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Synopsis These translations are some of those that I have made through many years of my life, partly as a pleasurable old-fashioned exercise in matching the expressions and ways of thought in a number of languages with their equivalents in English. By far the earliest of the translations was “The Flower of Bakawali”, done when I was a young man entranced by the discovery of lithographic printings of these stories in elegant nasta ‘liq script on cheap brown paper, with highly coloured wrappers of giants or demons dragging innocent maidens by the hair and similar subjects. They were ladi out on the ground beside the sellers, below the soaring steps of the Great Mosque of Delhi, beneath its red sandstone and marble scalped arches and three great onion domes.