1Cademy - بخش ۳ - الحکایه و التمثیل / Section 3

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Asrar Nameh

Poem

بخش ۳ - الحکایه و التمثیل / Section 3 - The Tale and the Parable

Original content

شنودم من که وقتی پادشاهی
که رویی داشت درخوبی چو ماهی

ز بهر گوی بازی رفت بیرون
وزو هر لحظه صد دل خفت در خون

چو گوی حسن در میدان بیفکند
فلک از گوی او چوگان بیفکند

رخش لاف جهان آرای می زد
جهان را حسن او سرپای می زد

خرد بر خاک راه او نشسته
عرق برگرد ماه او نشسته

غم عشقش زهی سودای بی سود
لب لعلش زهی حلوای بی دود

چو سرمستی در آن میدان همی گشت
وزو نظارگی حیران همی گشت

مگر سرگشتهٔ چون شمع با سوز
که گلخن تافتی بیچاره تا روز

بدید از دور روی آن نکو را
که داند تا چه کار افتاد او را

ز عشقش آتشی در جانش افتاد
که دردی سخت بی درمانش افتاد

دلش در عشق معجون جنون ساخت
رخش از اشگ صد هنگامه خون ساخت

دم سرد از جگر می زد چو کافور
فرو می برد آب گرم از دور

بمانده در عجب حالی مشوش
ز دست دل دلی در دست آتش

نفس ازجان چون دوزخ بینداخت
ز مستی جامه را نخ نخ بینداخت

همی بدرید جان آن عاشق مست
بجای جانش آمد جامه در دست

جهان بر چشم او زیر و زبر شد
بیفتاد وز مستی بی خبر شد

چگونه پر زند در خون و در گل
میان راه مرغ نیم بسمل

بدان سان پر زد آن مسکین بی بار
زهی عشق و زهی دردوزهی کار

بآخر هم چنان تا ده شبان روز
میان خاک بود افتاده تا روز

برون آمد بمیدان یوسف عهد
بزیر چتر چون خورشید در مهد

بتک استاد گلخن تاب در حال
دل و جان پرسخن لیکن زفان لال

چو شاه گوی زن چوگان برآورد
دل درویش را از جان برآورد

چو از چوگان زلفش یافت بویی
بسر می شد ز خود بی خود چو گویی

وزیرش وقت دید و جای خالی
ز گلخن تاب رمزی گفت حالی

که او ده سال از عشقت شب و روز
نه خفت و نه چو شمع آسود از سوز

چو هستت این گدا از نیک خواهان
مراعاتیش کن چون پادشاهان

اگرچه نیست رنگش راز گویی
بسوی او فرو انداز گویی

اگرچه ننگ باشد از چنین بار
غریبی نبود از شاهان چنین کار

شه از لطفی که او را بود در تاخت
بسوی آن گدا گویی بینداخت

بعاشق گفت گویم ده بمن باز
چرا ماندی چنین آخر دهن باز

چو از شاه این سخن بشنید درویش
بخاک افتاد و می افتاد در خویش

ز چشمش اشک ریزان شد چو باران
همی لرزید چون برگ چناران

ز جان صد جام خون بر جامه کرده
جهانی گرد او هنگامه کرده

برآوردی بدردی باد سردی
که تا هنگامه حالی سرد کردی

بآخر در میان خاک و خواری
بگلخن باز بردندش بزاری

دلش مستغرق دریای اندوه
ز چشم او زمین چون چشم در کوه

هوا از راه او سردی گرفته
ملک از روی او زردی گرفته

چو لختی با جهان هستی آمد
دگر ره خروش مستی آمد

فغان می کرد وز هر سوی می رفت
چو باران اشگ او برروی می رفت

چو برقی چون در آن صحرا بمانده
چو باران اشگ بر صحرا بمانده

دلش از صحن این صحرا برون بود
تنش را بسته با صحرای خون بود

بآب چشم صحرا کرده پر گل
جهانی درد صحرا کرده بر دل

نه یک محرم که با او راز گوید
نه یک هم دل که رمزی باز گوید

اگرچه خوردن و خفتن نبودش
ولیکن زهرهٔ گفتن نبودش

بدل می گفت شاهی عالم افروز
که عالم جمله ملک اوست امروز

اگر فرمان دهد در پادشاهی
سپه گیرد ز ماهش تا بماهی

وگر یک مردش آرد روی برمن
ز نامردی نجنبد موی بر من

برون می آید از گلخن گدایی
ببوی وصل زین سان پادشایی

اگر برگویم این راز آشکاره
بیک ساعت کنندم پاره پاره

چه سازم چون کنم چون کارم افتاد
خرم در گل بخفت و بارم افتاد

بآخر مدت ده سال پیوست
ز عشق پادشاه از پای ننشست

همه شب تا بروز و روز تا شب
ستاده بر درش می گفت یا رب

قرار و خواب و آرامش برفته
ببد نامی خود نامش برفته

زهی دولت که خورشید سرافراز
بپیش ذرهٔ خود می شود باز

چو شاه آورد سوی گلخن آهنگ
خبر آمد بگلخن تاب دل تنگ

چو چشمش بر جمال شاه افتاد
بلرزید و میان راه افتاد

چو شه در روی آن دلداده نگریست
سر او در کنار آورد و بگریست

دل پر جوش او را مرهمی کرد
خودش می کشت و خود ماتم همی کرد

چو سوی هستی خود راه یابند
سر خود در کنار شاه یابند

چگونه آورد پروانه آن تاب
که بنشیند بر شمع جهان تاب

نبودش طاقت وصل چنان شاه
برآورد از زمین تا آسمان آه

گلاب از دیده ها بر خویشتن زد
بزد یک نعره و جان داد و تن زد

دو دم از خلق آن حیران برآمد
یکی بی جان دگر با جان برآمد

برو ای هم چو گلخن تاب عاجز
که تاب وصل شاهت نیست هرگز

برو سودا مپز ای پارهٔ خاک
که مستغنیست از تو حضرت پاک

هر آن طاعت که چندان پاک کردند
فدای راه مشتی خاک کردند

خطاب آمد که ای پاکان درگاه
سجود آرید آدم را بیک راه

که افشاندیم چندین سجدهٔ پاک
ز استغنای خود بر پارهٔ خاک

که ذات ما ازینها بی نیازست
چه جای سجده و جای نمازست

برو ای گلخنی گلخن همی تاب
درین آتش بصد شیون همی تاب

برو تا چند ازین تزویر و دستان
که بیهوده بسی گویند مستان

اگر سلطان بسوی تو کند رای
چه سازی چون نه جان داری و نه جای

نه جان آنک حالی پیش آری
نه جای آنکه نزد خویش آری

English translation

I heard that once a king Who had a face in beauty like a moon Went out to play polo And from him every moment a hundred hearts slept in blood When he threw the ball of beauty in the field The sky threw down its polo stick from his ball His face boasted of adorning the world His beauty struck the world head to foot Reason sat on the dust of his path Sweat sat around his moon (face) The sorrow of his love, oh what a profitless melancholy His ruby lips, oh what a smoke-less halva As he wandered in that field like a drunkard And the onlookers became bewildered by him There was a bewildered one, burning like a candle A poor one who stoked the bathhouse furnace until day He saw the face of that good one from afar Who knows what befell him From his love, a fire fell into his soul For a hard, incurable pain fell upon him His heart made an electuary of madness in love His face made a hundred scenes of blood from tears He breathed cold from his liver like camphor He swallowed hot water from afar He remained in a strange, disturbed state From the hand of the heart, a heart in the hand of fire He threw out a breath from his soul like hell From drunkenness, he threw off his clothes thread by thread The soul of that drunk lover was tearing Instead of his soul, his clothes came into his hand The world turned upside down in his eyes He fell and became unaware from drunkenness How does a half-slaughtered bird flap its wings In blood and mud in the middle of the road In that way that poor, fruitless one flapped Oh what love, and oh what pain, and oh what a situation Finally, just like that, for ten days and nights He lay fallen in the dust until day The Joseph of the era came out to the field Under the parasol like the sun in the cradle The stoker stood still immediately Heart and soul full of words, but tongue mute When the polo-playing king raised his stick He took the dervish's heart from his soul When he caught a scent from the polo stick of his lock He went head over heels, besides himself like a ball His vizier saw the time and place empty He told a secret about the stoker immediately That for ten years, day and night, from your love He neither slept nor rested from burning, like a candle Since this beggar is among your well-wishers Show him consideration like kings Although his complexion is not one to tell secrets to Throw a ball towards him Although it may be a disgrace from such an audience Such a deed from kings is not strange The king, from the grace he had, galloped And threw a ball towards that beggar He said to the lover, 'Give me back my ball, Why have you remained like this, mouth open?' When the dervish heard this word from the king He fell to the dust and was falling within himself Tears poured from his eyes like rain He trembled like the leaves of plane trees From his soul, he spilled a hundred cups of blood on his clothes A world gathered around him making a commotion He brought forth a cold wind with pain That immediately made the commotion cold Finally, amidst dust and humiliation They took him back to the bathhouse furnace in misery His heart submerged in the sea of sorrow From his eye, the earth was like an eye in a mountain The air caught coldness from his path The angels caught yellowness from his face When he came back a little to the world of existence Another cry of drunkenness came He lamented and went in every direction His tears flowed on his face like rain Like lightning remaining in that desert Like rain, tears remained on the desert His heart was outside the courtyard of this desert His body was tied to a desert of blood With the water of his eyes, he made the desert full of flowers A world of pain in the desert placed on his heart Not one confidant to tell his secret to Not one sympathizer to tell a hint to Although he had no eating or sleeping He did not have the gall to speak He said to his heart, a world-illuminating king Whose kingdom today is the whole world If he gives a command in kingship His army will take from the moon to the fish And if one of his men turns his face to me From cowardice, not a hair on me will move A beggar comes out of the bathhouse furnace With the hope of union with such a king If I tell this secret openly In one hour they will tear me to pieces What should I do, how should I act, how did my affair fall My donkey slept in the mud and my load fell Finally, for a continuous period of ten years From the love of the king, he did not sit off his feet All night until day and day until night Standing at his door, he said, 'O Lord!' His rest and sleep and peace had gone His name had gone with his own bad reputation Oh what fortune, that the proud sun Returns to its own atom When the king made his way towards the bathhouse furnace News came to the tight-hearted stoker When his eye fell on the beauty of the king He trembled and fell in the middle of the road When the king looked at the face of that enamored one He brought his head to his side and wept He made a balm for his boiling heart He himself was killing him and he himself was mourning When they find the way towards their own existence They find their head at the side of the king How can the moth bring that endurance To sit on the world-illuminating candle He did not have the endurance for union with such a king He brought forth a sigh from earth to sky He threw rose water from his eyes on himself He let out one cry, gave up his soul, and his body grew still Two breaths came from the creation of that bewildered one One came out lifeless, the other with life Go, O you helpless one like the stoker For you never have the endurance for union with your king Go, do not cook up melancholy, O piece of dust For the Pure Presence is independent of you Every obedience that they made so pure They sacrificed in the path of a handful of dust An address came: 'O pure ones of the court, Bring prostration to Adam at once.' For we scattered so many pure prostrations From our independence on a piece of dust For our essence is independent of these What place is there for prostration and what place for prayer Go, O stoker, keep stoking the furnace In this fire, burn with a hundred laments Go, how long this deceit and trickery For drunkards say many useless things If the sultan turns his opinion towards you What will you do, since you have neither soul nor place Neither the soul that you can present immediately Nor the place that you can bring near yourself.

Updated 2026-07-03

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