1Cademy - بخش ۵۳ - رفتن آن اعرابی به دیار لیلی و خبر وفات مجنون را به وی رساندن و اظهار کردن لیلی آن معنی را پیش از گفتن اعرابی / Section 53 - The Bedouin Going to Laylas Homeland and Conveying the News of Majnuns Death to Her, and Layla Revealing That Meaning Before the Bedouin Spoke

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Haft Awrang

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بخش ۵۳ - رفتن آن اعرابی به دیار لیلی و خبر وفات مجنون را به وی رساندن و اظهار کردن لیلی آن معنی را پیش از گفتن اعرابی / Section 53 - The Bedouin Going to Layla's Homeland and Conveying the News of Majnun's Death to Her, and Layla Revealing That Meaning Before the Bedouin Spoke

Original content

فهرست نویس این جریده
بر خاتمت این رقم کشیده

کان اعرابی حریف موزون
چون شد فارغ ز دفن مجنون

بر آهویی تک جمازه بنشست
احرام حریم یار او بست

می شد دل و جان درد پرورد
تا پی به دیار لیلی آورد

پرسان پرسان به خانه خانه
می گشت به قصد آن یگانه

تا برد به سوی خیمه اش راه
دیدش بیرون خیمه چون ماه

نی ماه که مهر عالم افروز
نی مهر که آتش جهانسوز

مه حلیه و مشتری حمایل
حوری شیم و پری شمایل

از دورش اگر چه دید و بشناخت
خود را به شناختن نینداخت

پرسید که ای مه تمامی
کامروز مقیم این مقامی

لیلی که به رخ مه تمام است
مأواش کجا و او کدام است

گفتا منم آن و رو بگرداند
می راند ز دیده اشک و می خواند

کین دل که به پهلوی چپش جاست
از وی نشنیده ام بجز راست

هر لحظه کند حدیث با من
کان خاک نشین چاک دامن

کاوارهٔ توست در بیابان
بهر تو به کوه و در شتابان

از محنت فرقت تو مرده ست
تنها و غریب جان سپرده ست

ای وای ز بی نصیبی او
وز بی کسی و غریبی او

بگریست عرابی و فغان کرد
کای خاک تو ماه آسمان گرد

والله که دل تو راست گفته ست
وین گوهر راز راست سفته ست

مجنون ز غم تو مرد مسکین
وز هجر تو جان سپرد مسکین

کرده ست غزالی اندر آغوش
بر یاد تو شربت اجل نوش

جز دام و ددش کسی به سر نه
وز بی کسیش غمی بتر نه

من مرده به سر رسیدم او را
تنهاو غریب دیدم او را

رفتم به دیارش از سر سوز
با اهل قبیله اش هم امروز

جان خاک ره وفاش کردیم
بردیم و به خاک جاش کردیم

این گرد نشسته بر جبینم
راه آوردیست زان زمینم

لیلی چو شنید این خبر را
بنهاد به جای پای سر را

افتاد میان اشک بسیار
چون عکس در آب جو نگونسار

از عمر ملول و از بقا سیر
بی هوش و خرد فتاد تا دیر

وان دم کامد به خویشتن باز
این تازه نشید کرد آغاز

کافسوس که آرزوی جان رفت
وآرام ز جان ناتوان رفت

من قالب و قیس بود جانم
بی جان به چه حیله زنده مانم

زد کوس رحیل جانم اینک
من هم ز عقب روانم اینک

بی او روزی که زار میرم
وز کار جهان کنار گیرم

نزدیک ویم نهید بستر
تا بر کف پای وی نهم سر

بی دایه خود ز دل کشم وای
صد بوسه زنم به خاک آن پای

روزی که ز جسم ناتوانم
بی پوست و مغز استخوانم

چون نی گردد در آن نشیمن
از ناوک غم هزار روزن

هر روزن ازان شود دهانی
وز درد برآورد فغانی

با قیس رمیده راز گوید
غم های گذشته باز گوید

چون خیزد از استخوانم آواز
او نیز همین نوا کند ساز

با هم باشیم بی غرامت
وز گفت و شنید تا قیامت

وان دم که نم حیات ریزند
پژمرده تنان ز خاک خیزند

آریم به دست یکدگر دست
خیزیم به پای دست بر دست

گردیم به هم در آن مواقف
هر یک ز حریف خویش واقف

هر جای که سرنوشت باشد
گر دوزخ اگر بهشت باشد

با یکدیگر مقام گیریم
وز هم به فراغ کام گیریم

این گفت و به خیمه سایه انداخت
بیت الحزنی ز خانه برساخت

تا بود درین جهان چنین بود
با محنت و درد همنشین بود

آن کیست که در جهان چنین نیست
وز فرقت دوستان حزین نیست

یارب که برافتد از زمانه
آیین فراق جاودانه

English translation

The indexer of this record has drawn this mark at its conclusion: That the Bedouin, the measured companion, when he was done with Majnun's burial, mounted a swift-running camel and donned the pilgrim garb for his beloved's sanctuary. He went, heart and soul nurturing pain, until he found his way to Layla's land. Asking and asking, house to house, he wandered, seeking that peerless one, until the path led him toward her tent; he saw her outside the tent, like the moon — not the moon, but the world-illuminating sun, not the sun, but a world-burning fire, moon in adornment, Jupiter in bearing, houri in nature, fairy in form. Though from afar he saw and knew her, he did not let on that he recognized her. He asked, O full moon, who today dwell in this place, Layla, whose face is the full moon — where is her dwelling, and which one is she? She said, I am she, and turned her face, shedding tears from her eyes, and recited: This heart, which lies at my left side, from it I have heard nothing but truth. Each moment it speaks to me, that the dust-dwelling, torn-hemmed one, your wanderer in the wilderness, rushing for your sake to mountain and plain, has died from the anguish of parting from you; alone and a stranger, he gave up his soul. Alas for his deprivation, and for his loneliness and estrangement. The Bedouin wept and cried out: O you whose dust the moon of heaven circles, by God, your heart has spoken truly, and has pierced this pearl of the secret truly. Majnun died of grief for you, the poor one, and gave up his soul from parting with you, the poor one. He held a gazelle in his embrace, and in memory of you drank the draught of death. None at his side but wild beasts and prey, and no grief worse than his loneliness. I, half-dead, reached him; I found him alone and a stranger. I went to his homeland with burning sorrow, with the people of his tribe this very day. We made our souls the dust of the road of his fidelity; we carried him and laid him in the earth. This dust settled on my brow is a keepsake I brought from that land. When Layla heard this news, she laid her head where her feet had been. She fell amid many tears, like a reflection upside down in the stream's water. Weary of life and sated with existence, she lay senseless and witless for long. And the moment she came back to herself, she began this fresh song: Alas, that the desire of my soul is gone, and rest has left my feeble soul. I was the body and Qays was my soul; by what trick shall I stay alive without a soul? The drum of my soul's departure has sounded now, and I too follow behind now. Without him, on the day that I die in misery and withdraw from the affairs of the world, lay my bed near him, so I may place my head on the sole of his foot. Without a nurse, I draw a cry from my heart; I place a hundred kisses on the dust of that foot. The day when, from my feeble body, my bones are without skin and marrow, when they become like a reed in that resting place, with a thousand holes from the arrow of grief, each hole becomes a mouth and raises a cry from pain, telling its secret to the wild Qays, recounting the sorrows that have passed. When sound rises from my bones, he too shall set this same melody. We shall be together without penalty, speaking and listening, until the Resurrection. And the moment they pour out the dew of life, and the withered-bodied rise from the earth, we shall give hand to each other's hand; we shall rise to our feet, hand in hand. We shall move together in those stations, each aware of their own companion. Wherever the destiny may be, whether it be hell or paradise, we shall take our place together, and take our fill of joy from each other. This she said, and cast shade over the tent, making a house of sorrows from her home. As long as she was in this world she was thus, a companion of anguish and pain. Who is there in the world who is not thus, and not saddened by separation from friends? O Lord, may there be removed from the age the eternal custom of separation.

Updated 2026-07-19

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Ganjoor

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