1Cademy - بخش ۱۲ - حکایت آن خاد که گوش بر افسانه غوک نهاد و نقد را به امید نسیه از دست بداد / Section 12 - The Tale of the Heron That Lent Its Ear to the Frogs Fable and Let the Cash Slip from Its Hand for the Hope of Credit

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Haft Awrang

Poem

بخش ۱۲ - حکایت آن خاد که گوش بر افسانه غوک نهاد و نقد را به امید نسیه از دست بداد / Section 12 - The Tale of the Heron That Lent Its Ear to the Frog's Fable and Let the Cash Slip from Its Hand for the Hope of Credit

Original content

یکی خاد مرغ هوایی شکار
فرو ماند از ضعف پیری ز کار

ز بال و پرش زور پرواز رفت
به صید غرض چنگش از ساز رفت

ز بی قوتیش خاست از جان نفیر
وطن ساخت گرد یکی آبگیر

پس از مدتی کردن آنجا درنگ
در افتاد غوکیش ناگه به چنگ

برآورد فریاد بیچاره غوک
که ای سورم از دست تو گشته سوک

مکن یک زمان در هلاکم شتاب
زمام شتاب از هلاکم بتاب

نیم من به جز طعمه طبع کوب
نه در کام نیکم نه در معده خوب

تنم نیست جز پوستی ناگوار
به آن کی قناعت کند گوشتخوار

اگر لب گشایی به آزادیم
فرستی به دل مژده شادیم

به هر لحظه زآیین سحر و فسون
به تو ماهیی را شوم رهنمون

در آب روان پرورش یافته
از الوان نعمت خورش یافته

تن او همه گوشت سر تا به دم
ازو پوست دور استخوان نیز گم

به پشت آبگون وز شکم سیم ناب
به چشمان چو عکس کواکب در آب

چو در شب سپهر از نثار کرم
همه پشت و پهلوی او پر درم

نه در طبع اهل خرد رد چو من
یکی لقمه از وی به از صد چو من

گشا لب گرت هست ازین وعده بیم
به تلقین سوگندهای عظیم

چو خاد این سخن را ز وی گوش کرد
تهی معده گی را فراموش کرد

به تلقین سوگند لب ها گشاد
ز منقار او غوک بیرون فتاد

به یک جستن افتاد در آبگیر
به حرمان دگر باره شد خاد اسیر

گرسنه به خاک تباهی نشست
نه غوکش به پنجه نه ماهی به شست

منم همچو آن خاد حرمان زده
ره خرمی بر دل و جان زده

ز فکر سخن رفته از دل حضور
ز نقصان فکرم سخن پر قصور

به دستم ز محرومی بخت من
نه جمعیت دل نه لطف سخن

بیا ساقیا ساغر می بیار
فلک وار دور پیاپی بدار

ازان می که آسایش دل دهد
خلاصی ز آلایش گل دهد

بیا مطربا عود بنهاده گوش
به یک گوشمال آورش در خروش

خروشی که دل را به هوش آورد
به دانا پیام سروش آورد

English translation

A heron, a hunter of the birds of the air, was left helpless in its work by the weakness of old age. The strength of flight had gone from its wings and feathers, and its talons had lost the means to seize its prey. From its lack of power a wail rose from its soul, and it made its home around a certain pool. After it had lingered there for some time, a frog suddenly fell into its claws. The helpless frog raised up a cry: 'O you, my wedding feast has turned to mourning at your hand! Do not hasten for a moment in destroying me; turn away the rein of haste from my destruction. I am nothing but a wretched morsel that batters the taste; I am neither good on the palate nor pleasant in the stomach. My body is nothing but an unpalatable skin, with which no eater of flesh would be content. If you open your lips to set me free, you will send tidings of joy to my heart. At every moment, by the art of magic and enchantment, I will guide you to a fish: nurtured in the flowing water, fed on foods of every kind. Its body is all flesh from head to tail; its skin is remote, its bones too are lost. Its back is the color of water, its belly of pure silver, its eyes like the reflection of stars in water. As in the night the sky, from the scattering of bounty, has all its back and flanks full of silver coins. In the nature of the people of wisdom there is none rejected like me; a single mouthful of it is better than a hundred like me. Open your lips, if you have fear of this promise, by the instruction of mighty oaths.' When the heron heard these words from it, it forgot its empty stomach. At the prompting of the oath it opened its lips, and the frog fell out from its beak. With one leap it dropped into the pool, and once again the heron was captive to deprivation. Hungry, it sat upon the dust of ruin, with neither the frog in its claw nor the fish on its hook. I am like that deprivation-stricken heron, having barred the path of joy to my heart and soul. From brooding over words, presence has fled my heart; from the deficiency of my thought, my speech is full of shortcoming. By the deprivation of my fortune, I have in hand neither collectedness of heart nor grace of speech. Come, O cupbearer, bring the goblet of wine; like the heavens keep the round going round and round, from that wine which gives ease to the heart and deliverance from the defilement of clay. Come, O minstrel, lay your ear upon the lute; with one tuning-twist bring it into clamor, a clamor that brings the heart to its senses and brings to the wise the message of the angel Suroush.

Updated 2026-07-20

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