This Too Shall Pass
این نیز بگذرد
īn nīz bogzarad
A Persian ring inscription that comforts the grieving and unsettles the joyful — and how Mandarin, Hausa, and Latin cousins each pick sides.
A proverb tradition
The proverb traditions of the Middle East are unusually old and unusually intermarried. Arabic, Persian, Turkish, Hebrew, Kurdish, Aramaic — each language has its own corpus, but borrowing across them has gone on for centuries, and many proverbs travel between languages with only minor changes of imagery.
Arabic in particular has one of the deepest paremiological literatures on earth. The al-mathal — proverb literature — goes back to the pre-Islamic Ayyam al-Arab, the days of the desert wars, and continues through medieval anthologies into modern speech. Reading Arabic proverbs alongside their Persian and Turkish cousins is one of the most rewarding exercises in cross-language comparison.
این نیز بگذرد
īn nīz bogzarad
A Persian ring inscription that comforts the grieving and unsettles the joyful — and how Mandarin, Hausa, and Latin cousins each pick sides.
Sakla samanı, gelir zamanı
sakla samanı, gelir zamanı
Why Turkish speakers tell each other to save the straw because its time will come — and how a Hebrew, an English, and a Spanish saying agree, and one of them disagrees, about provisioning against the future.
يد واحدة لا تصفق
yad wāḥida lā tuṣaffiq
An Arabic proverb says one hand cannot clap — you need two for anything that matters. A Japanese Zen master asked the same question and wanted a very different answer.
غریق به هر گیاهی چنگ میزند
gharīq be har giyāhī chang mīzanad
A Persian proverb about desperation's blind grasp — and how English straw and Chinese doctors circle the same truth from very different distances.
لا تكن حلواً فتُبلَع، ولا مرّاً فتُلفَظ
lā takun ḥulwan fa-tublaʿ, wa-lā murran fa-tulfaẓ
An Arabic proverb about the taste of your own character — and why the middle ground between sweetness and bitterness has been mapped independently from Athens to Qufu.
الكلاب تنبح والقافلة تسير
al-kilāb tanbah wa-l-qāfila tasīr
An Arabic proverb about ignoring detractors found its twin in Turkish — and both teach the same lesson about purpose and noise that Latin and Russian learned independently.
اعقلها وتوكّل
iʿqil-hā wa-tawakkal
A Bedouin asks the Prophet whether to hobble his camel or trust in God. The answer — both — has echoed from Athens to Castile to the Russian steppe.
<span lang="fa">عطر گل پنهان نمیشود</span>
atr-e gol penhān nemishavad
A Persian proverb says the fragrance of a rose cannot be hidden. Quality reveals itself despite walls and distance — and Chinese wine, a Russian awl, and English cream all prove the same thing through three very different mechanisms.
العجلة من الشيطان
al-ʿajalatu min ash-shayṭān
Arabic doesn't just say hurry is unwise — it says where hurry comes from. Haste is from the Devil; deliberateness is from God. The proverb assigns speed an author.
قُرَّةُ العَيْن
qurrat al-ʿayn
Why Arabic says the beloved is the coolness of the eye — and how Hebrew, Persian, and Mandarin name the same cherished thing through three other parts of the body, each in a different register of the senses.
الجبل لا يلتقي بالجبل، ولكن الإنسان يلتقي بالإنسان
al-jabal lā yaltaqī bi-l-jabal, wa-lākin al-insān yaltaqī bi-l-insān
Why Arabic speakers say mountains don't meet but humans do — and how the same six-word observation, shared with Greek and Russian, carries the religious obligation of kinship rather than the consolation of return.
إذا أدخلت الجمل أنفه إلى الخيمة فقد دخل كله
idhā adkhalta al-jamala anfahu ilā al-khayma, faqad dakhala kulluhu
A Bedouin parable about a camel in a sandstorm became, by way of British colonial Arabism and American policy prose, one of the most reused proverbs in Western strategic writing. The journey is the essay.
الغراب لا يبيض أبيض
al-ghurāb lā yabīḍ abyaḍ
An Arabic proverb about a crow that cannot turn white — and what it asks of us, in any language, when we use it to talk about people.
باغ بیباغبان نمیماند
bāgh-e bī-bāghbān nemīmānad
A Persian proverb about the garden that cannot keep itself — and how three other languages, from Mencius to Ovid to a modern English shrug, circle the same observation about cultivation and decay.
הַזֹּרְעִים בְּדִמְעָה בְּרִנָּה יִקְצֹרוּ
ha-zorʿim be-dimʿah, be-rinnah yiqtzoru
A Psalm verse that became a household weekly prayer — and the way Mandarin, Russian, Korean, and Persian each circle the same observation about hardship undertaken and harvest expected.
زخم زبان از زخم شمشیر بدتر است.
zakhm-e zabān az zakhm-e shamshīr badtar ast
Why Persians say the wound of the tongue is worse than the wound of the sword — and how Arabic spears, Turkish blades, and Italian edges name the same injury from different rooms.
İki kaptan bir gemiyi batırır.
i̇ki kaptan bir gemiyi batırır
Why Turks say two captains sink one ship — and how Chinese tigers, Persian kings, and Arabic swords describe the same dissolution from very different angles.
الكأس الأولى مرّة كالحياة، والثانية حلوة كالحبّ، والثالثة لطيفة كالموت
al-kaʾs al-ʾūlā murra ka-l-ḥayāh, wa-l-thāniya ḥulwa ka-l-ḥubb, wa-l-thālitha laṭīfa ka-l-mawt
Why Moroccan tea is served in three cups — bitter, sweet, gentle — and how Ethiopian coffee, Bedouin three-day hospitality, and the Japanese chadō answer back.
Misafir ev sahibinin kuludur
misafir ev sahibinin kuludur
Why a Turkish proverb makes the guest the servant of the host — and how Mandarin says it as etiquette, Japanese as affectionate tolerance, and Russian as captivity. Four languages on what it actually costs to be a guest.
قطره قطره جمع گردد، وانگهی دریا شود
qatreh qatreh jamʿ gardad, vāngahi daryā shavad
Saadi's drops gather into a sea. Ovid's drops hollow a stone. Swahili grain fills a small wooden cup. Japanese dust becomes a mountain. Five languages chose five different small things — and the smallness, in each case, is exactly the point.
Dilin kemiği yoktur
dilin kemiği yoktur
Why a Turkish proverb shares the boneless-tongue image with Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, and Persian — and how Russian, Mandarin, and Japanese reach the same warning through a sparrow, a chariot, and a naked claim about trouble.
אִישׁוֹן עֵינוֹ
ishon eino
Why Hebrew said the beloved is the little man reflected in the eye — and how the same image, in Latin, English, and Arabic, became a doll, an apple, and the coolness of tears.
ملح وعيش
malḥ wa-ʿaysh
Why Arabic, Hebrew, Persian, and Christian Greek all built bonds of obligation around the same small white crystal — and what each tradition's framing of salt reveals about how it imagined human loyalty.
לֵךְ־אֶל־נְמָלָה עָצֵל; רְאֵה דְרָכֶיהָ וַחֲכָם.
lekh el-n'malah atzel; re'eh drakheha va-hakham
Why Hebrew wisdom literature sent the lazy man to the ant — and how Aesop, La Fontaine, and Mandarin make the same recommendation with very different feelings about the ant herself.
القرد في عين أمه غزال
al-qird fī ʿayn ummih ghazāl
Why Arabic praises a mother's love by calling her child a gazelle when he is a monkey — and how Italian, English, and Japanese reach for a cockroach, a turned-away face, and a clinical noun to name the same warm distortion.