1Cademy - بخش ۴ - الحكایة و التمثیل / Section 4

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Mosibat Nameh

Poem

بخش ۴ - الحكایة و التمثیل / Section 4 - The Tale and the Parable

Original content

گفت چون مسعود آن شاه درشت
خشمگین شد از حسن زارش بکشت

پیش قصری سرنگونش آویختند
خون او با خاک می آمیختند

او وزیر نیک بد محمود را
بد شد از بی دولتی مسعود را

کثرت دنیا و قلت بگذرد
در دمی دوران دولت بگذرد

آن همه دولت که در عهد حسن
بود از که بود از جهد حسن

باز این بی دولتی کاکنونش بود
زو نبود این هم که از گردونش بود

گر بسی خون پیش او میریختند
عاقبت او را بخون آویختند

کار دیوانم جنون آید همه
کز وزارت بوی خون آید همه

هم بیابی تو گدا اینجایگاه
گردهٔ بی آنکه گردی گرد شاه

شاه دنیا بر مثال آتش است
گرد او پروانه را کشتن خوش است

چون حسن شد کشته خلقی بر سرش
هر کسی میگفت عیبی دیگرش

کشته شد وز ننگ عالم می نرست
وز زفان مردمان هم می نرست

هرخری در خرمنش میکرد گاو
کشته را هرگز سگان ندهند تاو

چون بسی عیبش بگفتند آن زمان
ژنده پوشی بود برجست از میان

گفت او را بود یک عیب دگر
زین همه عیبی که بشنودم بتر

گفت خالص بود کاریزش هزار
پیش هر کاریز او را یک حصار

جمله را در آهنین در قبله روی
هر حصاری را دهی پرگفت و گوی

کارگاهش بود ملک خود هزار
جمله دیبا یافتندی چون نگار

در شمار او هزار آمد غلام
جمله در مردی و نیکوئی تمام

زان همه کاریز او در پیش و پس
پنج من آبش نصیب افتاد و بس

زان همه دیبا که بد بر اسم او
ده گزی کرباس آمد قسم او

زان همه نیکو غلام نیک نام
بود بی شک چار حمالش تمام

زان حصار و زان همه در آهنین
حصه ده خشت آمدش زیر زمین

زان همه دشت و زمین پست وبلند
چار گز خاک لحد بودش پسند

عیب او این بود کز فضل و بیان
خرده دانی کرد دعوی در جهان

گرچه جان در خرده دانی باخت او
ذرهٔ عیب جهان نشناخت او

خرده دان کو عیب دنیا ننگرد
در غرور افتد به عقبی ننگرد

لاجرم امروز خونش ریختند
سرنگونسارش ز قصر آویختند

او ندید و راه پیچاپیچ بود
عیبش این بود آن دگرها هیچ بود

گر بدیدی خوف ره بالغ شدی
برفکندی جمله و فارغ شدی

چون گلوی خود بدست خود فشرد
لاجرم عاجز ز دست خود بمرد

شکر کن کز حرص سرگردان نهٔ
روز تا شب بر در دکان نهٔ

در طریق حبه دزدیدن مدام
دانهٔ بنهادهٔ از بهر دام

دام جمله نه دکان داری بود
دام تو در خرقه متواری بود

آستین کوتاه کردی حیله ساز
تا توانی کرد خوش دستی دراز

شرع را از طبع نافرمان شدی
کور بودی در کبودی زان شدی

هرکه شد در خرقهٔ شد حیله ساز
پس دکان خویش را در کرد باز

خلق اگر ظلمت اگر نور آمدند
زین سخن بس دیر و بس دور آمدند

شکر کن حق را کز ایشان نیستی
خلوتی داری پریشان نیستی

English translation

He said: When Mas'ud, that harsh king, became angry with Hasan, he killed him miserably. They hung him upside down before a palace; they mixed his blood with the dust. He was a good vizier to Mahmud, but due to misfortune, he became bad for Mas'ud. The abundance and scarcity of the world will pass; in a breath, the era of fortune passes. All that prosperity which existed in Hasan's era, from whom was it? From the effort of Hasan. Yet this misfortune that was now his, was not from him, but rather from his destiny. Though they spilled much blood before him, in the end, they suspended him in blood. The work of the royal court seems to me entirely madness, for the vizierate entirely smells of blood. You, O beggar, will find here a loaf of bread without hovering around the king. The king of the world is like fire; around him, it is pleasant for the moth to be killed. When Hasan was killed, a crowd gathered over his head; everyone spoke of another of his flaws. He was killed and did not escape the shame of the world, nor did he escape the tongues of the people. Every donkey played the ox in his harvest; dogs never grant respite to the slain. When they had recounted many of his flaws at that time, a rag-clad man jumped out from their midst. He said: He had one other flaw, worse than all these flaws I have heard. He said, he had a thousand exclusive qanats, and before each qanat, he had a fortress. All of them had iron doors facing the qibla, and each fortress had a bustling village. He had a thousand workshops of his own property; all wove brocade like beautiful paintings. In his tally were a thousand slaves, all perfect in manliness and goodness. From all those qanats of his, front and back, five man of water fell to his lot, and that is all. From all that brocade that was in his name, ten yards of coarse cotton became his share. From all those good and reputable slaves, undoubtedly four pallbearers were all he had. From those fortresses and all those iron doors, his portion came to ten bricks beneath the earth. From all those plains and lands, low and high, four yards of grave-dirt sufficed him. His flaw was this: that out of eloquence and articulation, he claimed to know every detail in the world. Though he lost his soul in this trivial knowledge, he did not recognize a single atom of the world's flaws. The know-it-all who does not observe the world's flaws, falls into pride and does not look to the hereafter. Inevitably, today they spilled his blood; they hung him upside down from the palace. He did not see that the path was twisting and turning; his flaw was this, those others were nothing. If he had seen the danger of the path, he would have matured; he would have cast everything aside and become free. Since he squeezed his own throat with his own hands, inevitably he died helpless by his own hand. Give thanks that you are not bewildered by greed, that you are not at the door of the shop from day to night. Continually stealing a grain on the path, setting a seed for the sake of a trap. The trap of the multitude is shopkeeping; your trap was hidden in the dervish cloak. You made your sleeves short, O trickster, so that you could nicely stretch out a long hand. You became disobedient to the religious law out of your own nature; you were blind in the blue garments because of it. Whoever donned the cloak became a trickster; then he opened the door to his own shop. The people, whether they came in darkness or in light, have fallen far and late from this truth. Thank God that you are not of them; you have a retreat and are not distressed.

Updated 2026-07-03

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