1Cademy - دفتر ششم - بخش ۱۰۸ - حکایت صدر جهان بخارا کی هر سایلی کی به زبان بخواستی از صدقهٔ عام بی‌دریغ او محروم شدی و آن دانشمند درویش به فراموشی و فرط حرص و تعجیل به زبان بخواست در موکب صدر جهان از وی رو بگردانید و او هر روز حیلهٔ نو ساختی و خود را گاه زن کردی زیر چادر وگاه نابینا کردی و چشم و روی خود بسته به فراستش بشناختی الی آخره / Book Six - Section 108 - The Story of the Sadr-i Jahan of Bukhara: How Any Beggar Who Asked Aloud Was Deprived of His Unstinted General Charity, and How That Dervish Scholar, Out of Forgetfulness and Excess of Greed and Haste, Asked Aloud in the Sadr-i Jahans Cavalcade and the Sadr-i Jahan Turned His Face Away From Him, and How the Scholar Devised a New Trick Every Day, Now Disguising Himself as a Woman Under a Veil, Now Pretending to be Blind, Wrapping His Eyes and Face, But the Sadr-i Jahan Recognized Him by His Physiognomy, etc.

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مثنوی معنوی: دفتر ششم / Masnavi: Book Six

Poem

دفتر ششم - بخش ۱۰۸ - حکایت صدر جهان بخارا کی هر سایلی کی به زبان بخواستی از صدقهٔ عام بی‌دریغ او محروم شدی و آن دانشمند درویش به فراموشی و فرط حرص و تعجیل به زبان بخواست در موکب صدر جهان از وی رو بگردانید و او هر روز حیلهٔ نو ساختی و خود را گاه زن کردی زیر چادر وگاه نابینا کردی و چشم و روی خود بسته به فراستش بشناختی الی آخره / Book Six - Section 108 - The Story of the Sadr-i Jahan of Bukhara: How Any Beggar Who Asked Aloud Was Deprived of His Unstinted General Charity, and How That Dervish Scholar, Out of Forgetfulness and Excess of Greed and Haste, Asked Aloud in the Sadr-i Jahan's Cavalcade and the Sadr-i Jahan Turned His Face Away From Him, and How the Scholar Devised a New Trick Every Day, Now Disguising Himself as a Woman Under a Veil, Now Pretending to be Blind, Wrapping His Eyes and Face, But the Sadr-i Jahan Recognized Him by His Physiognomy, etc.

Original content

در بخارا خوی آن خواجیم اجل
بود با خواهندگان حسن عمل

داد بسیار و عطای بی شمار
تا به شب بودی ز جودش زر نثار

زر به کاغذپاره ها پیچیده بود
تا وجودش بود می افشاند جود

هم چو خورشید و چو ماه پاک باز
آنچ گیرند از ضیا بدهند باز

خاک را زربخش کی بود آفتاب
زر ازو در کان و گنج اندر خراب

هر صباحی یک گره را راتبه
تا نماند امتی زو خایبه

مبتلایان را بدی روزی عطا
روز دیگر بیوگان را آن سخا

روز دیگر بر علویان مقل
با فقیهان فقیر مشتغل

روز دیگر بر تهی دستان عام
روز دیگر بر گرفتاران وام

شرط او آن بود که کس با زبان
زر نخواهد هیچ نگشاید لبان

لیک خامش بر حوالی رهش
ایستاده مفلسان دیواروش

هر که کردی ناگهان با لب سؤال
زو نبردی زین گنه یک حبه مال

من صمت منکم نجا بد یاسه اش
خامشان را بود کیسه و کاسه اش

نادرا روزی یکی پیری بگفت
ده زکاتم که منم با جوع جفت

منع کرد از پیر و پیرش جد گرفت
مانده خلق از جد پیر اندر شگفت

گفت بس بی شرم پیری ای پدر
پیر گفت از من توی بی شرم تر

کین جهان خوردی و خواهی تو ز طمع
کان جهان با این جهان گیری به جمع

خنده اش آمد مال داد آن پیر را
پیر تنها برد آن توفیر را

غیر آن پیر ایچ خواهنده ازو
نیم حبه زر ندید و نه تسو

نوبت روز فقیهان ناگهان
یک فقیه از حرص آمد در فغان

کرد زاری ها بسی چاره نبود
گفت هر نوعی نبودش هیچ سود

روز دیگر با رگو پیچید پا
ناکس اندر صف قوم مبتلا

تخته ها بر ساق بست از چپ و راست
تا گمان آید که او اشکسته پاست

دیدش و بشناختش چیزی نداد
روز دیگر رو بپوشید از لباد

هم بدانستش ندادش آن عزیز
از گناه و جرم گفتن هیچ چیز

چونک عاجز شد ز صد گونه مکید
چون زنان او چادری بر سر کشید

در میان بیوگان رفت و نشست
سر فرو افکند و پنهان کرد دست

هم شناسیدش ندادش صدقه ای
در دلش آمد ز حرمان حرقه ای

رفت او پیش کفن خواهی پگاه
که بپیچم در نمد نه پیش راه

هیچ مگشا لب نشین و می نگر
تا کند صدر جهان اینجا گذر

بوک بیند مرده پندارد به ظن
زر در اندازد پی وجه کفن

هر چه بدهد نیم آن بدهم به تو
هم چنان کرد آن فقیر صله جو

در نمد پیچید و بر راهش نهاد
معبر صدر جهان آنجا فتاد

زر در اندازید بر روی نمد
دست بیرون کرد از تعجیل خود

تا نگیرد آن کفن خواه آن صله
تا نهان نکند ازو آن ده دله

مرده از زیر نمد بر کرد دست
سر برون آمد پی دستش ز پست

گفت با صدر جهان چون بستدم
ای ببسته بر من ابواب کرم

گفت لیکن تا نمردی ای عنود
از جناب من نبردی هیچ جود

سر موتوا قبل موت این بود
کز پس مردن غنیمت ها رسد

غیر مردن هیچ فرهنگی دگر
در نگیرد با خدای ای حیله گر

یک عنایت به ز صد گون اجتهاد
جهد را خوفست از صد گون فساد

وآن عنایت هست موقوف ممات
تجربه کردند این ره را ثقات

بلک مرگش بی عنایت نیز نیست
بی عنایت هان و هان جایی مه ایست

آن زمرد باشد این افعی پیر
بی زمرد کی شود افعی ضریر

English translation

In Bukhara, the custom of that most noble master Was to show goodness to petitioners. He gave much and his gifts were countless; Until nightfall, gold was scattered by his generosity. Gold was wrapped in scraps of paper; As long as he existed, he showered bounty. Like the sun and the pure moon, Whatever light they receive, they give back. When did the sun bestow gold on the soil? Yet gold is in the mine because of it, and treasure in the ruins. Every morning, a specific group had a daily allowance, So that no class of people remained disappointed by him. One day, gifts were for the afflicted; Another day, that generosity was for widows. Another day, for poor Alids; And he was occupied with poor scholars. Another day, for the needy commoners; Another day, for those burdened by debt. His condition was that no one with their tongue Should ask for gold, nor open their lips at all. But silent along the borders of his path, The poor stood like walls. Whoever suddenly made a request with their lips, Did not obtain a single grain of wealth from him for this sin. 'Whosoever of you keeps silence is saved' was his rule; His bag and bowl were for the silent ones. Exceedingly rarely, one day an old man said, 'Give me alms, for I am coupled with hunger.' He refused the old man, but the old man persisted in earnestness, And people were amazed by the old man's persistence. He said: 'O father, you are a very shameless old man!' The old man said: 'You are more shameless than I, For you have devoured this world and you desire, out of greed, To gather that world together with this world.' He laughed and gave money to the old man; The old man alone carried away that abundance. Except for that old man, no petitioner from him Saw half a grain of gold, nor a fraction. Suddenly, it was the turn of the scholars' day, And a scholar, out of greed, fell to wailing. He lamented much, but there was no remedy; He spoke in every manner, but it was of no benefit. The next day, he wrapped his foot in rags, The worthless fellow, in the line of the afflicted people. He bound splints on his shins from left and right, So it would be thought his leg was broken. The Sadr saw him, recognized him, and gave him nothing. The next day, he covered his face with a felt cloak. He knew him again, and that noble master gave him nothing, Granting nothing because of the sin of speaking. When he was helpless after a hundred kinds of tricks, He drew a veil over his head like women. He went and sat among the widows, Hung his head, and hid his hands. He recognized him again and did not give him alms; A burning pain of deprivation entered his heart. He went early in the morning to an undertaker: 'Wrap me in a felt cloth and lay me on the road. Do not open your lips at all, sit and watch, Until the Sadr-i Jahan passes by here. Perhaps he will see me, suppose by conjecture that I am dead, And throw gold for the cost of the shroud. Whatever he gives, I will give half of it to you.' The reward-seeking poor man did likewise. He wrapped him in felt and placed him on the road; The passage of the Sadr-i Jahan fell there. He threw gold upon the felt cloth. The scholar stretched out his hand in his haste, So that the undertaker wouldn't take the reward, And that double-minded person wouldn't hide it from him. The dead man raised his hand from under the felt; His head came out from below following his hand. He said to the Sadr-i Jahan: 'See how I have received it, O you who closed the gates of generosity upon me!' He said: 'But until you died, O stubborn one, You did not obtain any bounty from my presence. This is the secret of "Die before you die," That after death, spoils and riches arrive. No other trick or wisdom, O deviser of schemes, Will succeed with God. One divine grace is better than a hundred kinds of striving; Striving is in danger of a hundred kinds of corruption. And that grace is dependent upon death; Trustworthy guides have tested this path. Nay, even death is not without divine grace; Without grace, beware, beware, do not halt anywhere. That grace is an emerald, and this world is an old viper; Without the emerald, how should the viper become blind?'

Updated 2026-07-04

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