Poem

دفتر چهارم - بخش ۱۰۳ - قصهٔ باز پادشاه و کمپیر زن / Book Four - Section 103 - The Story of the King's Falcon and the Old Crone

Original content

باز اسپیدی به کمپیری دهی
او ببرد ناخنش بهر بهی

ناخنی که اصل کارست و شکار
کور کمپیری ببرد کوروار

که کجا بودست مادر که ترا
ناخنان زین سان درازست ای کیا

ناخن و منقار و پرش را برید
وقت مهر این می‌کند زال پلید

چونک تتماجش دهد او کم خورد
خشم گیرد مهرها را بر درد

که چنین تتماج پختم بهر تو
تو تکبر می‌نمایی و عتو

تو سزایی در همان رنج و بلا
نعمت و اقبال کی سازد ترا

آن تتماجش دهد کین را بگیر
گر نمی‌خواهی که نوشی زان فطیر

آب تتماجش نگیرد طبع باز
زال بترنجد شود خشمش دراز

از غضب شربای سوزان بر سرش
زن فرو ریزد شود کل مغفرش

اشک از آن چشمش فرو ریزد ز سوز
یاد آرد لطف شاه دل‌فروز

زان دو چشم نازنین با دلال
که ز چهرهٔ شاد دارد صد کمال

چشم مازاغش شده پر زخم زاغ
چشم نیک از چشم بد با درد و داغ

چشم دریا بسطتی کز بسط او
هر دو عالم می‌نماید تار مو

گر هزاران چرخ در چشمش رود
هم‌چو چشمه پیش قلزم گم شود

چشم بگذشته ازین محسوسها
یافته از غیب‌بینی بوسها

خود نمی‌یابم یکی گوشی که من
نکته‌ای گویم از آن چشم حسن

می‌چکید آن آب محمود جلیل
می‌ربودی قطره‌اش را جبرئیل

تا بمالد در پر و منقال خویش
گر دهد دستوریش آن خوب کیش

باز گوید خشم کمپیر ار فروخت
فر و نور و علم و صبرم را نسوخت

باز جانم باز صد صورت تند
زخم بر ناقه نه بر صالح زند

صالح از یک‌دم که آرد با شکوه
صد چنان ناقه بزاید متن کوه

دل همی گوید خموش و هوش دار
ورنه درانید غیرت پود و تار

غیرتش را هست صد حلم نهان
ورنه سوزیدی به یک دم صد جهان

نخوت شاهی گرفتش جای پند
تا دل خود را ز بند پند کند

که کنم بار رای هامان مشورت
کوست پشت ملک و قطب مقدرت

مصطفی را رای‌زن صدیق رب
رای‌زن بوجهل را شد بولهب

عرق جنسیت چنانش جذب کرد
کان نصیحتها به پیشش گشت سرد

جنس سوی جنس صد پره پرد
بر خیالش بندها را بر درد

English translation

A white falcon came to an old crone in a village; she clipped its talons, thinking it for its good—

talons that are the very foundation of its work and hunt. The blind old crone clipped them blindly,

saying: "Where was your mother, that your talons have grown this long, O noble one?"

She clipped its talons, beak, and feathers— in her season of affection, the vile hag does such things.

When she gives it tatamaaj it eats little; she grows angry, tearing apart her affections,

saying: "I cooked such tatamaaj for you, yet you show arrogance and defiance!"

"You deserve to remain in that same pain and affliction— when will fortune and prosperity ever suit you?"

She offers it the tatamaaj: "Take this, if you have no wish to partake of that flatbread."

The falcon's nature refuses the broth of tatamaaj; the hag is vexed, her anger grows long.

In anger, the woman pours scalding broth over its head; its entire head-crest is ruined.

Tears pour from its eyes from the burning; it recalls the grace of the heart-illumining King—

those two tender, coquettish eyes that hold a hundred perfections in the joyful countenance,

whose mazāgh gaze has become filled with crow-wounds (zāgh), the wholesome eye branded and pained by the evil eye,

eyes of oceanic expanse, through whose breadth both worlds appear as a single hair,

such that if thousands of celestial spheres entered their gaze, they would vanish like a spring before the Qulzum—

eyes that have passed beyond all sensory things, having received kisses from the sight of the unseen.

I cannot find even one ear to which I might speak a subtlety of that beautiful eye.

That glorious, praiseworthy water was dripping; Gabriel would snatch each drop of it

to rub upon his wings and beak, if that one of beautiful faith would grant him leave.

The falcon says: "Even if the old crone's anger blazed, it did not burn my glory, my light, my knowledge, and my patience.

My soul is a falcon—a falcon of a hundred swift forms— the blow falls on the she-camel, not on Sālih.

From a single majestic breath that Sālih draws, a hundred such she-camels are born from the body of the mountain."

The heart keeps saying: "Be silent and stay heedful— otherwise, ghayrat (divine jealousy) will rend warp and weft apart."

Within His jealousy lie a hundred forbearances hidden; otherwise, a hundred worlds would burn in a single breath.

Royal haughtiness seized him in place of counsel, so that he might free his heart from the bondage of advice—

saying: "I shall consult Haman on matters of opinion, for he is the pillar of the realm and the axis of power."

The Siddīq of the Lord was counselor to Mustafā; Abū Lahab became counselor to Abū Jahl.

The pull of kinship drew him so powerfully that those counsels turned cold before him.

Like seeks like, flying a hundred wing-lengths; it tears the bonds from his imagination.

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Updated 2026-05-16

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