1Cademy - بخش ۴۱ - داستان کاغذ نوشتن مادر اسکندر و جواهر حکمت در آن پیچیدن و به اسکندر فرستادن / Section 41 - The Tale of Alexanders Mother Writing a Letter, Wrapping the Jewels of Wisdom in It, and Sending It to Alexander

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Haft Awrang

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بخش ۴۱ - داستان کاغذ نوشتن مادر اسکندر و جواهر حکمت در آن پیچیدن و به اسکندر فرستادن / Section 41 - The Tale of Alexander's Mother Writing a Letter, Wrapping the Jewels of Wisdom in It, and Sending It to Alexander

Original content

سکندر که صیتش جهان را گرفت
بسیط زمین و زمان را گرفت

چو گرد جهان گشتن آغاز کرد
به کشورگشایی سفر ساز کرد

ز دیدار او مادرش ماند باز
بر او گشت ایام دوری دراز

تراشید مشکین رقم خامه ای
خراشید مشحون به غم نامه ای

سر نامه نام خداوند پاک
فرحبخش دلهای اندوهناک

فرازنده افسر سرکشان
فروزنده طلعت مهوشان

به صبح آور شام هر شب نشین
حرارت بر هر دل آتشین

وز آن پس ز مادر هزاران سپاس
بر اسکندر آن بنده حق شناس

ضعیفی به تأیید یزدان قوی
رسوم کرم را ز رایش نوی

به اعزاز ایزد عزیز جهان
به تعلیم او واقف هر نهان

به خود پست وز لطف او سربلند
به خود نیست وز هستیش بهره مند

بر او باد کز حد خود نگذرد
به جز راه اهل خرد نسپرد

به جز حکمت مرد آگاه نیست
که بیرون ز حکم خرد راه نیست

خیال بزرگی به خود گو مبند
که بر خاک خواری فتد خودپسند

به چشم خود آن به که باشد ذلیل
که هست این صفت بر عزیزی دلیل

چرا دل نهد کس بر آن ملک و مال
که خواهد گرفتن به زودی زوال

سوی خویش گو بخل را ره مده
که دست گشاده ست از بسته به

کف بسته مشت است و آید درشت
ز دارنده بر روی خواهنده مشت

دل اهل حاجت جراحت بود
براو دست بگشاده راحت بود

مکن عجب را گو به دل آشیان
که دین را گزند است و جان را زیان

بود روز اقبال را عجب شب
ز اقبالیان عجب باشد عجب

بسا مرد کو دم ز تدبیر زد
ولی بر خود از عجب خود تیر زد

English translation

Alexander, whose renown seized the world, who took hold of the whole expanse of earth and time, When he began to roam around the world, he set out on a journey of conquest. His mother was left deprived of seeing him, and the days of separation grew long upon her. She fashioned a musk-scented, inscribing pen, and scratched out a letter brimming with grief. At the head of the letter, the name of the Pure Lord, the joy-giver of sorrowful hearts, the exalter of the crown of the rebellious, the kindler of the countenance of the moon-like, who brings morning to every night-sitter's evening, and warmth to every fiery heart. And after that, from the mother a thousand thanks upon Alexander, that grateful servant of the Truth: a weak one made strong by God's support, the customs of generosity renewed by his judgment, honored by God, the dear one of the world, by His teaching made aware of every hidden thing, lowly in himself yet exalted by His grace, nothing in himself yet benefiting from His being. May it be upon him that he not overstep his limit, and tread no path but that of the people of wisdom. Except through wisdom the man is not aware, for outside the rule of reason there is no path. Tell yourself not to entertain the fancy of greatness, for the self-conceited falls into the dust of abasement. Better that one be lowly in his own eyes, for this quality is a proof of being honored. Why should anyone set his heart on that kingdom and wealth which will soon meet its decline? Tell yourself to give no way to miserliness, for an open hand is better than a closed one. A closed palm is a fist, and it comes down harshly— a fist from the holder upon the face of the beggar. The heart of the needy is a wound; an open hand upon it is a comfort. Tell conceit not to nest in the heart, for it is harm to faith and loss to the soul. Conceit is night to the day of good fortune; from the fortunate, conceit would be a wonder indeed. Many a man who boasted of his planning yet, through his own conceit, shot an arrow at himself.

Updated 2026-07-19

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Ganjoor

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