ভূমিকা

Shiavault - a Vault of Shia Islamic Books The MesnevĪ (usually Known As the MesnevĪyi SherĪf, Or Holy MesnevĪ) II. An oilman there was, who a parrot possessed, Soft-voiced, and green-coated; could talk with the best. The oilshop her charge when the man was away; The customers coaxed she the whole live-long day. Her speech was quite human, her words full of sense, In all parrot-tricks she was void of offence.

One day the man popped out, on bus’ness intent; The parrot, as usual, had charge while he went. A cat, as it chanced, of a mouse in full chase Bounced into the shop. This poor Poll could not face. 5 From perch away flew she; took refuge on shelf; Some jars she knocked over; the oil spread itself. The master returning, first sat himself down, As lord of the manor; the shop was his own. The oil-pools he spied, and then Polly's wet coat; A blow on the head made her feathers drop out.

In silence some days Polly brooded, from grief; The oilman's bereft of his wits, to be brief. He plucked at his beard; he heaved a deep sigh; "Alas!" then, he shrieked out, "day's darkened on high 10 My hand, would it withered had, ere I'd struck Poll; I've silenced her prattle that always was droll!" His alms now he showers on each passing scamp, In hopes Poll her chatter ’d get back by some tramp.

Three days and three nights in this guise did he pass, Despair at his heart, like a lorn lovesick lass; Incessantly sobbing and sighing, his word Was: "Pray now, will speech e’er return to my bird?" A bare-headed mendicant happened to pass; 15 Whose scalp was close shaved, smooth and shining as glass. At once our Poll-parrot her silence forswore, Screamed after the mendicant: "Poor head! Sore! Sore! Old bald-pate! old bald-pate! What is it thou’st done? Upset some one's oil jar?

The oil is’t all gone?" The passers-by smiled all at Polly's mistake, ’Tween bald-head and bare-head no diff’rence to make. So thou, my dear friend, think thyself not a saint; A quean to a queen bears resemblance, but faint. Mankind on this point in great error still stands; 20 Th’ elect of the Lord are ignored on all hands. The equals of prophets acknowledged they be; Of saints they're the brethren, as all men agree.

Fools say: "The elect are but human, you see; To eat and to sleep they're constrained, just as we." Through blindness they miss the real point of the strife, The diff’rence between them's immense all through life.