1Cademy - بخش ۵۳ - حکایت زاغی که چند روز در قفای کبکی دوید و از رفتار خود بازمانده به وی نرسید / Section 53 - The Story of a Crow Who Ran After a Partridge for a Few Days, and Remaining Deprived of Its Own Walk, Did Not Reach It

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Haft Awrang

Poem

بخش ۵۳ - حکایت زاغی که چند روز در قفای کبکی دوید و از رفتار خود بازمانده به وی نرسید / Section 53 - The Story of a Crow Who Ran After a Partridge for a Few Days, and Remaining Deprived of Its Own Walk, Did Not Reach It

Original content

زاغی از آنجا که فراغی گزید
رخت خود از باغ به راغی کشید

زنگ زدود آینهٔ باغ را
خال سیه گشت رخ راغ را

دید یکی عرصه به دامان کوه
عرضه ده مخزن پنهان کوه

سبزه و لاله چو لب مهوشان
داده ز فیروزه و لعلش نشان

نادره کبکی به جمال تمام
شاهد آن روضهٔ فیروزه فام

فاخته گون صدره به بر کرده تنگ
دوخته بر صدره سجاف دورنگ

تیهو و دراج بدو عشقباز
بر همه از گردن و سر سرفراز

پایچه ها برزده تا ساق پای
کرده ز چستی به سر تیغ جای

بر سر هر سنگ زده قهقهه
پی سپرش هم ره و هم بیرهه

تیزرو و تیزدو و تیزگام
خوش پرش و خوش روش و خوش خرام

هم حرکاتش متناسب به هم
هم خطواتش متقارب به هم

زاغ چو دید آن ره و رفتار را
وان روش و جنبش هموار را

با دلی از دور گرفتار او
رفت به شاگردی رفتار او

باز کشید از روش خویش پای
وز پی او کرد به تقلید جای

بر قدم او قدمی می کشید
وز قلم پا رقمی می کشید

در پی اش القصه در آن مرغزار
رفت بر این قاعده روزی سه چار

عاقبت از خامی خود سوخته
ره روی کبک نیاموخته

کرد فرامش ره و رفتار خویش
ماند غرامت زده از وار خویش

هر کس ازین دایره تیزرو
هست درین دیر به واری گرو

جامی و از وار همه سادگی
تاجور مسند آزادگی

English translation

A crow, having chosen a moment of leisure, Moved its belongings from the garden to a meadow. It wiped the rust off the garden's mirror, And became a black beauty spot on the meadow's cheek. It saw an expanse at the foot of the mountain, Revealing the hidden treasures of the mountain. Greenery and tulips, like the lips of moon-faced beauties, Gave signs of its turquoise and rubies. An exquisite partridge of perfect beauty, Was the beloved of that turquoise-colored meadow. It wore a tight, dove-colored tunic, With a two-toned border sewn onto the chest. The tihu and black francolin were enamored by it; It stood tall above all with its head and neck. It had tucked up its trousers to the shins, Agilely making its place on the sharp edge of the rocks. Laughing heartily on top of every stone, Its followers following both on and off the path. Swift-running, swift-dashing, and swift-stepping, Beautiful in flight, beautiful in walk, and beautiful in stride. Both its movements were perfectly proportionate, And its steps were closely spaced together. When the crow saw that way and gait, And that smooth, harmonious movement, With a heart captivated from afar, It went to apprentice under its gait. It withdrew its feet from its own way of walking, And set out to imitate the partridge. It placed its foot on the other's footprint, Tracing its lines with the pen of its feet. In short, in that meadow, It followed this rule for three or four days. At last, burnt by its own raw immaturity, Failing to learn the gait of the partridge, It completely forgot its own way of walking and gait, And was left regretful and deprived of its own natural manner. Everyone in this swift-turning circle of life, Is bound to a specific nature in this ancient tavern (the world). Jami, simple and free from all worldly habits, Is the crowned monarch of the throne of freedom.

Updated 2026-07-19

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