1Cademy - بخش ۴۶ - رفتن مجنون به حوالی دیار لیلی و ملاقات و مقالات وی با سگی که در کوی وی دیده بود / Section 46 - Majnun Going to the Vicinity of Laylas Homeland, and His Meeting and Discourses with a Dog He Had Seen in Her Lane

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Haft Awrang

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بخش ۴۶ - رفتن مجنون به حوالی دیار لیلی و ملاقات و مقالات وی با سگی که در کوی وی دیده بود / Section 46 - Majnun Going to the Vicinity of Layla's Homeland, and His Meeting and Discourses with a Dog He Had Seen in Her Lane

Original content

گوهر کش سلک این حکایت
در قصه چنین کند روایت

کان داده درین محیط مواج
سرمایه عقل و دین به تاراج

آن کشتی عافیت شکسته
بر تخت شکسته ای نشسته

چون مژده مرگ دشمن خویش
بشنید ز یار مصلحت کیش

دانست که خاست مانع از راه
شد راه به کوی وصل کوتاه

مه در مهد است و پاسبانی نی
گل نوعهد و غم خزانی نی

از قوت شوق کوی جانان
شد ناقه بادپای رانان

چون قوت شوق بارگی وار
بردش به دیار آن وفادار

حیران می گشت وز چپ و راست
از دوست نشانه ای همی خواست

ناگاه ز دور دید یک سگ
افتاده ز پای و مانده از تگ

هم بازوی او ز کار رفته
هم پنجه اش از شکار رفته

داء/الثعلب ببرده مویش
وز زخم ددان فگار مویش

از لاغریش ز پوست هر سو
پیدا شده استخوان پهلو

بود انبانی و استخوان پر
یا خود قربانی از کمان پر

دمش که ز مو نداشت تاری
حلقه زده می نمود ماری

خالیش دهان لقمه فرسای
از دندان های استخوان خای

چون گر سنگیش قصد جان کرد
گویی دندان چو استخوان خورد

پهلوش ز سختی زمین ریش
در ناله ز دست پهلوی خویش

هر ریش به پوستش دهانی
در وی ز وفاکشان زبانی

همچون دندان ازان دهان ها
بنموده سفید استخوان ها

نی نی شده پوستش بر اندام
صد چشمه زیاده بود چون دام

زان دام به جای صید نخجیر
گشته پی قوت خود مگس گیر

روبه با وی به سرفرازی
هر دم گفتی به طنز و بازی

کای شیر پلنگ گیر برخیز
با روبه خسته دل درآویز

تا کی عریان به هر زمینی
خسبی به کف آر پوستینی

مجنون چو بدید روی آن سگ
چون اشک دوید سوی آن سگ

چون سایه به زیر پایش افتاد
صد بوسه به خاک پای او داد

رفتش ته پا به دیده تر
گسترده ز ریگ نرم بستر

بالین سر زانوی خودش ساخت
بر سر سایه ز مهرش انداخت

شستن به دو چشم تر جراحت
خارید تنش به دست راحت

گرد از سر و روی او بیفشاند
وز پهلو و پشت او مگس راند

چون دست ز شغل کار سازی
بگشاد زبان به دلنوازی

کای طوق وفا قلاده تو
شیران جهان فتاده تو

هستی به وفا ز آدمی بیش
وز جمله به راه محرمی پیش

یک لقمه ز دست هر که خوردی
صد سنگ خوری و برنگردی

کار تو شبانه پاسبانی
وآیین تو روزها شبانی

دزد از تو ز کار خویشتن سیر
گرگ از تو اسیر پنجه شیر

بانگت دل شبروان شکسته
دست عسسان به چوب بسته

در معرکه گاه راستکاران
یک موی تو وز عسس هزاران

چون در ره پردلی زنی تگ
با شیری تو عسس کم از سگ

بس گمشده در شبان تاری
کز بانگ خودت به منزل آری

آن را که به شب ز ره برون است
بانگ تو نوای ارغنون است

ور زانکه ز کوی دوست آید
از رشته جان گره گشاید

روزی که بود شکار کارت
سلطان جهان بود شکارت

در بازوی وی بود کمندت
در پنجه وی گشاد و بندت

دلقت ز حریر و خز ملمع
طوقت ز زر و گهر مرصع

از همتگی تو گر بماند
در پیروی تو رخش راند

کار تو به خود کند حواله
وز خوان خودت دهد نواله

چون سر دهدت به صید نخجیر
ناید به دویدن از تو تقصیر

از بس که سبکروی کنی ساز
ماند ز تو سایه در قفا باز

گر مرغ شود شکار یا باد
مشکل ز دم تو گردد آزاد

بس روبه جلد کار دیده
کش زخم تو پوستین دریده

وان را پی دوختن همان روز
داده به دکان پوستین دوز

ناگشته پلنگ رنجه تو
ترسید ز زور پنجه تو

با آن درع و سلاح داری
بر قله کوه شد حصاری

شیر از تو شنید مکر و دستان
از بیم خزید در نیستان

با آن همه انبوهی نیزه
پیچید ز تو سر ستیزه

با زور تو ک آفت گوزن است
آهوی حقیر را چه وزن است

هر گور که زخم خورده از تو
جان با تگ پا نبرده از تو

خرگوش تو را به خواب دیده
از ترس تو خواب ازو رمیده

اینست حکایت جوانیت
تاریخ صفای زندگانیت

واکنون که فلک ز پا فکندت
شد زور ز پای زورمندت

کردند رها تو را به خواری
ناکرده کسیت حقگزاری

تا مرگ نگرددم هم آغوش
حاشا که تو را کنم فراموش

بودی سگ آستان لیلی
شبها شده پاسبان لیلی

هر چند کزان شرف فتادی
وان مرتبه را ز دست دادی

هستم سگ تو من فتاده
از حلقه دم کنم قلاده

دست آر ز دوستی سوی من
کن طوق سعادتم به گردن

بگذار به حرمت وفایت
تا روی نهم به خاک پایت

کین پای به کوی او رسیده ست
گاهی ز قفای او دویده ست

نگرفته شبی ز پاسش آرام
برگردش خیمه اش زده گام

چشمت بوسم که گاه گاهی
کرده ست به روی او نگاهی

یا باد به میل خار و خاشاک
شد سرمه کشش ز راه آن پاک

بندم به دم تو ز اشک گوهر
کان حلقه زده بسی بر آن در

داغی که ازو بود به رانت
وز سر وفا دهد نشانت

خواهم دل خود نهم بر آن داغ
تا داغ دلم شود ازان باغ

هستی القصه پای تا فرق
در نور جمال یار من غرق

خواهم که ز خود تهی کنم جای
تا بو که به جای من نهی پای

من باز رهم ز دلخراشی
درمان خراش من تو باشی

خاکم به ره تو ای وفادار
زنهار و هزار بار زنهار

روزی که رسی به خاک آن کوی
باز آیدت آب رفته بر جوی

افتد به حریم او گذارت
بخشند بر آن ستانه بارت

هر جا که نشان پاش بینی
خاک ره فرق ساش بینی

بوسی ز لبم نشان آن پای
وز فرق سرم شوی زمین سای

گاهی که طفیل میهمانی
یادی کندت به استخوانی

زان طعمه شوی چو بهره اندیش
یاد آری ازین طفیلی خویش

شبها که بر آستانه او
گردی پی پاس خانه او

بی خوابی من به خاک و خواری
دور از در او به خاطر آری

چون دامن خیمه اش بهاران
از ابر شود سرشکباران

آبی آری به روی کارم
از قصه چشم اشکبارم

بر گردن میخ ها طنابش
چو حلقه شود به پیچ و تابش

بر گردن مانده زیر باری
منت نه ازان به طوقداری

یک شب که به چشم نایدش خواب
آید بیرون به گشت مهتاب

ساز از پی خواب او بهانه
گوی از من بی دل این فسانه

کای شیر شکار آهوی شنگ
تیغ تو به خون پردلان رنگ

تا چند من غریب شیدا
گردم ز تو گرد کوه و صحرا

عمری ز در تو دور بودم
دمساز گوزن و گور بودم

امروز که آمدم به نزدیک
چشمم ز غبار هجر تاریک

ترسم که اگر قدم نهم پیش
اندوه تو بر دلم شود بیش

یک مانع اگر ز راه برخاست
صد مانع دیگرم مهیاست

گر گرد جوانه شیر شبگیر
در حیله گریست روبه پیر

بر شیر شکسته پای در سنگ
صد زخم رسد ز روبه لنگ

گر دل دهیم کنم دلیری
در بیشه این دیار شیری

سر پای کنم به راه وصلت
آیم به شکارگاه وصلت

در بیشه تو مقام گیرم
وز وصل تو صید کام گیرم

ور نی باشم چنانکه زین بیش
بودم به خیال مردن خویش

میرم به مراد بخت ناساز
تو از من و من ز خود رهم باز

English translation

The stringer of the pearls of this tale narrates in the story thus:

That one who, in this surging ocean, had given the capital of reason and faith to plunder,

that broken ship of well-being, seated upon a shattered plank—

when the glad tidings of his enemy's death he heard from a well-meaning friend,

he knew the obstacle had risen from the road, and the way to the lane of union had grown short.

The moon is in its cradle and there is no watchman; the rose is newly pledged and there is no fear of autumn.

From the force of longing for the beloved's lane his she-camel became a wind-footed courser;

when the force of longing, like a steed, bore him to the homeland of that faithful one,

he wandered bewildered, and to left and right he kept seeking some sign of his beloved.

Suddenly, from afar, he saw a dog, fallen from its feet and left unable to run.

Both its foreleg had failed at its work, and its paw had lost the power of the hunt.

Mange had stripped away its fur, and from the wounds of beasts its hide was torn.

From its leanness, through the skin on every side, the bones of its flank had come into view.

It was a sack full of bones, or a sacrifice pierced full by the bow.

Its tail, which had not a single hair, lay coiled and looked like a snake.

Its mouth, empty of chewing any morsel, with bone-gnawing teeth;

when mange assaulted its life, it was as though its teeth gnawed like bone.

Its flank torn by the hardness of the ground, moaning from the pain of its own side.

Each wound on its skin was a mouth, and in it, from the loyal ones, a tongue.

Like teeth, out of those mouths, the white bones showed.

Nay, rather, its skin upon its body had become more than a hundred springs, like a net;

and from that net, instead of hunting game, it had become a fly-catcher for its own sustenance.

The fox, in pride toward it, would say at every moment, in mockery and jest:

'O lion, leopard-catcher, arise! Grapple with the weary-hearted fox.

How long, naked on every patch of ground, will you sleep? Get yourself a fur coat!'

When Majnun saw the face of that dog, like a tear he ran toward that dog.

Like a shadow he fell beneath its feet, and gave a hundred kisses to the dust of its paws.

He went beneath its feet with wet eyes, and spread from soft sand a bed;

he made his own knee a pillow for its head, and out of love cast a shade over it.

He washed its wounds with his two weeping eyes, and scratched its body with a gentle hand;

he shook the dust from its head and face, and drove the flies from its flank and back.

When his hand was done with the task of tending, he loosed his tongue in tenderness:

'O you whose collar is the necklet of loyalty, the lions of the world lie fallen before you.

In faithfulness you are more than a human, and ahead of all upon the path of intimacy.

One morsel from anyone's hand you eat, and you endure a hundred stones and do not turn away.

Your work by night is standing guard, and your custom by day is shepherding.

Through you the thief grows weary of his trade, through you the wolf falls captive to the lion's paw.

Your bark breaks the heart of the night-prowlers, and binds the watchmen's hands to their staves.

On the battlefield of the upright, one hair of you is worth a thousand watchmen.

When you run with courage on the road, beside you, with a lion, the watchman is less than a dog.

Many a soul lost in the dark of night you bring home again with your bark.

For the one who at night has strayed from the road, your barking is the melody of the organ;

and if it comes from the beloved's lane, it unties the knot from the thread of life.

In the days when hunting was your work, the sultan of the world was your quarry;

in his arm was your lasso, in his grip was your loosing and your binding.

Your cloak was of silk and shimmering sable, your collar studded with gold and gems.

From eagerness for you, if he fell behind, he would spur his Rakhsh to follow you.

He would entrust his affair to you, and from his own table give you a share.

When he set you loose upon the game, no shortcoming came from you in the chase.

So lightly and swiftly you would go that your own shadow was left behind you.

Whether a bird was the prey, or the wind, hardly could it break free of your breath.

Many a bold, seasoned fox whose pelt your wound had rent,

and which, that very day, to be sewn up, was handed to the furrier's shop.

The leopard, before you troubled it, trembled at the strength of your paw;

with all its armor and its weapons it took fortress upon the mountain peak.

The lion heard your cunning and your wiles, and from fear crept into the reed-bed;

with all that thicket of spear-like reeds, it turned its head of strife away from you.

With your strength, which is the bane of the deer, what weight has the lowly gazelle?

Every wild ass that took a wound from you could not carry off its life by fleeing;

the hare that saw you in its dream— from fear of you sleep fled from it.

This is the tale of your youth, the chronicle of the purity of your life.

And now that the heavens have thrown you down, and the strength has left your once-mighty legs,

they have abandoned you in disgrace, none having rendered you your due—

yet, until death takes me in its embrace, far be it that I should forget you.

You were the dog of Layla's threshold, by night the watchman of Layla.

Though you have fallen from that honor, and let that rank slip from your hand,

I am your fallen dog; from the loop of your tail I make my collar.

Stretch out toward me in friendship, and set the collar of good fortune on my neck.

Allow me, by the honor of your loyalty, to lay my face upon the dust of your feet—

for this foot has reached her lane, has at times run behind her,

has not for one night rested from guarding her, has paced around her tent.

I kiss your eye, which now and again has cast a glance upon her face,

or which the wind, with a needle of thorn and straw, has anointed with collyrium from that pure one's path.

I bind upon your tail pearls of tears, for it has coiled so often at that door.

The brand that is on your thigh from her, and that, out of loyalty, gives sign of you—

I wish to lay my heart upon that brand, so that my heart's brand may be from that garden.

In short, from foot to crown you are drowned in the light of my beloved's beauty.

I wish to empty this place of myself, so that perhaps you may set your foot where I stood;

then I am freed from my heart's tearing, and you become the cure of my wound.

I am dust upon your path, O faithful one— beware, a thousand times beware!

The day you reach the dust of that lane, the water that flowed away returns to your stream;

your passage falls upon her sanctuary, and they grant you admittance at that threshold.

Wherever you see the mark of her foot, see the dust of the road as the parting of her hair.

Kiss, from my lips, the mark of that foot, and, from the crown of my head, rub your face upon the ground.

When, as a hanger-on at some feast, she remembers you with a bone,

from that morsel, as you think of your share, call to mind this dependent of yours.

On the nights when at her threshold you circle to guard her house,

bring to mind my sleeplessness in dust and disgrace, far away from her door.

When, in spring, the hem of her tent is rained upon with tears from the cloud,

bring some water to revive my cause, from the tale of my weeping eye.

Upon the neck—the tent-stakes—their rope, when it coils in its twisting and its turning,

left on the neck beneath a burden— take from that no favor in your collar-wearing.

One night when sleep will not come to her eye, and she comes out to stroll in the moonlight,

make of her sleeplessness a pretext, and tell from me, the heart-lost one, this tale:

'O lion who hunts the playful gazelle, your blade colored with the blood of the brave,

how long shall I, a mad-hearted stranger, wander for your sake over mountain and desert?

A lifetime I was far from your door, companion of the deer and the wild ass.

Today, when I have drawn near, my eye is dark from the dust of parting.

I fear that if I step forward, your sorrow upon my heart will only grow.

If one obstacle has risen from the road, a hundred other obstacles stand ready for me.

If around the young, night-prowling lion the old fox is weaving his cunning,

upon the lion whose foot is broken on the stone a hundred wounds may fall from the lame fox.

If you give me heart, I will show courage, lion-like, in the thicket of this land;

I will set my head as my foot on the road to your union, and come to the hunting-ground of your union.

In your thicket I will take my abode, and from your union I will hunt my desire.

And if not, I shall be as I was before, dwelling upon the thought of my own death;

I shall die at the will of adverse fortune— you freed of me, and I freed of myself.'

Updated 2026-07-19

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Ganjoor

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Original content

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