Gassida

It is I who am peer of all knowledge, my renown of perfection is great,
My genius is vast as the heavens, for I dominate earth, time and fate.

My breath fills the earth, it resembles the resonant chimes of a bell,
My pen is a banner of glory called to conquer the earth and create.

And my proud, lofty brow has attained in its power Keigubad's regal crown,
Nay, compared to this height and this grandeur his palace is of far lesser weight.

In the sky rose my wonderful sun to shine for the whole universe,
While my body can breathe and give life, its power will never abate.

In the world of the bards has my name reached immortal and glorious fame
And my genius is here, of this palace, where the Shahs reign - the master innate.

Magnanimous and large is my heart - a vast storehouse of nobleness pure,
It is sealed with the seal of deep truth, and the truth therein lying is great.

If, with pride overwhelmed, the works of Zabur I peruse,
His tongue for the reading of thoughts I wish to cut out, for sheer hate.

Generosity often breeds pity, gentle words are bred daily by me,
My gift shows freshness and beauty, sweet youth seems forever its mate.

My ghazals reach the ear of the people in a wave of harmonious sounds,
My ghazals are the colour of poppies and, like wine, lull the heart-beats to sleep.

All that moves in the far starry heavens, all is put into motion by me,
And in Fortune's gold cup I'm the water, while the sky is the scoop of the deep.

I'll not strike tambourines to no purpose; with drums comes a wedding for sure,
When my word sounds, music is worthless, and all instruments silence keep.

If my writings have flaws in their wording, they are still of an exquisitive style;
If my syrup has dregs - still with pleasure, for its taste, you will drink of it deep.

My new style has begun a fresh epoch, and now naught of old values remains,
If a new word is coined it is useless, for compared to my word - it is cheap.

With my writings of beauty mysterious, I have conquered the heart of the world,
And from all this success and this glory - admiration and love do I reap.

When I write, my great writings are such, that Ibni-Mugla [1] covets my pen,
Where my word is of clearness astounding, there his poise Ibni-Khani [1] can't keep.

When my lips part to utter wise sayings, then all people in gladness exult,
And the buds of the flowers open, by my spring from their winter sleep freed.

If my word is not heard in its glory, and no gladness or joy light the scene,
The no bard will you witness whose singing to the advent of springtide would lead.

I have cause to be proud of my writings, of the beauty sublime of my pen,
And you notice the exquisite wording, when my wonderful verses you read.

I am mother-of-pearl, I am virtuous, I am clearer than crystal-clear gems,
But I am troubled that, causeless, some harm me, and deprive me of things I need.

When my breath comes out freely and deeply, it resembles a light-floating mist,
And it warms me and makes my fine verses string like pearls on a thread, bead by bead.

I am truly a star that is shining, making nought of my enemies fierce,
It is greater than art and the Muses, and makes poets and thinkers recede.

Nizami's style resembles a charger with a bridle - a light leather strap,
And my grief is a hard, heavy stirrup, but how perfectly gallops my steed!

Translated by Olga Moisseyenko

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