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دفتر سوم - بخش ۲۱۱ - رسیدن بانگ طلسمی نیم‌شب مهمان مسجد را / Book Three - Section 211 - The Arrival of the Talisman's Cry at Midnight to the Guest of the Mosque

Original content

بشنو اکنون قصهٔ آن بانگ سخت
که نرفت از جا بدان آن نیکبخت

گفت چون ترسم چو هست این طبل عید
تا دهل ترسد که زخم او را رسید

ای دهلهای تهی بی قلوب
قسمتان از عید جان شد زخم چوب

شد قیامت عید و بی دینان دهل
ما چو اهل عید خندان همچو گل

بشنو اکنون این دهل چون بانگ زد
دیگ دولتبا چگونه می پزد

چونک بشنود آن دهل آن مرد دید
گفت چون ترسد دلم از طبل عید

گفت با خود هین ملرزان دل کزین
مرد جان بددلان بی یقین

وقت آن آمد که حیدروار من
ملک گیرم یا بپردازم بدن

بر جهید و بانگ بر زد کای کیا
حاضرم اینک اگر مردی بیا

در زمان بشکست ز آواز آن طلسم
زر همی ریزید هر سو قسم قسم

ریخت چند این زر که ترسید آن پسر
تا نگیرد زر ز پری راه در

بعد از آن برخاست آن شیر عتید
تا سحرگه زر به بیرون می کشید

دفن می کرد و همی آمد بزر
با جوال و توبره بار دگر

گنجها بنهاد آن جانباز از آن
کوری ترسانی واپس خزان

این زر ظاهر بخاطر آمدست
در دل هر کور دور زرپرست

کودکان اسفالها را بشکنند
نام زر بنهند و در دامن کنند

اندر آن بازی چو گویی نام زر
آن کند در خاطر کودک گذر

بل زر مضروب ضرب ایزدی
کو نگردد کاسد آمد سرمدی

آن زری کین زر از آن زر تاب یافت
گوهر و تابندگی و آب یافت

آن زری که دل ازو گردد غنی
غالب آید بر قمر در روشنی

شمع بود آن مسجد و پروانه او
خویشتن در باخت آن پروانه خو

پر بسوخت او را ولیکن ساختش
بس مبارک آمد آن انداختش

همچو موسی بود آن مسعودبخت
کاتشی دید او به سوی آن درخت

چون عنایتها برو موفور بود
نار می پنداشت و خود آن نور بود

مرد حق را چون ببینی ای پسر
تو گمان داری برو نار بشر

تو ز خود می آیی و آن در تو است
نار و خار ظن باطل این سو است

او درخت موسی است و پر ضیا
نور خوان نارش مخوان باری بیا

نه فطام این جهان ناری نمود
سالکان رفتند و آن خود نور بود

پس بدان که شمع دین بر می شود
این نه همچون شمع آتشها بود

این نماید نور و سوزد یار را
و آن بصورت نار و گل زوار را

این چو سازنده ولی سوزنده ای
و آن گه وصلت دل افروزنده ای

شکل شعلهٔ نور پاک سازوار
حاضران را نور و دوران را چو نار

English translation

Now hear the tale of that terrible cry, That did not move that fortunate one from his place.

He said: How should I fear, when this is the drum of ʿĪd? Let the drum fear, for the blow has reached it.

O hollow drums, you heartless ones, Your share from the festival of the soul has become the blow of the stick.

The Resurrection has become a festival, and the faithless are the drum, While we, like the people of the festival, smile like flowers.

Now hear how this drum sounded, And how the cauldron of fortune cooks.

When he heard the drum and that man was seen, He said: How should my heart fear the drum of ʿĪd?

He said to himself: Come, do not make the heart tremble — for by this The souls of the faint-hearted and faithless ones perish.

The time has come that I, in the manner of Haydar, Shall seize the kingdom or surrender this body.

He leapt up and cried: O kiyā! Here I am — if you are a man, come!

In that instant the talisman shattered from that voice, Gold was pouring out on every side, portion by portion.

This gold poured so much that the young man grew afraid Lest the gold, by its fullness, block the way of the door.

After that, that prepared lion arose And until dawn was drawing gold outward.

He was burying it and returning for more gold With sacks and bags, time after time.

Treasures did that soul-staking one lay from those riches, To the blindness of the fearful ones who had crawled back.

This outward gold has come to the mind In the heart of every blind, benighted gold-worshipper.

Children break potsherds, Name them gold, and put them in their laps.

In that game, if you speak the name of gold, It passes through the child's mind.

But the gold struck with the divine stamp — Which never grows stale — that is eternal.

That gold from which this gold gained its luster, Found its essence, its radiance, and its sheen.

That gold by which the heart becomes rich Surpasses the moon in brightness.

That mosque was the candle and he was the moth; That moth-natured one lost himself therein.

His wings burned, but it made him whole; Most blessed was that casting of himself into it.

That one of blessed fortune was like Moses, Who saw a fire toward that tree.

Since graces upon him were abundant, He thought it fire, but it was light itself.

When you see a man of God, O son, You suppose him to be the fire of a human being.

You come from yourself, and that is within you; The fire and thorns of false conjecture are on this side.

He is the tree of Moses, full of radiance; Call it light — do not call it fire — come at least!

Did not the weaning from this world appear fiery? The wayfarers went on, and it was light all along.

Know then that the candle of religion rises high; This is not like the candles of fires.

This one shows light yet burns the friend, While that one, in the form of fire, is roses for the visitors.

This is like a maker, yet a burner, And that, at the moment of union, is a kindler of hearts.

The form of the flame of pure light, fitting and harmonious: Light for those present, and like fire for those far away.

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Updated 2026-06-30

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