1Cademy - بخش ۴۷ - قصه عاشق شدن آن دختر ترسا بر آن جوان مسلمان و در مفارقت وی بر بستر مرگ افتادن و جان دادن / Section 47 - The Story of that Christian Girl Falling in Love with that Muslim Youth, Falling on Her Deathbed in His Separation, and Giving Up Her Life

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Haft Awrang

Poem

بخش ۴۷ - قصه عاشق شدن آن دختر ترسا بر آن جوان مسلمان و در مفارقت وی بر بستر مرگ افتادن و جان دادن / Section 47 - The Story of that Christian Girl Falling in Love with that Muslim Youth, Falling on Her Deathbed in His Separation, and Giving Up Her Life

Original content

از صف صوفیان سبک سیری
در سیاحت گذشت بر دیری

دید آنجا یکی ز رهبانان
لیک در کسوت مسلمانان

گفت کای کهنه پیر دیرانی
چیست این کسوت مسلمانی

گفت عمریست تا مسلمانم
دیده روشن به نور ایمانم

گفت کین دولت از کجات رسید
که درین تیرگی صفات رسید

گفت در دیر ما گرفت مقام
نوجوانی ز زمره اسلام

قامتش گلبنی ز باغ بهشت
چهره روشنتر از چراغ بهشت

لب نوشین او مسیحادم
با میانی چو رشته مریم

عالمی را ز مهر آن مهوش
دل چو قندیل دیر پر آتش

بود پاکیزه دختری ترسا
بر گل از زلف عنبری تر سا

داشت مالی ز حد و عد بیرون
با جمالی بسی ز مال افزون

چشم دختر بر آن جوان افتاد
زان نظر آتشش به جان افتاد

خرمن عافیت به بادش رفت
هر چه جز یاد او ز یادش رفت

نه به شب خواب و نه به روز قرار
با دل ریش و دیده خونبار

گفت و گو با خیال او می کرد
جست و جوی وصال او می کرد

حیله ها کرد و مکرها انگیخت
سیم و زر هر چه داشت بر وی ریخت

سیم و زر پیش او وجود نداشت
حیله و مکر هیچ سود نداشت

آخر از کار خویش مضطر ماند
وز فروماندگی به جان درماند

بود آنجا مصوری قادر
در میان مصوران نادر

نقش هر آفریده بی کم و کاست
بکشیدی چنانچه بودی راست

دامن از زر و سیم مالامال
با مصور بگفت صورت حال

چون مصور حدیث او بشنید
شکل یارش چنانکه بود کشید

کرد جایش فراز مسند ناز
عشقبازی به وی نهاد آغاز

گاه پیشش ز شوق نالیدی
روی بر خاک پاش مالیدی

گاه بر روی او گشادی چشم
گاه بر پای او نهادی چشم

گه بدو دست در کمر کردی
گه ز لبهای او شکر خوردی

لیکن آن کس که هست تشنه به آب
کی برد تشنگیش موج سراب

روزگاری چنین به سر می برد
غمش از دل بدین بدر می برد

تا که از دور چرخ جان فرسای
آمد از رنج تن جوان از پای

ماهش از تب کشید رنج محاق
جانش از تن گرفت راه فراق

دختر این را چو دید از غم و درد
شرح دادن نمی توان که چه کرد

آمدش بر درون آزرده
زخم صد مادر پسر مرده

هر چه ز آغاز مرگ عالمیان
کرده باشند جمله ماتمیان

همه را کرد بلکه افزون نیز
بلکه از حد وصف بیرون نیز

جان و دل سوخت ز آتش غم او
سیم و زر کرد صرف ماتم او

ماتمی داشت کین خراب آباد
آنچنان ماتمی ندارد یاد

آخر آورد سوی صورت روی
مرهم درد خود ز صورت جوی

روز بودی ثنای او گفتی
شب شدی سر به پای او خفتی

یک شبی گفت و گوی او کردیم
صبحدم ره به سوی او کردیم

یافتیمش به خواری افتاده
پیش صورت به خاک و جان داده

کرده بر روی صفحه دیوار
چند بیتی به خون دیده نگار

کای دل ای دل ز مرگ بی غم باش
چون رسد مرگ شاد و خرم باش

ترک ادبار خود گرفتم من
دین دلدار خود گرفتم من

توبه کردم ز کیش نصرانی
کیش من نیست جز مسلمانی

چشم دارم که در ریاض نعیم
من و جانان به هم شویم مقیم

جاودان رو به سوی او آرم
دامن او ز دست نگذارم

رفت او و به فرصتی اندک
می روم من هم از قفا اینک

شاد گشتند ازان مسلمانان
بر وی و دین وی ثناخوانان

خاک او پیش یار او کندند
اشک ریزان به خاکش افکندند

روز دیگر به بامداد پگاه
سوی آن بیت ها فتاد نگاه

بود کرده رقم به خون جگر
زیر آن بیت ها سه چار دگر

که عجب زین سفر بیاسودم
وصل جانانست زین سفر سودم

به عنایت رضای من جستند
نامه های خطای من شستند

یافتم بار در جوار خدای
داد در پیشگاه قربم جای

منم امروز و دولت سرمد
دامن وصل یار و عیش ابد

گفت راهب چو خواندم آن دو سه حرف
نوری اندر دلم فتاد شگرف

خاطر من بر آن گرفت آرام
که بود دین حق همین اسلام

کردم از جان و دل به آن اقرار
گشتم از دین دیگران بیزار

English translation

From the rank of the light-traveling Sufis, One, in his travels, passed by a monastery. He saw there one of the monks, But in the garb of Muslims. He said, 'O old monk of the monastery, What is this Muslim garb?' He replied, 'For a lifetime I have been a Muslim, My eyes illuminated by the light of faith.' He said, 'From where did this fortune reach you, In this darkness of attributes?' He said, 'In our monastery took residence A youth from the fold of Islam. His stature was a rosebush from the garden of paradise, His face brighter than the lamp of paradise. His sweet lips were of Messiah's breath, With a waist like the thread of Mary. The heart of the monastery was full of fire, like a temple lamp, With a world enraptured by the love of that moonlike one. There was a pure Christian girl, Whose ambergris tresses were like a net over the rose of her face. She possessed wealth beyond limit and count, With a beauty far exceeding her wealth. The girl's eyes fell upon that youth; From that glance, a fire fell upon her soul. Her harvest of safety went to the wind; Everything but the memory of him left her mind. Neither sleep at night nor rest by day, With a wounded heart and blood-dripping eyes. She would speak with his image, She would search for union with him. She tried tricks and raised schemes, She poured all the gold and silver she had upon him. To him, gold and silver had no existence, And her tricks and schemes brought no benefit. In the end, she remained helpless in her affair, And in her helplessness, she was on the verge of death. There was a capable painter there, Rare among painters. The portrait of every creature, without more or less, He would draw exactly as it was. Her skirt filled with gold and silver, She told her situation to the painter. When the painter heard her story, He drew the form of her beloved just as he was. She placed him upon the throne of elegance, And began her lovemaking with him. Sometimes, out of yearning, she would wail before him, Rubbing her face on the dust of his feet. Sometimes she would open her eyes to his face, Sometimes she would lay her eyes upon his feet. Sometimes she would clasp her arms around his waist, Sometimes she would taste sweetness from his lips. But one who is thirsty for water, How could a mirage quench their thirst? For a time, she lived in this manner, Thus expelling her grief from her heart. Until from the turning of the soul-consuming heaven, The youth fell ill and weak in body. His moon suffered the eclipse of fever, And his soul took the path of departure from the body. When the girl saw this out of grief and pain, It is impossible to describe what she did. Within her wounded soul, there arose The pain of a hundred mothers who had lost their sons. Whatever all the mourners in the world Have done since the beginning of death, She did all of that, and even more, Indeed, beyond the limit of description. Her soul and heart burned with the fire of his grief; She spent her gold and silver on his mourning. She held a mourning such that this ruined world Does not remember any such mourning. At last she turned her face to the portrait, Seeking the medicine for her pain from his likeness. By day she would sing his praises, By night she would sleep with her head at his feet. One night we spoke of her, At dawn we made our way to her. We found her fallen in wretchedness, In front of the portrait, on the dust, having given up her life. She had written on the surface of the wall A few verses with the tears of her blood: 'O heart, O heart, be free of grief over death; When death arrives, be joyful and happy. I have left my own misfortune behind, And I have embraced the religion of my beloved. I have repented of the Christian faith, My religion is none but Islam. I hope that in the gardens of paradise, My beloved and I shall dwell together. Forever I will turn my face toward him, And I will not let go of his skirt. He went, and in a short while, I am also following him right now.' The Muslims rejoiced at this, Praising her and her religion. They dug her grave next to her beloved, And with weeping eyes, they laid her in the earth. The next day, in the early morning, Their gaze fell upon those verses. Under those verses, three or four others Had been written with her heart's blood: 'How marvelous that I rested from this journey, Union with the beloved is my gain from this journey! By divine grace, they sought my pleasure, And they washed away the records of my errors. I found admittance in the proximity of God, He gave me a place in the court of near presence. It is I today and eternal fortune, The skirt of union with the beloved, and everlasting joy.' The monk said, 'When I read those few words, A great light fell into my heart. My mind found peace in the realization That the true religion is indeed this Islam. I confessed to it from my heart and soul, And became weary of the religion of others.'

Updated 2026-07-07

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