1Cademy - بخش ۱۶ - حکایت آن پیر که جوان گریان را دید و موجب گریه او را پرسید / Section 16 - The Tale of the Old Man Who Saw the Weeping Youth and Asked the Cause of His Weeping

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Haft Awrang

Poem

بخش ۱۶ - حکایت آن پیر که جوان گریان را دید و موجب گریه او را پرسید / Section 16 - The Tale of the Old Man Who Saw the Weeping Youth and Asked the Cause of His Weeping

Original content

جهاندیده پیری به سودای گشت
قدم زد ز خانه به پهنای دشت

برآورده گوری نو از دور دید
وز آنجا صدایی به گوشش رسید

چو آهو سوی گور شد تیزگام
که تا بیند آنجا که شد صید دام

کسی دید افتاده در خون و خاک
ز سینه کشان ناله دردناک

ز خون جگر از مژه اشکریز
به دست تظلم به سر خاکبیز

بدو گفت کای سخره مرگ و زیست
تو را این همه ماتم از بهر کیست

به خاک اندرت کیست مدفون شده
که حالت بدینسان دگرگون شده

جفاکاری روزگار درشت
به حرمان ز اصلت شکسته ست پشت

و یا تندباد قضا و قدر
فکنده ز شاخ تو نورس ثمر

و یا دست چرخت زده خنجری
جدا کرده از هم صدف گوهری

و یا مانده ای از مهی مهرکیش
بدومیلت از خویش و پیوند بیش

بگفتا کز اینها همه نیست هیچ
ز چیز دگر دارم این تاب و پیچ

همی گریم از بهر چیزی دگر
کز اینها به من هست نزدیکتر

قوی پنجه خصمیم همسایه بود
که از حشمت و جاه پر مایه بود

نبود از جفای ویم ای عجب
نه آسایش روز و نی خواب شب

شنیدم که دیروز بهر شکار
درین دشت می راند مرکب سوار

چنان شست بگشاد بر آهویی
که نگشاد از آنسان قوی بازویی

بدان گونه زد زخم صید زبون
که پیکانش از پهلو آمد برون

چو از زخم او صید شد دردمند
به بالای او خویشتن را فکند

چنانش به دل نوک پیکان خلید
که چون آهویش رشته جان برید

ز آزار پیکان در آن کارزار
شکار افکن افتاد همچون شکار

برآورده پیش تو این خاک اوست
به خاک اندرون جسم ناپاک اوست

بدان آمدم تا بدو بگذرم
به چشم شماتت در او بنگرم

چو کردم بدین نیت اینجا درنگ
درآمد به چشمم یکی لوح سنگ

نوشته بر آن نکته ای جانگداز
که ای کوته اندیش دامن دراز

مکش دامن ناز بر خاک ما
ته خاک بین سینه چاک ما

تو هم روزی از خانه تنها شوی
گرفتار این خانه چون ما شوی

چنان بر دل این نکته ام کار کرد
که آسیب آن جانم افگار کرد

کنون می کنم گریه بر خویشتن
ز من نیست نزدیکتر کس به من

بیا ساقی آن جام غفلت زدای
به دل روزن هوشمندی گشای

بده تا ز حال خود آگه شویم
به آخر سفر روی در ره شویم

بیا مطرب و ناله آغاز کن
شترهای ما را حدی ساز کن

که تا این شترهای کاهل خرام
شوند اندرین مرحله تیزگام

English translation

An experienced old man, with a longing to wander, stepped from his house into the breadth of the plain. From afar he saw a freshly raised grave, and from there a voice reached his ear. Like a deer he went swift-footed toward the grave, to see who had there fallen prey to the snare. He saw someone fallen in blood and dust, drawing painful laments from his breast, With tears pouring from his lashes from the blood of his liver, his hand complaining of injustice, sifting dust upon his head. He said to him: O plaything of death and life, for whom is all this mourning of yours? Who lies buried in the earth beneath you, that your state has been so transformed? Has the cruelty of harsh fortune broken your back with deprivation from your origin? Or has the fierce gale of fate and destiny cast the fresh fruit from your branch? Or has the hand of the heavens struck you with a dagger, parting the pearl from its shell? Or have you been bereft of some loving moon-faced one, toward whom your inclination was greater than kin and bond? He said: It is none of these at all; from another thing I have this anguish and writhing. I weep for another thing, which is nearer to me than these. A strong-fisted foe of mine was my neighbor, rich in pomp and rank. From his cruelty—O wonder—I had neither ease by day nor sleep by night. I heard that yesterday, for the hunt, he rode his mount into this plain. He loosed the bowstring at a deer as no strong arm ever loosed it, And struck the wretched prey with such a wound that its arrowhead came out the other side. When the prey was pained by his wound, it flung itself upon him; The arrow-tip so pierced his heart that, like the deer, it cut the thread of his life. From the torment of the arrow in that fray, the hunter fell like the hunted. This raised earth before you is his; within the earth lies his impure body. I came so that I might pass by him and look upon him with an eye of gloating. When I paused here with this intent, a stone tablet came into my sight, With a soul-melting saying written upon it: O short-sighted one with the long skirt of pride, Drag not the skirt of vanity over our dust; beneath the dust behold our torn breast. You too one day will leave your home alone, and like us become captive of this home. So did this saying work upon my heart that its blow wounded my soul. Now I weep for myself; no one is nearer to me than myself. Come, cupbearer, that cup which dispels heedlessness; open in the heart a window of awareness. Give it, that we may grow aware of our own state, and at the journey's end set our face upon the road. Come, minstrel, and begin your lament; make a driver's song for our camels, That these slow-pacing camels may become swift-footed in this stage.

Updated 2026-07-20

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