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بخش ۳۸ - شنیدن مجنون شوهر کردن لیلی را و اضطراب نمودن وی از آن / Section 38 - Majnun Hearing of Layla's Marriage and His Agitation Because of It

Original content

طبال سرای این عروسی
در پرده عاج و آبنوسی

این طبل گران نوا نوازد
وین پرده سینه کوب سازد

کان زخم دوال خورده عشق
وآوازه بلند کرده عشق

چون از حرم حجاز برگشت
بر خاک حریم یار بگذشت

آن داغ که داشت تازه تر شد
وان باغ که کاشت تازه بر شد

شوری دگرش به جان درآمد
وز بام و درش فغان درآمد

می بست ز تار اشک رودی
می زد ز خراش دل سرودی

می گفت ترانه ای بر آن رود
می جست نشانه ای ز مقصود

چون بر دمنی خرام کردی
یا در طللی مقام کردی

هر کس گفتی که این نشانیست
زان مه که به حسن داستانیست

یعنی لیلی بلای جانت
غارتگر طاقت و توانت

بر خاک دمن جبین نهادی
وز دیده سرشک خون گشادی

کردی ز طلل عزلسرایی
بر هر خس و خار چهره سایی

هر خیمه به منزلی که دیدی
منزل به حریم آن کشیدی

چون گفتندی که لیلی آنجاست
در سایه آن گرفته ماء/واست

آن را حرم دگر گرفتی
وآیین طواف برگرفتی

در بادیه هر کجا نشستی
نامش بر ریگ نقش بستی

سیل مژه اش بر آن گذشتی
چندان کام نام شسته گشتی

شخصی دیدش که خاک می بیخت
وآخر بر فرق خاک می ریخت

گفتا پی چیست خاک بیزی
وز کیست به فرق خاک ریزی

گفتا بیزم به هر زمین خاک
تا بو که بیابم آن در پاک

وانگه که نیابش چو بیزم
از درد به فرق خاک ریزم

سر طلبم ز خاک یا آب
ذوق طلب است و درد نایاب

ور نی که گهر به خاک دیده ست
وان دانه در ز خاک چیده ست

گفتا که ازین طلب یارام
وز محنت روز و شب بیارام

کان تازه گهر کز آرزویش
شد عمر تو صرف جست و جویش

تو جان کندی و دیگری یافت
دل کند ز تو چو بهتری یافت

تو نیز بدار دست ازین کار
وز پهلوی خود بیفکن این بار

یاری که ره وفا نورزد
صد خرمن ازو جوی نیرزد

دستن تو به عهد اوست پابست
واو داده به عهد دیگری دست

تو لیلی گو چو در مکنون
واو بسته زبان ز نام مجنون

دل بسته به یار خوش شمایل
حرف غم تو سترده از دل

از حی ثقیف زنده جانی
با طبع لطیف نوجوانی

بر تو پی شوهری گزیده
خرمهره به گوهری خریده

چون لام الفند هر دو یکجا
تو چون الف ایستاده یکتا

چون ناخن و گوشت هر دو همپشت
تو ناخن چیده از سر انگشت

برخیز و ازین خیال برگرد
زین وسوسه محال برگرد

با تیره دلان صفا چه یعنی
پاداش جفا وفا چه یعنی

خوبان همه چون گل دو رویند
مغرور شده به رنگ و بویند

گل قاعده وفا نورزید
هر کس که پگه تر آمد او چید

با بید چو ارغوان بسازد
با دزد چو باغبان بسازد

دامن چو نهاد در کف خار
تو نیز همش به خار بگذار

گل کان نه تو راست خار بهتر
بگذاشتنش به خار بهتر

هر زن که ز شوی شد رضا جوی
مردی کن و دست ازو فرو شوی

در یک موزه دو پا که دیده ست
یک خانه دو کدخدا که دیده ست

زن کیست فسون سحر و نیرنگ
از راستیش نه بوی نی رنگ

زن صعوه سرخ و زرد بال است
بودن به رضای زن محال است

گر بگذاری شود هوا گرد
ور بفشاری بمیرد از درد

نخلیست ولی ز موم بسته
کز یک جنبش شود شکسته

نی از گل او مشام مشکین
نی میوه او به کام شیرین

بر وی همه شاخ و برگ بستند
جز شاخ وفا کزو شکستند

چون با دگری شود هم آغوش
پیمان تو را کند فراموش

بشکن عهدش چو عهد بشکست
کز عهد شکن بدین توان رست

بگسل کفش از کف نگارین
چون پاک شد از نگار پارین

کرده ست به دست دیگر آهنگ
کف را مده از حنای او رنگ

مجنون ز سماع این ترانه
برخاست به رقص صوفیانه

بانگی بزد و به سر بغلطید
از صرع زده بتر بغلطید

در خاک شده ز خون دل گل
گردید چو مرغ نیم بسمل

از بس که ز یار سنگدل سنگ
می کوفت به سینه با دل تنگ

صد رخنه ازان به کارش افتاد
بر بیهوشیی قرارش افتاد

بردش بدر از سرای تدبیر
بیهوشیی آنچنان گلوگیر

کز لب نفسش گذر نکردی
در آینه ها اثر نکردی

امید ز زندگیش کنده
نشناختیش ز مرده زنده

بعد از دیری که جان نو یافت
جان را به هزار غم گرو یافت

چون بر نفسش گشاده شد راه
بر جای نفس نزد به جز آه

سینه به سنان آه می سفت
وز سینه همی زد آه و می گفت

آه از دل یار سنگدل آه
آه از غم یار دل گسل آه

فریاد که شمع دلفریبان
زد شعله به جان ناشکیبان

افسوس و هزار بار افسوس
کان جیب در لباس ناموس

ناموس مرا به جیب زد چاک
پاشید به فرق نام من خاک

هر عهد که بسته بود بشکست
با آنکه بریده باد پیوست

او جفت کسان و من چنین فرد
او کان دوا و من بدین درد

محرومی ازو گرم جگر سوخت
محظوظی دیگران بتر سوخت

آن داشت مرا چو موی باریک
وین ساخت کنون به مرگ نزدیک

نزدیکی مرگ و دوری یار
سهل است به پیش عاشق زار

یارش که به دست دیگران است
این بار بسی بر او گران است

او عمر به کان کنی به سر برد
نقدینه کان کسی دگر برد

در باغ درخت باغبان کاشت
بر غارتی سپاه برداشت

کو آنکه به هم نشسته بودیم
در بر رخ باد بسته بودیم

تا باد نیاورد به ما روی
وز ما نبرد به دیگران بوی

امروز در آرزوی آنم
کین سوخته جان بر او فشانم

کز من به نسیم آن پریزاد
آرد به طفیل دیگران یاد

ای باد به سوی او گذر کن
وز من به جمال او نظر کن

گو ای دل تو ز من رمیده
با دلبر دیگر آرمیده

روزی که شوی حریف جامش
نقل از لب خود نهی به کامش

یاد آر ز حال تلخکامی
وز درد دل شکسته جامی

زان پیش که در غمت بمیرد
وز وصل تو بهره بر نگیرد

با خاک رود درست پیمان
وز کرده خود شوی پشیمان

English translation

The drummer of this wedding hall, behind a screen of ivory and ebony, plays this heavy-toned drum, and makes this breast-beating melody— for it is love that has taken the blow of the strap, and love that has raised the loud cry. When he returned from the sanctuary of Hijaz, he passed by the dust of the beloved's precinct. The brand he bore grew fresher still, and the garden he had planted yielded fresh fruit. Another tumult entered his soul, and from his roof and door rose lamentation. From the strings of his tears he strung a lute, from the scratching of his heart he struck a song. He sang a melody upon that lute, seeking some sign of his goal. Whenever he strolled upon a ruined campsite, or halted at some abandoned dwelling, everyone would say this is a trace of that moon whose beauty is a legend— meaning Layla, the affliction of your soul, the plunderer of your endurance and strength. He would lay his brow on the dust of the ruins, and from his eyes pour tears of blood. He would make elegy at the abandoned dwelling, rubbing his face on every straw and thorn. Every tent he saw at some stopping place, he would draw his own lodging to its precinct. When they said Layla is there, that she had taken shelter in its shade, he would take it as another sanctuary, and take up the rite of circumambulation. Wherever he sat in the desert, he traced her name upon the sand. When the flood of his lashes passed over it, so much of the name was washed away. Someone saw him sifting the dust, and at last pouring the dust upon his own head. He said, 'Why do you sift the dust, and upon whose account do you pour dust on your head?' He said, 'I sift the dust of every land, in hope that I may find that pure pearl. And when I do not find it as I sift, from grief I pour the dust upon my head. I seek her secret from dust or water; it is the joy of seeking and the pain of the unfound. Or else, who has seen a pearl in the dust, or plucked that pearl-grain from the dirt?' He said, 'Rest from this seeking, and take respite from the toil of day and night. For that fresh pearl, in whose longing your whole life has been spent in searching— you toiled your soul away, and another found her; she tore her heart from you when she found a better. You too, withdraw your hand from this task, and cast this burden from your side. A beloved who does not practice fidelity is not worth a single grain of a hundred harvests. Your hand is bound to her covenant, while she has given her hand to another's pledge. You keep saying 'Layla' like a hidden pearl, while she has sealed her tongue from Majnun's name. She has bound her heart to a fair-featured mate, and wiped the word of your grief from her heart. From the tribe of Thaqif, a lively soul, a youth of gentle nature. She has chosen a husband over you— bought a worthless bead at the price of a pearl. The two are joined like lam-alif together, while you stand alone like a solitary alif. Like nail and flesh, the two are back to back, while you are the nail clipped from the fingertip. Rise, and turn away from this fancy, turn back from this impossible obsession. What sense is purity with the dark-hearted? What sense is fidelity as reward for cruelty? The fair ones are all two-faced like the rose, grown vain with their color and scent. The rose never kept the rule of fidelity; whoever came earliest plucked it. It consorts with the willow as with the Judas-tree, with the thief as with the gardener. When she has placed her skirt in the thorn's hand, you too leave her to the thorn. The rose that is not yours—better the thorn; better to leave it to the thorn. Any woman who seeks a husband's favor— be a man and wash your hands of her. Who has seen two feet in one boot? Who has seen two masters in one house? What is woman? Spell, magic, and trickery; of honesty she has neither scent nor hue. Woman is a finch of red and yellow wing; to live by a woman's contentment is impossible. If you let her go, she takes to the air; if you press her, she dies of pain. She is a palm-tree, but made of wax, which breaks at a single stir. Neither is her flower musk-scented to the nose, nor her fruit sweet to the palate. Upon her they fastened every branch and leaf, save the branch of fidelity, which they broke off. When she embraces another, she forgets your covenant. Break her pact since she has broken the pact; for from a pact-breaker one escapes only thus. Sever her hand from your adorned palm, now that it is cleansed of last year's henna. She has set her intent toward another's hand; do not let your palm take color from her henna. Majnun, on hearing this song, rose up in a Sufi dance. He gave a cry and rolled upon his head, rolling worse than one stricken with a fit. Turned to mud in the dust by his heart's blood, he thrashed like a half-slaughtered bird. So much did he, over the stone-hearted beloved, beat stones upon his breast with anguished heart, that a hundred breaches fell upon his state, and he settled into a swoon. A swoon so throat-gripping carried him out of the house of reason, that his breath passed not from his lips, and left no trace upon the mirrors. Hope of his life was cut off; one could not tell him living from dead. After a long while, when he found new life, he found his soul pledged to a thousand griefs. When the way opened for his breath, in place of breath he uttered nothing but a sigh. He pierced his breast with the lance of sighing, and from his breast he heaved sighs and said: 'Alas for the stone-hearted beloved's heart, alas! Alas for the grief of the heart-rending beloved, alas! Cry out! For the candle of the heart-ravishers has set flame to the soul of the impatient. Regret, and a thousand times regret, that she—that bosom in the garb of honor— tore my honor open at the collar, and scattered dust upon the head of my name. Every covenant she had bound she broke, and joined with him from whom she should have cut ties. She is mated to others, and I thus alone; she has the mine of remedy, and I this pain. Deprivation of her burned my liver hot, but others' enjoyment burned worse. That kept me thin as a slender hair, and this has now brought me near to death. The nearness of death and the distance of the beloved are easy in the eyes of the wretched lover. That his beloved is in others' hands— this burden weighs heavy upon him. He spent his life in digging the mine, and someone else carried off the mine's treasure. The gardener planted the tree in the garden, and another led an army to plunder it. Where are those days we sat together, having shut the door on the face of the wind, so that the wind might not turn toward us, nor carry our scent to others? Today I long to scatter this burnt-out soul upon her, that the breeze of that fairy-born one might bring me to mind, if only for others' sake. O wind, pass toward her, and on my behalf gaze upon her beauty. Say: 'O you, heart fled from me, grown at ease with another sweetheart, the day you become the companion of his cup, and set sweetmeats from your own lips to his palate, remember the state of a bitter-fated one, and the heartache of a broken-hearted Jami— before he dies in grief for you, and gains no share of union with you, goes down to the dust with his covenant intact, and you come to regret what you have done.''

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Updated 2026-07-19

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References

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Humanities

Literature

Persian Literature Prerequisite Course

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