1Cademy - بخش ۴۸ - مقاله چهاردهم در اشارت به حال وزیران و دبیران که رقم عدالت و ظلم بر صفحات ایام از رشحات اقلام ایشان است / Section 48 - The Fourteenth Discourse in Allusion to the State of Ministers and Scribes, From Whose Pens Traces of Justice and Oppression Flow onto the Pages of Days

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Haft Awrang

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بخش ۴۸ - مقاله چهاردهم در اشارت به حال وزیران و دبیران که رقم عدالت و ظلم بر صفحات ایام از رشحات اقلام ایشان است / Section 48 - The Fourteenth Discourse in Allusion to the State of Ministers and Scribes, From Whose Pens Traces of Justice and Oppression Flow onto the Pages of Days

Original content

ای چو قلم صورت خود کرده راست
میل رقم های کج از تو خطاست

تا قلم آسا به سر خود روی
گرچه همه نیک روی بد روی

هر که به یک حرف قلم کج نهاد
حرف وی از لوح بقا محو باد

چند به دفتر رقم ناصواب
یاد کن از دفتر یوم الحساب

تو به سه انگشت شده خامه زن
خلق ده انگشت ز تو در دهن

آنکه تو خوانیش صریر قلم
از رقمت هست نفیر قلم

خط که ورق تر کند از دست تو
خاک به سر بر کند از دست تو

جنبش کلک تو ز کم کاستی
برده ز بالای الف راستی

وز قلمت قاف جهان تا به قاف
پر شکن و تاب شده همچو کاف

نوک قلم از سر گزلک مخار
تیز مکن بیهده دندان مار

عاقبت آن مار ز راه ستیز
بر تو زند زخم ز دندان تیز

بلکه زده زخم تو ز افسردگی
نیستی آگاه ز آزردگی

مو که زند بر سر کلکت گه
از ره معنیت بود پند ده

کای به خرد گشته سمر تا به چند
جهد به کاری که به مو نیست بند

چند مددگاری ظالم کنی
وز مددش کسب مظالم کنی

تا ببری از دل ظالم غبار
گردن مظلوم کنی زیر بار

خرمن دهقان که به خون جگر
کشته وی آمده در ده به بر

سوخته خرمن بیداد توست
دانه و کاهش شده بر باد توست

دانه کنی نقل به انبار شاه
کاه بری بهر ستور سپاه

حصه دهقان چو شوی غور رس
دانه اشک و که رویست و بس

مایه تاجر که در آوارگی
جمع نشد جز به جگرخوارگی

شد ز براتت همه صرف زکات
در کف قبض است هنوز از برات

کاسب بیچاره که در شهر و کوی
ز آبله دست کند آبروی

در کف از آیین ستمکاریش
هیچ بجز آبله نگذاریش

خارکش پیر که چون خارپشت
خم بودش پشت ز خار درشت

چون شود از خار تهی پشت او
قیمت آن را کشی از مشت او

گاوک شیر آور هر پیر زال
خرج شد از تو به خراجات سال

گرسنه و تشنه شده گوشه گیر
خون جگر می خورد اکنون چو شیر

مال یتیمان به رهت پایمال
حاصل سایل ز تو ذل سؤال

زیور طفلانت ز طبع لئیم
هست زر سایل و در یتیم

نقل شب عیش تو نقل سخن
نو به نو از تیردلان کهن

مطرب تو آن که به بانگ بلند
مال فلان گوید چونست و چند

حیله به صد گونه نمودن توان
وز کفش آن مال ربودن توان

کار تو شد بار دل صد هزار
شرم نمی داری ازین کار و بار

پیش مکن دست تطاول برون
کز تو قلمرو چو قلم شد نگون

شه ز تو بدنام و رعیت خراب
ملک ز غوغای تو در اضطراب

کن نظر تجربه در همسران
تا نشوی تجربه دیگران

تجربه چوب به پهلوست سخت
به که به عبرت نگری بر درخت

لیک سر تجربه گیریت نیست
تجربه جز حرص وزیریت نیست

English translation

O you who like a pen have made your form straight, An inclination toward crooked writing from you is a mistake. As long as you go on your head like a pen, Even if you go well, you go poorly. Whoever places the pen crookedly for a single letter, May his character be erased from the tablet of eternity. How long will you write improper accounts in the register? Remember the register of the Day of Judgment. You write with three fingers, While people put ten fingers in their mouths because of you. That which you call the squeaking of the pen Is in truth the pen's lament because of your writing. The writing that moistens the sheet from your hand Throws dust upon its head because of your hand. The movement of your reed-pen has, through lack and deficiency, Taken away the straightness from the stature of the letter Alif. And from your pen, the world from Mount Qaf to Qaf Has become full of twists and folds like the letter Kaf. Do not scratch the tip of your pen with the penknife; Do not uselessly sharpen the serpent's tooth. In the end, that serpent, out of hostility, Will strike you with a wound from its sharp tooth. Rather, it has already wounded you, but out of your cold apathy, You are unaware of your own pain. The hair that sometimes splits on the tip of your pen Is a counselor to you from the path of spiritual meaning, Saying: 'O you who have become famed for intellect, how long Will you strive in an affair that does not hang by a hair?' How long will you assist the oppressor, And through his support acquire injustices? In order to wipe away the dust of sorrow from the oppressor's heart, You place the neck of the oppressed under a heavy burden. The harvest of the peasant, which through the blood of his liver He has sown and brought to fruition in the village, Is a harvest burned by your injustice; Its grain and chaff are scattered by your wind. You transfer the grain to the king's granary, And carry away the chaff for the beasts of the army. When you examine the peasant's share, Nothing is left but the grain of tears and a pale face. The capital of the merchant, which in exile Was not amassed except through agonizing toil, Is entirely spent on taxes because of your drafts, While he still holds only the receipt of the draft in his hand. The poor tradesman who in the city and alley Preserves his honor through the blisters of his hands— Under the law of your tyranny, You leave nothing in his hand but those blisters. The old thorn-gatherer whose back, like a hedgehog, Is bent under the heavy thorns— When his back is emptied of thorns, You snatch the price of those thorns from his fist. The milk-giving cow of every old widow Is confiscated by you for the annual taxes. Hungry and thirsty, she has retired to a corner, Now consuming the blood of her liver like milk. The wealth of orphans is trampled on your path; The beggar's reward from you is only the humiliation of begging. The jewelry of your children, due to your base nature, Is made of the beggar's gold and the orphan's pearl. The dessert of your night of pleasure is the recitation of talk Anew from ancient dark-hearted souls. Your musician is one who sings out in a loud voice: 'How much and of what kind is the wealth of so-and-so?' 'A hundred kinds of tricks can be devised, And that wealth can be snatched from his hand.' Your work has become a burden to the hearts of a hundred thousand; Do you not feel shame for this business and conduct? Do not stretch out the hand of plunder, For because of you, the realm, like a pen, has been turned upside down. The king is defamed because of you, the subjects are ruined, And the kingdom is in turmoil from your clamor. Cast an eye of experience upon your peers, So that you do not become a warning for others. The experience of a stick on the ribs is harsh; It is better to look with admonition at the tree. But you have no desire to learn from experience; Experience for you is nothing but greed and your ministerial ambition.

Updated 2026-07-19

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Ganjoor

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