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From the Bustan

Whilst I was at Sanaa I lost a child--why talk of the blow which then fell upon my head?


In this garden (the world) no cypress ever reached its full stature that the blast of Destiny did not tear its trunk from the root.


It is not wonderful that roses should spring out of the earth when so many rose-like forms sleep within its clay.


In my melancholy and distraction, whilst dwelling on his image, I erected a stone over the spot where he reposeth.


In terror of that place, so dark and narrow, my color paled, and my senses failed me:


When from that disturbance my understanding came back to me, a voice from my darling child struck mine ear--


"If that dark spot make thee feel thy desolation, recall thy reason, and come out into the light.


"Wouldst thou make the night of the tomb as bright as day, light it up with the lamp of good works."