1Cademy - بخش ۱۲۴ - عقد سی و نهم در نصیحت نفس خود که از همه گرفتارتر است و به نصیحت سزاوارتر / Section 124 - The Thirty-Ninth Knot: On Admonishing Ones Own Soul, Which Is More Captive Than All and More Deserving of Admonition

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بخش ۱۲۳ - مناجات در انتقال از وصیت فرزند به نصیحت نفس خود / Section 123 - Supplication on the Transition from the Testament to the Son to the Counseling of One's Own Soul

Poem

بخش ۱۲۴ - عقد سی و نهم در نصیحت نفس خود که از همه گرفتارتر است و به نصیحت سزاوارتر / Section 124 - The Thirty-Ninth Knot: On Admonishing One's Own Soul, Which Is More Captive Than All and More Deserving of Admonition

Original content

جامی این پرده سرایی تا چند
چون جرس هرزه درایی تا چند

چند بیهوده کنی خوش نفسی
هیچ نگرفت دلت زین جرسی

ساز بشکست چه افغان است این
تار بگسست چه دستان است این

نامه عمر به توقیع رسید
نظم احوال به تقطیع کشید

تنگ شد قافیه عمر شریف
دمبدم می شودش مرگ ردیف

سر به جیبی همه شب قافیه جوی
تنت از معنی باریک چو موی

گه شوی سوی مقاصد قاصد
باشی آن را به قصاید صاید

مدح ارباب مناصب گویی
فتح ابواب مطالب جویی

گه پی ساده دلی سازی جا
بر سر لوح بیان حرف هجا

گه کنی میل غزل پردازی
عشق با طرفه غزالان بازی

گه پی مثنوی آری زیور
بر یکی وزن هزاران گوهر

گه ز ترجیع شوی بندگشای
عقل و دین را فکنی بند به پای

گاهی از بهر دلر غمخواره
سازی از نظم رباعی چاره

گاه با هم دهی از طبع بلند
قطعه قطعه ز جواهر پیوند

گه به یک بیت ز غم فرد شوی
مرهم سینه پر درد شوی

گه کنی گم به معما نامی
خواهی از گمشده نامی کامی

گاهی از مرثیه ماتم داری
وز مژه خون دمادم باری

که فلان میر و فلان شاه بمرد
ملک و میراث به بدخواه سپرد

به که داری چو نهایت نگران
ماتم خویش به مرگ دگران

بین که چون سهم اجل را قوسی
کرد گردون ز پی فردوسی

با دل شق شده چون خامه خویش
ماند سر زیر ز شهنامه خویش

ناظم گنجه نظامی که به رنج
عدد گنج رسانید به پنج

روز آخر که ازین مجلس رفت
گنج ها داده ز کف مفلس رفت

گرچه می رفت به سحر افشانی
بر فلک دبدبه خاقانی

گشت پامال حوادث دبه اش
بی صدا شد چو دبه دبدبه اش

انوری کو و دل انور او
حکمت شعر خردپرور او

کو ظهیر آن که چو خضر آب حیات
کلک او داشت روان در ظلمات

هر کمالی که سپاهانی داشت
که به کف تیغ سخنرانی داشت

شد ازین دایره دیر مسیر
آخرالامر همه نقص پذیر

گرد حرفی که رقم زد سعدی
بر رخ شاهد معنی جعدی

صرصر قهر چو شد حادثه زای
آمد آن جعد معنبر در پای

حافظ از نظم بلند آوازه
کرد آیین سخن را تازه

لیک روز و شبش از بیشه کمند
زان بلندی سوی پستی افکند

پخت از دور مه و گردش سال
میوه باغ خجندی به کمال

لیک باد اجل آن میوه پاک
ریخت در خطه تبریز به خاک

آن دو طوطی که به نوخیزیشان
بود در هند شکرریزیشان

عاقبت سخره افلاک شدند
خامشان قفس خاک شدند

گام بگشا که شگرفان رفتند
یک به یک نادره حرفان رفتند

زود برگرد چو برخواهی گشت
زین تبه حرف که فرصت بگذشت

کیست کز باغ سخنرانی رفت
که نه با داغ پشیمانی رفت

English translation

Jami, how long will you compose behind this curtain? How long will you make futile clamor like a bell? How long will you waste your breath in vain? Has your heart not grown weary of this bell-clapper? The instrument is broken, what wailing is this? The string is severed, what melody is this? The letter of life has reached its final signature; The order of states has reached its cutting short. The rhyme of your noble life has become tight, And death is becoming its constant refrain moment by moment. Your head is tucked in your collar all night seeking rhyme, Your body thin as a hair from subtle meaning. Sometimes you set out towards objectives, Hunting them through odes. You sing the praises of office-holders, Seeking the opening of the doors of your desires. Sometimes for the sake of simplicity you settle Upon the tablet of expression for spelling. Sometimes you incline towards composing ghazals, Playing love games with wondrous gazelles. Sometimes you adorn the masnavi, Threading thousands of pearls on a single meter. Sometimes you unlock bonds through the tarji'-band, Casting fetters upon intellect and religion. Sometimes, for the sake of a sorrowful heart, You find a remedy in the form of the ruba'i. Sometimes from your lofty talent You join piece by piece of jewel-like fragments. Sometimes with a single couplet you become solitary from grief, Becoming a balm for a painful breast. Sometimes you lose a name in a riddle, Seeking desire from a lost name. Sometimes you mourn through elegies, Shedding blood constantly from your eyelashes, Saying that such-and-such emir or such-and-such king died, And left his kingdom and inheritance to his adversary. Since you look towards the end, it is better To mourn yourself through the death of others. See how the heavens made a bow Out of the arrow of death for Ferdowsi; With a split heart like his own reed pen, He remained head bowed from his Shahnameh. The orchestrator of Ganja, Nezami, who with hardship Raised the number of his treasures to five, On the final day when he departed from this assembly, Having surrendered his treasures, he left penniless. Though the grandeur of Khaqani rose to the heavens Through his magic-scattering verse, His drum of fame was trampled by accidents; His grandeur became silent like an empty vessel. Where is Anvari and his luminous heart? Where is the wisdom of his intellect-nurturing poetry? Where is Zahir, whose pen, like Khidr's water of life, Flowed in the darkness? Every perfection that Kamal al-Din Isfahani possessed, Who held the sword of eloquence in his hand, In this slow-moving circle of the world, In the end, it all became subject to decline. Around the word that Saadi transcribed, Which was a lock of hair on the cheek of the beloved of meaning, When the violent wind of wrath brought incidents, That ambergris-scented lock was trampled underfoot. Hafez, with his high-sounding verse, Refreshed the custom of speech, Yet the lasso of day and night Cast him down from that height to the low ground. Through the passing of months and the turn of the year, The fruit of the garden of Kamal Khujandi ripened to perfection, Yet the wind of death shed that pure fruit Into the dust in the region of Tabriz. Those two parrots who in their youth Were scattering sugar in India, In the end became the playthings of the heavens, Becoming the silent ones of the cage of dust. Take your steps forward, for the magnificent ones have departed; One by one, the unique masters of words have gone. Turn back quickly if you intend to return From these ruined words, for opportunity has passed. Who is there that departed from the garden of eloquence And did not leave with the scar of regret?

Updated 2026-07-19

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