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بخش ۸۰ - حکایت آن پیر خارکش که از خار خواریش گل عزت می گشاد و جوان رعناوش که گل عزتش بوی خواری می داد / Section 80 - The Tale of That Old Thorn-Picker Who, From the Thorn of His Humiliation, Opened the Rose of Dignity, and the Elegant Youth Whose Rose of Dignity Smelled of Humiliation

Original content

خارکش پیری با دلق درشت
پشته خار همی برد به پشت

لنگ لنگان قدمی برمی داشت
هر قدم دانه شکری می کاشت

کای فرازنده این چرخ بلند
وی نوازنده دلهای نژند

کنم از جیب نظر تا دامن
چه عزیزی که نکردی با من

در دولت به رخم بگشادی
تاج عزت به سرم بنهادی

حد من نیست ثنایت گفتن
گوهر شکر عطایت سفتن

نوجوانی به جوانی مغرور
رخش پندار همی راند ز دور

آمد آن شکرگزاریش به گوش
گفت کای پیر خرف گشته خموش

خار بر پشت زنی زینسان گام
دولتت چیست عزیزیت کدام

عمر در خارکشی باخته ای
عزت از خواری نشناخته ای

پیر گفتا که چه عزت زین به
که نیم بر در تو بالین نه

کای فلان چاشت بده یا شامم
نان و آبی که خورم و آشامم

شکر گویم که مرا خوار نساخت
به خسی چون تو گرفتار نساخت

به ره حرص شتابنده نکرد
به در شاه و گدا بنده نکرد

داد با این همه افتادگیم
عز آزادی و آزادگیم

English translation

An old thorn-picker wearing a coarse wool cloak Was carrying a bundle of thorns on his back. Limping, he took every step, Sowing a seed of gratitude at each stride. Saying: 'O Exalter of this lofty sphere, And O Solacer of sorrowful hearts! When I look from my collar to my hem, What favor have You not bestowed upon me? You have opened the door of fortune to my face, And placed the crown of dignity upon my head. It is not my place to praise You, Or to pierce the gem of gratitude for Your bounty.' A youth, proud of his youth, Was riding his steed of conceit from afar. That thanksgiving of the old man reached his ears; He said: 'O senile old man, be silent! You carry thorns on your back and trudge along like this; What is your fortune, and where is your dignity? You have spent your life in picking thorns, And you cannot tell dignity from humiliation.' The old man said: 'What dignity could be better than this: That I do not lay my head at your door, Saying, 'O so-and-so, give me my lunch or dinner, The bread and water that I eat and drink.' I give thanks that He did not make me low, Nor bound me to a contemptible person like you. He did not make me run along the path of greed, Nor made me a servant at the door of king or beggar. Despite all my humbleness, He gave me The dignity of freedom and being free.'

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Updated 2026-07-19

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Humanities

Literature

Persian Literature Prerequisite Course

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