VII. The Merchant and the Parrot.
Project Gutenberg EPUB edition
Jalal al-Din Rumi, Maulana and Redhouse, James W. (James William), Sir
A morsel, when eaten, ’s a seed; its fruit, thought.
A morsel, when swallowed, ’s a sea pearls has brought.
From good, honest morsels come, taken in mouth,
Good works, and firm strivings to shun the soul’s drought.
Reflections, though true, we’ll now bring to an end.
To merchant and parrot’s tale ear we will lend.
Our merchant his trading had quickly despatched,
Then homeward he turned; with joy housedoor unlatched.
To ev’ry male slave a rare present he brought;
For each of his handmaids some gift he had bought.105
The parrot him questioned: “What news bringest thou me?
And whom hast thou seen? What’s been said? Tell. Let’s see.”
The merchant him answered: “I’m sorry for that.
I’d rather my hand eat, than tell it thee;—flat.
In thoughtlessness, folly, ah! why did I prate
About thy fool’s message, until ’twas too late?”
The parrot then asked: “What’s this fuss all about?
What’s caused tribulation? Let’s hear it right out.”
The merchant now said: “I told all thy sad grief
To flock of green parrots;—so like thee, their chief.110
Of them, one, affected with thy tale of woe,
Heart-broken, a gasp gave, expired, and fell low.
I conscience-struck was for the words I had said.
But what is the use? A word breathed can’t be stayed.”
A spoken word’s arrow swift shot from a bow,
It can’t be recalled, whate’er we may do.
An arrow once shot off will never come back.
At source, inundation alone can have check.
An outlet once found, there’s no stoppage for it.
A world is then ruined, through lack of quick wit.115
Act, consequence little dreamt of may produce.
The progeny’s far ’yond our power to reduce.
The work of one Maker ’s this universe all.
Our acts’ consequences to our accounts fall.
Jack shoots off an arrow;—directs it to Jill.
The arrow poor Jill hits;—straightway does her kill.
If only it wound her, for great length of time
It tortures. Pain’s God’s work; wherever the clime.
Should Jack, at that moment, expire from his fright,
To plague her Jill’s wound would not cease, day or night.120