1Cademy - بخش ۶۱ - رسیدن نامۀ گل بخسرو / Section 61

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Khosrow Nameh

Poem

بخش ۶۱ - رسیدن نامۀ گل بخسرو / Section 61 - The Arrival of Gol's Letter to Khosrow

Original content

الا ال عندلیب شاخ بینش
وشاق گلستان آفرینش

اگرچه در سپاهان و عراقی
بترکی گوی قول بی نفاقی

چو در حلقت هزار آواز داری
بترکی و بتازی راز داری

گلی داری بترکستان گرفتار
بترکی لایقت زانست گفتار

چه میگویم زبان پارسی گوی
که بردی از فلک در پارسی گوی

کمر بربند، محکم نامه بردار
بر دلداده خسرو بر زدلدار

چنین گفت آنکه او گوی سخن برد
که چون گل نامهٔ خسرو ببن برد

بپیش شاه چین شد خادم آنگاه
سفر کردن اجازت خواست از شاه

بشه گفتا شریکی داشتم من
امین مال خود پنداشتم من

ز من بگریخت، بسیارم شتابست
که گر خادم رود از پس صوابست

چو جمع آورد القصه همه چیز
موکل کرد بر گل خادمی نیز

پس، از چین همچو بادی راه برداشت
دو ماهه راه، در یک ماه بگذاشت

روان شد تا بمرز کشور روم
سرای شاه قیصر کرد معلوم

درامد حاجبی او را فرو برد
باعزازی تمامش پیش او برد

قدم در شک و دم در آفرین زد
سه جادرپیش شه سر بر زمین زد

بخسرو گفت خسرو جاودان باد
چو کیخسرو شهی خسرو نشان باد

مبادت هیچ نقصان اززمانه
کمال ملک بادت جاودانه

پس آنگه گفت ای شاه وفادار
چرا با گل چنین گشتی جفا کار

گلی را در میان خون نهاده
تو خوش زین غم قدم بیرون نهاده

گلی را جان ز تو بر لب رسیده
تو فارغ پای در دامن کشیده

گلی راخار در راه اوفگنده
تو بی او فرش بر ماه اوفگنده

روا نبود که در چندین جدایی
کنی با عاشقی این بیوفایی

وگر این کار را هستی روادار
ترا هرگز نگوید کس وفادار

چو نام گل شنود آن شاه سرمست
چو شیری مست شد وز جای برجست

بخادم گفت تو گل را چه دانی
بمردم هان بگو ای زندگانی

چو خادم دید چندان درد و سوزش
دل پرخون ز عشق جانفروزش

گرفت آن نامه بیرون ز آستین زود
نهاد آنگاه پیشش بر زمین زود

چو خسرو نامهٔ جانان فرو خواند
چو گل در آتش سوزان فرو ماند

به هر یک حرف صد اشک جگرگون
فرو بارید و کرد آن نامه پرخون

بسی نظارهٔ هر حرف کردی
سیاهی را ز خون شنگرف کردی

ز بس کز چشم خسروشاه خون شد
بیک ره نامهٔ گل لاله گون شد

نه چندان اشک آمددر کنارش
که بتوان کرد تا محشر شمارش

نه چندان آب ریخت آن تاب دیده
که هرگز دیده بود آن آب دیده

نه چندان در ز چشم او برامد
که صد دریا بچشم او درامد

تو گفتی نامه چون فریاد خواهی
بهر خط میکند فریاد و آهی

چوهر خط دادخواه از شهر چین بود
ازان پیراهن او کاغذین بود

چنان آن نامه رمزی زار میگفت
که گفتی زیر چنگ اسرار میگفت

بهرمویی کزان نامه برامد
بجانش نقدگویی غم برامد

بهر نقطه چو پرگاری بسر شد
زهر خطی دلش از خط بدر شد

فغان در بست و در فریاد آمد
فلک را خود ازان کی یاد آمد

برامد آتشی از سینهٔ او
بجوش آمد غم دیرینهٔ او

کله از سر، قبا از تن بدرید
ز سر تا پای پیراهن بدرید

چو شمع از سوز چون پروانهیی شد
بسی واله تر ازدیوانهیی شد

ز سر آن نامه باری ده فرو خواند
زمین گل کرد تا پایش دروماند

ز بسیاری که زاری کرد بر خویش
فغان برداشتند ازوی پس و پیش

دل پر خون خود را بیم جان دید
ملامت کرد هر کو را چنان دید

برانگیخت از جهان، شور قیامت
که عاشق را که کرد آخر ملامت

ملامت آتش من تیز تر کرد
که گر بد بود، حال من بتر کرد

مرا این اشک خون و آتش سوز
کجا هرگز بکار آید جز امروز

چو شاه عاشق آمد با خود آخر
بر او یک درد کم گشت از صد آخر

بفرخ گفت تدبیری بیندیش
که جانم رفت و صبرم نیست زین بیش

بگو تا چارهٔ این کار من چیست
که بی جانم نمیآید ز تن زیست

زبان بگشاد فرخ گفت ای شاه
چنین کاری بدست چپ ز من خواه

چو بادی رفت خواهم بامدادی
که گل آسان تواند بردباری

بیارم جانفزایت را بزودی
کنم روشن سرایت را بزودی

بروی چرخ بازآرم قمر را
بسوی شهد بازآرم شکر را

دل شه را کنم زان مهربان شاد
که دایم شاه گیتی شادمان باد

تو چون آتش مشو بنشان ز دل دود
که فارغ گرددت زین غصه دل زود

چو گم گشته زچین پیدا شد آخر
چنان پنهان چنین پیدا شد آخر

چو پیدا شد چرا شه در طرب نیست
که گر بادست آید هم عجب نیست

English translation

O nightingale of the branch of wisdom, And the youth of the garden of creation! Even though you are in Isfahan and Iraq, Speak in Turkish with a sincere voice. Since you have a thousand voices in your throat, You possess secrets in both Turkish and Arabic. You have a rose imprisoned in Turkestan, Therefore, speaking in Turkish is fitting for you. What am I saying? Speak in the Persian tongue, For you have stolen the ball from the heavens in Persian. Gird your loins, take up the letter firmly, Deliver it from the beloved to the lover Khosrow. Thus said the one who carried away the ball of eloquence, That when Gol sent the letter of Khosrow to him: The servant then went before the King of China, And asked permission from the King to travel. He said to the King, 'I had a partner, Whom I trusted as the keeper of my wealth. He fled from me, and I am in great haste, For if the servant pursues him, it is proper.' When, in short, he gathered everything together, He also assigned a servant to watch over Gol. Then, he departed from China like the wind, Covering a two-month journey in a single month. He traveled until he reached the borders of Rome, And located the palace of King Caesar. A chamberlain entered and ushered him inside, And brought him before the King with great honor. He stepped forward in hesitation and offered praise, Prostrating on the ground three times before the King. He said to Khosrow: 'May Khosrow live forever, May Khosrow be a king of Kay Khosrow's stature. May you suffer no decrease from time, May the perfection of your kingdom last forever.' Then he said: 'O faithful king, Why have you become so cruel to Gol? Leaving a rose in the midst of blood, While you have happily stepped out of this grief. A rose whose soul has reached her lips because of you, While you have detachedly pulled your feet into your skirt. A rose in whose path you have thrown thorns, While without her, you have spread your carpet upon the moon. It is not right that in such a long separation, You show such faithlessness to a lover. And if you approve of this act, No one will ever call you faithful.' When that intoxicated king heard Gol's name, He leapt up from his place like a drunken lion. He said to the servant: 'What do you know of Gol? Tell me, O essence of my life!' When the servant saw such pain and burning, And his blood-filled heart from his life-consuming love, He quickly drew the letter from his sleeve, And placed it on the ground before him. When Khosrow read the letter of his beloved, He remained like a rose in a burning fire. At every single letter, a hundred liver-colored tears He shed, soaking that letter in blood. He stared intensely at every letter, Turning the black ink into vermillion with his blood. So much blood flowed from King Khosrow's eyes That the letter of Gol suddenly became tulip-colored. Not so many tears fell into his lap As could be counted until the Day of Resurrection. Nor had such water ever poured from a burning eye, As the tears that flowed from his eyes. Nor had such pearls ever emerged from his eyes, As if a hundred seas had entered his sight. You would say the letter was like a seeker of justice, Crying out and sighing at every line. Since every line seeking justice was from the city of China, For that reason, its paper was like a paper shirt of a petitioner. The letter spoke its secrets so plaintively, As if whispering secrets beneath a harp. With every hair that stood up from that letter, It was as if cash of sorrow entered his soul. At every point, like a compass, he lost his mind, And with every line, his heart went out of line. He began to wail and cry out, How could heaven itself remember such grief? A fire arose from his chest, And his ancient sorrow began to boil. He tore the crown from his head, the robe from his body, And ripped his shirt from head to toe. Like a candle, he became like a moth from the burning, Becoming far more bewildered than a madman. He read that letter from the beginning at least ten times, Turning the ground into mud with his tears, until his feet sank into it. From the great lamentation he made over himself, Wailing arose from those before and behind him. Seeing his blood-filled heart in danger of death, Anyone who saw him like that reproached him. But he raised the clamor of resurrection in the world, For who could ultimately reproach a lover? 'Reproach only made my fire burn hotter, Even if my state was bad, it made it worse. These tears of blood and this burning fire, When else would they ever be of use but today?' When the lover-king finally came to himself, His pain was reduced by at least one in a hundred. He said to Farrukh: 'Devise a plan, For my soul is departing and I have no more patience. Tell me, what is the remedy for this affair of mine, For I cannot live in this body without my soul.' Farrukh opened his mouth and said: 'O King, Demand such a task from my left hand as an easy matter. I shall go like the wind in the morning, So that Gol may easily find patience. I will bring back your life-giving beloved soon, And illuminate your palace shortly. I will bring the moon back to the sky, And return the sugar to the honey. I will make the King's heart happy with that moon, May the King of the world be forever joyful. Do not be like fire, banish the smoke from your heart, For your heart will soon be free from this grief. Since the lost one of China has finally been found, Having been so hidden, she has now appeared. Since she has appeared, why is the King not in joy? For if she comes to hand, it is no wonder.'

Updated 2026-07-03

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