1Cademy - بخش ۴۵ - خبر وفات شوهر لیلی به مجنون رسیدن و گریستن وی از آن خبر و سبب پرسیدن قاصد از آن گریه / Section 45 - The News of the Death of Laylas Husband Reaching Majnun, and His Weeping at That News, and the Messenger Asking the Reason for That Weeping

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Haft Awrang

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بخش ۴۵ - خبر وفات شوهر لیلی به مجنون رسیدن و گریستن وی از آن خبر و سبب پرسیدن قاصد از آن گریه / Section 45 - The News of the Death of Layla's Husband Reaching Majnun, and His Weeping at That News, and the Messenger Asking the Reason for That Weeping

Original content

آن رفته ز قید عقل بیرون
کامد روزی به سوی مجنون

وز لیلی و عقد او خبر گفت
وان شیفته را ز نو برآشفت

می خواست ز تار مهربافی
آن زخم گذشته را تلافی

چون یافت خبر ز مردن شوی
آورد به سوی کوه و در روی

وان گم شده را بجست بسیار
چون یافت نشانش آخر کار

گفتا که مرا بشارتی هست
گویم به تو گر اشارتی هست

خاری که فتاده در رهت بود
ضربت زن جان آگهت بود

باد اجلش ز راه برداشت
وز وی اثری به راه نگذاشت

یعنی زیبا جوان داماد
زد گام برون ازین غم آباد

درد سر خویشتن برون برد
زین منزل و عمر با تو بسپرد

مجنون ز حدیث مردن او
وز قصه جان سپردن او

بر خود پیچید و زار بگریست
چون ابر به نوبهار بگریست

چندان بگریست کان خبرگوی
از موجب گریه شد خبرجوی

گفت ای به میان عاشقان شاه
زاسرار نهان عشق آگاه

چون قصه عقد او شنیدی
از غصه لباس جان دریدی

از هر مژه سیل خون فشاندی
وز چشم زمانه خون چکاندی

و امروز که ذکر مردنش رفت
وافسانه جان سپردنش رفت

هم گریه زار برگرفتی
وین نوحه گری ز سر گرفتی

با یکدگر این دو حال چون است
کز دانش عقل من برون است

گفتا کان روز گریه زان بود
کان عقد مرا گزند جان بود

آن کز غم جان سرشک نگشاد
سنگی باشد نه آدمیزد

وامروز سرشک ازان فشانم
کافتاد آتش درون جانم

کان کو تنها نه سیم و زر باخت
هر نقد که داشت جمله درباخت

دل از همه طاق جفت او شد
مرغ گل نوشگفت او شد

همخانه و همسرای او بود
روشن نظر از لقای او بود

محروم ز وصلش اینچنین مرد
جان از غم عشقش اینچنین برد

من خسته جگر که با دل تنگ
دورم ز درش هزار فرسنگ

گردم هر روز در دیاری
باشم هر شب به کنج غاری

پیوستن ما به هم خیال است
نزدیکی ما به هم محال است

جز اینکه مقیم یک جهانیم
در دایره یک آسمانیم

ساییم به روی یک زمین پای
داریم درون یک زمان جای

دانی که چگونه زار میرم
بر بستر هجر خوار میرم

در چشم من است آنکه روزی
سر بر زندم ز سینه سوزی

مهجور ز یار و دور از اغیار
افتم به میان خاره و خار

جز آهوی دشت همدمی نه
غیر از دد و دام محرمی نه

در حسرت آن غزال سرمست
از جیب هوس برون کنم دست

آهویی را کشم در آغوش
هویی زنم و ز من رود هوش

جان همره هوش رخت بندد
بر مردن من زمانه خندد

از مرقد آهوان به زورم
آرند به خوابگاه گورم

زان آهوی شوخ در غرامت
من باشم و گور تا قیامت

آن را که بود رهی چنین پیش
جان و دلی از غم چنین ریش

چون رفتن دشمنان کند یاد
حاشا که ز مرگشان شود شاد

رنجی که به خود نمی پسندم
چون بر دگری رسد چه خندم

این چرخ ستمگر جفاکوش
کی نوبت کس کند فراموش

دی کرد به زخم دشمن آهنگ
فردا به سبوی من زند سنگ

شاد از غم کس نزیستن به
بر محنت خود گریستن به

دانا که بود درین غم آباد
آن کز غم کس نمی شود شاد

این گفت و به خیر باد برخاست
وز محنت راه عذر او خواست

آن سوی قبیله بارگی راند
وین با دد و دام خود به جا ماند

English translation

That one who had gone out from the bounds of reason, who one day came toward Majnun, And told the news of Layla and her marriage, and stirred that infatuated one anew. He wished, by weaving threads of kindness, to make amends for that past wound. When he got the news of the husband's death, he turned his face toward the mountain and its door, And sought that lost one long; when at last he found his trace, He said: I have glad tidings for you; I will tell you, if there is leave to speak. The thorn that had fallen in your path, that struck a blow at your aware soul, The wind of death has carried it off the road, and left no trace of it upon the way. That is, the handsome young bridegroom has stepped out of this abode of sorrow; He has borne away his own trouble, and left this dwelling and this life to you. Majnun, from the tale of his death and the story of his giving up the soul, Writhed upon himself and wept bitterly, wept like a cloud in early spring. He wept so long that the news-teller became a seeker of the cause of that weeping. He said: O king among lovers, aware of the hidden secrets of love, When you heard the tale of her marriage, from grief you tore the garment of your soul, From every lash you scattered a flood of blood, and made blood drip from the eye of the age; And today, when mention of his death was made, and the tale of his giving up the soul was told, You again took up bitter weeping, and began this lamentation anew. How do these two states accord together? For it lies beyond the knowledge of my reason. He said: That day's weeping was because that marriage was a harm to my soul — He who from the soul's grief sheds no tear is a stone, and not a human being. And today I scatter tears because fire has fallen within my soul, For he lost not silver and gold alone, but gambled away every coin he had. His heart, single from all, became her mate; he became the bird of her newly-bloomed rose. He was her housemate and dwelling-companion, his sight was made bright by her countenance. Deprived of her union, he thus died; thus he bore off his soul from the grief of her love. But I, wounded of liver, who with a heavy heart am a thousand leagues far from her door, Wander each day through some land, and each night lodge in the corner of a cave. For us to join together is but a fancy; for us to draw near is impossible — Save that we dwell within one world, are set within the circle of one sky, We rub our feet upon one same earth, we hold our place within one same time. Do you know how wretchedly I die, how abjectly I die on the bed of parting? I foresee that one day a burning of the breast will erupt from my chest; Forsaken by the beloved, far from all strangers, I shall fall among the rocks and thorns. With no companion but the gazelle of the plain, no confidant but the wild beasts and creatures, In longing for that intoxicated gazelle I shall draw out my hand from the pocket of desire, I shall gather a gazelle into my embrace, utter a cry, and my senses will leave me; My soul, with my senses, will pack and depart, and the age will laugh at my dying. From the resting-place of the gazelles by force they will bear me to the sleeping-place of my grave; For that playful gazelle, in penalty, I and the grave shall remain until the Resurrection. He who has such a road before him, a soul and heart so torn by grief, When he recalls the passing of his enemies, far be it that he should rejoice at their death. The pain I would not wish upon myself — when it befalls another, why should I laugh? This tyrannical, cruelty-seeking wheel of heaven, when does it ever forget anyone's turn? Yesterday it aimed its blow to wound the enemy; tomorrow it will hurl a stone at my own jug. Better not to live glad at another's sorrow; better to weep over one's own affliction. Who is truly wise in this abode of grief? He who is not gladdened by another's grief. He said this and rose with a farewell, and excused himself from the hardship of the road; That one drove his mount off toward the tribe, and this one remained behind with his beasts of the wild.

Updated 2026-07-19

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