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بخش ۴۴ - بیمار شدن شوهر لیلی و وفات یافتن وی با داغ محرومی از وصال لیلی / Section 44 - The Illness of Layla's Husband and His Death with the Brand of Deprivation from Union with Layla

Original content

نیرنگ زن بیاض این راز
صورتگری اینچنین کند ساز

کان کعبه بی نظیر منظر
چون صورت چین بدیع پیکر

یعنی لیلی مه حصاری
برج قمر از رخش عماری

با شوهر خود چو سرکشی کرد
پاداش خوشیش ناخوشی کرد

بر درج امل نداد دستش
وز برج امید پر شکستش

با وی ورق مراد نگشاد
سر بر خط انقیاد ننهاد

مسکین زین غم ز پا درافتاد
بیمار به روی بستر افتاد

آن وصل بلای جان او شد
سود اندیشی زیان او شد

وصلی که در آن نه یار یار است
بر عاشق ازان هزار بار است

از دور بهشت عدن دیدن
میوه ز ریاض او نچیدن

بر دوزخیان عیش ناخوش
باشد بتر از عذاب آتش

می بود ز خاطر غم اندیش
بیماری او زمان زمان بیش

از تاب تبش که بود سوزان
شد رشته نبض او فروزان

زان گونه که نبض گیر را دست
چون نبض ز نبض او همی جست

انگشت به نبضش ار نهادی
چون شمع آتش در آن فتادی

آمد به سرش طبیب دانا
بر بردن رنج ها توانا

بر صحت او دلیل می جست
قاروره چو دید دست ازو شست

گلنار فسرده برگ گشتش
قاروره دلیل مرگ گشتش

چون یک دو سه روز بود رنجه
مسکین به شکنج این شکنجه

ناگاه عنایت ازل دست
بگشاد بر او شکنجه بشکست

از کشمکش نفس رهاندش
وز تنگی این قفس جهاندش

شد مرغش ازین مخیم خاک
پروازکنان به عالم پاک

جان داد به درد و جاودان زیست
آن کو ندهد به درد جان کیست

جانی که به درد برنیاید
در قالب مرد درنیاید

باشی به جهان به درد یکچند
وز وی ببری به درد پیوند

در بودن درد و در سفر درد
آوخ ز جهان درد بر درد

زین درد کسی کنار گیرد
کو پیشترک ز مرگ میرد

زین مکمن درد خیز برخیز
زین دشمن پر ستیز بگریز

این رومی صبح و زنگی شام
طرارانند شوخ و خودکام

آنت به درست زر فریبد
وینت به کف گهر فریبد

تا گنج ابد ز تو ستانند
در رنج مؤبدت نشانند

هان تا نخوری فریب ایشان
مغرور به زین و زیب ایشان

لیلی که ز درد و داغ مجنون
می داشت دلی چو غنچه پر خون

از مردن شو بهانه بر ساخت
وز خون دل خویشتن بپرداخت

آهی که به سینه اش گره بود
در خرمن صبر شعله نه بود

در ماتم شو ز سینه بگشاد
واندوه نهان به باد بر داد

در گریه چو دوست دوست گفتی
درها به فراق دوست سفتی

زان دوست غرض نه شوهرش بود
با خویش خیال دیگرش بود

عمری به لباس سوگواری
بنشست به رسم عده داری

شب بستر غم فکنده می داشت
تا روز به گریه زنده می داشت

در روز به درد و سوز می بود
با آه جهان فروز می بود

عشقش به درونه داشت خانه
شد ماتم شوهرش بهانه

عمری به دراز گریه و آه
می کرد و زبان خلق کوتاه

English translation

The trickster of the white page of this secret fashions the painting thus:

That matchless-visaged Kaaba, with a form marvelous as a Chinese image—

I mean Layla, the moon of the fortress, whose cheek made the constellation of the moon her litter—

when she showed defiance toward her own husband, she repaid his sweetness with bitterness.

Upon the casket of his hope she laid no hand, and from the tower of longing she broke his wings.

With him she opened no page of desire, she laid not her head upon the line of submission.

The wretched man, from this grief, collapsed, and fell sick upon his bed.

That union became the bane of his life; his thought of gain turned to his loss.

A union in which the beloved is no true beloved is a thousandfold burden upon the lover.

To see the Eden of paradise from afar, yet gather no fruit from its gardens—

for the people of hell, an unpleasant feast is worse than the torment of fire.

From the grief-brooding mind his sickness grew moment by moment.

From the heat of his fever, which was burning, the thread of his pulse became aflame.

Such was it that the hand of the pulse-taker, as the pulse leapt, sought his pulse from his pulse.

If a finger were laid upon his pulse, like a candle, fire would fall into it.

The wise physician came to his side, capable of bearing away afflictions.

He sought a sign of his recovery; when he saw the flask, he washed his hands of him.

The pomegranate-blossom became to him a withered leaf; the flask became for him the sign of death.

When he had been sick a day or two or three, the wretch in the torture of this torment—

suddenly the hand of eternal grace opened upon him and broke the torture-rack.

It freed him from the struggle of the breath, and released him from the narrowness of this cage.

His bird flew from this encampment of dust, taking flight to the pure world.

He gave up his soul in pain and lived forever— for who is he that gives not his soul to pain?

A soul that does not come forth in pain comes not into the mold of a man.

You dwell a while in the world in pain, and from it you sever your bond in pain.

In being there is pain, and in the journey pain; alas, from the world—pain upon pain!

From this pain let one take his side, who dies a little before death.

Rise up from this ambush-place of pain, arise; flee from this quarrelsome enemy.

This Rūmī of the morning and this Zangī of the evening are wanton, self-willed cutpurses.

One beguiles you with sound gold, the other beguiles you with a pearl in hand,

so that they may seize from you the treasure of eternity and seat you in everlasting suffering.

Beware, lest you eat their deceit, deluded by their adornment and ornament.

Layla, who from the grief and brand of Majnun held a heart like a rosebud full of blood,

made the death of her husband a pretext, and emptied herself of the blood of her heart.

The sigh that was knotted in her breast, a flame not held in the harvest of patience—

in mourning for her husband she loosed it from her breast, and gave the hidden sorrow to the wind.

In weeping, when she said 'Friend, Friend,' she pierced pearls in the separation of the Friend.

By that Friend her aim was not her husband; within herself she had another image.

A lifetime, in the garb of mourning, she sat according to the custom of the waiting period.

At night she kept the bed of grief laid out, keeping herself alive with weeping until dawn.

By day she was in pain and burning, with a sigh that set the world alight.

Her love had made its home within, and the mourning of her husband became its pretext.

A lifetime, with long weeping and sighing, she passed, and kept the tongue of the people short.

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Updated 2026-07-19

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Gemini AI
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References

Tags

Humanities

Literature

Persian Literature Prerequisite Course

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