Traditional NoRuz Song
Haji Firuz-e / Sal-i ye ruz-e حاجی فیروزه / سالی یه روزه
It's Haji Firuz /
Note: This is usually sung on the first day of Noruz. However, the celebrations go on for ten days. And I do have to admit, one of my favorite things about celebrating holidays from over the seas is that my kids won’t notice if I am a day or two behind – LOL J
Ruba'ie #199 – Part Two - Rumi
Behold the day!
Rôz âmad -ô- rôz
Rôz = Day
The Poet’s Triumph
Once upon a time in Baghdad there lived a famous caliph, well known for his love of literature and poetry. The caliph was a wise man, and he had a remarkable memory. Whenever he heard someone recite a poem, he memorized it.
Now the caliph wished to open a grand library, but he was also greedy, and so he came up with a plan to save money. You see, in the caliph's court there was a servant who also had an astonishing memory. This man could memorize anything he'd heard more than once.
With this in mind, the caliph announced to all the poets that he was seeking poetry to purchase for the library. He invited all the writers to come to court and recite their work, and for original work, he would reward the creator with a sum of money equal in weight to the material on which the work was composed.
Poets lined up at the courthouse steps, eager to read their work to the caliph.
The first man entered and bowed. "I shall read you an ode," he announced.
"And is it original?" the caliph asked.
"It is," the poet said.
"Let me warn you," the caliph said, "if anyone in this court already knows this work, I shall know you are telling a lie. Now, please begin."
And so the poet read his work aloud.
When he had finished, the caliph cleared his throat, and without a moment's hesitation, he recited every word he had just heard. When he finished he said, "You claim those are your words, and yet I have just proven to you that this poem is already known."
"Very well," the caliph said, "we shall make one more test," and so he called the servant who had been listening the whole time; he, of course, had heard the poem twice.
The servant stood before the caliph and the poet, and he too recited the poem, word for word.
"Ah," the caliph said, stroking his chin, "even my servant knows this work. We cannot pay for words that are not yours."
The poet bowed his head in shame and shuffled away.
The next poet entered. Once again the caliph asked his questions, and once again, as soon as the poet finished reading his work, the caliph and then his servant recited those very words. Once again the poet departed in shame.
This went on for hours.
Now one of the caliph's friends, also a poet, was listening closely all this time, and because he knew of the caliph's fine memory, he was suspicious. He came up with a plan of his own to test the caliph's promise.
He had long before composed a piece of 10,000 difficult and complicated verses. He etched the words upon an enormous slab of marble, and when he had finished, he and his friends placed the slab upon the back of a camel. In this way they transported the work to the caliph's courtroom.
Wearing a disguise so that the caliph did not recognize him, the caliph's friend announced that he too wished to read a piece.
Once again the caliph announced his rules, and the poet began.
He read for hours, and as he read, the caliph began to sweat. The words were far too complicated even for the caliph, and as the time passed, he realized he would not be able to play his trick upon this poet.
Just as the sun began to set, the poet finished reading.
The caliph smiled. "It is a beautiful poem," he said, "and obviously it is original. Bring forward your manuscript so that I can weigh it, and we shall pay you."
His friend bowed. "I hope the caliph will forgive me, but I had no paper, so I wrote this upon a slab of marble."
The caliph stared in amazement as a group of men carried the heavy slab forward. "I see," he said, again and again, but he knew he would have to pay a great sum of money, for a caliph must never break his word. "You shall be paid," he said.
And then his friend smiled and removed his disguise. "I have done this only to teach the caliph something," he explained. "The poets are not wealthy men; their wealth is in their words. You have been unfair by using your memory to trick them. Whatever you can spare, you ought to pay them, for payment will cause you no hardship but bring some ease to their lives, and so they will create more and more works of beauty. In this way the world will be a better place."
The caliph understood, and he agreed, but he could not help himself. He still longed to test his people.
And so, the next day when a poet came to court, the caliph listened to his poem. When the poet was finished, the caliph said, "You have a choice. I will pay you in gold from our treasury, or I will offer you three pieces of invaluable wisdom."
Naturally the poet did not want the caliph to think him greedy or uninterested in the caliph's wisdom, and so he answered, "Your wisdom is worth more than any treasure, Caliph."
The caliph was pleased to hear this, and he began. "First, make sure you do not wear clothes that are worn through. Second, when you work, take great care with your words. And third ..."
But before the caliph could complete his sentence, the poet cried out, "Wait! Please keep your third piece of advice and give me one-third of my reward in gold."
The caliph nodded, and he paid the poet for one-third of his work. He never wanted anyone to say the caliph was unfair.
Some Rumi for the Parents or Older Children
Sorrow's fires of old
Bar jah! = Leap
For years, copying other people,
Note: m at the end of all verbs refer to "I", for example, Shanidam means I listened. Bedidam, I saw...