1Cademy - بخش ۱۵ - الحکایه و التمثیل / Section 15

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Asrar Nameh

Poem

بخش ۱۵ - الحکایه و التمثیل / Section 15 - The Tale and the Parable

Original content

به شهر ما بخیلی گشت بیمار
که نقدش بود پنجه بدره دینار

ز من آزادمردی کرد درخواست
که او را کرد باید شربتی راست

مرا نزد بخیل آورد آن مرد
یکی صد ساله ای دیدم در آن درد

ز بیماری درد آز خفته
چو مدهوشی به بستر باز خفته

دلش با مرگ نزدیکی گرفته
همه سوییش تاریکی گرفته

فتاده بر رخش عکس بخیلی
لبش از ناخورایی گشته نیلی

گلابش یافتم یک شیشه در بر
به گل بگرفته محکم شیشه را سر

یکی را گفتم آن گل درفکن زود
گلاب از شیشه بر بیمار زن زود

بزد از بیم بانگی مرد بیمار
که آن گل برمکن از شیشه زنهار

که گر آن شیشه را گل برکنی تو
بتر زان کز تنم دل برکنی تو

چو زین بوی خوشم دل هست ناخوش
مزن از آب گل جانم در آتش

بگفت این وزین عالم برون شد
نمی دانم دگر تا حال چون شد

چو آن بیچاره دل را پاک کردند
به صد زاری به زیر خاک کردند

بیاوردند زان پس شیشه در پیش
گلی کردند ازو سر خاک درویش

چو زاب گل گل آن خاک تر شد
دل آن کور مدبر کورتر شد

نمی دادش گل آن شیشه دل بار
که باشد خاک او زان شیشه گل زار

چو برنامد از آن یک قطره از دل
برآمد زاب گل صد خارش از گل

سرنجام بخیلان باز گفتم
ببین تا خود چه نیکو راز گفتم

English translation

In our city, a miser fell ill, Who possessed fifty bags of gold dinars in cash. A noble man made a request of me, That a medicinal syrup must be prepared for him. That man brought me to the miser's side, I saw a hundred-year-old man suffering in that pain, Fallen asleep from the painful disease of greed, Lying on his bed like someone unconscious. His heart had drawn close to death, Darkness had engulfed him from all sides. The reflection of miserliness lay upon his face, His lips had turned blue from starvation. I found a bottle of rosewater next to him, The top of the bottle was tightly sealed with clay. I told someone, 'Remove that clay quickly, And promptly sprinkle the rosewater on the sick man.' The sick man let out a cry of fear, Saying, 'Beware, do not remove that clay from the bottle! For if you take the clay off that bottle, It would be worse than tearing the heart from my body. Since my heart is displeased by this sweet fragrance, Do not cast my soul into fire with rosewater.' He said this and departed from this world, I do not know how he has fared since. When they washed that miserable soul, With a hundred lamentations, they laid him under the earth. Afterwards, they brought the bottle forward, And placed the clay from it on the poor man's grave. When the clay of that earth became wet with rosewater, The heart of that wretched blind man grew even blinder. The clay of that bottle gave his heart no relief, Nor did his grave become a rose garden from that bottle. Since not a single drop from it reached the heart, A hundred thorns sprouted from his clay because of the rosewater. I have recounted the ultimate fate of misers, See for yourself what a beautiful secret I have told.

Updated 2026-07-03

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