1Cademy - بخش ۷۵ - خاتمه در شکر اتمام و تاریخ اختتام و دعای بعض اکرام ابقاهم الله تعالی الی یوم القیام / Section 75 - Conclusion: In Thanksgiving for the Completion, the Date of the Ending, and a Prayer for Certain Honored Ones, May God the Exalted Preserve Them Until the Day of Resurrection

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Haft Awrang

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بخش ۷۵ - خاتمه در شکر اتمام و تاریخ اختتام و دعای بعض اکرام ابقاهم الله تعالی الی یوم القیام / Section 75 - Conclusion: In Thanksgiving for the Completion, the Date of the Ending, and a Prayer for Certain Honored Ones, May God the Exalted Preserve Them Until the Day of Resurrection

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بحمدالله که بر رغم زمانه
به پایان آمد این دلکش فسانه

دلم کز نظم سنجی در عنا بود
ز فکر قافیه در تنگنا بود

بیفکند از کف فکرت ترازو
نشست از نظم سنجی سست بازو

ز دیوار فراغت یافت پشتی
به راه نرمی افتاد از درشتی

سرم برداشت از زانو گرانی
سبک شد خاطر از بار نهانی

قلم آن فارس مرکب انامل
که کردی از حبش در روم منزل

به روم از مقدمش ماندی اثرها
به حاضر دادی از غایب خبرها

پی راحت ز مرکب شد پیاده
دراز افتاد بی مهد و وساده

نه از دست قلمزن تارکش پست
نه گزلک را بر او در سرزنش دست

دوات از طبله مشک خطایی
به امداد قلم در مشکسایی

دهان طبله را زد مهری از موم
که به باشد دهان طبله مختوم

ورق ها از پریشانی رهیدند
به دامن پای جمعیت کشیدند

به سان گل دو صد برگ است و یک پوست
که تا کی برکند زیشان فلک پوست

چو گل هر دم رواج تازه شان باد
ز پیوند بقا شیرازه شان باد

کتابی بین به کلک صدق مرقوم
به نام عاشق و معشوق موسوم

ز نامش طوطی آسایم شکرخا
چو بردم نام یوسف با زلیخا

بنامیزد چه خرم نوبهاریست
کزو باغ ارم را خارخاریست

بود هر داستان زو بوستانی
به هر بستان ز گلرویی نشانی

هزاران تازه گل در وی شگفته
دو صد نرگس به خواب ناز خفته

چمن های معانی شاخ در شاخ
عباراتش نواسنجان گستاخ

خط مشکین او بر لوح کافور
چو در پای درختان سایه و نور

هر آن حرفی که در وی چشمه دار است
ز معنی موج زن یک چشمه سار است

به هر سو جدول از هر چشمه ساری
پر از آب لطافت جویباری

خوش آن رهرو که بخت سازگارش
نشاند بر لب آن جویبارش

نظر در آبش از دل غم بشوید
غبار از خاطر درهم بشوید

ز جانش سر زند سر وفایی
ز جیب آرد برون دست دعایی

ز موج بحر الطاف الهی
کند این تشنه لب را قطره خواهی

چو آرد تازه گلها را در آغوش
نگردد باغبان بر وی فراموش

قلم نساجی این جنس فاخر
رسانید آخر سالی به آخر

که باشد بعد ازان سال مجرد
نهم سال از نهم عشر از نهم صد

گرفتم بیت بیتش را شماره
هزار آمد ولیکن چار باره

خداوندا به مردان ره عشق
نهاده بار در منزلگه عشق

که باد این نوعروس حجله غیب
تهی دامان و جیب از وصله عیب

مبارک بر شه و ارکان دولت
غضنفر هیبتان شیر صولت

به تخصیص آن جوانمردی کش از دیر
نسب چون نام باشد شیر بر شیر

ز بس در بیشه مردی دلیر است
ز مردان جهان نامش دو شیر است

یکی در از دژ دوران کننده
یکی سرپنجه با گوران زننده

به رسم تعمیه زان بردمش نام
که ماند دور ازان اندیشه عام

وگر نی کی توان زان فهم دراک
به صد حقه نهفت این گوهر پاک

کند در شعر طبعش موشکافی
وز آن مو نوک کلکش شعر بافی

نهد زین شعر مشکین دام دلها
دهد از شعر شیرین کام دل ها

دل عشاق ازان یک مانده در بند
لب خوبان ازین یک در شکرخند

به ذکرش ختم شد این روشن انفاس
به سان نور منزل ختم بر ناس

بلی در بارگاه آدمیت
جز او کم یافت راه محرمیت

همیشه تا عطای دور عالم
کند طبع لئیمان شاد و خرم

چنان دل با خدای عالمش باد
که ناید از عطای عالمش یاد

سخن را از دعا دادی تمامی
به آمرزش زبان بگشای جامی

سیهکاری مکن چون خامه خویش
بشوی از چشم پرخون نامه خویش

ازین صحرا جواد خامه پی کن
وز این سودا سواد نامه طی کن

زبان را گوشمال خامشی ده
که هست از هر چه گویی خامشی به

English translation

Praise be to God that, in spite of the age, this charming tale has come to an end. My heart, which was in toil from weighing verse, was straitened by the thought of rhyme. Thought cast the scales from its hand; the arm grew weak and rested from weighing verse. It found a support from the wall of leisure; from harshness it fell onto the path of ease. Heaviness lifted my head from off the knee; the mind grew light from its hidden burden. The pen, that horseman whose steed is the fingers, which used to make its home in Rum from Abyssinia, from whose coming traces remained in Rum, and which gave the present tidings of the absent, for rest dismounted from its steed and lay stretched out without cradle or cushion. Neither is its crown lowered by the writer's hand, nor has the penknife any hand to reproach it. The inkwell, from the box of Khata musk, aids the pen in grinding musk. It sealed the mouth of the box with wax, for it is better that the box's mouth be sealed. The leaves were delivered from disarray; they drew their feet into the skirt of order. Like a rose, they are two hundred petals and one skin—how long will the heavens strip their skin? Like the rose, may their currency ever be fresh; may their binding be from the bond of permanence. Behold a book written with the pen of sincerity, named after the lover and the beloved. From its name I am sugar-chewing like a parrot, since I brought the name of Yusuf together with Zoleykha. God bless it, what a joyous new spring it is, from which the garden of Iram feels a longing! Each of its tales is a garden; in each garden a sign of a rose-faced one. Thousands of fresh roses have bloomed in it; two hundred narcissi asleep in luxurious slumber. The meadows of its meanings are branch upon branch; its expressions are bold weighers of melody. Its musky script upon the camphor tablet is like shade and light at the foot of the trees. Every letter in it that has a dot is a spring surging with meaning. On every side a channel runs from each spring, a streamlet full of the water of gracefulness. Happy is that traveler whom favorable fortune seats upon the bank of that stream: gazing into its water washes grief from the heart and washes the dust from the troubled mind. From his soul rises the impulse of fidelity; from his bosom he brings out a hand of prayer. From the wave of the sea of divine graces he asks a single drop for this thirsty-lipped one. When he takes the fresh roses into his embrace, may the gardener not be forgotten by him. The pen, weaver of this precious cloth, at last brought a year to its end— a year which, taken alone, is the ninth year of the ninth decade of the ninth century. I took the count of its verses one by one; they came to a thousand, but four times over. O Lord, by the men of the path of love who have set down their burden in the abode of love, may this new bride of the bridal chamber of the unseen have her skirt and bosom empty of the patch of any fault. Blessed be it upon the king and the pillars of the state, the lion-awed ones of lion-like might— especially that chivalrous one whose lineage, like his name, is lion upon lion. Because he is so brave a man in the thicket of manliness, his name among the world's men is two lions: one who tears the gate from the fortress of the age, one who strikes his claw against the wild asses. By way of riddle I named him thus, so that it may remain far from common thought; otherwise, how could this pure jewel be hidden from that keen understanding with a hundred caskets? His nature does hair-splitting in poetry, and from that hair the tip of his pen weaves verse. From this musky verse he sets a snare for hearts; from sweet verse he grants hearts their desire. The hearts of lovers are held bound by the one; the lips of the fair from the other break into a sugary smile. With mention of him this bright-breathed work is concluded, like the light of the final station upon mankind. Indeed, in the court of humanity, few but he found the way of intimacy. Ever, so long as the gift of the turning world makes the nature of the vile glad and joyful, may his heart be so devoted to the God of the world that no memory of the world's gift comes to him. You have brought the discourse to completion with prayer; now open your tongue to seek forgiveness, O Jami. Do not do black deeds like your own pen; wash your book clean with your blood-filled eyes. Hamstring the steed of your pen out of this desert; fold up the black writing of your book out of this passion. Give your tongue the chastisement of silence, for silence is better than anything you might say.

Updated 2026-07-20

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