Habib: In singing of his slave
Hath Al Awaz grown eminent.
The king: But I, to taste thy lip,
My kingdom willingly had spent.
Habib: Asylum of the World!
My master bade me to present
My loveliness to thee, whose brows
Like to a Scythian how are bent.
The king accepted him to bear
His cup of wine, and was content.
Let Al Qahar their praises sing:
Three souls, one love, one element.
Note.—This poem is very much taboo
in Persia, as it is
supposed to be little better than a pamphlet in favour of
Christianity. The later work of Al Qahar, and especially
his masterpiece, the Bagh-i-muattar, are, however, if not
quite above suspicion, so full of positive piety of the Sufi
sort that even the orthodox tolerate what the mystic and the
ribald silently or noisily admire.
17 Cc