Persian Tales - Volume II - Bakhtiari Tales - Illustrated by Hilda Roberts. D. L. Lorimer
PERSIAN TALES
WRITTEN DOWN FOR THE FIRST TIME IN
THE ORIGINAL BAKHTIĀRĪ
AND TRANSLATED BY
D. L. R. LORIMER
AND
E. O. LORIMER
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
HILDA ROBERTS
BAKHTIĀRĪ TALES
BAKHTIĀRĪ TALES
32. THE GAZELLE MAIDEN AND THE GOLDEN BROTHERS
33. AHMAD GIRDŪ AND HIS TWO BROTHERS
34. THE HUNTER AND THE WHITE SNAKE
36. THE MERCHANT OF ISFAHĀN AND HIS FAITHLESS WIFE
37. THE COWHERD WHO WOKE THE PRINCESS
39. HOW FĀTIMA KILLED HER MOTHER AND WHAT CAME OF IT
40. THE MAN WHO BOUGHT THREE PIECES OF ADVICE
41. THE PERĪ AND THE KING’S SON
44. THE MAN WHO WENT TO WAKE HIS LUCK
CONTENTS
45. THE SAD STORY OF THE BEETLE, THE MOUSE, AND THE ANT
46. TORTOISE BOWL-ON-THE-BACK AND THE FOX
47. THE FOX AND HIS ORDER FROM THE KING
48. RAMAZĀN OF HAMADĀN AND THE POOR LABOURER
49. THE SHEPHERD WHO FOUND A TREASURE
50. THE MERCHANT AND THE SAFFRON
52. SHĀH ABBĀS AND THE POOR MOTHER
53. THE APPARITION OF THE PROPHET KHIZR
54. THE IMPIOUS THORN-GATHERER
55. THE KING AND THE TWO BLIND BEGGARS
56. THE FATE OF THE KING’S ONLY SON
58. THE BAKER AND THE GRATEFUL FISH
PRONUNCIATION OF THE PERSIAN WORDS
ILLUSTRATIONS
IN COLOUR
Then Sultān Mahmad threw her to the ground
“I shall dash his brains into his mouth”
At last the owner of it too came up
“Mother, your youngest brother’s dead!”
He came back and divided them amongst them all
The Thorn-gatherer paid him the money and bought the pill
“Samamber has a lover in Īran”
They formed themselves into a raft
Mahmad sat down on the carpet and rose up into the air
They immediately began to quarrel
Very quietly she slipped two lingers into her pocket and extracted the ring
“How ever have they come here?”
He found his Luck lying sound asleep
A BAKHTIĀRĪ’S SOLILOQUY
THE day has rung with strife and battle-cries
As on the fated caravan we fell,
And bore away their beasts and merchandise
Our robber chieftain’s plunder-hoard to swell.
The day’s work over and the triumph won,
By stealth or force, by valour or by guile,
Campward we turn our horse at set of sun,
And seek the peace of our black tents awhile.
The women bring us food and curdling māst,
The firelight flickers in the cool night air,
From hand to hand the qaliān is passed,
And rest, and home, and all the world seem fair.
Then round the fire, the one with other vying—
While crouching children listen open-eyed—
We live the day again: the horse hoofs’ flying,
How Akber smote and how Mīr Qulī died.
Then, silence falling, day-dream phantoms rise:
The Golden Brothers and the Maid-Gazelle,
Adventure and enchantment and surprise—
The tales of old our mothers used to tell
Of Dīv and Perī-Snake, and magic spell—
The Sīmurgh and the bridegroom’s wolfish bride,
The