Hospice Of Shah Shams - Poem by Sadiqullah Khan
Leave them everything in the spirit
Of Shah Shams, who the destitute village
Enriched with staff and drinking bowl,
From your hands every palpable object
May fall, and you carry some promises,
Never returned, nor the whispers of leaves
Their thorns have flowers, their barks fruit.
And their ways in the hills' ruggedness
Ways on the milky-way, shined by stars.
O river, end your lament, we have known
You were flowing before the mountains' rise
A detour takes you, forcing you headstrong.
Live the thousand and one nights,
On the road of silk, in taverns, tired hoofs
Horses' legs retiring, their backs curved.
The languor is longer, and longer hangover,
We know for sure, the love's bitter saga,
Hath no end, but of the innumerable nights,
A night in your hospice, the last wish
Remains unfulfilled, O great sage of the age.
Shah Shams, according to legend was a Sufi sage who passed through Shimshal. He left them his staff and drinking bowl, his only possessions. There is an ancient hospice after his name where foot travelers would stay at night in their four days and nights' journey from Passu to Shimshal.
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