Original content

English translation

When Hormoz heard these words from the nurse, He became such that I cannot ever describe. He said to her, 'O you far from knowledge, Deceived by the ghoul of your own ego. Have you no shame with hair like cotton, To cut a throat like mine for a fat tail? From hair like cotton you made a snare, Like a bird, you tamed me before your snare. Do not make this cotton a snare of deceit and trickery, Put down this cotton of canvas and shroud. You act youthfully before me, Reckon with the grave, O you old woman. With spells you try to seat me, I am not of that kind, however many spells you recite. You place a burden on me with a hundred airs, Are you not afraid it might fall apart? You breathe deceit, if the companion remains, You close it up, if it remains closed. With hypocrisy, place a garment on my head, With coquetry, place another before my feet. Where can your deceit gain the upper hand over me? Spells and deceit cannot be tied to me. You slowly drive me towards the hook, Like a prey, you pull until you withdraw your hand. Do not wallow in your own blood and my blood, Choose someone else besides me. If he is good, may his goodness be his, May he benefit from his goodness. In whatever way he is, he belongs to himself, He is the master and in his own command. I have no business with that jasmine-bosomed one, For the rose needs a spring as a companion. Where would someone like me be left helpless by the rose? For someone like me has many thorns on the path of the rose. Why should I circle the world-illuminating candle? With the rose, I have neither Eid nor Nowruz. Since I am the moth of that heart-illuminating one, If I fly with the candle, I burn my wings. Go, O old witch playing tricks, For you cannot be a trickster with me. Go, O strange black-winged falcon, For you are a companion to the demon for the lost one. Go, O ominous one, let loose with deception, For in ominousness you have surpassed Iblis.' When Hormoz recited words in this manner, The nurse remained helpless from him like a donkey in ice. She said to Hormoz, 'O shameless one, after all, You became hot in cold speech, after all. Do not get hot, O you whose water has left your eyes, You are better off from me if I don't give your answer. From these hundred games of yours on me, if I Do not bring a hundred other games upon you. See the work of the world, that this villager Bears witness against me in witchcraft. Since I am a witch, I will not say more to you, I will show you my witchcraft. I will bring you under the snare so manfully, That you will turn a hundred times around one brick. You will turn so much if you flee from the snare, That you will call on God by a hundred names. Do not measure pain on me out of rashness, Do not look at me with the eye of smallness. If I engage in play and amusement, The ghoul becomes bewildered by my trickery. If I lay a snare on the path with deception, Iblis flees from my fear in haste. Do you not say, whose am I in the end? You belong to the rose, if not, I am yours. So quickly you became like this with me, You did not sit with me for one moment.' From the nurse's words, Hormoz became silent, He did not listen to a single word after that. However much more the nurse spoke, Hormoz slept more from the nurse's words. He did not push away his sleep, He did not give a single answer to a single word. When the nurse did not breathe a word, Hormoz from before Went out and separated himself. When Hormoz left, the nurse with a scar on her liver Returned to the rose from that garden. Golrokh was sitting with wet eyes, A risen heart, two eyes on the door. All the blood of her heart had risen up, Her embrace had become a sea of blood. From impatience, her heart had lost its rest, The ground full of blood from her torrent-raining eyes. She opened her tongue, saying, 'O nurse, where are you? Why do you show such delay? Oh nurse, you are late after all, You have made me satiated with life. Oh nurse, what happened to you for so long? Did a demon snatch you on the way? Oh nurse, you are so nimble in work, One must send you on every errand. Oh nurse, sleep has snatched you, Or water has snatched you on the way. Oh nurse, how long shall I shed tears? Tell me so that I may know your place. Tell me, how long will this ease of yours last? Tell me, how long will this heavy soul of yours last? Why, O nurse, is this your resting? For my heart has become bloody in expectation of you. I have a symbol as a keepsake from an old man, That a hard burning is the burning of expectation. May no one have their eyes on the road, From which the face turns yellow and life short.' The nurse entered and saw Golrokh thus, She saw the rose's face like a saffron leaf. She said to the rose, 'O dear soul of the mother, You did not carry our command before this. Why did you become so agitated after all? You became drowned in eyes from head to toe. Why did you sit in blood like this? From the blood of the eyes, you sat in the Jeyhun. Why did you become so beside yourself? From one barleycorn of patience, you became a dervish. You disgraced me today, O rose, You made me visible from my disgrace, O rose. How do you know yourself that this faithless man What unpleasant things he said and what cruelty he did to me. I grasped the fortune of that villager, He has a bad head and the leaf of separation. One cannot tell you what I told him, The rose petal cannot bear as much as I said. At first, his heart was boiling in faithfulness, At the end, he became angry and silent. Now if I twist a hundred words together, He does not give me one answer back. He stood silent like a wall, He does not keep his ear to words like a wall. Where, if a wall had an ear, It would hear words and be silent. It is proper for speech to come from a stone, and not from him, Speech comes from a wall, and not from him. Like a lily, although Hormoz is ten-tongued, He has shame of the rose, that is why he is silent. I found him so in his pride, That one cannot play any game with him. I said a hundred words of gold and silver, He didn't breathe a moment, is this a dog or a man? Since he remembers the king's garden, He has a head with wind in his hat. He was light-headed and made his face yellow, Like wind he passed me and raised dust.' When the nurse said this and the rose heard it, Like a wind, a fire ran into her head. Her two narcissus eyes from this burning, From the tip of the eyelashes became liver-piercing from blood. Thousands of newly risen blood-stained tears, Rained down from the sharp eyelashes. In such a way a boil fell into her heart, That a cry appeared from every hair of hers. She tore the world-adorning tip of her lock, She tore the back of her hand from its place with her teeth. She was extremely grieving because of Hormoz, Who could ever do this to the rose? From the fiery tears her eyelashes were burning, From the pain of hopelessness her soul was burning. She opened her tongue and said, 'O nurse, beware, Do not go into the blood of my soul all at once. Do not turn away from the rose if the rose did cruelty, For one cannot separate a piece from oneself. My heart went out of my hand and water from my work, My heart became blood, O nurse, reach me. If you do not reach the work of my heart, You will not find my trace from the other world. In this sorrow, my soul will come out of me, I will die so that the world comes to an end for me. When I am gone, you will be captive, You will have regret and blood-drinking. When you have killed the rose with your own hand, When you have soaked the rose with the blood of the heart.' From the words of the crying rose, the nurse became, From the heat of the boiling chest, the nurse became. She said to the rose, 'O you who have given wisdom to the wind, Surely you are not a princess. Since Hormoz became, hold his foot hard, I have not seen anyone with weaker veins than you in work. Will anyone's head bow down to Hormoz? May that head never come at all. You know that I died in this fever, I will never speak again on this matter. Even if you twist the string of my drum a lot, You will not find the main thread of this from me. I will also not traverse the path again, What else will there be except killing? How can I take this thorn out of the rose? Since he does not want the rose, what should I do? This farmer does not approve of you after all, That he binds water to a clod of earth after all. The world-seeing work does not want you, To whom shall I say this in the world after all? The world became tight for you from bad reputation, That I consider dying permissible from this shame. When summer comes from this shameless eye, Your desire for Hormoz will become hot in the heart. When the garden becomes yellow from falling leaves, Your desire may become cold in the end. You, O Golrokh, have two sugar-raining lips, Do not let down the milk all at once in the end. You, O rose, have musk, the snare of the wild rose, Do not go into the ring of that musky line. Go and throw this burden from your neck this time, If it is a soul, throw the soul from the body. Since you know that Hormoz is a nobody, Why then is there no end to your Hormoz? At first he stole your heart and took your senses, At the end he also speaks into your ear. The work of Hormoz has no splendor with you, This work will never come to reform. Since this work is not a tightly bound horse, Why do you bring agitation when you have a tight pistachio (mouth)? Since you do not see a tightly bound horse, If your heart seats you, you sit. You call me unaware again, Go to Hormoz and bring news from him. Like quicksilver, light up your face with joy, Also strike a pitcher on his stone today. What on his stone...'