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

بود پیری عاجز و حیران شده
سخت کوش چرخ سرگردان شده

دست تنگی پایمالش کرده بود
گرگ پیری در جوالش کرده بود

بود نالان همچو چنگی ز اضطراب
پیشهٔ او از همه نقلی رباب

نه یکی بانگ ربابش میخرید
نه کسی نان ثوابش میخرید

گرسنه مانده نه خوردی و نه خواب
برهنه مانده نه نانی و نه آب

چون نبودش هیچ روی از هیچ سوی
برگرفت آخر رباب و شد بکوی

مسجدی بود از همه نوعی خراب
رفت آنجا و بزد لختی رباب

رخ بقبله زخمه را بر کار کرد
پس سرودی نیز با آن یار کرد

چون بزد لختی رباب آن بیقرار
گفت یا رب من ندانم هیچ کار

این چه میدانستم آن آوردمت
خوش سماعی با میان آوردمت

عاجزم پیرم ضعیفم بی کسم
چون ندارم هیچ نان جان می بسم

نه کسم میخواند از بهر رباب
نه کسم نان میدهد بهر ثواب

من چو کردم آن خود بر تو نثار
تو کریمی نیز آن خود بیار

در همه دنیا ندارم هیچ چیز
رایگان مشنو سماع من تو نیز

کار من آماده کن یکبارگی
تا رهائی یابم از غمخوارگی

چون ز بس گفتن دلش در تاب شد
هم دران مسجد خوشی درخواب شد

صوفیان بوسعید آن پیر راه
گرسنه بودند جمله چند گاه

چشم در ره تا فتوحی دررسد
قوت تن قوت روحی در رسد

عاقبت مردی درآمد با خبر
پیش شیخ آورد صد دینار زر

بوسه داد و گفت اصحاب تراست
تا کنندامروز وجه سفره راست

شد دل اصحاب الحق خوش ازان
رویشان بفروخت چون آتش ازآن

شیخ آن زر داد خادم را و گفت
در فلان مسجد یکی پیری بخفت

با ربابی زیر سر پیری نکوست
این زر او را ده که این زر آن اوست

رفت خادم برد زر درویش را
گرسنه بگذاشت قوم خویش را

آن همه زر چون بدید آن پیر زار
سر بخاک آورد و گفت ای کردگار

از کرم نیکو غنیمی میکنی
با چو من خاکی کریمی میکنی

بعد از اینم گر نیارد مرگ خواب
جمله از بهر تو خواهم زد رباب

میشناسی قدر استادان تو نیک
هیچکس مثل تو نشناسد ولیک

چون تو خود بستودهٔ چه ستایمت
لیک چون زر برسدم باز آیمت

هر کرا در عقل نقصان اوفتد
کار او فی الجمله آسان اوفتد

لاجرم دیوانه را گرچه خطاست
هرچه میگوید بگستاخی رواست

خیر و شر چون جمله زینجا میرود
نوحهٔ دیوانه زیبا میرود

English translation

There was a helpless and bewildered old man, Hard-working but spun around by the turning wheel (of fate). Poverty had trampled him underfoot, An old wolf had put him in its sack. He was groaning like a harp from distress, His only trade out of all things was playing the rubab. No one bought a single note of his rubab, No one bought his bread of reward (charity). He remained hungry, without food or sleep, He remained naked, without bread or water. When he saw no face (hope) from any direction, He finally took up his rubab and went to the street. There was a mosque, ruined in every way, He went there and played the rubab for a while. He turned his face to the Qibla and set his plectrum to work, Then he also sang a song with that friend (the rubab). When that restless one had played the rubab for a while, He said, 'O Lord, I do not know any work. I brought You what I knew, I brought You a pleasant listening session. I am helpless, I am old, I am weak, I am friendless, Since I have no bread at all, I am content with my soul. No one calls me for the sake of the rubab, No one gives me bread for the sake of reward. Since I have scattered my all before You, You are generous, bring Your all too. I have nothing in the whole world, Do not listen to my music for free either. Sort out my affairs all at once, So that I may find deliverance from sorrow.' Since from speaking so much his heart grew heated, He happily fell asleep right in that mosque. The Sufis of Bu Sa'id, that elder of the path, Had all been hungry for some time. Eyes on the road until an opening (gift) arrives, Food for the body, food for the soul arrives. Finally, an informed man entered, He brought a hundred gold dinars before the Sheikh. He kissed him and said, 'This is for your companions, So they can prepare their meal today.' The hearts of the companions of Truth became happy because of it, Their faces lit up like fire because of it. The Sheikh gave that gold to the servant and said, 'In such-and-such mosque, an old man has fallen asleep. With a rubab under his head, he is a good old man, Give this gold to him, for this gold is his.' The servant went and took the gold to the dervish, And left his own people hungry. When that miserable old man saw all that gold, He brought his head to the dust and said, 'O Creator, Out of generosity, You make a good booty, You act generously with someone made of dust like me. After this, if death does not bring me sleep, I will play the rubab entirely for Your sake.' You know the worth of your masters well, No one knows like You, but, Since You Yourself are praised, how can I praise You? But since gold reached me, I will return to You. Whoever has a deficiency in intellect, His affairs generally become easy. Inevitably, for a madman, even if it is a mistake, Whatever he says audaciously is permissible. Since good and evil all pass from here, The lamentation of the madman passes beautifully.

Updated 2026-07-03

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