Macon beacon. [volume] (Macon, Miss.) 1859-1995, 1894-10-20

cluOed. Inc women grlnd the cereals
themselves in the old-fashioned Biblical
way, between two fiat stones, and then
they bake 1t in the open. in peculiar
institution which somewhat resembles
the beds of heated stone used for q
clambake In Rhode Island. Their
necessities are so few that even we'll
accredited member Of your late Coxey
army would deem himself cheated out
of his patrimony if he had to exchange
places with the pauperized Persian.
And yet with all that the Persian Is
as full of poetry as an egg is Of meat.
You cannot approach him without
poetry oozing fairly out of him at
every pore. The other day I was
watching the building Of little house
In Tehcran, the material used in its
construction being sun-baked brick.
AS one workman threw the other a
brick, he would invariably sing out, in
a queer, long-drawn chant:
Here - brother--In the nsmc
of God! - In the name Of Ali! - A
brickr'
And then he would change his tune
as he shifted about, and would COM
pose new litany and new meter.
One afternoon, riding around In the
environs Of the capital, met poor
gray-haired fellow breaking stone,
with whom ! engaged in a haphazard
conversation. He interrupted his work
and began to tell me Of his trials and
tribulations Every sentence was a
poem. His choice of picturesque
phrases, his happy way Of introducing
metaphors and SMILES. his thoroughly
Biblical manner of talking in par.
ables exceeded anything one could find
among the most highly educated in
other lands.
from among the literature Of the
street,. c., born ir minute and dead
the next-I took tiiG trouble. to collect
a few specimen poems as heard them
fall from the lips of those marvellous
story-tellers who formed the subject Of
q recent article of mine. The transla-
tion | made is not as good nor as
smooth as the originals. but give
them for what they are worth:
No cypress there Is like thee IN the meadows
Like thy cheeks there is no more beauteous
rose
Oh! happy pearl that liest warm on her bosom,
With my lips l will pierce thee and breathe
love through those SHOWS.
just an extemporaneousl love ditty,yo
see. but glowing and elegant as in the
days Of the troubadours. And here is the
wall Of a modern Andromache:
Since thou hast gone from me.
Friend OF my soul. ..
What is there left In my heart:
Smoldering ashes. dreary scroll
Like the caravan leaves in its track.
Note, too, the serio-comic appeal Of
lover contained IN the following:
Why does the cock not crow this morn:
Is it because We have not kissed enough'
To take ones lips from lips that did not scorn
We're foolshness indeed,
o, cock. don't crow,
Here. too arc few verses that show
that the average Persian, although
nomiaallv an orthodox Moslem. and ms
such averse to wine, is by no means an
abstainer in reality:
Do not plant the tree OF sadness
In that heart OF thine
Rather drink the cup Of gladness
Filled with fragrant wine.
Fellow where thy heart does lead thee,
And do not forget
Let not time. the feeting, grieve thee,
Feel no vain regret.
The grape is mother to the wine,
And wine Of grape the daughter;
While the mother do decline,
fear love the daughter,
These, of course were but picked up by
me at random. and the chances are that
If the inprovised songs. poems and dit
ties of these strolling minstrels were
garncred throughout Persia for but
one single year there would be brought
together as interesting a compendium
of the joys and sorrows of life as any
that ever existed. But even as trans
lations the reader will perceive that
the Persian is natural-born poet, a
Villon of the nineteenth century.
WOLF Won ScHIERBRAND.