1Cademy - بخش ۳۷ - دیدن جوانی از ثقیف لیلی را در راه کعبه و عاشق شدن بر وی و نکاح کردن وی / Section 37 - A Youth from Thaqif Seeing Layla on the Road to the Kaaba, Falling in Love with Her, and Marrying Her

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Haft Awrang

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بخش ۳۷ - دیدن جوانی از ثقیف لیلی را در راه کعبه و عاشق شدن بر وی و نکاح کردن وی / Section 37 - A Youth from Thaqif Seeing Layla on the Road to the Kaaba, Falling in Love with Her, and Marrying Her

Original content

گوهر کش این علاقه در
زان در کند این علاقه را پر

کان هودجی مراحل ناز
وان حجلگی عماری راز

آهوی شکارگیر شیران
تاراجگر دل دیران

مجنون کن زیرکان دانا
آسیب توان صد توانا

چون بارگی از حرم برون راند
حادی به حدی گری فسون خواند

هر کعبه روی به قصد منزل
می راند به صد شتاب محمل

از حی ثقیف نازنینی
خورشید رخی قمر جبینی

بر دور رخش خط معنبر
بر ماه ز شک بسته چنبر

در خاتم مهتریش انگشت
سردار قبیله پشت بر پشت

آثار غنایش از حد افزون
نی کوه ازو تهی نه هامون

آن کیسه تهی ز گنج پاشیش
وین پر ز حواشی و مواشیش

با محمل او مقابل افتاد
زان جا هوسیش در دل افتاد

بر پرده محملش نظر داشت
بادی بوزید و پرده برداشت

در پرده چه دید آفتابی
بل کز رخش آفتاب تابی

زلفین نهاده بر بناگوش
کرده شب و روز را هم آغوش

ابروش پی هزار سرکش
انداخته نعل ها در تش

چشمش به نگاه جاودانه
نیرنگ فریب جاودانه

نوشین دهنش چو گشته خندان
بگشاده گره ز جان به دندان

شسته ذقنش به آب غبغب
لوح ادب دو صد مؤدب

چون دید ز پرده روی آن ماه
رفت آگهیش ز جان آگاه

شد مرغ دلش شکاری عشق
و افتاده ز زخم کاری عشق

بیچاره شده ز عشقبازی
دربست میان به چاره سازی

چون بود ز چاره رای او سست
در چاره گری میانچیی جست

هر چند که مرد چاره داند
کی چاره کار خود تواند

دور است به پیش دانش اندیش
از کارد تراش دسته خویش

دلاله کند به چاپلوسی
آراسته مجلس عروسی

گر وی نبود کجا شود شاد
از وصل عروس جان داماد

آورد به دست کاردانی
افسون سخنی فسانه خوانی

پیری که به نکته های دلکش
دادی صلح آب را به آتش

پیش پدر ویش فرستاد
دعوی ها کرد و وعده ها داد

گفتا به نسب بزرگوارم
چون تو نسب بزرگ دارم

در جاه و جمال کس چو من نیست
در مال و منال کس چو من نیست

هر چیز طلب کنی بیارم
در پای تو ریزم آنچه دارم

وادی وادی ز میش تا بز
با چوپانان راد گربز

از اشتر و اسب گله گله
خادم نر و ماده یک محله

سیم و زری از شمردن افزون
وز کفه وزن نیز بیرون

مملوک توام فسانه کوتاه
العبد و ماله لمولاه

هستم به قبول بندگی بند
داماد نیم تو را و فرزند

گر زانکه کنی قبول خود خوش
یک خوش چه سخن بود که صد خوش

ور نی نتوان به زر کشیدن
یک ذره قبول دل خریدن

چون شد پدرش ز خوان آن پیر
زین طعمه پاک چاشنی گیر

آن تازه جوان پسندش افتاد
بی تاب و گره به بندش افتاد

گفتا که جمال او ندیده
فرزند من است و نور دیده

شد خاطر بی قرار ساکن
بر دادن این مراد لیکن

با آنکه خلل پذیر نبود
از مشورتی گزیر نبود

رفت و طلبید مادرش را
آن قدرشناس گوهرش را

با او ز دگر کسان یگانه
این راز نهاد در میانه

او نیز به این سخن رضا داد
وین داعیه را به سینه جا داد

گفتا که مناسب است و لایق
این کار به حال هر دو عاشق

لیلی چو به این شود هم آغوش
از یار کهن کند فراموش

مجنون چو ازین خبر برد بوی
در آرزوی دگر کند روی

ما هم برهیم در میانه
از گفت و شنید این فسانه

لیکن چو به لیلی این سخن گفت
ز اندیشه دلش چو زلفش آشفت

از شعله این غمش جگر سوخت
رنگ سمنش چو لاله افروخت

برگ گلش از گلاب تر شد
جیبش ز سرشک پر گهر شد

دامن ز خیال خود برافشاند
سرگشته به حال خود فرو ماند

نی تاب خلاف رای مادر
بیرون شدن از رضای مادر

نی طاقت ترک یار دیرین
سر تافتن از قرار دیرین

دختر که بود به پرده شرم
سیراب گلش ز آب آزرم

با مادر و با پدر چه گوید
بیرون ز رضایشان چه جوید

لیلی که درین حدیث جانکاه
می برد به سر به گریه و آه

نگشاد دهان به چاره کوشی
گفتند رضاست این خموشی

دادند به خواستگار پیغام
تا در پی این غرض زند گام

دلداده چو این پیام بشنید
کار دو جهان به کام خود دید

سود افسر فخر بر ثریا
بودش همه کارها مهیا

چون چهره خود عروس خاور
پوشید به طره معنبر

گردون به سپند مجمر افروخت
مجلس به چراغ مه برافروخت

آرایش مجلس طرب کرد
اشراف قبیله را طلب کرد

هر یک به مقام خود نشستند
مه را به ستاره عقد بستند

باران ز پی نثار آن عقد
چندین طبق از زر و گهر نقد

قومی به نثار زرفشانی
جمعی به شمار زر ستانی

کف های توانگران درم ریز
دامان تهی کفان درم خیز

آن برده به زر ده دهی مشت
وین کرده قراضه چین ده انگشت

خلقی همه شاد غیر لیلی
خندان به مراد غیر لیلی

داماد چو دید کان نواله
کردند به کام او حواله

شد خوش کش ازان حواله بهر است
غافل که در آن نهان چه زهر است

مرغی بپرید از آشیانه
بنشست به خاک بهر دانه

دید آمده دانه ای پدیدار
چون برد به سوی دانه منقار

از پرده خاک دام برجست
وز حلقه تنگ حلق او بست

چون از شب عقد رفت یکچند
با جان و دلی بس آرزومند

آمد پی آن مه حصاری
آراسته چون فلک عماری

بردش سوی خانه با صد اعزاز
بنشاند به صدر حجله ناز

لیلی به هزار عز و تمکین
در مسند ناز یافت تسکین

آورد چو ماه در زمین رو
نگشاد گره ز طاق ابرو

از خنده ببست درج گوهر
وز گریه گشاده لؤلوی تر

وان تشنه جگر ستاده از دور
بر آب نظر نهاده از دور

نی صبر کشیدن تف و تاب
نی رخصت گرد گشتن آب

روزی دو سه چون به صبر بنشست
شوق آمد و پشت صبر بشکست

شد همبر نخل راستینش
زد دست هوس در آستینش

زد بانگ که خیز و دور بنشین
زین تازه رطب صبور بنشین

زین نخل کسی رطب نچیده ست
چیدن چه سخن رطب ندیده ست

خوش نیست ز ناشکسته شاخی
میدان هوس بدین فراخی

آن کس که فگار خار اویم
دلخسته در انتظار اویم

صبر و دل و دین فدای من کرد
جان را هدف بلای من کرد

در بادیه از من است دلتنگ
در کوه ز من زند به دل سنگ

آهو به خیال من چراند
جامه به هوای من دراند

از زهر فراق من جگر پاک
از اشک گوزن جسته تریاک

از من نفسی نبوده غافل
وز من به کسی نگشته مایل

یک بار ندیده سیر رویم
گامی نزده دلیر سویم

راضیست به سایه ای ز سروم
خرسند به پری از تذروم

زان سایه نکردمش سرافراز
وین پر سوی او نکرد پرواز

پیمان وفای اوست طوقم
غالب به لقای اوست شوقم

چون با دگری درآورم سر
وز وصل کسی دگر خورم بر

در حالت او و من نظر کن
وین وسوسه را ز دل به در کن

مغرور مشو به حشمت خویش
می دار نگاه عزت خویش

سوگند به صنع صانع پاک
اعجوبه نگار تخته خاک

کت بار دگر اگر ببینم
دست آورده به آستینم

بر روی تو آستین فشانم
بر فرق تو تیغ کین برانم

بر کین تو گر نباشدم دست
خود دست به کشتن خودم هست

خود را بکشم به تیغ بیداد
وز دست جفات گردم آزاد

بیچاره چو این وعید و سوگند
بشنید ازان لب شکرخند

دانست که پای سعی کند است
وان ناقه بی زمام تند است

چون بود به دام او گرفتار
وز بیم مفارقت دل افگار

ناچار به درد و داغ او ساخت
با بوی گلی ز باغ او ساخت

هر لحظه ز وصل فرقت آمیز
وز راحت های محنت انگیز

بیخ املیش کنده می شد
صد ره می مرد و زنده می شود

تا بود همیشه کارش این بود
سرمایه روزگارش این بود

وان روز که مرد هم بر این مرد
زاد ره آن جهان همین برد

English translation

The pearl-stringer of this bond of love threads it, and from that thread he fills this bond to the brim.

For that howdah is a set of stages of coquetry, and that curtained litter a bridal chamber of secret mysteries.

A gazelle that hunts down lions, a plunderer of the hearts of the far-off.

Making the wise and knowing mad, with one blow she overthrows a hundred mighty ones.

When the mount had been driven forth from the sacred precinct, the camel-driver, at each halting place, chanted his spell.

Each one bound for the Kaaba, aiming at the stage ahead, drove the litter on with a hundredfold haste.

From the tribe of Thaqif there was a graceful one, sun of countenance, moon of brow.

Around his cheek an ambergris line of down, upon the moon he had fastened a ring against the evil eye.

Upon the seal-ring of lordship was his finger, chieftain of the clan, generation upon generation.

The signs of his wealth were beyond all measure— neither mountain nor plain was empty of it.

That purse was empty from the scattering of his treasure, yet this one was full of retinue and cattle.

He came face to face with her litter, and from that place a longing fell into his heart.

He kept his eye upon the curtain of her litter; a breeze blew and lifted the curtain away.

Within the curtain—what did he see? A sun, nay, from her cheek a very radiance of the sun.

Her two tresses laid upon her earlobes, making night and day embrace each other.

Her eyebrow, in pursuit of a thousand rebels, had cast horseshoes into the fire.

Her eye with its everlasting glance, an enchantment of eternal deception.

Her sweet mouth, when it broke into laughter, loosed the knot from the soul with its teeth.

Her chin washed in the water of the double-chin, a tablet of grace to two hundred well-mannered ones.

When he beheld from behind the curtain the face of that moon, awareness fled from him, aware of his very soul.

The bird of his heart became the prey of love, and fell from the deadly wound of love.

Made helpless by love-play, he girded himself tight to devise a remedy.

Since his judgment was too feeble for a remedy, in his remedy-seeking he sought a go-between.

However much a man may know of remedies, when can he remedy his own affair?

Far is it, before the thoughtful man of knowledge, for a knife to carve its own handle.

The matchmaker, with flattery, adorns the wedding assembly.

Were she not there, how would the soul of the bridegroom grow glad from union with the bride?

He brought into his hand a skilled one, a charm of speech, a teller of tales,

an old man who, with heart-alluring subtleties, could make peace between water and fire.

He sent him to her father, made many claims and gave many promises.

He said: 'In lineage I am noble; like you I hold a great pedigree.

In rank and beauty none is like me, in wealth and property none is like me.

Whatever you seek, I shall bring; at your feet I shall pour whatever I have—

valley upon valley of sheep and goats, with generous, clever shepherds;

of camels and horses, herd upon herd, of male and female servants, a whole quarter full;

silver and gold beyond all counting, and outside the scale of any weighing.

I am your bondsman—to make the tale short, "the slave and his property belong to his master."

I am bound in the bond of servitude; I am not your son-in-law but your child.

If you accept, then be well pleased— one gladness? nay, a hundred gladnesses, what a word!

And if not, one cannot with gold purchase a single mote of the heart's acceptance.'

When her father tasted of the old man's table, he took a pure relish from this morsel.

That fresh youth pleased him; without struggle he fell into his snare, knot and all.

He said: 'Though I have not seen his beauty, she is my child and the light of my eye.

My restless mind has grown calm upon granting this desire—and yet,

although there is no flaw to be feared, from consultation there is no escape.'

He went and summoned her mother, that one who knew the worth of her jewel;

apart from all others, with her alone he placed this secret in the midst.

She too gave consent to this speech, and gave a place in her breast to this design.

She said: 'It is fitting and proper, this matter, for the state of both lovers.

When Layla becomes the bedfellow of this one, she will forget her old beloved.

When Majnun catches the scent of this news, he will turn his face toward some other longing.

We too shall be delivered, in the midst, from the telling and hearing of this tale.'

But when she spoke this to Layla, from the thought her heart grew tangled like her tresses.

From the flame of this grief her liver burned; the jasmine-hue of her face flushed like the tulip.

The petal of her rose grew moist with rosewater; her bosom filled with pearl-scattered tears.

She shook her skirt free of her own fancy, and bewildered, remained fixed in her own state.

Neither the strength to oppose her mother's will, nor to step outside her mother's pleasure;

neither the endurance to abandon the old beloved, nor to turn her head from the old covenant.

A daughter who dwelt behind the veil of modesty, her rose watered from the stream of bashfulness—

what should she say to mother and to father? What should she seek beyond their consent?

Layla, who in this soul-consuming affair spent her days in weeping and lament,

opened not her mouth to strive for a remedy; they said: 'This silence is consent.'

They sent word to the suitor, that he might set his step in pursuit of this aim.

When the lovestruck one heard this message, he saw the affair of both worlds as he wished.

He rubbed the crown of pride upon the Pleiades; all his affairs were made ready for him.

When, like her own face, the bride of the east veiled herself in her ambergris locks,

the heavens kindled the censer with wild rue, and lit the assembly with the lamp of the moon.

He made the adornment of a joyous feast, and summoned the nobles of the tribe.

Each one sat in his own place; they wedded the moon to the star.

Rained down, in scattering for that wedlock, were many trays of gold and cash and jewels.

One group at scattering gold in largesse, another company at counting up the gold;

the palms of the wealthy pouring out coins, the skirts of the empty-handed gathering coins;

this one carrying off a full fistful of gold, that one making of clippings a pickings for ten fingers.

Every creature was glad—save Layla; smiling at their desire—save Layla.

When the bridegroom saw that morsel assigned to his own palate,

he grew glad, for from that assignment came his share, heedless of what poison lay hidden within it.

A bird flew forth from its nest, and settled on the dust for the sake of a grain.

It saw a grain appear; as it carried its beak toward the grain,

from behind the curtain of the dust a snare sprang up, and bound the narrow ring about its throat.

When some time had passed from the night of the wedlock, with a soul and heart full of longing,

he came for that fortress-dwelling moon, adorned like the heavenly litter.

He bore her toward his house with a hundred honors, seated her in the place of honor of the bridal chamber of coquetry.

Layla, with a thousand honor and dignity, found repose upon the cushion of coyness.

When she brought her moon-face down toward the earth, she loosed no knot from the arch of her brow.

From laughter she closed the casket of pearls, and from weeping she opened the fresh pearls.

And that liver-parched one stood afar, his gaze set upon the water from afar—

neither the patience to bear the fever and burning, nor the leave to circle round the water.

When two or three days he sat in patience, desire came and broke the back of patience.

He drew close to her upright cypress-form, and set the hand of lust upon her sleeve.

She cried out: 'Rise and sit far off; sit patient, restrained from this fresh date.

From this palm none has plucked a date; plucking? what talk—none has even seen the date.

It is not pleasant from an unbroken branch; deem the field of lust to be this wide.

He whose thorn has wounded me, who lies heartsick in wait for me,

who made patience and heart and faith my sacrifice, who made his soul the target of my affliction—

in the desert he is heart-straitened for me, in the mountain, for me, he strikes his heart against stone;

he grazes the gazelle by imagining me, he rends his garment out of longing for me;

from the poison of my parting his liver is drained, from the tears of the wild deer he seeks an antidote.

Not for a breath has he been heedless of me, nor has he inclined from me toward anyone.

Not once has he gazed his fill upon my face, nor set a single bold step toward me.

He is content with a shadow of my cypress, content with a single feather of my pheasant.

With that shadow I have never exalted him, nor did that feather ever fly toward him.

The pledge of his fidelity is my collar; overmastering me is my yearning for meeting him.

How then should I lay my head with another, and take fruit from union with someone else?

Look at his state and mine, and cast this whispering doubt out of your heart.

Be not deluded by your own pomp; keep watch over your own honor.

I swear by the making of the pure Maker, the wonder-painter of the tablet of dust,

that if I see you a second time stretching your hand out to my sleeve,

I shall shake my sleeve against your face, and draw the sword of enmity upon your head.

And if I have no power to wreak vengeance on you, I myself have a hand to slay my own self.

I shall slay myself with the sword of injustice, and from the hand of your cruelty become free.'

When the helpless one heard this threat and oath from that sugar-smiling lip,

he knew that the foot of striving was blunted, and that this unbridled she-camel was fierce.

Since he was caught in her snare, and heartsick from the dread of parting,

perforce he made do with her pain and torment, he contented himself with the scent of a rose from her garden.

Every moment, from a union mixed with separation, and from comforts that stirred affliction,

the root of his hope was being uprooted; a hundred times he died and came alive again.

As long as he lived, this was ever his affair; this was the whole capital of his days.

And the day he died, upon this he died; this alone he carried as provision for that world.

Updated 2026-07-19

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