1Cademy - بخش ۴۲ - رسانیدن قاصد نامه لیلی را به مجنون و خواندن وی آن نامه را / Section 42 - The Messenger Delivering Laylas Letter to Majnun and His Reading of That Letter

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بخش ۴۲ - رسانیدن قاصد نامه لیلی را به مجنون و خواندن وی آن نامه را / Section 42 - The Messenger Delivering Layla's Letter to Majnun and His Reading of That Letter

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نی باد و ز باد گرم روتر
نی سیل و ز سیل تیزدوتر

ننهاده هنوز چشم بر هم
پیوست چو کعبه رو به زمزم

دامن ز غبار ره برافشاند
اشتر به کنار چشمه خواباند

چون خضر به چشمه سار پیوست
خورد آبی و خضروار بنشست

لیلی گفتش که از کجایی
کاید ز تو بوی آشنایی

گفتا که ز خاک پاک نجدم
کحل بصر است خاک نجدم

زان خاک سرشته شد گل من
زان گل شگفد چو گل دل من

لیلی گفتا که تلخکامی
مجنون لقبی و قیس نامی

سرگشته در آن دیار گردد
غمدیده و سوگوار گردد

هیچت به وی آشناییی هست
امکان زبان گشاییی هست

گفتا بلی آشنای اویم
سر در کنف وفای اویم

بسته کمرم به دوستداریش
بگشاده زبان به غمگساریش

هر جا باشم دعاش گویم
تسکین دل از خداش جویم

لیلی گفتا که در چه کار است
گفتا که ز درد عشق زار است

همواره ز مردمان رمیده
با وحش رمیده آرمیده

گه قافیه خوان فراز سنگی
سنگ از جگرش گرفته رنگی

گه زمزمه گو به کنج غاری
بر چهره او غم غباری

لیلی گفتا که ای خردمند
دانی که به عشق کیست در بند

گفتا آری به یاد لیلی
هر دم راند ز دیده سیلی

لیلی جویان به پای خیزد
لیلی گویان سرشک ریزد

از هر چه نهد فلک به خوانش
این نام بود غذای جانش

او را به زبان همین رود نام
واو را ز زبان همین بود کام

لیلی ز مژه سرشک خون ریخت
و اسرار نهان ز دل برون ریخت

گفتا که منم مراد جانش
وان نام من است بر زبانش

از درد من است سینه اش داغ
وز یاد من است خاطرش باغ

سرمایه سوز او منم من
روشن کن روز او منم من

من نیز به جان خراب اویم
بر آتش غم کباب اویم

واو بی خبر از خرابی من
غافل ز جگرکبابی من

جانم به فدات اگر توانی
کز من خبری به وی رسانی

درجی دارم به خون نوشته
بیرون و درون به خون سرشته

خواهم ببری ز روی یاری
آن را و به دست او سپاری

آیین وفا گری کنی ساز
وآری سوی من جواب آن باز

دردی ببری و داغی آری
شمعی بدهی چراغی آری

برخاست به پای آن جوانمرد
کای مجنون را دل از تو پر درد

منت دارم به جان بکوشم
کالای تو را به جان فروشم

هر حرفی ازان به چشم مجنون
جانیست به قدر بلکه افزون

لطفی به ازین همی ندانم
کین ملطفه را به وی رسانم

شد لیلی را درون ز غم شاد
وان نامه ز جیب خویش بگشاد

پیچید در آن به آرزویی
برگ کاهی و تار مویی

یعنی زان روز کز تو فردم
چون مو زارم چو کاه زردم

وانگاه آن را به نامه بر داد
با دلبر نامور فرستاد

چون نامه بر آن گرفته برجست
بر ناقه رهنورد بنشست

شد راحله تاز راه مجنون
مایل به قرارگاه مجنون

آنجا چو رسید بی کم و کاست
بسیار دوید از چپ و راست

از وی اثری نیافت آنجا
زین غم جگرش شکافت آنجا

زد گام به سایه گاه سنگی
کاساید ازان طلب درنگی

دیدش که چو مستی اوفتاده
دستور خرد ز دست داده

در خواب نه لیک چشم بسته
بیدار ولی ز خویش رسته

جسمش اینجا و جان دگر جای
پیدا اینجا نهادن گر جای

از گردش ماه و مهر بیرون
وز دایره سپهر بیرون

از دعوی عاشقی بریده
وز معشوقی عنان کشیده

مستغرق بحر عشق گشته
وز هر چه نه عشق در گذشته

قاصد هر چند حیله انگیخت
تا بود که به وی تواند آمیخت

آن حیله نداشت هیچ سودش
از بانگ بلند آزمودش

برداشت چو حادیان نوایی
در کوه فکند ازان صدایی

لیلی گویان حدی همی کرد
وان دلشده را ندا همی کرد

کرد آن اثری در او سرانجام
وآمد به خود از سماع آن نام

گفتا تو کیی و این چه نام است
زین نام مراد تو کدام است

گفتا که منم رسول لیلی
خاص نظر قبول لیلی

لیلی که بود انیس جانت
بینایی چشم خونفشانت

گفتا که ره ادب نجسته
وز مشک و گلاب لب نشسته

هر دم به زبان چه آری این نام
گستاخ چرا شماری این نام

زد لاف که من زبان اویم
گویا شده ترجمان اویم

اینک به کف نیازم اکنون
از وی رقمی چو در مکنون

خیز و بستان که نامه اوست
یک رشح ز نوک خامه اوست

مجنون چو شنید نام نامه
پا ساخت ز فرق سر چو خامه

پیشش ز سر نیاز بنشست
وان حرف وفا گرفتش از دست

چون بر سر نامه نام او دید
بوسید و به چشم خویش مالید

زد نکهت وصل بر دماغش
بنشاند نسیم آن چراغش

افتاد ز عقل و هوش رفته
خاصیت چشم و گوش رفته

آمد چو ز بی خودی به خود باز
این نغمه شوق کرد آغاز

کین نامه ز غنچه مراد است
زو در دل تنگ صد گشاد است

از خوان وفاست یک نواله
گشته به من گدا حواله

سربسته چو ناف مشکبار است
گویی که ز چین زلف یار است

تعویذ دل رمیدگان است
طومار بلاکشیدگان است

حرزیست به بازوی ارادت
مرقوم به خامه سعادت

وان دم که گشاد نامه را سر
سر برزد ازو نوای دیگر

کین نامه نه نامه نوبهاریست
از باغ امل بنفشه زاریست

نقشیست به کلک دلنوازی
آرایش لوح چاره سازی

دلکش رقمیست نو رسیده
بر صفحه آرزو کشیده

صفهاش کشیده عنبرین مور
ره ساخته بر زمین کافور

هر موری ازان به سوی خانه
برده دل بی دلان چو دانه

زان نامه دلنواز هر حرف
بود از می ذوق و حال یک ظرف

هر جرعه می کزان بخوردی
از جا جستی و رقص کردی

خطهاش نمودی آشکارا
چون سلسله های مشک سارا

هر سلسله ای ازان سلاسل
زنجیر نه هزار عاقل

از خواندن نامه چون بپرداخت
در گردن جای حمایلش ساخت

قاصد چو بدید آن به پا خواست
زو کرد جواب نامه درخواست

گفتا که جواب چون نویسم
بر چهره مگر به خون نویسم

از کاغذ و خامه ام تهی مشت
کاغذ ریگ است و خامه انگشت

قاصد به شتر نشست حالی
شد مرحله کوب آن حوالی

از هر طرفی به جهد بشتافت
شب را به یکی قبیله ره یافت

کار وی ازان قبیله شد راست
چون صبح علم کشید برخاست

شد بر ره آمدن عنان تاب
وآورد پی دبیری اسباب

لیلی چو ز مشکبوی نامه
شد غالیه بند جیب جامه

قاصد جویان ز خیمه برخاست
قد کرد پی برون شدن راست

با یک دو کنیز گام برداشت
چون کبک دری خرام برداشت

بودش خیمه به مرغزاری
نزدیک به خیمه چشمه ساری

جو کرده بر آب سیمگون طشت
آبشخور تشنگان آن دشت

آمد به کنار چشمه و جست
از هر چه نه یار دست خود شست

بنشست ولی ز خود نه آگاه
بنهاد چو چشمه چشم بر راه

تا بو که کسی ز ره درآید
از دست وی آن غرض برآید

ناگاه بدید کز غباری
آمد بیرون شتر سواری

English translation

Not the wind, yet swifter-moving than the warm wind, not the flood, yet faster-running than the flood. Before he had yet closed an eye, he turned, like the Kaaba, its face toward Zamzam. He shook the dust of the road from his skirt and made the camel kneel beside the spring. When, like Khidr, he reached the spring, he drank some water and sat down like Khidr. Layla said to him, 'Where are you from, that a scent of familiarity comes from you?' He said, 'I am from the pure soil of Najd; the soil of Najd is collyrium for my sight. From that soil my clay was kneaded, and from that clay my heart blossoms like a rose.' Layla said, 'There is a bitter-fated one, titled Majnun and named Qays, who wanders bewildered in that land, grown grieved and mournful. Have you any acquaintance with him? Is there any way for you to speak of him?' He said, 'Yes, I am acquainted with him; my head lies in the shelter of his loyalty. I have girded my belt to his friendship and loosed my tongue to console his grief. Wherever I am, I pray for him, and seek from God comfort for his heart.' Layla said, 'In what state is he?' He said, 'He is wretched from the pain of love, ever fled from people, resting among the fleeing wild beasts. Now he chants rhymes atop a stone, the stone taking a hue from his liver's blood; now he murmurs in the corner of a cave, upon his face a dust of grief.' Layla said, 'O wise one, do you know in whose love he is bound?' He said, 'Yes—in memory of Layla every moment he drives a flood from his eyes. Seeking Layla he rises to his feet; saying "Layla" he sheds tears. Of all the heavens set upon his table, this name alone is the food of his soul. Only this name runs upon his tongue, and this alone is his desire from his tongue.' Layla poured tears of blood from her lashes and spilled the hidden secrets from her heart. She said, 'I am the desire of his soul, and it is my name upon his tongue. It is from my pain that his breast is branded, and from my memory that his mind is a garden. I am the very fuel of his burning; I am the brightener of his day. I too am ruined in soul for him, roasted upon the fire of grief for him. And he is unaware of my ruin, heedless of my roasted liver. May my life be your ransom, if you can convey some news of me to him. I have a scroll written in blood, kneaded within and without with blood. I wish that, out of friendship, you take it and deliver it into his hand. Practice the custom of loyalty, and bring back to me its reply. You will carry off a pain and bring back a brand, give a candle and bring a lamp.' That noble youth rose to his feet: 'O you for whom Majnun's heart is full of pain, I am obliged; I will strive with my soul, I will sell your goods at the price of my life. Every letter of it, in Majnun's eyes, is worth a soul—nay, even more. I know no kindness greater than this, than to deliver this note to him.' Layla's heart grew glad amid its grief, and she drew forth that letter from her bosom. Into it she wrapped, out of longing, a blade of straw and a strand of hair— meaning: 'Since the day I was parted from you I am wasted like a hair, yellow like straw.' Then she gave it upon the letter and sent it with the renowned envoy. When he had taken the letter, he sprang up and mounted the road-traveling she-camel. The mount sped along the road toward Majnun, inclining toward Majnun's dwelling place. When he arrived there, without fail, he ran much to left and to right. He found no trace of him there, and from this grief his liver split. He stepped toward the shade of a stone, to rest a while from that search. He saw him fallen like a drunkard, having lost the counsel of reason— not asleep, yet with eyes closed; awake, yet freed from himself. His body here and his soul elsewhere, visible here, if there were a place to set it; beyond the turning of moon and sun, and beyond the circle of the heavens; cut off from the claim of loverhood, and having reined in from the pursuit of a beloved; immersed in the sea of love, and passed beyond all that is not love. However much the messenger contrived his tricks to find some way to reach him, that contrivance had no benefit; he tried him with a loud cry. He raised a tune like the camel-drivers and cast its echo into the mountain. Saying 'Layla' he sang the driving-song and called out to that heart-lost one. At last that had an effect on him, and he came to himself from hearing that name. He said, 'Who are you, and what is this name? What do you intend by this name?' He said, 'I am the envoy of Layla, the one specially accepted in Layla's regard— Layla, who is the companion of your soul, the sight of your blood-shedding eye.' He said, 'You have not kept the way of courtesy, nor cleansed your lips with musk and rosewater. Why do you keep bringing this name on your tongue every moment? Why do you utter this name so boldly?' He boasted, 'I am her tongue, I have become her eloquent interpreter. Here now in my needy palm is a writing from her like a hidden pearl. Rise and take it, for it is her letter, a drop from the tip of her pen.' When Majnun heard the word 'letter,' he raised himself upright like a pen from head to foot. He sat before him out of need and took that word of loyalty from his hand. When he saw her name atop the letter, he kissed it and rubbed it on his eyes. The fragrance of union struck his brain; the breeze of it put out his lamp. He fell, gone from reason and sense, the faculty of eye and ear departed. When he came back to himself from his swoon, he began this song of longing: 'This letter is from the bud of desire; from it come a hundred openings in the constricted heart. It is a morsel from the table of loyalty, assigned to me, a beggar. Sealed like a musk-bearing navel, as if it were from the curl of the beloved's tress. It is the amulet of the fled hearts, the scroll of the affliction-bearers, a talisman upon the arm of devotion, written with the pen of felicity.' And the moment he opened the letter's head, another tune sprang up from him: 'This letter is not a letter—it is springtime; from the garden of hope it is a violet-bed. It is a design by a heart-soothing pen, the adornment of the tablet of remedy. It is a charming, newly-arrived writing, drawn on the page of longing. Its lines drawn like ambergris ants, making a path over camphor ground. Each ant of it, toward its home, has carried off the heart of the heartless like a grain.' From that heart-soothing letter, each letter was a vessel of the wine of delight and rapture. Every draught of that wine he drank, he sprang up and danced. Its lines appeared plainly like chains of pure musk; each chain of those chains a fetter for nine thousand wise men. When he had finished reading the letter, he made a place for it as a necklace on his neck. When the messenger saw that, he stood up and requested a reply to the letter from him. He said, 'How shall I write a reply? Perhaps I shall write it upon my face with blood. My hand is empty of paper and pen— the paper is sand and the pen my finger.' The messenger at once mounted the camel and traversed the stages of those parts. He hastened with effort in every direction and at night found his way to a tribe. His affair was set right by that tribe; when dawn raised its banner, he arose. He turned the rein onto the road of return and brought along the means for scribe-work. Layla, since from the musk-scent of the letter the collar of her garment had become perfumed, rose from the tent seeking the messenger and straightened her form to go out. With one or two maids she stepped forth, walking with the gait of a mountain partridge. Her tent was on a meadow; near the tent was a spring. The stream had made a silver basin on the water, a watering place for the thirsty of that plain. She came beside the spring and washed her hands of all that was not the beloved. She sat, but unaware of herself, and, like the spring, set her eye upon the road, so that perhaps someone might come from the way and her purpose be fulfilled by his hand. Suddenly she saw that from a dust cloud a camel-rider came forth.

Updated 2026-07-20

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