, in grief and sorrow, became the sustainer of the helpless, and forlorn. Unto sleeping fortune many times I cried out with a loud voice; But it awakened from its slumber, only, upon the last soft, gentle call. Separation from them is death itself—and man soon breatheth his last; But the society of the heart's idols, hath a second existence become.

But the society of the heart's idols, hath a second existence become. Though he putteth his heart upon its guard, yet it will not be prudent; Hence, Khushḥālis accounted now, among the crazy, and the mad. LXIII. Be content with thine own lot, and do not always envy the fortune of others! Shouldst thou secure both these things, may happiness and affluence be thine! The links of existence are bound together by a single flimsy thread alone: Leave the world's sorrows: why mourn for others? Weep for thy thyself! Whether thine own kith and kin, or strangers, draw thy pen thro’ all: It is the age of iniquity and depravity; so be not vain of brother, or of son. p. 215 In whatever direction I wend my way, I perceive such acts from them— The attainment of their wishes is on to-day, and gone is all concern for to-morrow. Behold! what blasting wind is it, that hath blown over all the world? The heart waxeth not kind to any one; and the whole world is deceitful grown! I was saying that the hamlet is peopled, but, lo! when I came near unto it, Mere rubbish is lying about—it was an utterly desolate and deserted abode. In whatever direction thou goest, pass them by with "God preserve us!" They have a hundred evils in their hearts, a hundred-bead rosary round their necks. Much traffic hath been effected, and a hundred demands with avidity made; But the time of evening prayer is come, therefore now let this mart be closed.

But the time of evening prayer is come, therefore now let this mart be closed. Thou art always saying, O Khushḥāl! "Upon the world I will turn my back;" But as yet, indeed, this world is still standing face to face with thee. LXIV. Whether it is the wise man, or the ignorant—the honest man, or the robber, I do not see any one a true colleague united with me in my task. * p. 216 A sincere friend in distress, I cannot discover throughout the land; For people merely give the empty consolation of their tongues. Like unto the ants, directed towards the grain are the steps Of those who favour me, with their coming, and their going. Did not these ants entertain the hope of obtaining a store, They would never make any journey in that direction, at all. Abandon not thine own stricken mountain-land, O Khushḥāl! Though blood is, at every footstep, and in every direction shed. LXV. Let the mouth of the liar, forsooth, be filled with dust; But kiss the man's mouth, that uttereth truthful words! Every deed that a man doeth shall not be concealed: Did any one tell thee to kindle a fire, and make no smoke? If thou knowest that there is a reckoning in the next world, Then mind to scrutinize well thine own acts in this also. The fountain of thy mouth is both colocynth and honey; Therefore, see thou pour out thy sweetness every one upon. When the affairs of religion, and of the world come before thee;

When the affairs of religion, and of the world come before thee; Before worldly matters, first those of thy religion discharge. In order that the fragrance of the musk-pod be disseminated, Show unto me those dark tresses and sable ringlets of thine. ’Tis the season of spring! O cupbearer, bring, bring the wine! And add the delicious dessert of thy lips thereunto. Do not, to-day, O Zealot! impede the drinking of pure wine; When the spring shall have passed away, then prohibit it. p. 217 Since it is not free, for a moment, from the fire of love, Hast thou, O God! the lover's breast a chafing-dish made? In the era of thy sweet countenance, I am Jahāngīr Shāh— Sit near unto me: practise the caresses of Nūr Maḥāl! * These dark eyes of thine are, in themselves, black calamities; Who, then, told thee to make them still more so with koḥl? † Shouldst thou, O Khushḥāl! profess sanctity a thousand times, When a pretty creature cometh near thee, to kiss her take care! LXVI. Thy society is like unto the sea, and I, a fish therein; But, separated from thee, I lament and bewail always. Weeping, I would ask her to let me her fair cheek press; But, laughing, she would ask, "What doth this man say? She asked, too, "Who art thou, that wanderest in my street?" To which, "Thy dog am I;"—thus to her a ready reply I gave. I grieve in various ways, and my body hath a reed become: Separation hath brought me to the plaintive pipe's condition. ‡.

Separation hath brought me to the plaintive pipe's condition. ‡. Alas! alas! that this spring-time of youth is past! Ah! that this spring continued in the world for aye! p. 218 The rose, the hyacinth, the wild rose, the tulip, and the buds— Thou didst bring with thee, on thy coming, the whole spring. When I press her unto my bosom, she looketh towards me, Like a young gazelle inebriated with the milk of its dam. When I die, I shall never see these sweet friends any more; Then let me, O God, remain in this world for ever! I grieve, indeed, for thy honour alone, not for myself: Thou shouldst see how I would act, had I not this solicitude. Thus severed from thee, in the fire I burn and consume, Like unto the dry fuel, that one casteth into the flames. Upon the beauty of the fays many encomiums are lavished; But I see not any fairy with so lovely a face as thine. There is no epithet that can express thy charming ways: Would that, to thy lover, thou didst a little tenderness show! Is there an anvil in thy breast, or a kind, benevolent heart, That, for the sighs of Khushḥāl, thou showest no sympathy? LXVII. Upon the difficult path of love, there is exceeding peril: Every footstep I take thereon, my life in danger I place. Shouldst thou my bosom rend asunder, thou wilt perceive, That, thro’ grief for thee, my whole heart is turned to blood. The genial rain of thy kindness falleth not upon me,

The genial rain of thy kindness falleth not upon me, That the seed of thy love, planted in my heart, might germinate. Thy treasured secret, even unto my tongue, I will not impart; For the secret, that hath reached the tongue, is ever a fireside tale. p. 219 I am ignorant with regard to love, as to what thing it is; But this much I hear, that from beauty its effect proceedeth. But who is he, that, unto the love ineffable, hath attained? Tho’ in this matter, indeed, every one boasteth of success. It was when thou and I were not, that love was born: ’Tis not that this influence hath been originated by thee and me. Hide, O Khushḥāl, from the world, the woes of love! But how can I conceal that, which it knoweth full well? LXVIII. I was not, at first, aware, that thou art so utterly inconstant— Thou makest a hundred vows a day, and still art heedless of them all. The world raiseth an outcry against me, who have given my heart to thee; But ’tis not aware what a lovely, bewitching creature thou art. And thou, too, that sagest unto me, "Look not upon the fair"— Who will give ear unto such deadly words as those thou utterest? A single hair of the head of one's beloved is more precious than the Ḥūrī's *— What use is it, then, O priest! to laud the virgins of Paradise, unto me? Not every crow and kite, but the nightingale appreciateth the rose's value; Then ask not, O fool! what sort of person hath thus enamoured me.

Then ask not, O fool! what sort of person hath thus enamoured me. p. 220 These are not black eyes, that have carried away my yearning heart Thou, O God!—All-wise, All-seeing—knowest they are calamities greater still. That is not a mole upon thy chin, nor are those dark dishevelled tresses: They are, if thou canst comprehend this saying, a mystery divine. Whether the censures of the world, or people's worst upbraidings; All these, I willingly accept, if thou art but reconciled to me. I will light no lamp in my dwelling to-night, that they may not suspect These neighbours of the Sama’h *—that thou art a guest of mine. I was saying, I would tell thee my heart's sorrows, when thou earnest; But what griefs shall I mention, when thou, the grief-dispeller, art near? Since thou tossest unto the wind the musk-pods of thy fragrant tresses, Khushḥāl, full well knoweth, that thou art a deer of Khat̤ā. † LXIX. ’Tis grief and sorrow—joy and gladness, that affect so deeply; But like as they are excessive, even so they pass away. The source of this link cannot be found by any one: The vicissitudes of fortune assume such manifold forms. p. 221 So many things will happen—so many incidents befall, As may never have entered the thoughts of thine heart. In absence, there is sorrow on account of the beloved, That, continually, encircleth and besetteth the afflicted heart. But whatsoever hath vanished from the eyesight away,

But whatsoever hath vanished from the eyesight away, That, too, at last, becometh forgotten by the heart. Let them that ridicule the words of Khushḥāl, beware! Perhaps they may themselves full soon like him become. LXX. Whoso like unto the dust, may not be prostrate at the threshold, For them, there will be no approach unto heaven and to bliss. The nightingale that bewaileth when he approacheth the rose, Thus saith:—"Alas, some day the parterre will cease to be!" The rent in my heart will, by no means, unite again, Till it shall be sewn together, with the thread of thy locks. The name of thy tresses I will ne’er take upon my tongue again; For the prudent snake-charmer hath naught with black snakes to do. Be not inferior unto the Hindū female, for the honour of thy beloved; For the blazing funeral pyre will have no terrors for her. * Every moment, that I behold the object of my love, is a jubilee to me: I shall then be without a festival, when my beloved may not be. p. 222 Upon what part of me wilt thou place a plaster, O physician! When the wound of the eyelashes of the beloved may not be seen? The name of love is unlawful upon the lips of him, Whose whole frame may not be suffering about his beloved. O Khushḥāl! let there be no estrangement between thy love and thee; For the world's short hour will not be immutable always. LXXI. When the tresses become dishevelled about her fair, white face,

When the tresses become dishevelled about her fair, white face, The bright day becometh shrouded in evening's sombre shade. If this, which is seen, be the beauty of her countenance, Very many more, like unto me, will grow distracted for her. Those are not tears pendant from her long eyelashes; They are all bright gems and pearls, that are being bored. With new tints and dyes, .fresh fragrance, and green young leaves, An astonishingly rare flower is blooming, the parterre within. Should he, who is wont to repose upon her tresses, be aware Of my tears and sighs, he would in sleep never close his eye. The words of Khushḥāl's mouth are not idle and meaningless— They all are spoken from a certain emotion of the heart. LXXII. If the damsels of Kashmīr are famed for their beauty, Or those of Chīn, or Mā-chīn, * or Tartary, noted likewise; p. 223 Yet the sweet Afghān maidens, that mine eyes have beheld, Put all the others to shame, by their conduct and ways. As to their comeliness, this, once for all, is the fact of the matter, That they are, in lineage, of the tribe and posterity of Yaæḳūb. * Of the fragrance of musk, or of rosewater, they have no need— They are, as the ottar of the perfumer, by prayer five times a day. Whether jewels for forehead or for neck, or any other trinkets, All these are contemptible, with their dark locks compared. Whether veils of gold brocade, or whether silken mantles,

Whether veils of gold brocade, or whether silken mantles, All are a sacrifice unto the snow-white kerchief of theirs. The beauty of their minds excelleth their personal charms— Than the external form, their hearts are far sweeter still. From first to last, their occupation is in seclusion and privacy; Not seen in the markets, with garments open, and persons exposed. † They cannot look one full in the face, through modesty— They are unused to abuse, and the discipline of the shoe. ‡ Khushḥāl hath mentioned, more or less, somewhat of the matter; But much remaineth, that may be suitable, or unsuitable to the case. LXXIII. If the Afghān people are of the human race, In disposition and ways they are very Hindūs. § p. 224 They are possessed of neither skill, nor intellect; But are happy in ignorance, and in strife. Neither do they obey the words of their fathers; Nor do they unto the teacher's instruction give ear. When there may be one worthy man amongst them, They are the destroyers of his head and life. They ever lie in wait, one to injure the other; Hence they are, always, by calamity, remembered. They neither possess worth, nor do others esteem them, Though they are more numerous than locusts or than ants. First I, then others, as many as there may be— We all of us require aid, and a helping hand. Whether it is valour, or whether liberality, They have cast, through dissension, the both away.

They have cast, through dissension, the both away. But still, O Khushḥāl! thank God for this, That they are not slaves, but free-born men. LXXIV. Vain is his affectation respecting the end of his turban; * For in the time of his manhood his condition is changed. The rank of all will not be on a parity together— The burden of the ass is but a grain on the elephant's back. Whilst some have not a single drop of wine in their cups, The goblets of others are running over with the purest wine. p. 225 May this delightful garden for ever fresh and green continue; For every year do lovely and fragrant flowers bloom therein. The just value of the tree is known from its fruit's sweetness— A man's worth is discovered by his good and virtuous acts. Let no one, indeed, be blamed and rebuked unjustly— The enemy of the wicked is their own wicked deeds alone. Though they should transport one to Heaven, and bear another unto Hell, I cannot perceive in the matter aught save their own acts. Would to Heaven it might continue always, for thy sake! Since thou art at odds with every one, for the sake of the world. That son who may not inherit the virtues of his father and grandfather, Must have been born in an unlucky and unfortunate year. And thou, that boastest concerning the battle-field of the brave— What valour, what fortitude, hast thou ever brought to the field? Doth the gnat ever attain unto the high rank of the falcon,

Doth the gnat ever attain unto the high rank of the falcon, Even though he is furnished, both with feathers and with wings? Though all the world may agree to disparage, and speak ill of him, Poor Khushḥāl is Khushḥāl * in his own merits and integrity. LXXV. Like as I my dear one love, there will not be another so loving: Like as I am disconsolate for her, there will be none other so wretched. p. 226 She herself killeth me, indeed, and then again she mourneth over me How good a friend! how great her love! such be my death and elegy! A perfect garden is her lovely face, containing flowers of every hue: Enjoy spring's pleasant time; for garden such as this, none other will there be! Behold the tulip—that heart-seared flower—in blood ensanguined! * No martyr, from time's beginning, e’er donned such winding-sheet! Look upon those her sable locks, and upon both those lovely cheeks! Within the world's parterre are no such spikenards, no such lilies found. † Shouldst thou a mantle from the rose-leaves make, even they would irritate: Like unto this delicate body of thine, no one such another possesseth. Such as that, which both day and night, I behold, my dwelling within, Poor Majnūn, during life's whole course, will never have looked upon. If such the law, or such her custom be, the Hindū female's right is constancy, That sitteth down upon her lover's pyre: what other would such burning bear? ‡

That sitteth down upon her lover's pyre: what other would such burning bear? ‡ p. 227 That some one, in sorrow, might wring her hands, and weep and wail for thee, Such is not death, but life itself, if such thy death might be. The bliss of Iram * I enjoyed, the precincts of thy courts within, Delighted with fortune and fate, that such a home to Khushḥāl gave. In Persian, thou must know, such strains will not be heard, As those that Khushḥāl, Khattak, reciteth, in the Pus’hto tongue. LXXVI. It is the navigator, that guideth the ship upon the ocean; But it is the Almighty, that preserveth her, or sinketh her therein. Empire and dominion, upon fortune and destiny depend ’Tis the Ḥumā of happy omen, that casteth its shadow o’er one's head. † Verily, if any one should stand in need of aught from another, Though the sovereign of the universe, he is but a beggar still. Who told thee not to unloose the knots of difficulty thereby? For thought and deliberation are the unloosers of all men's troubles, ’Tis either the sound of the women's joy-songs, at the child's birth; Or ’tis the dirge, and the wails, from the sword's fatal field! He will be under no uneasiness about missing the right way, Who, as the companion of his journey, may have a trusty guide. ’Tis the reed, wholly dried up, breast-scarred, and void within, That giveth utterance to separation's plaintive wails. p. 228 It behoveth to look to the virtues and qualities of the beloved,

It behoveth to look to the virtues and qualities of the beloved, 'Though her beauty be most ravishing, in manifold ways. Thou, O nightingale! laudest her with a thousand songs; But the rose herself, is self-praising of her own loveliness. Whether gardens, or whether wilds, or any other place soever— Where the heart hath become Khushḥāl, * that is the happy spot! LXXVII. Since those dark eyes of thine are such enchanters, My boastings of devotion and piety are wholly unjust. With these eyes I have beheld such Afghān maidens, That he is in error, who laudeth the damsels of Khat̤ay. Verily, those hearts must be hard like the stones of the desert, That may look upon thy face, and feel not love for thee. Notwithstanding folks praise the fairies so exceedingly, With thy grace and beauty, by whom are they compared? As to the Ḥūrīs of Paradise, that the preachers remind us of, In this world, such have I seen, with these eyes of mine. Either I will obtain possession of those tresses for myself, Or I'll stake my life upon them; and these my two vows are. Speak not unto Khushḥāl of honour and reputation; For they, who are in love, care not for name or fame. p. 229 LXXVIII. The vicious are vicious, while yet in the womb of their mothers; And vile and vicious are they, when their mothers bring them forth. In this world, they live and subsist in wickedness and iniquity; And unto the next, they must, wretched and miserable, go.

And unto the next, they must, wretched and miserable, go. When they do any laudable action, they are unhappy thereat; But are overjoyed at what is reprehensible, whatever its degree. They pursue the path which the lusts of the flesh point out to them; Indeed, their following is after the devil, in every act and deed. Should they at any time take a footstep in the right road, Immediately, at the next step, they are sorry for it again. The books of heaven, and the books of earth, they read and learn; But their acts are as remote therefrom, as the heavens from earth. Internally, their hearts are imbued with scepticism and distrust Externally, they are followers of Islām, by the words of their mouths. Nothing good or kind, is discoverable in their conversation: Their creed is empty words—their promise to be evaded, or unblushingly denied. Though, in devotion and adoration, they may equal Balæām, * Even then, through giving ear unto carnality, they are infidels at last. p. 230 The humble servant of that man, I Khushḥāl, Khattak, am, The ways of whose heart are in conformity with his words. LXXIX. However tortuously the snake moveth about, It proceedeth straight enough unto its hole. Awaken from the sleep of thoughtlessness; For pleasant existence is every moment passing away! Relentless death will not pass any man over— Time by time, all creation will pass away! The traveller, knowingly, throweth away his life,

The traveller, knowingly, throweth away his life, Who ventureth into total darkness without a guide. He misseth his footsteps, and staggereth in his gait, Who, convicted of crime, before the Ḳāzī proceedeth. He rendereth the fire of Hell harmless, altogether, From whose eyes the tears fall, at the dawn of day. That existence, like as the wind, passeth away, Which, more or less, passeth in misery and woe. If resignation be shown unto the Divine decrees, Verily, sorrow and grief will vanish from the heart. Since thou hast flung, uselessly, the musk away, What rigour bringest thou, the camphor upon? * He, who hath neither wealth nor possessions to care for, Goeth about, everywhere, cheerful, and free from care. p. 231 Abandon not, O Khushḥāl! His footmarks, Though thy head, like that of the pen, should go. * LXXX. Certainly this man is, thro’ polish and good breeding, a human being; For he, who is not possessed of these, is no better than the beast of the field. They are not men, who may not inherit either faithfulness or constancy; Otherwise the dog, in these matters, is far more estimable than they. The just and conscientious are, unto me, as the flowers of Paradise's parterre; But the false and tyrannical are, unto me, as the fuel of the fire of Hell. When the dog groweth familiar with any one, and obtaineth something to eat, At him, he will never bark nor growl again, as long as his life may last.

At him, he will never bark nor growl again, as long as his life may last. He, who is with justice and equity endowed, need have no fear of Hell; And justice, in my sight, is far more important than even piety itself. From good nature and qualities, the estimation of a man's worth is formed; For, by disposition, a man is either a devil, or an angel—a fiend, or a fay. p. 232 Flee speedily from him, who may possess neither learning nor attainments; For the man, without knowledge and information, is but a straw. When he cannot be restrained by thy counsels, nor be guided by thy advice, Fetters are required to control him, even though he a lion may be. What, indeed, is either vice or virtue—right or wrong, atheists unto? According to the creed they follow, the dog's whelp is an innocent lamb. In the sunshine of prosperity, the sincerity of friends cannot be tested; But they are thy friends, who help thee, in adversity, thy load to sustain. Every ascetic, who without a spiritual guide, assumeth a life of austerity, In the estimation of Khushḥāl, Khattak, is but an empty husk. LXXXI. What is it, but a sound and healthy body, Which, more than empire and sovereignty, is preferred? Altho’ the world's wealth is an excellent thing, Glory and renown are, than riches, more precious still. What are more inestimable than the most perfect thing? The one, is purity—the other, is sincerity of heart.

The one, is purity—the other, is sincerity of heart. What is it that disenthralleth a man from sorrow? Yea, what is it?—it is contentedness of mind. p. 233 Shouldst thou boast thyself of thy godliness, That godliness, thereby, is rendered bootless and vain. What is that, which hath a value beyond compute? Yea, what is it?—it is deliberation in all our affairs. That, which as a favour and obligation is conferred, As generosity or liberality, is it ever accounted? What is that, which, in this world, is a Hell indeed? Verily, it is the society and acquaintance of a fool. Then, O Khushḥāl! guard thou well thy mind; For if there be aught good, ’tis a mind upright. LXXXII. Such an amount of misery is there in my family this day, That the world is amazed and confounded, at the sight of our troubles. A degenerate son soweth thorns in the path of his own father; But the deserving son is a rose-garden, that bloometh all life long. An incapable, worthless son, maketh a very Hell-upon-earth therein; But a worthy son is, truly, a Paradise in his father's dwelling. A good child becometh a refulgent lamp in. the house of its parent; But a graceless, misbegotten one is murky darkness within his abode. In maturity, his nature becometh that of a trap and a beast of prey; Therefore, the good conduct of a child is the greater, the younger it may be. p. 234 The vicious son destroyeth the name and reputation of father and grandfather,

The vicious son destroyeth the name and reputation of father and grandfather, Though the banner of their greatness and renown be up-reared on high. The virtuous son is wholly occupied in concern for name and fame; But the good-for-nothing son maketh the belly the object of his regard. Indeed, since dogs of such description have been born unto him, I have my doubts, whether Khushḥāl is a human being at all. LXXXIII. Either let it be a sovereign upon his throne, Or let it be the poor darwesh of a monastery! Many there are, who are in the right path— Would there were a few, like myself, astray! I am ready, at all times, the work to commence— Would that my friends were also as ready to begin! He, whose actions are unbecoming a man, A man cannot be, but a crazy old crone. By computation, I have thirty sons, no less Would that I could a good word for some of them say! Were there any steps taken for assembling troops— Every hill and dale with them to profusion teem. The black and the white * are useless in any affair— Either let all be white, or let all black be. p. 235 It is, alas! the gloomy night of woe and sorrow— Would that the morn of joy and delight would dawn! Unjust towards Khushḥāl they would not be, Were people with the state of the case acquainted. * LXXXIV. Verily, the Afghāns are deficient in sense and understanding— They are the tail-cut curs of the butchers’ slaughter-house.

They are the tail-cut curs of the butchers’ slaughter-house. They have played away dominion, for the gold of the Mughals; And they lust after the offices, that the Mughals can give. Though the camel, with its lading, hath entered their dwelling, They are first taken up with stealing the bell from its neck. Out upon him, who first the name of Sarrah-ban † bore! And malediction upon the whole of them, that after follow! The recreant occupy themselves in baseness and dishonour; But every breath of the noble is devoted to the cause of renown. They commence from Ḳandahār, and reach unto Damghār; ‡ And all are worthless and good for nothing, who dwell between. p. 236 LXXXV. I went and turned anchorite—such is my case, such my situation— My sole worldly wealth this broken bowl within my hand, and a coverlet of rags. Behold the unfortunate! see what manner of meretricious acts they commit! They all desire prosperity; but prosperity is evanescent, and continueth not! I will become a sacrifice unto him, who hath made the world his sacrifice; But let him be an oblation unto me, who hath become an oblation unto gold. There is nothing whatever in it—there is a great bustle in an empty shop: When I duly considered the matter, I found it all mere fancy—a phantom—a dream. One is being laid in the cold grave, whilst another, at home, sitteth unconcerned; Then there are three days of mourning; and on the fourth, the case is changed.

Then there are three days of mourning; and on the fourth, the case is changed. With hands placed to my ears, I flee from it, that I may escape therefrom; But others grow wretched after it—O God, what a dreadful plague it is! What hast thou to do with others? show resolution for thine own deliverance; For thou, O Khushḥāl! art entangled therein—alas! what a net of calamity it is! p. 237 LXXXVI. O rose! who art the true cause of the garden's loveliness, Why condescendest thou to join, in laughter, with thorns and weeds? How cometh it, that thou art not conscious of thine own dignity? For thou art the one and only beauteous object in this parterre. The songs of the nightingales will not always be made for thee; For thou, O lovely rose! art notorious for thy lack of constancy. Delight, then, the senses of the nightingale with thine own fragrance, For the few, short days, that thou freshly bloomest, the garden within. Should I desire to mention, unto any one, thy injustice, ’tis unspeakable; Yet with all this heavy amount of wrongs, thou art my life still. But shouldst thou complain, unto any one, of the injustice of thy beloved, May all love's calamities befall thee; for thou sayest what is false. O Khushḥāl! thou that ascendest unto love and passion's giddy height Consider well, in thy heart, upon whom thou hast thine affections placed. LXXXVII. When of the circumstances of the wise are the ignorant aware,

When of the circumstances of the wise are the ignorant aware, Who, through their own foolishness, are worthless and despicable too? A star only twinkled in the eyes of the blear-eyed fellow; Yet, he called out to the world, that it was the sun itself. p. 238 From those deep scars, that are branded upon my heart, I am well aware, indeed, that it is thoroughly seasoned thereby. Should one but restrain his eyes, there would be no misery: It is the eyesight that hurleth the thunderbolts upon the heart. Forbid, O God, that any one in the world should fall in love! For it is like unto an invading army in the body's realm. This poor, maddened heart of mine, began to laugh yestreen; But see! to-day, it has commenced, once more, to weep again. That I have drawn out the diver of thought from the depths of the ocean, Come and behold; for the words of Khushḥāl are pearls, indeed! LXXXVIII. Of them, who always placed upon their heads the cap of vanity, The black hair hath now become, like unto white wool, changed. The running stream and life's career are both one and the same— In this world, those joyous days and nights, return to us no more! All love, save that of God, if thou perceivest, is, altogether, As if one built a bridge of straws upon the surface of the stream. With all this grace and beauty that I see possessed by thee, Whether thou art of human mould, or a fay, I cannot say. Without the wind's aid, I attain not to the object of my desire,

Without the wind's aid, I attain not to the object of my desire, Notwithstanding I launch upon the waters the boat of my heart. From the dusky snakes of thy tresses he entertaineth no dread, Who, in his mouth, holdeth the snake-root of thy affection and love. The heart of Khushḥāl, in piety, was like unto a mountain; But, all at once ’tis to a gossamer changed, through his love for thee. p. 239 LXXXIX. Of the preciousness of youth what doubt can be entertained? The period of old age is pregnant with infirmities and defects! Every now and again, fresh wounds break out upon my heart; And salt is spread and sprinkled upon my wounds always. Should joy and gladness approach thee, be not overjoyed thereat; For care and sorrow ever stare happiness in the face. Murmur not at the tyranny, or the injustice of any one; For it is fate that dealeth out misfortune upon us all. Without some wise object, He hath not brought sorrow upon us; For affliction is the test on the face of the dastard and the brave. As much as happiness exceedeth, so much the more lavish is misery: Fortunate is he, indeed, for whose belly sufficeth the dry crust. Now that I am turned ascetic, for whom shall I gird on the sword? It is well, forsooth, that I even bear a club my shoulder upon. * Should any one make inquiry concerning wounded hearts, There is Khushḥāl, Khattak's, by his own clan lacerated. XC. That one's blood should be upon one's own head, is, truly, some cause of concern;

That one's blood should be upon one's own head, is, truly, some cause of concern; Still, to think that I still live, whilst my friends are in the tomb, is irksome to me. p. 240 Since so many pleasant and familiar faces are buried beneath this earth, When I shall join them in the grave, it will be a very paradise to me. Is old age come upon me? am I imbecile grown? or is there aught else? For that doth not succeed which I set about; and yet people and country are the same. Tho’ I speak unto folks ever so kindly, they take in bad part what I say unto them ’Tis either the good fortune of the Mughals, or my intellect hath deficient become. No! ’tis not the good fortune of the Mughals, nor am I in intellect wanting ’Tis, entirely, through old age, that my affairs are all disordered and confused. The Mughals whom I now set eyes upon, are not such as were wont to be: The day of their swords is past and gone, and but the pen remaineth unto them. They gain over the Afghāns by gold; and by fraud and deception entangle them: * Upon me these things have no effect; for the favour of God is still upon me. I am neither a fly nor a crow, that I should hover over rottenness and filth: The hawk or the falcon am I, that must my heart, with my own quarry, delight. p. 241 Were there but others like unto me in this affair, I should rejoice indeed; But since there are none like me, with distress and grief I am o’erwhelm’d.

But since there are none like me, with distress and grief I am o’erwhelm’d. Both Ae-māl Khān and Dar-yā Khān have passed away, in honour and in fame; * And, through bereavement from them, these my sighs, and this mourning proceed. XCI. The faithlessness of the world hath become manifest unto me; Therefore, through the word 'friendship,' I have drawn my pen. Like as when fire reacheth brushwood, and it ceaseth to be; So with absence's pangs—they last, only, for a few short days. Than the sun's light, that of true knowledge is still more bright: Forbid, that any one should emerge from such effulgence as this! See what an admirable form, from a single drop proceedeth! Truly, the works of the Almighty are worthy of Himself! Thou, O nightingale! wouldst, erewhile, have given the rose thy heart, If this mart of its beauty were to continue to flourish always. There will not be, henceforth, repose like this for me again, Since I have become aware, O solitude, of thy preciousness! They, who by their own efforts, seek, the world's prosperity to gain, The wisdom of such people is as nothing in my sight. p. 242 From whom shall I seek to obtain a such-like panacea, That hath been purposely prepared, for the cure of my pains? Since the calamity of separation is ever linked along with it, Wherefore is the beauty of the beloved so lauded and extolled? Since the gem is grown of less value than the kaurī shell *—