some of you know I’ve been reading my way through some of the world’s oldest, longest-lasting literature. snowpack lit. I have been looking for those works that tell the stories that people feel they still belong to… so many kings with their stars in ascendency, so many military campaigns, so many lovesick tears and anxious sighs, and so few eras of peace…
one of my favorites I’ve come across is the Persian epic called Shahnameh—meaning “Book of Kings”. births, beheadings, musicians, magi… if you are at all familiar with the Biblical stories from Judges, Ruth, Samuel, and on through Chronicles, then much of the turbulent turnover of dynasties and the cycles of bloodshed will feel very similar. in both texts, when the king is good and fears God, there is peace and harmony in their kingdom.
a theme that the Shahnameh draws out is that the future tree is present in today’s seeds. the wolf pup is cute, but don’t keep it as a pet. you can see the end from the way things begin. many of Ferdowsi’s stories illustrate this theme.
surely we are not fated to the nature of the seeds, are we? but neither would it be wise to ignore the sorts of seeds we are casting out over the soil of our lives, of our relationships, and of our culture.
I wrote the following poem months ago, on Christmas eve, with some of those themes swirling…
more of that / notes for a new king when the king says there’ll be no more of that do what you will—shout, protest if you can but there’ll be no more of that and if you should decide on a revolutionary act—say, lifting his head from his shoulders, good luck to you, but just keep in mind there’ll be more of that overthrow is good at finding weak spots in the walls of a fortress good at tearing them down, but when you finish installing the new guy go ahead and let him know there’ll be more of that and if he is a noble king save, perhaps, for a few exceptions, extravagances, go ahead and get in on the fun while it lasts but do lean across the table of plenty in the banquet hall of corruption, and just mention there’ll be a lot more of that and when the first stone hits the walled side of his palanquin it’s okay if he thinks it an accident the peasants are too grateful (and hungry) to throw stones—but before you carry him through the narrow avenues of the poorer districts it may be a good time to whisper, discreetly, there’ll be more of that —ZW
I’ll finish with sharing a few quotes I starred from the Shahnameh:
“O king, you will not always be here, no one remains forever in this fleeting world; act so that when the Creator questions you on the Day of Reckoning you will not turn your head aside in shame.”
…the harp itself seemed to weep in her hands, and as the silken strings began to speak, all her house was filled with the scent of jasmine…”
“Whenever you say to yourself, ‘I have reached my goal, I need no one to guide me in this world,’ know that at that moment, when you will not listen to a wise counselor’s words, you are the stupidest of men.”
He said whatever came into his head, thinking that this ancient world was young and malleable.
“Think, then, for speech grows beautiful from thought.”
…all the advantage was with Manuchehr, because the world’s soul loved him.
“If the earth were to open and reveal what is hidden within her, we’d see her lap filled with past kings and with the blood of warriors, and the pockets of her skirts stuffed with wise men and beautiful women. Whether you wear a crown or a helmet, the point of Death’s lance will pierce it.”
“Ugly talk is a fault in a man.”
“But hear an old man’s words: the heart that’s freed / From gnawing passion and ambitious greed / Looks on kings’ treasures and the dust as one…”
Zahhak [an evil king] reigned for a thousand years, and from end to end the world was his to command. The wise concealed themselves and their deeds, and devils achieved their heart’s desire. Virtue was despised and magic applauded, justice hid itself away while evil flourished; demons rejoiced in their wickedness, while goodness was spoken of only in secret.
“I saw the strife that results when one heart has two thoughts, and knew that when a town has two masters is cannot survive.”
Their trust in one another was like a fruit tree that continually produces a new crop.
The musky cloak of night, spotted with stars like a leopard’s hide, was spread, and all the wine drinkers slept until that golden goblet that we call the sun appeared. Night’s cloak was pushed aside, and the plains glistened like yellow topaz.
“Sow seeds that you will reap in paradise—it is wrong to plant hatred in the garden of disaster.”
thanks for being here. I write weekly sharing poetry, songs, musings, thoughts on creative life, and hopefully some encouragement… my first collection of poetry, Snowmelt to Roots, is available in my shop, (or on Amazon). and my music is available here.
peace,
Z