Learn Before
Poem

بخش ۱۱ - رجوع به تمامی قصه / Section 11 - Return to the Entirety of the Story

Original content

باز گردم به قصه دختر
که شدش خون ز انتظار جگر

یار خفته به خواب و او بیدار
چون شود از وصال برخوردار

دایه را گفت خواب او بگشای
زنگ حرمان ز خاطرم بزدای

خفته مرده ست و عشق با مرده
نیست جز کار جان افسرده

چشم او فارغ از کرشمه ناز
گوش او بی خبر ز عرض نیاز

نه زبانش به نطق گوهر ریز
نه دهانش ز خنده شورانگیز

قامت او که سرو آزاد است
بر زمین همچو سایه افتاده ست

من ازین سایه سایه دار شدم
بی خور و خواب سایه وار شدم

کار با سایه کس نساخته است
عشق با سایه کس نباخته است

دایه لب در فسون بجنبانید
حال او از فسون بگردانید

خواب او شد بدل به بیداری
مستی اش منقلب به هشیاری

سرو آزادش از زمین برخاست
چون چمن صحن خانه را آراست

لب لعلش گشاد بار دگر
قفل مرجان ز حقه گوهر

کرد چشمش به روی مردم باز
در رحمت که کرده بود فراز

خانه ای دید همچو قصر بهشت
پس و پیشش بتان حور سرشت

در میانشان یکی به مسند ناز
خوش نشسته ز دیگران ممتاز

از همه در جلال و جاه فره
وز همه در جمال و خوبی به

همه پیشش به خدمت استاده
داد خدمتگذاریش داده

واو نشسته به خرمی و خوشی
چشم و دل کرده وقف بر حبشی

حبشی نیز روی او می دید
دمبدم چشم خود همی مالید

کان مبادا خیال و خواب بود
آب پندارد و سراب بود

تا دم صبح در کشاکش بود
گاه خوش بود و گاه ناخوش بود

خوشیش آنکه در چنان جایی
فارغ از وحشتی و غوغایی

دید چیزی که هیچ چشم ندید
هیچ گوشی حدیث آن نشنید

بلکه بر خاطر کسی نگذشت
در دل هیچ آفریده نگشت

ناخوشی آنکه آن جمال و وصال
بود در معرض فنا و زوال

دیدکان راحتی که روی نمود
بی غم و محنتی نخواهد بود

آری آری درین سرای سپنج
با هم آمیخته است راحت و رنج

مرغ زیرک چو در زمین بیند
دانه را دام در کمین بیند

یک زمانی به حزم کار کند
صبر از دانه اختیار کند

تا دگر مرغکان غفلت کیش
سوی دانه روند از وی پیش

گر نیاید گزندشان از دام
کند او نیز سوی دانه خرام

ور رسدشان ز دانه رنج و ملال
رو نهد در گریز فارغ بال

ما درین دامگاه خونخواره
کم ازان مرغکیم صد باره

هیچ از آسیب دام نهراسیم
بلکه دانه ز دام نشناسیم

دام بینم و دانه پنداریم
دام را جز فسانه نشماریم

ور بگوید کسی که آن دام است
دام بهر عذاب و ایلام است

بر غرض گردد آن سخن محمول
نشود بهره ور ز حسن قبول

نیست این قصه های قرآنی
که ز پیشینیان همی خوانی

که فلان قوم در فلان ایام
می زدند از پی امانی گام

آن امانی که کام ایشان شد
آخرالامر دام ایشان شد

جز پی آنکه فهم گر داری
حصه خود ز قصه برداری

نه که آن را فسانه ای خوانی
در ریاست بهانه ای دانی

همچو آن کافران پیشینه
که پر از کینه بودشان سینه

از نبی قصه ها چو بشنفتند
از تعنت به یکدیگر گفتند

نه ز اخبار راستین است این
بل اساطیر اولین است این

تو هم این قصه ها چو می شنوی
به زبان خوش به آن همی گروی

لیک حالت بود مکذب گفت
آشکارت بود خلاف نهفت

گر تو را سر آن یقین بودی
کار و بار تو کی چنین بودی

نگذشتی ز دانش و خبرت
برگرفتی ز دیگران عبرت

هر که گوید تو را که معلوم است
که فلانی طعام مسموم است

لیک ازان می خورد به حرص و شره
گفت او را دروغ دان و تبه

می کند حیله تا ازان ببرد
طمع خلق را و خود بخورد

English translation

I return to the story of the girl, Whose liver turned to blood from waiting. Her beloved was asleep and she was awake; How could she benefit from union? She said to the nurse: "Awaken him from sleep, Wipe away the rust of deprivation from my mind. One who is asleep is dead, and loving the dead Is nothing but the work of a depressed soul. His eyes are free from playful coyness, His ears unaware of the expression of need. Neither is his tongue scattering pearls of speech, Nor is his mouth exciting with laughter. His stature, which is a free cypress, Has fallen on the ground like a shadow. I became shadowed by this shadow; Without food or sleep, I became like a shadow myself. No one has ever transacted with a shadow, Nor has anyone played the game of love with a shadow." The nurse moved her lips in incantation, And altered his state with her magic. His sleep was exchanged for wakefulness, And his intoxication turned into sobriety. His free cypress arose from the ground, And adorned the courtyard of the house like a meadow. His ruby lips opened once more, Unlocking the coral lock from the casket of pearls. He opened his eyes to the people, Opening the door of mercy that had been closed. He saw a house like the palace of Paradise, With houris-natured beauties before and behind him. Among them, one was sitting on the cushion of coyness, Pleasantly seated, distinguished from all others. Superior to all in glory and dignity, And better than all in beauty and goodness. All were standing in service before her, Duly rendering their duties of service. And she sat in happiness and joy, Devoting her eyes and heart to the Abyssinian. The Abyssinian also looked at her face, Rubbing his eyes moment by moment, Lest this might be an illusion or a dream, Or that he might mistake a mirage for water. Until the break of dawn, he was in a struggle; Sometimes he was joyful, and sometimes he was unhappy. His joy was that in such a place, Free from any dread or clamor, He saw something that no eye had ever seen, And no ear had ever heard of, Nay, it had never crossed anyone's mind, Nor had it entered the heart of any creature. His unhappiness was that such beauty and union Were subject to mortality and decline. He saw that the comfort which had appeared Would not be without grief and affliction. Yes, indeed, in this transient abode, Comfort and pain are mixed together. When a clever bird looks at the ground, It sees the trap lurking behind the seed. It acts with caution for a moment, Choosing patience over the seed, Until other, neglectful birds Rush toward the seed ahead of it. If no harm comes to them from the trap, It too will stroll toward the seed. And if grief and sorrow come to them from the seed, It flies away with a light heart. We, in this bloodthirsty trap-house, Are a hundred times less than that little bird. We do not fear the harm of the trap at all; Indeed, we do not distinguish the seed from the trap. We see the trap and mistake it for seed, And we regard the trap as nothing but a myth. And if someone says, "That is a trap, The trap is for punishment and pain," That warning is attributed to some selfish motive And does not receive the grace of acceptance. These are not like the Quranic stories That you read about the ancients, That such-and-such a people in such-and-such days Trod in pursuit of their desires— Desires that became their satisfaction, But in the end became their trap. Except that if you have understanding, You should take your share of lessons from the story, And not call it a mere fable, Or consider it a pretext for rule, Like those infidels of old, Whose breasts were full of malice. When they heard stories from the Prophet, Out of obstinacy they said to one another: "This is not of true reports; Rather, these are the myths of the ancients." You too, when you hear these stories, Apparently believe in them with a pleasant tongue, But your state contradicts your words, And your outward actions oppose your hidden thoughts. If you possessed the head of certainty, How could your affairs and conduct be like this? You would not pass by knowledge and awareness, Without taking heed from others. Whoever tells you: "It is known That such-and-such food is poisoned," But still eats from it out of greed and gluttony, Consider his words false and ruined. He plays tricks to cut off the greed of others, So that he may eat it himself.

0

1

Updated 2026-07-07

Contributors are:

Who are from:

References


Tags

Humanities

Literature

Persian Literature Prerequisite Course

Related