WANA (Apr 21) – Saadi of Shiraz, a poet, writer, and thinker of the 13th century, is one of the most prominent figures in classical Persian literature. He was born in Shiraz, studied at the Nizamiyya School in Baghdad, and spent many years traveling — from the Levant and the Arabian Peninsula to India and Central Asia.

 

Saadi’s literary legacy is enshrined in two enduring works: Golestan (in prose) and Bustan (in verse); works that have been read in Iranian schools, homes, and hearts for centuries, and still feel fresh today.

 

However, what makes Saadi’s works timeless is not just his eloquent language and fluid style, but his profound insight and precise analysis of human nature. Saadi was more than a moralist; he was a storyteller who portrayed people with all their contradictions, flaws, and beauty.

 

For many Iranians, Saadi is more than just a historical poet — he is a symbol of cultural and national identity. His mausoleum even appears on one of Iran’s banknotes, a testament to the respect and value people place in him.

 

Also, a 25-square-meter carpet (5×5) titled “Bani Adam,” adorned with a poem by Saadi, created by the late master Mohammad Sirafian, one of the pioneers and renowned figures of Iranian carpet-making, has been donated to the United Nations and is displayed on the wall of the “Delegates’ Meeting Hall.”

 

But what if Saadi were alive today?

In a world where communication thrives on brevity, speed, and social media, perhaps Saadi would no longer write long prefaces, but rather craft punchy, elegant posts — and would likely have millions of followers.

 

He might share 30-second stories each night, ending with a gentle or biting line that stops you from scrolling. Perhaps he’d have a YouTube channel called Today’s Golestan, or a regular column in a major international newspaper.

 

Above all, Saadi was an acute observer. He understood people — people who, from then until now, still struggle with greed and vanity, fall in love, make mistakes, pretend, and yet show compassion. His voice was soft but firm, his words gentle yet sharp. In a world full of preaching and shouting, Saadi taught by telling stories — and he still does.

 

Saadi was a traveler. As he said himself: “I spent my life in the Levant, Iraq, the Hijaz, Yemen, Basra, and Kufa.” He studied at Baghdad’s famed Nizamiyya, but his deeper lessons came from markets, roads, and human encounters. In the preface to Golestan, he writes: “Much travel is needed to ripen a man.”

 

And those journeys shaped him not only into a great poet but a wise narrator of the human condition.

 

A Truth That Needs No Shouting

Perhaps Saadi’s most famous poem is the one taught in Iranian schools:

“All human beings are members of one frame
Since all, at first, from the same essence came.
When time afflicts a limb with pain
The other limbs cannot at rest remain.
If thou feel not for other’s misery
A human being is no name for thee.”

 

But few know that these lines appear at the end of a story, in which Saadi asks a king to treat war captives with compassion, not out of charity, but because they too are human, they too suffer. Saadi didn’t preach. He combined emotion with reasoning, weaving insight into a narrative.

 

Why does Saadi still matter?

Because humans are still the same, we still covet, pretend, love, falter, and forgive.

 

Because storytelling is still the best way to make people think.

 

Because, in a noisy world, the voice of wisdom remains more soothing than endless shouting.

 

Saadi speaks in the language of experience — sometimes with wit, sometimes with wisdom, and sometimes with a silence that settles at the end of a short tale.

 

He reminds us that even in the 21st century, we can still learn from a 13th-century poet — if only we remember how to listen.