Mantic uttaïr, The compassionate Vizier

There was a king who possessed the whole world; for the seven climes obeyed him. In power he was another Alexander: his armies filled the world from one end to the other, from Caf. His splendour gave the moon that of her two faces, which she bent earthward before this king, who had a minister distinguished by his merit, which extended to the smallest things. This excellent minister had a child, upon whose face all the beauty of the world seemed to have settled. No one had ever seen a being so charming or so dignified. This child, who gave brilliance even to the day, could not go out by day, because of the effect produced by his great beauty. If by chance this moon did indeed appear by day, the turmoil of the hour of resurrection would become manifest. Never had so perfect a being appeared in the world; never in the course of the ages had a more amiable creature been seen. The face of this child was like the sun, and the curls of his hair had the scent and colour of musk: they were like a black parasol over his sun. Had it not been for his lips, the water of life would have run dry. In the midst of this sun that charmed hearts, his mouth was as small as an atom, and thus cast men into confusion. Thirty stars lay hidden within it. When such a star appeared in the world, how could thirty stars be hidden in an atom? His curls fell upon the elegant cushion on which he rested, and descended gracefully upon his shoulders; the curl (schikan) of this silver-bodied child’s hair instantly put to flight (schikan) the ranks of men from a hundred worlds. His curls also shaded his cheeks, and each hair in particular offered a hundred wonders. His eyebrows were shaped like a bow; never did an arm bend one like it. His narcissi (eyes) were enchanting; and, to charm hearts, they had wrought a hundred sorceries with each eyelash. His rubies (lips) were the source of the fountain of life, sweet as sugar and fresher than green grass. The rosy beauty of his face and his budding moustache represented the parrot of the source of the ocean of perfection. What madman would dare speak of his teeth? Who has ever preferred the diamond of the mine to their excellence? His musk-scented freckle was the point of the * of jamâl (beauty); the past and the future had made him the present. Were I to describe the beauty of this charming child for an entire lifetime…