1Cademy - بخش ۷۱ - در بیان آنکه انصاف به عیب خود پرداختن است و نظر به عیب دیگران نه انداختن / Section 71 - On Explaining That Fairness is Attending to Ones Own Faults and Not Looking at the Faults of Others

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Haft Awrang

Poem

بخش ۷۱ - در بیان آنکه انصاف به عیب خود پرداختن است و نظر به عیب دیگران نه انداختن / Section 71 - On Explaining That Fairness is Attending to One's Own Faults and Not Looking at the Faults of Others

Original content

جامی این وعظ و تلخگویی چند
خرده گیری و عیبجویی چند

شیوه واعظ آن بود که نخست
فعل خود را کند به قول درست

چون شود کار او موافق گفت
گر دهد پند غیر نیست شگفت

پای تا فرق جمله عیبی و عار
چه کنی عیب عمرو و زید شمار

زشت باشد که عیب خود پوشی
واندر افشای دیگران کوشی

کل به موی دروغ پوشد سر
که بود موی من چو سنبل تر

زند آنگه ز بس تبه گویی
طعنه بر شاهدان به کم مویی

شب عمرت به وقت صبح رسید
صبح شیب از شب شباب دمید

شیب کافورسای چون گردی
بر سرت بیخت گرد دم سردی

سردی آمد طبیعت کافور
چه کنی این طبیعت از وی دور

چرخ گردان جز این نمی داند
کاسیا بر سر تو گرداند

کس چو تو در سرای بیم و امید
ریش در آسیا نکرد سفید

منشین بیش ازین به زیر غبار
خیز و غسلی در آب دیده برآر

به طبیبان میار روی و مجوی
دارویی کان سیاه سازد موی

هست بهر بیاض موی علاج
پنبه برداشتن ز ریش حلاج

هست عیبی به هر سر مو شیب
اینک یک پیری و هزاران عیب

سالها گر تو در هنر کوشی
این همه عیب را چه سان پوشی

گشت موی سرت سفید چو شیر
شد زمانه تو را بشیر و نذیر

یا ز طفلی هنوز دیدت بهر
شیرت از سر گرفت مادر دهر

موی در سر سفیدی افکندت
سر مویی نمی شود پندت

می کنی از بیاض شعر اعراض
روز و شب شعر می بری به بیاض

گاه می خواهی از مداد امداد
می کنی شعر را چو شعر سواد

چون زمانه سواد شعر ربود
خود بگو از سواد شعر چه سود

شهر لهو است بگسل از وی خو
لیت شعری الی متی تلهو

چه زنی در ردیف و قافیه چنگ
کار بر خود کنی چو قافیه تنگ

هست نظمی لطیف عمر شریف
کش مرض قافیه ست و مرگ ردیف

دل گرو کرده ای به نظم سخن
فکر کار ردیف و قافیه کن

شعر بادیست کش کنند ابداع
از مفاعیل و فاعلات زراع

می کنی ز ابلهی و خودرایی
صبح تا شام باد پیمایی

کاملان چون در سخن سفتند
اعذب الشعر اکذبه گفتند

آنچه باشد جمال آن ز دروغ
پیش اهل بصیرتش چه فروغ

وادی شعر کی شود ذی زرع
گر نه آبش دهی ز منبع شرع

شعر مر شرع را چو فرع شود
چون نهد پا بلند شرع شود

ور ندارد ز عین شرع اثر
شعر نامش مکن که باشد شر

English translation

Jami, how long will this preaching and bitterness last? How long will this nitpicking and fault-finding continue?

The way of a preacher is first To align his own actions with his speech.

When his deeds conform to his words, It is no wonder if he counsels others.

From head to toe, you are entirely full of fault and shame; Why do you count the faults of Amr and Zayd?

It is ugly to conceal your own faults While striving to expose the faults of others.

A bald man covers his head with false hair, Saying, 'My hair is like fresh hyacinth.'

Then, due to his excessive wickedness in speech, He mocks the beautiful ones for having little hair.

The night of your life has reached the morning; The morning of old age has dawned from the night of youth.

When old age, like camphor, became grey, It sprinkled the dust of a cold breath upon your head.

Coldness is the nature of camphor; How can you keep this nature away from it?

The revolving heavens know nothing But to spin a millstone over your head.

No one like you in this house of fear and hope Has turned his beard white in a mill.

Do not sit under the dust any longer; Rise and perform an ablution in the water of tears.

Do not turn to physicians and do not seek A medicine that makes hair black.

The remedy for the whiteness of hair is To remove cotton from the cotton-carder's beard.

In every strand of hair, old age is a fault; Here is one old age and a thousand faults.

Even if you strive for years in skill and virtue, How will you cover all these faults?

The hair of your head became white as milk; Time has become a bringer of glad tidings and a warner to you.

Or perhaps you still see a share of childhood, And Mother Time has weaned you of milk from your head.

The hair on your head has turned white, Yet you do not heed advice even by a hair's breadth.

You turn away from the whiteness of hair, Yet day and night you write poetry in clean pages.

Sometimes you seek help from ink, Making your poetry black like dark hair.

Since time has stolen the blackness of your hair, Tell me, what is the use of the blackness of poetry?

The world is a city of vanity, break your habit of it; Would that I knew, how long will you play?

Why do you cling to refrain and rhyme? You make things tight for yourself, like a restricted rhyme.

This noble life is a delicate poem, Of which illness is the rhyme and death is the refrain.

You have pledged your heart to the organization of speech; Think of the matter of your own rhyme and refrain.

Poetry is a wind that they invent From the spans of mafa'il and fa'ilat.

Out of foolishness and self-will, You measure the wind from morning to night.

When the perfected ones pierced the pearls of speech, They said, 'The sweetest of poetry is the most deceitful.'

That whose beauty is derived from falsehood, What radiance can it have before the people of insight?

When will the valley of poetry become fertile, If you do not water it from the spring of the Sacred Law?

When poetry becomes a branch to the Sacred Law, When it steps forward, it becomes as elevated as the Sacred Law.

And if it has no trace of the essence of the Sacred Law, Do not call it poetry, for it is nothing but evil.

Updated 2026-07-06

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References

Ganjoor

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The Concept of Fairness as Self-Correction in Jami's Haft Awrang

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English translation

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