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دفتر اول - بخش ۱۰۷ - بقیهٔ قصهٔ مطرب و پیغام رسانیدن امیرالمؤمنین عمر رضی الله عنه باو آنچ هاتف آواز داد / Book One - Section 107 - The remainder of the story of the minstrel, and Amir al-Mu'minin Umar, may God be pleased with him, bringing him the message that the heavenly caller cried out

Original content

باز گرد و حال مطرب گوش‌دار
زانک عاجز گشت مطرب ز انتظار

بانگ آمد مر عمر را کای عمر
بندهٔ ما را ز حاجت باز خر

بنده‌ای داریم خاص و محترم
سوی گورستان تو رنجه کن قدم

ای عمر بر جه ز بیت المال عام
هفتصد دینار در کف نه تمام

پیش او بر کای تو ما را اختیار
این قدر بستان کنون معذور دار

این قدر از بهر ابریشم‌بها
خرج کن چون خرج شد اینجا بیا

پس عمر زان هیبت آواز جست
تا میان را بهر این خدمت ببست

سوی گورستان عمر بنهاد رو
در بغل همیان دوان در جست و جو

گرد گورستان دوانه شد بسی
غیر آن پیر او ندید آنجا کسی

گفت این نبود دگر باره دوید
مانده گشت و غیر آن پیر او ندید

گفت حق فرمود ما را بنده‌ایست
صافی و شایسته و فرخنده‌ایست

پیر چنگی کی بود خاص خدا
حبذا ای سر پنهان حبذا

بار دیگر گرد گورستان بگشت
همچو آن شیر شکاری گرد دشت

چون یقین گشتش که غیر پیر نیست
گفت در ظلمت دل روشن بسیست

آمد او با صد ادب آنجا نشست
بر عمر عطسه فتاد و پیر جست

مر عمر را دید ماند اندر شگفت
عزم رفتن کرد و لرزیدن گرفت

گفت در باطن خدایا از تو داد
محتسب بر پیرکی چنگی فتاد

چون نظر اندر رخ آن پیر کرد
دید او را شرمسار و روی‌زرد

پس عمر گفتش مترس از من مرم
کت بشارتها ز حق آورده‌ام

چند یزدان مدحت خوی تو کرد
تا عمر را عاشق روی تو کرد

پیش من بنشین و مهجوری مساز
تا بگوشت گویم از اقبال راز

حق سلامت می‌کند می‌پرسدت
چونی از رنج و غمان بی‌حدت

نک قراضهٔ چند ابریشم‌بها
خرج کن این را و باز اینجا بیا

پیر لرزان گشت چون این را شنید
دست می‌خایید و بر خود می‌طپید

بانگ می‌زد کای خدای بی‌نظیر
بس که از شرم آب شد بیچاره پیر

چون بسی بگریست و از حد رفت درد
چنگ را زد بر زمین و خرد کرد

گفت ای بوده حجابم از اله
ای مرا تو راه‌زن از شاه‌راه

ای بخورده خون من هفتاد سال
ای ز تو رویم سیه پیش کمال

ای خدای با عطای با وفا
رحم کن بر عمر رفته در جفا

داد حق عمری که هر روزی از آن
کس نداند قیمت آن در جهان

خرج کردم عمر خود را دم بدم
در دمیدم جمله را در زیر و بم

آه کز یاد ره و پردهٔ عراق
رفت از یادم دم تلخ فراق

وای کز تری زیر افکند خرد
خشک شد کشت دل من دل بمرد

وای کز آواز این بیست و چهار
کاروان بگذشت و بیگه شد نهار

ای خدا فریاد زین فریادخواه
داد خواهم نه ز کس زین دادخواه

داد خود از کس نیابم جز مگر
زانک او از من بمن نزدیکتر

کین منی از وی رسد دم دم مرا
پس ورا بینم چو این شد کم مرا

همچو آن کو با تو باشد زرشمر
سوی او داری نه سوی خود نظر

English translation

Book One - Section 107 - The remainder of the story of the minstrel, and Amir al-Mu'minin Umar, may God be pleased with him, bringing him the message that the heavenly caller cried out. Return and listen to the minstrel's state, for the minstrel had grown helpless from waiting. A call came to Umar: O Umar, ransom Our servant from need. We have a servant, special and honored; trouble your steps toward the graveyard. O Umar, rise and take from the public treasury; place a full seven hundred dinars in your hand. Go to him and say: O you who are Our chosen one, take this amount now and hold Us excused. Spend this much as silk-money; when it is spent, come here again. Then Umar sprang up in awe of the voice and girded his waist for this service. Umar set off toward the graveyard, running with the purse under his arm and searching. He ran around the graveyard many times; he saw no one there except that old man. He said, This is not he, and ran again; he grew weary and still saw no one except that old man. He said, God told us, We have a servant who is pure, worthy, and blessed. How could an old harp-player be God's special one? Blessings, hidden secret, blessings. Once more he circled the graveyard like a hunting lion around a plain. When he became certain that there was no one but the old man, he said, In darkness there are many bright hearts. He came and sat there with great courtesy; Umar sneezed and the old man started up. He saw Umar and stood astonished; he meant to leave and began to tremble. Inwardly he said, O God, justice from You: the moral overseer has caught a poor old harp-player. When Umar looked at the old man's face, he saw him ashamed and pale. Then Umar said, Do not fear me; do not flee, for I have brought you glad tidings from God. God praised your disposition so much that He made Umar a lover of your face. Sit before me and do not keep away, so that I may tell into your ear the secret of good fortune. God sends you peace and asks after you: how are you from your boundless pain and grief? Here are a few pieces as silk-money; spend this and come back here again. The old man trembled when he heard this; he bit his hand and struck himself. He cried, O incomparable God; the poor old man melted away from shame. When he had wept greatly and the pain passed all bounds, he struck the harp on the ground and smashed it. He said, O you who have been my veil from God, O you who have waylaid me from the King's highway, O you who have drunk my blood for seventy years, O you through whom my face is black before Perfection, O God, generous in giving and faithful, have mercy on a lifetime spent in estrangement. God gave a lifetime, each day of which no one in the world knows the value. I spent my life breath by breath; I breathed it all into treble and bass. Alas, through remembering the melody and the Iraq mode, the bitter breath of separation slipped from my memory. Alas, through the fresh sweetness of the treble, reason was cast down; the field of my heart dried up and my heart died. Alas, through the sound of these twenty-four modes, the caravan passed and the day grew late. O God, help against this seeker of help; I seek justice, not from anyone else, against this seeker of justice. I cannot obtain justice against myself from anyone except Him, for He is nearer to me than I am to myself. Since this I-ness comes to me from Him at every breath, I shall see Him when this I-ness becomes diminished in me. Like one who is with you counting gold: you keep your gaze on him, not on yourself.

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Updated 2026-05-17

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