1Cademy - بخش ۷۱ - وفات یافتن یوسف علیه السلام و هلاک شدن زلیخا از الم مفارقت وی / Section 71 - The Death of Joseph, Peace Be Upon Him, and the Perishing of Zulaykha from the Pain of Separation from Him

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بخش ۷۱ - وفات یافتن یوسف علیه السلام و هلاک شدن زلیخا از الم مفارقت وی / Section 71 - The Death of Joseph, Peace Be Upon Him, and the Perishing of Zulaykha from the Pain of Separation from Him

Original content

به دیگر روز یوسف بامدادان
که شد دلها ز فیض صبح شادان

به بر کرده لباس شهریاری
برون آمد به آهنگ سواری

چو پا در یک رکاب آورد جبریل
بدو گفتا مکن زین بیش تعجیل

امان نبود ز چرخ عمر فرسای
که ساید بر رکاب دیگرت پای

عنان بگسل ز آمال و امانی
بکش پا از رکاب زندگانی

چو یوسف این بشارت کرد ازو گوش
زشادی شد بر او هستی فراموش

ز شاهی دامن همت برافشاند
یکی از وارثان ملک را خواند

به جای خود شه آن مرز کردش
به خصلت های نیک اندرز کردش

دگر گفتا زلیخا را بخوانید
به میعاد وداع من رسانید

بگفتند او به دست غم زبون است
فتاده در میان خاک و خون است

ندارد طاقت این بار جانش
به کار خویش بگذار آنچنانش

بگفتا ترسم این داغ غرامت
بماند بر دل او تا قیامت

بگفتند ایزدش خرسند داراد
به خرسندی قوی پیوند داراد

به کف جبریل حاضر داشت سیبی
که باغ خلد ازان می داشت زیبی

چو یوسف را به دست آن سیب بنهاد
روان آن سیب را بویید و جان داد

بلی زان نکهت باغ بقا یافت
ازان نکهت به سوی باغ بشتافت

چو یوسف را ازان بو جان برآمد
ز جان حاضران افغان برآمد

ز بس بالا گرفت آواز فریاد
صدا در گنبد فیروزه افتاد

زلیخا گفت کین شور و فغان چیست
پر از غوغا زمین و آسمان چیست

بدو گفتند کان شاه جوانبخت
به سوی تخته رو کرد از سر تخت

وداع کلبه تنگ جهان کرد
وطن بر اوج کاخ لا مکان کرد

چو بشنید این سخن از خویشتن رفت
فروغ نیر هوشش ز تن رفت

ز هول این حدیث آن سرو چالاک
سه روز افتاد همچون سایه بر خاک

چو چارم روز شد زان خواب بیدار
سماع آن ز خود بردش دگر بار

سه بار اینسان سه روز از خود همی رفت
به داغ سینه سوز از خود همی رفت

چهارم روز چون آمد به خود باز
ز یوسف کرد اول پرسش آغاز

نه از وی بر سر بستر نشان یافت
نه تابوتش به آن عالم روان یافت

جز این از وی خبر بازش ندادند
که همچون گنج در خاکش نهادند

نخست از دور چرخ ناموافق
گریبان چاک زد چون صبح صادق

بر آن آتش که بر دل داشت پنهان
رهی بگشاد از چاک گریبان

ولی زان راه در جانش به هر دم
فزون گشت آتش سوزنده نی کم

به ناخن رخنه ها در روی می کند
برای چشمه خور جوی می کند

به هر جویی کز آن چشمه روان کرد
سمن را جلوه گاه ارغوان کرد

شد از ناخن به رخ گلگون خط افکن
چو عرق ناخنه در چشم روشن

به سینه از تغابن سنگ می زد
طپانچه بر رخ گلرنگ می زد

ز سیم آنجا عقیق تر همی رست
وز این بر لاله نیلوفر همی رست

به سوی فرق نازک برد پنجه
ز زور پنجه آن را ساخت رنجه

ز ریحان سرو بستان را سبک کرد
به چیدن سنبلستان را تنک کرد

ز دل نوحه ز جان فریاد برداشت
فغان از سینه ناشاد برداشت

که یوسف کو و تخت آرایی او
به محتاجان کرم فرمایی او

چو عزمش کرد زین بر بارگی تنگ
به ملک جاودانی داشت آهنگ

ز بس بود اندرین رفتن شتابش
نکردم پایبوسی چون رکابش

ازین کاخ غم افزا چون برون رفت
نبودم در حضور او که چون رفت

سرش بنهاده بر بالین ندیدم
خویش از صفحه نسرین نچیدم

چو آمد بر تن آن زخم درشتش
نکردم سینه پشتیبان پشتش

چو سوی تخته برد از تختگه رخت
همایون بخت شد زو تخته چون تخت

گلاب از چشم اشک افشان نجستم
به آن روشن گلاب او را نشستم

کفن چون بر تن او راست کردند
به تکفینش نشست و خاست کردند

نکردم رشته اندوزی فن خویش
که تا دوزم بر او لاغر تن خویش

چو از غم خارها در دل شکستند
وز این سر منزلش محمل ببستند

زبان پر از نوای بینوایی
نکردم محمل او را درایی

چو جای خواب در خاکش گشادند
چو در پاک در خاکش نهادند

زمین زیر بر و دوشش نرفتم
به کام دل به آغوشش نخفتم

دریغا زین زیانکاری دریغا
دریغا زین جگرخواری دریغا

بیا ای کام جان محرومیم بین
ز ظلم آسمان مظلومیم بین

بریدی از من و یادم نکردی
به دیداری ز خود شادم نکردی

وفادارا وفاداری نه این بود
به یاران شیوه یاری نه این بود

مرا از دل برون افکندی و رفت
میان خاک و خون افکندی و رفت

عجب خاری شکستی در دل من
که بیرون ناید الا از گل من

نه جایی راه رفتن کرده ای ساز
کز آنجا هیچگه آید کسی باز

همان بهتر کز اینجا پر گشایم
به یک پرواز کردن سویت آیم

بگفت این و عماری دار را خواست
به روی خود عماری را بیاراست

به یک جنبش ازان اندوه خانه
به رحلتگاه یوسف شد روانه

ندید آنجا نشان زان گوهر پاک
به جز خرپشته ای از خاک نمناک

بر آن خرپشته آن خورشید پایه
به خاک انداخت خود را همچو سایه

ز رخسار چو خور در زر گرفتش
ز اشک لعل در گوهر گرفتش

گهی فرقش همی بوسید و گه پای
فغان می زد ز دل کای وای من وای

تو زیر گل چو بیخ گل نهفته
به بالا من چو شاخ گل شگفته

تو زیر خاک منزل کرده چون گنج
به روی خاک من ابر گهرسنج

فرو رفته تو همچون آب در خاک
به بیرون مانده من چون خار و خاشاک

خیالت موج خون بر خاک من زد
فراقت شعله در خاشاک من زد

زدی آتش به خاشاک وجودم
ازان پیچان رود بر چرخ دودم

به دود من کسی نگشاده دیده
که نی از دیدگان آبش چکیده

همی نالید و هر دم سینه چاک
به صد حسرت همی مالید بر خاک

چو درد و حسرتش از حد برون شد
به رسم خاکبوسی سرنگون شد

به چشمان خود انگشتان درآورد
دو نرگس را ز نرگسدان برآورد

به خاک وی فکند از کاسه سر
که نرگس کاشتن در خاک بهتر

چو باشد از گل رویت جدا چشم
چه کار آید درین بستان مرا چشم

بود رسم مصیبت بین مبهوت
سیه بادام افشاندن به تابوت

چو آن مسکین ز تابوتش جدا ماند
دو بادام سیه بر خاکش افشاند

به خاکش روی خون آلود بنهاد
به مسکینی زمین بوسید و جان داد

خوش آن عاشق که چون جانش برآید
به بوی وصل جانانش برآید

حریفان حال او را چون بدیدند
فغان و ناله بر گردون کشیدند

هر آن نوحه که بهر یوسف او کرد
همی کردند بر وی با دو صد درد

همی کردند نوحه نوحه گر را
به سان نوحه گر آن سیمبر را

چو ساز نوحه را آهنگ شد پست
نوردیدند بهر شستنش دست

بشستندش ز دیده اشکباران
چو برگ گل ز باران بهاران

به سان غنچه کز شاخ سمن رست
بر او کردند زنگاری کفن چست

ز گرد فرقتش رخ پاک کردند
به جنب یوسفش در خاک کردند

ندیده هرگز این دولت کس از مرگ
که یابد صحبت جانان پس از مرگ

ولی دانای این شیرین حکایت
که دارد از کهن پیران روایت

چنین گوید که با هر جانب از نیل
که جسم پاک یوسف یافت تحویل

به دیگر جانبش قحط و وبا خاست
به جای نعمت انواع بلا خاست

بر این آخر قرار کار دادند
که در تابوتی از سنگش نهادند

شکاف سنگ قیر اندای کردند
میان قعر نیلش جای کردند

ببین حیله که چرخ بی وفا کرد
که بعد از مرگش از یوسف جدا کرد

نمی دانم که با ایشان چه کین داشت
که زیر خاکشان آسوده نگذاشت

یکی شد غرق بحر آشنایی
یکی لب تشنه در بر جدایی

چه خوش گفت آن قدم فرسوده در عشق
ز هر سود و زیان آسوده در عشق

که عشق آنجا که باشد گرم بازار
ندارد هیچ با آسودگی کار

کفن بر عاشق از وی چاک باشد
اگر خود خفته زیر خاک باشد

خوش آن عاشق که در هجران چنین مرد
به خلوتگاه جانان جان چنین برد

نگوید کس که مردی در کفن رفت
بدین مردانگی کان شیرزن رفت

نخست از غیر جانان دیده بر کند
وز آن پس نقد جان بر خاکش افکند

هزاران فیض بر جان و تنش باد
به جانان دیده جان روشنش باد

English translation

On the next day Joseph, in the morning, when hearts grew joyful from the grace of dawn, having donned the robes of kingship, came out intending to ride. When he set one foot in the stirrup, Gabriel said to him: hasten no more than this. There is no reprieve from the life-wearing sphere that your foot should reach the other stirrup. Sever the reins from hopes and desires; draw your foot from the stirrup of life. When Joseph gave ear to this glad tiding from him, from joy his own existence was forgotten. He shook the skirt of aspiration free of kingship and summoned one of the heirs of the realm. He made him king of that land in his own place and counseled him in good virtues. Then he said: summon Zulaykha, bring her to the appointed hour of my farewell. They said: she is helpless in the grip of grief, fallen amid dust and blood. Her soul has no strength for this burden; leave her to her own state as she is. He said: I fear this brand of penalty will remain upon her heart until the Resurrection. They said: may God keep her content, may He bind her firmly to contentment. In his palm Gabriel held ready an apple from which the garden of paradise took its beauty. When he placed that apple in Joseph's hand, his soul smelled that apple and gave up its life. Yes, from that fragrance he found the garden of eternity; from that fragrance he hastened toward the garden. When Joseph's soul departed at that scent, a cry rose from the souls of those present. So high rose the voice of wailing that the sound struck the turquoise dome. Zulaykha said: what is this clamor and lament, why are earth and heaven filled with tumult? They said to her: that young, fortunate king has turned from the throne toward the bier. He has bidden farewell to the narrow hut of the world and made his home on the summit of the placeless palace. When she heard this word she went out of herself; the light of the luminary of her senses left her body. From the terror of this speech, that nimble cypress for three days lay like a shadow upon the dust. When on the fourth day she woke from that swoon, hearing it again bore her out of herself. Three times thus, three days, she went out of herself; from the breast-burning brand she went out of herself. On the fourth day, when she came back to herself, she first began to ask after Joseph. Neither found she a trace of him upon the bed, nor found his coffin faring in that world. No news of him did they give her back but this: that, like a treasure, they had laid him in the earth. First, at the discordant turning of the sphere, she tore her collar like the true dawn. For the fire she held hidden in her heart she opened a path through the torn collar; yet by that path, in her soul at every moment, the burning fire grew greater, not less. With her nails she dug rents in her face, cutting channels for the fountain of the sun. In every channel she set flowing from that fountain she made the jasmine a display-place of the redbud. With her nail she cast lines upon her rosy cheek, like the film of a pterygium in a bright eye. Out of anguish she struck stones upon her breast; she struck slaps upon her rose-hued cheek. From that silver skin fresh carnelian sprang, and from this, upon the tulip, the water-lily grew. Toward her delicate crown she brought her hand, and by the force of her hand made it afflicted. She thinned the cypress-garden of its basil, and by plucking made the hyacinth-bed sparse. From her heart she raised dirges, from her soul a cry; she raised wailing from her joyless breast: Where is Joseph and his adorning of the throne, his bestowing of grace upon the needy? When he resolved—drawing his saddle-girth tight— he set his purpose on the everlasting kingdom. So great was his haste in this departure that I did not kiss his foot as I would his stirrup. When he left this grief-heaping palace, I was not in his presence to see how he went. I did not see his head laid upon the pillow; I did not gather myself from the page of the wild rose. When that harsh wound came upon his body, I did not make my breast a support for his back. When he bore his goods from the throne-seat to the plank, through him the plank grew fortunate as a throne. I did not seek rosewater from my tear-scattering eye to wash him with that bright rosewater. When they set the shroud straight upon his body, for his shrouding they rose up and sat down; I did not make the gathering of thread my craft, that I might sew my wasted body upon him. When out of grief they broke thorns in the heart and from this stage bound up his litter, with a tongue full of the tune of destitution I did not sound the bell for his litter. When they opened his sleeping-place in the earth, when they laid him, pure, within the earth, I did not go, as earth, beneath his breast and shoulder; I did not sleep in his embrace to my heart's desire. Alas for this ruinous loss, alas; alas for this liver-consuming grief, alas. Come, O desire of my soul, behold my deprivation; behold me wronged by the tyranny of heaven. You cut yourself from me and did not remember me; you did not gladden me with a single sight of yourself. O faithful one, faithfulness was not this; with friends the way of friendship was not this. You cast me out of your heart and went; you cast me amid dust and blood and went. A strange thorn you broke within my heart, that will come out only from my clay in death. You have made ready a road to a place from which no one ever comes back again. Better, then, that I spread my wings from here and come toward you in a single flight. She said this and called for the litter-bearer, and adorned the litter with her own presence. With a single movement, from that house of grief, she set off for Joseph's place of departure. She saw there no trace of that pure jewel, only a mound of moist earth. Upon that mound, that sun-ranked one cast herself upon the dust like a shadow. With her sun-like cheek she set it in gold; with ruby tears she set it in pearls. Now she kissed its crown, now its foot, crying out from the heart: O woe is me, woe! You beneath the clay, hidden like the root of the rose; above, I, like the branch of the rose in bloom. You beneath the earth have made your home like a treasure; on the face of the earth, I, a jewel-weighing cloud. You gone down like water into the earth; I left outside like thorn and chaff. Your image cast a wave of blood upon my dust; your parting set a flame to my chaff. You set fire to the chaff of my being, and from it my smoke winds writhing to the sphere. No one has opened an eye upon my smoke without water dripping from their eyes. She kept lamenting, at every moment tearing her breast; with a hundred regrets she kept rubbing upon the dust. When her pain and regret passed all bounds, in the manner of ground-kissing she bent down headlong. She brought her fingers into her own eyes and drew the two narcissi from their vase. She cast them onto his dust from the skull's socket, [saying] that to plant narcissus in the earth is better. When my eye is parted from the rose of your face, what use is an eye to me in this garden? It is the custom of the stunned mourner to scatter black almonds upon the coffin. When that poor one remained parted from his coffin, she scattered two black almonds upon his dust. She laid her blood-stained face upon his dust; in wretchedness she kissed the earth and gave up her life. Happy that lover whose soul, when it departs, departs with the scent of union with the beloved. When her companions saw her state, they raised wailing and lament to the heavens. Every dirge she had made for Joseph they now made for her, with two hundred pains. They lamented for the lamenter, mourning that silver-bosomed one as a mourner mourns. When the tune of lament grew soft, they rolled up their sleeves to wash her. They washed her with tear-raining eyes, like a rose-petal by the rains of spring. Like a bud sprung from the jasmine branch, they fitted a verdigris shroud snug upon her. They cleansed her face of the dust of separation and laid her in the earth beside Joseph. Never has anyone seen this fortune from death: to gain the company of the beloved after death. But the knower of this sweet tale, who holds it on the authority of the old elders, says thus: on whichever side of the Nile the pure body of Joseph was carried, on the other side famine and plague arose; in place of plenty, all kinds of calamity arose. At last they settled the matter thus: they laid him in a coffin of stone, smeared the crack of the stone with pitch, and set his place in the depths of the Nile. See the trick the faithless sphere played, that after her death it parted her from Joseph. I do not know what grudge it held against them, that it left them not at peace beneath the earth: one became drowned in the sea of intimacy, one lip-thirsty in the very embrace of separation. How well said that one worn of foot in love, free of all gain and loss in love, that where love holds a warm and thriving market, it has no business at all with repose. The shroud upon the lover is torn by love, even if he lies asleep beneath the earth. Happy that lover who died thus in separation, who bore his soul thus to the beloved's private chamber. Let no one say a man went into the shroud with such valor as that lion-woman went. First she plucked her eye from all but the beloved, and after that cast the coin of her soul upon his dust. May thousands of graces rest upon her soul and body; may her soul's eye be bright with the beloved.

Updated 2026-07-19

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