ভূমিকা

Shiavault - a Vault of Shia Islamic Books The MesnevĪ (usually Known As the MesnevĪyi SherĪf, Or Holy MesnevĪ) XV. THE Prophet asked one morn of Zeyd, in tender tone, 1 "How art thou, dear disciple, faithful to the bone?" "I'm pious;-a believer," Zeyd replied; and he Inquired again: "What proof of faith resides in thee?" He said: "Whole days I've burnt with parching fever's thirst; By night I've watched; with love's sweet pangs my heart's nigh burst.

Thus have I traversed days’ and nights’ enduring space, As point of spear through shield makes way in war's embrace. For, in love's view, the church of faith one body is; 5 Ten million years, one instant, are alike, when His.

The past eternity and future join in one; Though reason cannot compass how the marvel's done." The Prophet then: "Bring forth some souvenir from thence, Shall satisfy all men of judgment and of sense." Said Zeyd: "As men behold the sky above their heads, So I survey the heavens, and all their flowery meads. Eight paradises, 2 seven deep hells, 3 are in my view, As patent as the idol to its silly crew.

Apart, and one by one, I can discern all men, As wheat and barley well are known to miller's ken. 10 I see who's heavenward bound, who takes the other road; As men distinguish fish from snake in walks abroad." ’Tis thus that saints, within the bounds of present life, See who'll be blessed, who cursed, when tried in judgment's strife; Before each soul contracts the sins will cause its shame; While yet in mother's womb,-while yet without a name.

The wretch is he conceived for wretchedness’ sad thirst. Each soul is marked for future bliss or woe, at first. 1 The body, as a mother, bears within a soul. Death's but the throes that launch the spirit to its goal. 15 Departed souls are all agog at each fresh birth, To see what class the new-born enters in its mirth. The blacks presume ’twill prove to be of their dark gang; The pale-faced Romans hope they'll profit by the pang.

But when the little stranger shows itself at last, No room remains for doubt; the question's judged and cast. The new-born black is borne in triumph by its kind; The rosy-cheeked fair bantling's claimed by Roman mind. Until its birth the child's a riddle to all men. Who knows an unborn infant ’s rare sage in this glen. 20 Unless, mayhap, he see with light divine's blest aid; For this can penetrate through densest shell e’er made.