1Cademy - حکایت بوتیمار / The Tale of the Heron

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منطق‌الطیر / The Conference of the Birds

Poem

حکایت بوتیمار / The Tale of the Heron

Original content

پس درآمد زود بوتیمار پیش
گفت: ای مرغان من و تیمار خویش!

بر لب دریاست خوش تر جای من
نشنود هرگز کسی آوای من

از کم آزاری من هرگز دمی
کس نیازارد ز من در عالمی

بر لب دریا نشینم دردمند
دائما اندوهگین و مستمند

زآرزوی آب، دل، پر خون کنم
چون دریغ آید، نجوشم، چون کنم

چون نیم من اهل دریا، ای عجب
بر لب دریا بمیرم خشک لب

گر چه دریا می زند صد گونه جوش
من نیارم کرد از او یک قطره نوش

گر ز دریا کم شود یک قطره آب
زآتش غیرت دلم گردد کباب

چون منی را عشق دریا بس بود
در سرم این شیوه سودا بس بود

جز غم دریا نخواهم این زمان
تاب سیمرغم نباشد الامان

آنک او را قطرهٔ آب ست اصل
کی تواند یافت از سیمرغ وصل؟

هدهدش گفت: ای ز دریا بی خبر!
هست دریا پر نهنگ و جانور

گاه تلخ است آب او را، گاه شور
گاه آرام است او را، گاه زور

منقلب چیز است و ناپاینده هم
گه شونده، گاه بازآینده هم

بس بزرگان را که کشتی کرد خرد
بس که در گرداب او افتاد و مرد

هرک چون غواص ره دارد در او
از غم جان دم نگه دارد در او

ور زند در قعر دریا دم کسی
مرده از بن با سر افتد چون خسی

از چنین کس کاو وفاداری نداشت
هیچ کس اومید دلداری نداشت

گر تو از دریا نیایی با کنار
غرقه گرداند تو را پایان کار

می زند او خود ز شوق دوست جوش
گاه در موج است و گاهی در خروش

او چو خود را می نیابد کام دل
تو نیابی هم از او آرام دل

هست دریا چشمه ای از کوی او
تو چرا قانع شدی بی روی او؟

English translation

Then the heron swiftly stepped forward, Saying: 'O birds, I am content with my own sorrow! My most pleasant place is on the shore of the sea, No one ever hears my voice. Because of my harmlessness, never for a single moment, Does anyone in the world suffer harm from me. I sit on the shore of the sea, pained, Constantly sorrowful and destitute. From the longing for water, I fill my heart with blood, Since I feel regret, I do not drink; what can I do? Since I am not a creature of the sea, oh wonder! I would die on the shore of the sea with dry lips. Although the sea boils in a hundred ways, I do not dare to drink a single drop from it. If a single drop of water decreases from the sea, My heart would roast from the fire of jealousy. For someone like me, the love of the sea is enough, In my head, this manner of melancholy is enough. I desire nothing but the sorrow of the sea at this time, I do not have the endurance for the Simorgh, alas. He whose essence is but a drop of water, How can he attain union with the Simorgh?' The hoopoe said to him: 'O you who are ignorant of the sea! The sea is full of crocodiles and beasts. Sometimes its water is bitter, sometimes salty; Sometimes it is calm, sometimes violent. It is a changing thing and also impermanent, Sometimes receding, sometimes returning as well. Many great ones whose ships it has crushed, Many who have fallen into its whirlpool and died. Whoever makes their way into it like a diver, Must hold their breath in it out of fear for their life. And if anyone takes a breath at the bottom of the sea, They fall completely dead, headfirst like a weed. From such a one who possessed no loyalty, No one ever had hope of finding comfort. If you do not step away from the sea to the shore, It will drown you at the end of the affair. It boils itself out of longing for the Friend, Sometimes in waves and sometimes roaring. Since it cannot find its own heart's desire, You will not find peace of heart from it either. The sea is but a spring from His alleyway, Why have you become content without His face?'

Updated 2026-07-02

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