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Translated by C. T. Brooks
IN Erivan | |
| Once on a time there lived a poor, plain man; | |
| A little garden was his sole possession, | |
| To tend it was his only occupation. | |
| A tree that stood upon his ground | 5 |
| Bore fruit well known and everywhere renowned, | |
| So red and rich and round, | |
| Such sunny radiance beaming, | |
| With such balsamic juices teeming, | |
| The very smell | 10 |
| Were quite enough to make a sick man well. | |
| “By all means,” said a neighbor, “take, good man, | |
| A basket of this fruit to Ispahan! | |
| The sheik, they say, has a sweet tooth, ay, marry, | |
| And spends his money freely, I am told. | 15 |
| Mark me! for every piece of fruit you carry, | |
| You shall bring home with you a piece of gold.” | |
| “’Faith, I myself should think so,” says the man; | |
| “The thing looks promising,—I ’ll even do it.” | |
| He buys the finest basket he can find, | 20 |
| And packs into it | |
| The choicest fruits assorted to his mind, | |
| Takes leave of all his friends, | |
| And gayly wends | |
| His way along the road to Ispahan, | 25 |
| Already big and bright with many a plan, | |
| What he will do with all the golden pieces; | |
| Even now, in thought, his house, his ground increases: | |
| And so the lightened moments ran, | |
| And ere he thinks, he is at Ispahan. | 30 |
| To the chief marshals they announce his name; | |
| The way at courts is everywhere the same: | |
| To him who brings, the doors are always open; | |
| Who comes to get, may long stand hoping. | |
| The fruit is taken by the marshal, | 35 |
| Who soon returns, our worthy man informing, | |
| His Majesty the Sheik is very partial, | |
| To fruit so charming, | |
| In his own person had devoured the store, | |
| And praised it much, and asked for more. | 40 |
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| Hey! my good Persian, what a trade! | |
| Thou hast thy fortune made! | |
| He watches till the moment suits | |
| Softly to whisper in the emperor’s ear, | |
| He is the peasant with the fruits; | 45 |
| He stands where soon the emperor must appear, | |
| He gazes down along the gorgeous hall, | |
| Stares at the great, who here do seem so small; | |
| At last he spies a dwarf among the swarm, | |
| With such a queer and crooked form, | 50 |
| That the poor man | |
| Must laugh, do all he can. | |
| Unluckily this dwarf was the prime minister: | |
| With a sharp look, so cross and sinister, | |
| He squints at our poor friend. One word: the guard | 55 |
| Drag him away down stairs and through the yard. | |
| Now he may sit and whistle for his purses | |
| Of gold, in prison there; he curses | |
| The tree, the garden; curses thrice, | |
| Body and soul, | 60 |
| The neighbor whose advice | |
| Brought him to this dark hole. | |
| But all his curses cannot mend the matter, | |
| Cannot undo what ’s done, nor make it better. | |
| And so a whole year fled,— | 65 |
| Too long a time by half | |
| For one poor little laugh!— | |
| Men thought no more of him than if he had been dead. | |
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| At length the time of fruit came round, | |
| They brought the sheik the best that could be found: | 70 |
| He turned his nose up, laid them down again; | |
| “’T was not such fruit you brought me last year,—then | |
| ’T was worth an emperor’s eating! where ’s the fellow | |
| Who brought me then the fruit so mellow? | |
| Will he, perhaps, again come round this way? | 75 |
| Has none had tidings of him since that day? | |
| Whence came he? Whither did he go? | |
| Who is he? Quick, make search, and let me know!” | |
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| They search, and solve the mystery. | |
| The emperor laughs to hear the tragic history: | 80 |
| “Good! bring him hither! I myself will see | |
| That the poor devil’s lot shall be | |
| Better than this!” | |
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| He comes: “I know your story, | |
| Good friend!” so says the sheik, “I ’m very sorry. | 85 |
| But for lost time, jail fare, and money due you, | |
| Ask what you will, we ’ll freely give it to you.” | |
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| “Sir, give me only,” answered the poor man, | |
| “An axe, a bag of salt, and Alcoran.” | |
| The emperor to laugh began: | 90 |
| “What foolish stuff! Axe, salt, and Alcoran!” | |
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| “The axe, that I may fell the fruit-tree; then | |
| The salt, to sow, that where | |
| It grew, no thing may ever grow again; | |
| And last the Koran, so that I may swear | 95 |
| A solemn oath, that I will never | |
| (Though I should live forever), | |
| Nor chick nor child of mine, | |
| While sun and moon do shine, | |
| Shall darken any more | 100 |
| The palace-door!” | |
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