1Cademy - بخش ۴۸ - رفتن مجنون به طفیل گدایان به خیمه گاه لیلی و شکستن لیلی کاسه وی را و رقص کردن مجنون از ذوق آن / Section 48 - Majnun Going to Laylas Encampment in the Company of the Beggars, and Layla Breaking His Bowl, and Majnun Dancing from Delight at That

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بخش ۴۸ - رفتن مجنون به طفیل گدایان به خیمه گاه لیلی و شکستن لیلی کاسه وی را و رقص کردن مجنون از ذوق آن / Section 48 - Majnun Going to Layla's Encampment in the Company of the Beggars, and Layla Breaking His Bowl, and Majnun Dancing from Delight at That

Original content

شیرین سخن شکر فسانه
کین قصه نهاد در میانه

افسانه پوست چون فرو خواند
از پوست برون چنین سخن راند

کان خورده چو دف طپانچه بر پوست
در ناله ز دست فرقت دوست

می گشت به کوه و دشت یکچند
از دوست همی به پوست خرسند

چون پوست نشان ز دوست می داد
خود را تسکین به پوست می داد

وان دم که زمانه کند ازو پوست
وان نیز به کف نماندش از دوست

می برد به سر به کام دشمن
نی دوست به بر نه پوست بر تن

بی دوست که بود رفته جانی
بی پوست چه بود استخوانی

چون یکچندی بر این برآمد
دودش ز دل حزین برآمد

یک روز به وقت نیمروزان
شد پیش شبان ز درد سوزان

چون سایه به زیر پایش افتاد
برداشت ز سوز سینه فریاد

کای چاره گر درون ریشم
روزی عجب آمده ست پیشم

در حال دلم نظاره ای کن
مردم ز فراق چاره ای کن

زین پیش ز هجر مرده بودم
جان را به اجل سپرده بودم

انفاس توام به لطف بنواخت
وز نو چو مسیح زنده ام ساخت

افکن نظری دگر به کارم
کامروز همان امید دارم

بگریست به درد کای جوانمرد
سر تا به قدم همه غم و درد

ز اندوه تو شد مرا جگرخون
وز درد تو اشک من جگرگون

بختت به مراد دل رساناد
بر مسند دولتت نشاناد

از هیچ مقام و هیچ جایی
زین بیش نبینمت دوایی

کان نقش بدیع کلک تصویر
وان شیرین تر ز شکر و شیر

هر اول هفت وقت شامی
از شیر رمه پزد طعامی

خاصه پی طعمه گدایان
از خوان سپهر بینوایان

هر کس که بود در آن حوالی
از سفره رزق دست خالی

آرند به آستان او روی
از خوان نوال او غذا جوی

مالد سر آستین خود باز
قسامی آن به خود کند ساز

کفلیز به کف طعام سنجد
در کاسه هر کس آنچه گنجد

دارند آندم در آن گذرگاه
بیگانه و آشنا همه راه

امشب هنگام کام بخشیست
بی شامان را طعام بخشیست

برخیز تو نیز کاسه بر کف
خود را افکن به سلک آن صف

باشد که طفیل هر گدایی
زان مایده ات رسد نوایی

مجنون چو شنید این بشارت
برخاست به موجب اشارت

بگرفت به کف شکسته جامی
می زد به حریم دوست گامی

آن دلشده چون رسید آنجا
صد دلشده بیش دید آنجا

بر دست گرفته کاسه یا جام
دریوزه گرش ز خوان انعام

هر کس ز کف چنان حبیبی
می یافت به قدر خود نصیبی

مجنون از دور چون بدیدش
عقل از سر و جان ز تن رمیدش

بی خود شد و میل خاک ره داشت
خود را به حیل به پا نگه داشت

چون نوبت وی رسید بی خویش
آورد او نیز جام خود پیش

لیلی وی را چو دید بشناخت
کارش نه چو کار دیگران ساخت

ناداده نصیب ازان طعامش
کفلیز زد و شکست جامش

مجنون چو شکست جام خود دید
گویا که جهان به کام خود دید

آهنگ سماع آن شکستش
چون راه سماع ساخت مستش

می بود بر آن سرود رقاص
می زد با خود ترانه خاص

العیش که کام شد میسر
عیشی به تمام شد میسر

همچون دگران نداد کامم
وز سنگ ستم شکست جامم

با من نظریش هست تنها
زان جام مرا شکست تنها

بیهوده شکست من نجسته ست
کارم زشکست او درست است

آن سنگ که زد به جام من فاش
زان کاسه سرشکستیم کاش

تا در صف واقعان این راز
جاوید نشستمی سرافراز

گر جام مرا شکست یارم
آزردگیی جز این ندارم

کان لحظه مرا که جام بشکست
آزرده نگشته باشدش دست

صد سر فدی شکست او باد
جانها شده مزد دست او باد

از خنجر مهر او دلم چاک
وز هر چه نه مهر او دلم پاک

English translation

The sweet-spoken teller of the sugar-tale, who set this story in the midst, When the tale had finished recounting the sheepskin, from that skin it spoke on thus: That stricken one, like a tambourine slapped upon its skin, wailing from the hand of separation from the beloved, Wandered mountain and plain a while, content with the skin in place of the beloved. Since the skin gave a token of the beloved, he consoled himself with the skin; And when time stripped the skin from him, that too remained not in his hand of the beloved. He spent his life to the enemy's wish, neither beloved in his embrace nor skin upon his body. Without the beloved, who is but a departed soul; without the skin, what is but a bare bone? When a while had passed upon this, smoke rose from his grieving heart. One day at noontide he went, burning with pain, before the shepherd; Like a shadow he fell at his feet, and raised a cry from the burning of his breast: O healer of my inner wound, a strange day has come before me. Look upon the state of my heart; I am dying of separation—find a remedy. Before this I had died of parting, I had surrendered my soul to death; Your breaths kindly caressed me, and like the Messiah made me alive anew. Cast another glance upon my affair, for today I hold that same hope. He wept in pain: O young man, from head to foot you are all grief and pain. From your sorrow my liver turns to blood, and from your pain my tears are liver-hued. May your fortune bring you to your heart's desire, and seat you on the throne of prosperity. From no station and no place do I see for you a remedy beyond this: That wondrous figure drawn by the pen of imaging, sweeter than sugar and milk, Every first of the week at eventide cooks a meal from the milk of the flock, Especially to feed the beggars, the destitute of the table of the sphere. Everyone in that vicinity, empty-handed from the cloth of sustenance, They turn their faces to her threshold, seeking food from the table of her bounty. She rolls up her sleeve and takes upon herself the distributing of it; With ladle in hand she measures out the food, into each one's bowl whatever fits. At that moment in that passage they gather, stranger and acquaintance, all upon the road. Tonight is the time of granting desire, of giving food to those without supper. Rise you too, bowl in hand, and cast yourself into the string of that row; Perhaps in the company of some beggar, some nourishment from that feast may reach you. When Majnun heard this good news, he rose according to the sign; He took a broken cup in hand, stepping toward the sanctuary of the beloved. When that heart-lost one arrived there, he saw a hundred more heart-lost there, Holding bowl or cup in hand, begging at the table of bounty. Each one, from the hand of such a beloved, received a portion by his own measure. When Majnun saw her from afar, reason fled from his head and soul from his body; He became beside himself and inclined toward the dust of the road, keeping himself upon his feet by contrivance. When his turn came, beside himself, he too brought his cup forward. When Layla saw him she knew him, and made his case not like the case of others: Without giving him a portion of that food, she struck with the ladle and broke his cup. When Majnun saw his own cup broken, it was as if he saw the world to his desire. The music of that breaking, as it wove the tune of ecstatic listening, intoxicated him; He was dancing to that song, singing to himself a special refrain: Joy! for desire is now attained—a full enjoyment is attained. She did not grant my desire like the others, and with the stone of cruelty broke my cup; She has a regard for me alone, that she broke my cup alone. My breaking was not sought in vain; my affair is set right by her breaking. That stone she openly struck upon my cup—would that my very head-bowl were broken by it, So that in the row of those who know this secret I might sit forever exalted. If my beloved broke my cup, I have no grievance save this: That at the moment my cup broke, her hand may have been left unhurt. May a hundred heads be sacrificed to her breaking; may souls be the wage of her hand. By the dagger of her love my heart is torn, and of all that is not her love my heart is pure.

Updated 2026-07-19

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Ganjoor

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