From Saadi’s Bustan: The Hermit Theophilus and the Tyrant
A Weekly Poem from 13th Century Iran
Dear Friends,
I am posting these translations—revised versions of those included in my Selections from Saadi’s Bustan—as a way of making Iran’s culture and literary history visible at a time when that visibility seems more important than ever.
A wise man in Outer Syria
claimed for his home the corner of a cave.
The path of self-restraint in that dark place
placed beneath his feet contentment’s treasure.
I’ve heard his name was Theophile, in form
human; in thought and action, like an angel.
Like the mystic who surrenders guarantees,
he’d gone begging to rid himself of greed;
since his soul commanded him always to give,
he’d gone from place to place, humbled, and gave;
and now he sought no favor at another’s door,
so great men came to bow their heads at his.
The nobleman appointed by the king
to guard the border where this wise man lived
preyed on the helpless everywhere he found them,
digging in his claws for all he could take.
Pitiless, he razed cities, killed for the sake of it;
his bitter presence curdled the world’s face.
Those who left his tyranny behind
carried his evil name throughout the land;
those who stayed lived lacerated lives,
cursing his name when only they could hear.
(When a despot’s reach grows long enough,
you won’t see wide smiles on men’s faces.)
On occasion, the tyrant came to see the sage,
but Theophile wouldn’t deign to look at him.
“Auspicious one!” the despot once called out,
“Do not turn away from me in loathing!
I’m here to offer you my friendship.
From where does the hate you feel for me come?
Imagine my appointment stripped from me;
would my honor, then, be less than a darvish?
No! And more than that I don’t expect.
Treat me as you do all other men.”
These words incensed that wise and pious man.
“Have you no common sense?” he asked.
“The fact of your existence brings distress
to all; and their distress distresses me.
You’re my friend’s enemy; you’re mine as well.
God, too, sees an enemy in you!
So why should I, in vain, call you my friend?
Do not kiss my hand as if we’re close.
Seek instead the friendship of my friends.
I’ll never befriend my friend’s enemy.
If I did, my friends would have my hide.
How can the stone-hearted sleep at night
when the world sleeps tight-hearted on their account?”
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