 | The lion's cub |  |
THE BOWL.
(Attar.)
Travelling in a desert land,
I saw a spring at my feet:
Into the waters I dipped my hand—
Was never water so sweet!
I saw a spring at my feet:
Into the waters I dipped my hand—
Was never water so sweet!
Passing on I was wild to sing,
I rejoiced so in my soul.
Another traveller came to the spring,
And drank from an earthen bowl.
I rejoiced so in my soul.
Another traveller came to the spring,
And drank from an earthen bowl.
He departs, and leaves his bowl behind,
Which I, returning, straightway find;
But the bubbling spring is sweet no more—
Was never water so bitter before.
Which I, returning, straightway find;
But the bubbling spring is sweet no more—
Was never water so bitter before.
Then a Voice through me like a shudder ran:
“That Bowl was moulded out of Man,
Who cannot (as the Prophet saith),
Lose the bitter flavor of Death!”
“That Bowl was moulded out of Man,
Who cannot (as the Prophet saith),
Lose the bitter flavor of Death!”
| The lion's cub | |