1Cademy - دفتر ششم - بخش ۱۲۲ - بیان این خبر کی الکذب ریبة والصدق طمانینة / Book Six - Section 122 - Explanation of this tradition: Falsehood is a doubt and truth is a tranquility

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مثنوی معنوی: دفتر ششم / Masnavi: Book Six

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دفتر ششم - بخش ۱۲۲ - بیان این خبر کی الکذب ریبة والصدق طمانینة / Book Six - Section 122 - Explanation of this tradition: 'Falsehood is a doubt and truth is a tranquility'

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قصهٔ آن خواب و گنج زر بگفت
پس ز صدق او دل آن کس شکفت

بوی صدقش آمد از سوگند او
سوز او پیدا شد و اسپند او

دل بیارامد به گفتار صواب
آنچنان که تشنه آرامد به آب

جز دل محجوب کو را علتیست
از نبیش تا غبی تمییز نیست

ورنه آن پیغام کز موضع بود
بر زند بر مه شکافیده شود

مه شکافد وان دل محجوب نی
زانک مردودست او محبوب نی

چشمه شد چشم عسس ز اشک مبل
نی ز گفت خشک بل از بوی دل

یک سخن از دوزخ آید سوی لب
یک سخن از شهر جان در کوی لب

بحر جان افزا و بحر پر حرج
در میان هر دو بحر این لب مرج

چون یپنلو در میان شهرها
از نواحی آید آن جا بهر ما

کالهٔ معیوب قلب کیسه بر
کالهٔ پر سود مستشرف چو در

زین یپنلو هر که بازرگان ترست
بر سره و بر قلب ها دیده ورست

شد یپنلو مر ورا دار الرباح
وآن دگر را از عمی دار الجناح

هر یکی ز اجزای عالم یک به یک
بر غبی بندست و بر استاد فک

بر یکی قندست و بر دیگر چو زهر
بر یکی لطفست و بر دیگر چو قهر

هر جمادی با نبی افسانه گو
کعبه با حاجی گواه و نطق خو

بر مصلی مسجد آمد هم گواه
کو همی آمد به من از دور راه

با خلیل آتش گل و ریحان و ورد
باز بر نمرودیان مرگست و درد

بارها گفتیم این را ای حسن
می نگردم از بیانش سیر من

بارها خوردی تو نان دفع ذبول
این همان نانست چون نبوی ملول

در تو جوعی می رسد تو ز اعتلال
که همی سوزد ازو تخمه و ملال

هرکه را درد مجاعت نقد شد
نو شدن با جزو جزوش عقد شد

لذت از جوعست نه از نقل نو
با مجاعت از شکر به نان جو

پس ز بی جوعیست وز تخمهٔ تمام
آن ملالت نه ز تکرار کلام

چون ز دکان و مکاس و قیل و قال
در فریب مردمت ناید ملال

چون ز غیبت و اکل لحم مردمان
شصت سالت سیریی نامد از آن

عشوه ها در صید شلهٔ کفته تو
بی ملولی بارها خوش گفته تو

بار آخر گوییش سوزان و چست
گرم تر صد بار از بار نخست

درد داروی کهن را نو کند
درد هر شاخ ملولی خو کند

کیمیای نو کننده دردهاست
کو ملولی آن طرف که درد خاست

هین مزن تو از ملولی آه سرد
درد جو و درد جو و درد درد

خادع دردند درمان های ژاژ
ره زنند و زرستانان رسم باژ

آب شوری نیست درمان عطش
وقت خوردن گر نماید سرد و خوش

لیک خادع گشته و مانع شد ز جست
ز آب شیرینی کزو صد سبزه رست

هم چنین هر زر قلبی مانعست
از شناس زر خوش هرجا که هست

پا و پرت را به تزویری برید
که مراد تو منم گیر ای مرید

گفت دردت چینم او خود درد بود
مات بود ار چه به ظاهر برد بود

رو ز درمان دروغین می گریز
تا شود دردت مصیب و مشک بیز

گفت نه دزدی تو و نه فاسقی
مرد نیکی لیک گول و احمقی

بر خیال و خواب چندین ره کنی
نیست عقلت را تسوی روشنی

بارها من خواب دیدم مستمر
که به بغدادست گنجی مستتر

در فلان سوی و فلان کویی دفین
بود آن خود نام کوی این حزین

هست در خانهٔ فلانی رو بجو
نام خانه و نام او گفت آن عدو

دیده ام خود بارها این خواب من
که به بغدادست گنجی در وطن

هیچ من از جا نرفتم زین خیال
تو به یک خوابی بیایی بی ملال

خواب احمق لایق عقل ویست
هم چو او بی قیمتست و لاشیست

خواب زن کمتر ز خواب مرد دان
از پی نقصان عقل و ضعف جان

خواب ناقص عقل و گول آید کساد
پس ز بی عقلی چه باشد خواب باد

گفت با خود گنج در خانهٔ منست
پس مرا آن جا چه فقر و شیونست

بر سر گنج از گدایی مرده ام
زانک اندر غفلت و در پرده ام

زین بشارت مست شد دردش نماند
صد هزار الحمد بی لب او بخواند

گفت بد موقوف این لت لوت من
آب حیوان بود در حانوت من

رو که بر لوت شگرفی بر زدم
کوری آن وهم که مفلس بدم

خواه احمق دان مرا خواهی فرو
آن من شد هرچه می خواهی بگو

من مراد خویش دیدم بی گمان
هرچه خواهی گو مرا ای بددهان

تو مرا پر درد گو ای محتشم
پیش تو پر درد و پیش خود خوشم

وای اگر بر عکس بودی این مطار
پیش تو گلزار و پیش خویش زار

English translation

He told the tale of that dream and the hidden treasure of gold, And through his truth, that man's heart blossomed. The fragrance of his truth came forth from his oath, His inner burning and his wild rue became evident. The heart finds rest in righteous speech, Just as a thirsty man finds rest in water. Save for the veiled heart that suffers an affliction, Which cannot distinguish the prophet from the fool. For otherwise, the message that comes from its true source, Strikes against the moon, and the moon is cleft asunder. The moon splits, yet that veiled heart does not, Because it is the rejected one, not the beloved. The watchman's eye became a spring of pouring tears, Not from dry words, but from the fragrance of the heart. One word comes to the lips from Hell, Another word comes to the lips from the city of the soul. The soul-enhancing sea and the sea full of distress, Between these two seas, these lips are the isthmus. Like a merchant coming from the provinces, Arriving there among the cities for our sake. The defective goods of the purse-snatching counterfeiter, And the profitable goods of the master, like pearls. Of this merchant, whoever is more skilled in trade, Has an observing eye for both the genuine and the counterfeit. To him, the merchant becomes the house of profit, While to the blind one, the house of loss. Each of the components of the world, one by one, Is a shackle to the foolish and an unfastening to the master. To one it is sugar, and to another like poison, To one it is grace, and to another like wrath. Every inanimate object speaks tales with the Prophet, The Kaaba bears witness and speech with the pilgrim. The mosque also came as a witness for the worshipper, Saying, 'He came to me from a distant road.' To Khalil (Abraham), the fire was roses, sweet basil, and petals, Yet to the followers of Nimrod, it was death and pain. Many times have we said this, O Hasan, I do not become satiated with explaining it. Many times have you eaten bread to repel weakness, This is the same bread, since you are not weary of it. Hunger reaches you, but from illness, By which indigestion and weariness burn. Whoever possesses the actual pain of hunger, Renewal becomes bound to his every part. Pleasure is from hunger, not from a new confection, With hunger, barley bread is better than sugar. Thus, it is from the lack of hunger and complete indigestion, That weariness arises, not from the repetition of words. Since you do not weary of deceiving people, In the shop, bargaining, and idle talk. Since from backbiting and eating people's flesh, You have not been satiated by it for sixty years. Your deceptions in hunting the roasted lamb, You have happily repeated them many times without weariness. The final time you speak it burning and swift, A hundred times warmer than the first time. Pain makes the old medicine new, Pain accustoms every weary branch. The elixir of renewal is pains, Where is weariness on the side where pain arose? Beware, do not breathe a cold sigh from weariness, Seek pain, seek pain, and pain, pain! Vain remedies are deceivers of pain, They are highwaymen and unjust toll-takers. Salty water is no cure for thirst, Even if it seems cold and pleasant when drinking. But it has become a deceiver and prevented the search, For the sweet water from which a hundred grasses grow. Likewise, every counterfeit gold coin prevents, The recognition of pure gold wherever it is. He cut your feet and wings with a deception, Saying, 'I am your desire, take me, O disciple.' He said, 'I will gather your pain,' while he himself was the pain, He was checkmated, even though outwardly he had won. Go, flee from the false remedy, So that your pain becomes accurate and musk-diffusing. He said, 'You are neither a thief nor a transgressor, You are a good man, but foolish and stupid. You take to the road based on fantasies and sleep, Your intellect does not have the light of equality. Many times I have dreamt continuously, That in Baghdad there is a hidden treasure. Buried in such-and-such a quarter and such-and-such a street,' (That was indeed the name of the street of this sorrowful one). 'It is in the house of so-and-so, go and seek it!' (That enemy spoke his name and the name of his house). 'I myself have seen this dream many times, That a treasure resides in Baghdad. I never moved from my place because of this fantasy, Yet you, on the basis of one dream, come without weariness. The dream of a fool is fitting for his intellect, Like him, it is worthless and nothing. Consider a woman's dream lesser than a man's dream, Due to the deficiency of intellect and weakness of soul. The dream of the deficient in intellect and the fool is unmarketable, So from lack of intellect, what could the dream be but wind?' He said to himself, 'The treasure is in my house, So why do I have this poverty and lamentation there? I am dying of beggary sitting upon a treasure, Because I am in heedlessness and behind a veil.' From this good news, he became intoxicated and his pain vanished, He recited a hundred thousand 'Praise be to God' without lips. He said, 'My morsels of food were dependent on this, The water of life was in my own shop! Go, for I have struck upon a marvelous morsel, Blindness to that delusion that I was bankrupt. Whether you consider me a fool or lowly, Whatever you want to say, say it; it has become mine. I have undoubtedly seen my desire, Say whatever you wish to me, O foul-mouthed one! You may call me full of pain, O wealthy one, Before you I am full of pain, but before myself, I am happy. Woe if this flight had been the reverse, A rose garden before you, and lamentable before myself!'

Updated 2026-06-23

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