1Cademy - بخش ۴۱ - در صفت نی / Section 41 - On the Description of the Reed-Flute

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Khosrow Nameh

Poem

بخش ۴۱ - در صفت نی / Section 41 - On the Description of the Reed-Flute

Original content

یکی طاوس فر بگرفته ماری
چه ماری همچو کار افتاده زاری

تهی و قعر جان را در همی داد
نی و خوشی چو شکر پر همی داد

نفس زد گرچه شخصش بی روان بود
بسی نالید اما بی زبان بود

بپاسخ بود بانگش بیست دربیست
نبودش جان ولی از باد میزیست

قلم بود و خطش گرد دهان بود
قلم استاده و انگشتان روان بود

چو نبضش دلبری آورد در دست
ز نبضش همچو نبض انگشت میجست

عجایب همدمی بود او دهان را
که دم خوردی و دم دادی جهان را

نه خلق از حلق فرسودن گرفتش
نه دم از باد پیمودن گرفتش

چرا چندین دم او تیز رو بود
چو میدانست کز بادی گرو بود

اگر بادی برو جست از نزاری
برون آمد ازو صد بانگ و زاری

زمانی شور در آفاق افگند
زمانی پرده بر عشاق افگند

گهی راه عراق آهسته میزد
گهی راه سپاهان بسته میزد

مخالف را چو در ره راست افگند
بصنعت جادویی کرد از نهاوند

چگویم چون همه کاری نکو کرد
نوایی داشت هرکاری که او کرد

چه گر از لاغری بی بیخ و بن بود
ولکین لعبتی شیرین سخن بود

English translation

A peacock-glory has captured a snake; What a snake, wretched and miserable! Hollow, yet it gave away the depth of its soul; A reed, distributing sweetness like sugar. It breathed, though its body was soulless; It lamented much, yet it had no tongue. Its cry responded in full measure; It had no soul, but it lived by the wind. It was a pen, and its script was around the mouth; The pen stood still, while fingers moved. When a beloved took its pulse in hand, From its pulse, the finger leaped like a pulse. A wondrous companion it was to the mouth, Receiving breath and giving life to the world. Neither did its throat wear out from usage, Nor did its breath tire of measuring the wind. Why was its breath so swift-moving, When it knew it depended on a gust of wind? If a wind passed over its thin frame, A hundred cries and laments arose from it. At times it threw passion into the horizons; At times it cast a veil over the lovers. Sometimes it softly played the mode of Iraq; Sometimes it played the closed mode of Isfahan. When it set the discordant mode straight on the path, It performed magic through the art of Nahavand. What shall I say, since it performed every task well? Every deed it did possessed a melody. Though from thinness it had no root or base, Yet it was a sweet-spoken beauty.

Updated 2026-07-03

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